If every new level is interpreted only through the past, then the past begins to limit the future.

Suspicion can become a psychological defense.

Mental mastery is an invisible but trainable skill.

The other day, I stumbled over an article in Canadian Cycling Magazine dealing with suspicion after Tadej Pogačar’s win in Milan–San Remo. Cycling, more than most sports, carries a past full of performance-enhancing drugs that cannot, and should not, simply be forgotten. Critical thinking matters. Blind belief is not a virtue. Never has been. Yet, there is a risk here—a subtle shift in which skepticism becomes the default lens. However, the past does not always repeat itself, neither in sport nor in people’s lives. It is well-known that people change because of the pain certain behaviors have caused. This realization led me to write this comment, proposing that extraordinary performance could be seen as an invitation to understanding, rather than merely a trigger for doubt. After all, what we may be witnessing in riders like Pogačar is not simply physical dominance—but something far less visible, and far less understood: mental mastery.

Modern sport has changed. It is not just about biology or technology; psychology matters, too. The question is no longer just: How strong is the athlete? Now we ask: How do they relate to pressure, fear, and uncertainty? Let’s consider what happened at Milan–San Remo. A crash. A time gap. A moment where most riders would hesitate, recalibrate, or resign themselves to the loss. Pogačar himself admitted that, without his team, he might not have been in the race. And here we get the first indication of something trainable: the ability of a team to sacrifice, to hold each other up. The team's response may have helped him regain not just his position but also his confidence. Such trust is not accidental—it is cultivated. Trust basically means that there is no reason for fear. Instead of giving up, Pogačar responds in a distinct manner:

He commits to the plan despite disruption.

He attacks—not from desperation, but from clarity.

This is not just about physiology. It is a trained mind that stays focused under pressure. Instead of fear and worry, the guiding question becomes: What matters now? The best performers do not eliminate doubt. They act with commitment even when doubt is present. They can accept vulnerability. A trained mind does not wait to feel ready. It does not require certainty. Instead, it returns—again and again—to a chosen way of being. For instance, accepting setbacks, never giving up, courage before comfort, etc. Top athletes know that each moment is decisive. This is why elite performance can appear “effortless” or even “too perfect.” Not because it is easy. But because the inner noise has been trained. It no longer distracts as fear or doubt—they know how to move with it, defuse it, and commit themselves.

The Problem With Suspicion as Default

When we meet every extraordinary performance with suspicion, something is lost. It is not just trust. We also lose the ability to see human potential. Sport, at its best, is not only about winning, as sport psychologist Scott Kretchmar has argued. When athletes enter a contest, the foundational issue is not simply who will win but whether a good test will take place. There is a mutual obligation to keep that test alive. To compete is to strive together. Thus, even if cycling’s history justifies vigilance, it does not justify closing off the possibility that excellence can evolve. If every new level is interpreted only through the past, then the past begins to limit the future. This is as true in sport as in personal development. When we instinctively doubt excellence, it might be worth asking: Is my doubt, in part, a defense? An excuse? A way to protect myself from the pressure to try? So the question is not: “Do you believe it?” Instead, ask: “What kind of person performs like this?” “What kind of focus and dedication are needed?” “What sort of relationship to fear?” “What kind of commitment under pressure?” These questions are harder and less sensational. But they are ultimately more valuable. They can inspire the rest of us to reach higher.

Conclusion: Holding Both

We do not need to discard critical thinking. But we should not stop admiring greatness out of curiosity. Reducing greatness to suspicion is limiting. Blind belief is also limiting. I propose a harder task. We should put judgment on hold. Stay open enough to question but grounded enough to see that human excellence might exceed our expectations. When witnessing greatness, ask not just if it’s possible, but also what it reveals about possibility. Do we really know what humans can do? I do not think Pogačar knows either. Maybe that is part of the point. What makes him admirable is not certainty. It is his willingness to keep testing his limits. In that sense, he is almost like an athletic Socrates. He is not admirable because he has answers but because he lives the question. He knows an unexamined life is not worth living.

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