10 years ago professor Ty Hopkins was working on a research project that he had invested everything into. Years of time, money, resources, everything.
After 2 years, he realized that the data he had been collecting was terrible. Nothing that he was expecting.
"I was pretty defeated, and what I typically do when I get to that point, pretty overwhelmed, pretty dissatisfied,” He said, “ I got on my bike and I rode and I left campus and I rode for five hours.”
After 2 years, and ultimately defeat, his first move was to ride. This experience was not uncommon. For Hopkins, there was something beautiful about the escape that allowed him to break down both mentally and physically.
“It broke me down physically enough to where I got rid of the disappointment in the way that it was masking everything else. It was controlling everything I was doing at the time,” he said.
Those 5 hours allowed him to break down 2 years' worth of data in a new light, outside the typical space and mindset than normal. With that shift, seeing the data in a whole new light suddenly created magic.
The “terrible big mess of nothing” suddenly became an award-winning project that answered many questions and initiated many other lines of research.
“It was because I was able to break down physically a little bit, and emotionally, and mentally, to the point where I could start just focusing on the problem and looking at it a different way,” he said.
For Hopkins, cycling is not a casual hobby. He does not describe it as a fun weekend activity or a quick break from work. Riding for him is a mindset or lifestyle. Something that shapes how he handles pressure, makes decisions and stays grounded when life presents challenges.
Hopkins is the chair of Brigham Young University’s Department of Exercise Sciences, and his work focuses on how the human body responds to stress. He studies injury prevention, fatigue and recovery, the kind of topics that matter most when someone is pushed to their limits. It is highly specialized and specific work. The kind that keeps professors deeply locked into research, teaching and a narrow field of expertise, demanding higher education and dedication of years of work in practice.
But Hopkins believes being great in the classroom is not the whole point.
In his view, professors shouldn't just have activities outside of campus; they need them. Not just for entertainment, or as a reward after work gets done, but as a necessary outlet that then allows them to become better at their work in the first place. He sees hobbies and outside passions as something that can keep a person balanced and keep them human.
“One of the dangers of higher education in general and the model that we use, mostly worldwide, is that we get buried in our silos,” Hopkins said. “We just dig deeper and deeper and deeper.”
A warning that applies to almost every field on campus. Professors become experts in smaller and smaller aspects of their work and grow their knowledge exponentially on very narrow topics, and if not careful, can limit their views of the world. Even though that specialization has value, Hopkins said, it also has a downside. When someone becomes too focused on a narrow area, they can lose sight of context and lose sight of people.
They can lose sight of the world beyond their office, in the same way Hopkins almost did before he hit the road after devastating results culminating years of study.
For Hopkins, the balance is not perfect, but it is intentional. And it is one of the biggest reasons he believes professors should build lives outside their professional roles.
A hobby that became a way for him to stay grounded
The outlet of cycling was something that started small and developed into a passion that ultimately led him to the field he chose to further his research. His connection to bikes started early.
“I had my first bike at three years old,” he said. “I rode it everywhere, and I don’t think it ever stopped.”
His competitive cycling life did not start until later. Hopkins began racing in his 30s, originally through triathlons. But over time, he realized one part of that sport was better than the rest.
“The swimming was terrible,” he said. “And the running was just tolerable. And I finally decided I could just ride bikes because that's what I really like doing.”
Cycling was what he loved. So he leaned into it. Over time, the races grew longer and longer until he found himself in the world of ultra-endurance riding. It is a type of cycling that asks for more than strength. It asks for problem-solving, self-control and the ability to keep going when the excitement of a crowd is gone and all that is left is discomfort.
“I just loved it,” Hopkins said. “Being on your own, out there in the adventure, with nobody to save you.”
The isolation aspect of ultra-endurance riding sparked something in him. It is not just the thrill of a challenge. It is the reality of being responsible for oneself. One makes decisions alone. One handles setbacks alone. One manages exhaustion, weather, hunger and uncertainty alone. And one learns what one is capable of.
But Hopkins does not pretend it is easy, or that he is fearless. He said he gets anxious before big races.
“I get nervous and anxious and scared just like anybody else would,” he said. “In fact, I’m a mess before one of these long races.”
That honesty makes his approach to balance feel real. He is not someone who has life perfectly organized and stress-free, but is someone who has learned how to ride the peaks and valleys of life while still feeling overwhelmed.
This passion for endurance races has him riding from Canada to Mexico. He has competed in the Tour Divide, a roughly 2,725-mile self-supported race along the Continental Divide, and finished in 16 days, and so many other races.
Work life balance without a perfect schedule
When people picture endurance athletes, they often assume strict training plans and rigid routines. Hopkins said that is not how he does it. His training is not built around an intense regimen. It is built around practicality.
“I’ve never been hugely intentional about my training,” he said. “I train mostly out of convenience.”
For Hopkins, that convenience often looks like using everyday life as an opportunity to train. He rides to work. He rides home. He also teaches student wellness cycling classes on stationary bikes. He turns commuting into a workout, and he turns workouts into something that fits inside the responsibilities he already has.
“I ride back and forth to work,” he said. “If I need a bigger workout, I’ll ride over the mountain to work.”
American Fork to Provo is only about a 20 minute route to drive, but is the perfect access point to the Alpine loop, giving him access to climbs, and more miles looping him up and around the mountains. On days he wants a more demanding ride, he takes the longer way. It is challenging, but it is also efficient.
Most importantly, this training schedule allows him to protect time with his family.
“I can also do it early in the morning, so I’m not taken away from my family,” he said.
That is the part of balance that Hopkins comes back to again and again. It's not a perfect system, but it allows priorities to be where they need to be. He knows his hobbies matter and leaves space for them, but doesn't allow them to take away from what matters most.
“If I had to choose between a big ride and doing something with my family,” he said. “I’m going to do stuff with my family.”
Balance can be complicated. There are times, he said, when he has likely chosen wrong. When he has done something “selfish” instead of choosing family time. But he tries to keep his training flexible and his family time intentional.
It is not about being perfect. It is about being aware.
Why professors need lives outside their expertise
Hobbies help you in your work. Hopkins believes and has experienced how getting out of your head and workspace can actually improve your mentality when you are in the workplace. He believes higher education has a tendency to shrink people down into specialists who know everything about one small area, but struggle to apply it broadly.
He used his own research as an example.
“I know a lot about this really small area of lower extremity orthopedic neural mechanics,” Hopkins said.
That kind of specialization is impressive. It is also necessary. But Hopkins said the danger is that the deeper a professor digs into their niche, the harder it can be to see the bigger picture.
“But that’s dangerous to some extent because it never really allows us to apply it in a way that’s meaningful for the world,” he said.
That is why he believes professors need something outside of their professional role. Something that keeps them connected to real life and real problems, not just theoretical or really zoomed in ones.
Cycling, for him, is the grounding force that gives him a broader understanding of the body than what research alone can provide. It also challenges him to solve problems in unpredictable situations, which is something no textbook can fully prepare someone for.
“I think it’s more important for me to be able to apply what I know to a patient in various contexts,” he said.
That word, context, is the key to his philosophy. Hopkins believes being smart is not enough. Being specialized is not enough.
He even said he enjoys working on cars in his spare time because it teaches him to think differently. It pushes him outside his academic mindset and strengthens his problem-solving skills in a new way.
To Hopkins, the best professors are not just people who can lecture. They are people who can adapt. People who can apply knowledge, not just store it.
“That’s where you become a really good problem solver,” he said, “being able to get outside your silo a little bit.”
The lesson behind the miles
Hopkins’ approach to cycling mirrors the lesson he tries to teach students. Life is not just a list of obstacles to survive. It is a series of experiences to learn from, even the hard ones.
“We’re not presented with obstacles or presented with fun things,” he said. “We’re just given experiences and it’s up to us what we learn from them.”
That mindset is what connects his work, his hobbies and his philosophy of balance. He is not only trying to be a strong cyclist or a successful professor. He is trying to be someone who keeps growing, someone who stays grounded and someone who does not lose himself in one role.
In a world where higher education can pressure professors to become more specialized, more productive and more focused, Hopkins argues for something slightly different.
He argues for being good at what you do, but not being only what you do.
Because for Hopkins, the miles outside campus are not a distraction from his work. They are part of what makes him better at it.
And in the long run, that may be the real definition of balance. Not splitting life into separate categories, but building a life where everything strengthens everything else.