We’re looking forward to introducing you to Michael Marckx. Check out our conversation below.
Michael, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
What makes me lose track of time—and find myself again? It’s the simple, consuming acts that demand my whole self. Riding a gravel bike down some forgotten ribbon of dirt where every turn and twitch of the bars keeps me anchored in the moment. Sitting behind the drum kit, where rhythm takes over thought and muscle eventually becomes memory. Paddling into a wave, that brief communion between balance and chaos.
Lately, writing has taken on that role too (I’m writing a book now)—slipping into sentences until hours dissolve, caught in the tug-of-war between memory and meaning. Even walking Ruffy, our dog with his nose to the earth, can be a reset. If I leave the phone at home and let the world be enough, those miles become a meditation.
It’s in those spaces—on the bike, in the surf, behind the kit, on the keyboard, on the leash—that I forget time and, oddly, remember myself.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’ve always lived at the intersection of sport, music, and storytelling. I started running marathons when I was twelve, raced bikes and triathlons as a pro and played drums in bands that taught me a great deal, and not just about timing, rhythm, and how to keep people moving. Professionally, I’ve been fortunate to lead and turn around brands like Ocean Pacific, SPY Optic, Globe International, Nixon, adidas watches, and Surfing Magazine, and to create events like the Belgian Waffle Ride, which has grown into one of the largest gravel cycling series in the world. I’ve put on world class events across 10 countries – World Championship Surfing, Ironman, World Cup Skateboarding, marathons, music festivals, and myriad business events.
What makes my work special for me is that it always comes back to community and authenticity—whether it’s helping endurance athletes find joy in suffering on a bike, championing a new media outlet or brand, or building brand bibles for companies that want to rediscover their soul. A good bit of my time now is also devoted to my book project and also something tied to Steve Prefontaine, who was a family friend. It’s rewarding to see the arc of the narrative come to life, even if it means wrestling with memory and meaning along the way.
At the core of it all, I try to build things—brands, events, experiences—that connect people more deeply to themselves, to each other, and to the simple act of being alive.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What’s a moment that really shaped how you see the world?
A moment that really shaped how I see the world came when I was at one of my lowest points. I’d been badly injured in a bike crash after turning pro, lost the athletic life I thought was my destiny, and was struggling in two bands while working in a warehouse packing boxes for what used to be my main sponsor, wondering what came next. In the middle of that uncertainty, I was given a chance to spend ninety minutes with one of the world’s most gifted psychics. This is something I speak to in my Tedx Talk.
What she told me was so specific, so true about my past, and so vivid about my future that I had no choice but to believe her, even though at the time I didn’t want to. It was the most transformative ninety minutes of my life. She revealed a picture of what my life could become, and in doing so, gave me something I had lost: belief.
That encounter reshaped my lens on the world. It taught me that belief is not just wishful thinking—it’s the compass we set, the thing that pulls us forward when everything else feels uncertain. You don’t need a psychic to tell you this, but I was lucky enough to get my own cosmic message: look where you want to go, because your life will follow your gaze.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
At 12 years old, I ran my first marathon and lined up for my first bike race. That was the spark that set off a lifetime of suffering in the name of endurance sports—racing as a world-class triathlete, cyclist, runner, paddle boarder, and swimmer. Somewhere along the way, I realized that suffering was not just the toll you pay for entry, it was the real teacher.
Success can give you a medal, maybe even a fleeting sense of triumph. But suffering strips you bare. It teaches humility, resilience, and the kind of patience you can’t fake. It shows you that the mind quits long before the body does, and that joy isn’t found in the finish line but in those moments when you push past the voice that tells you to stop.
What suffering gave me that success never could is perspective: the ability to be grateful in the grind, to understand that pain is temporary but growth is permanent. The paradox is that through suffering, I’ve found the deepest joy, the truest friendships, and a lifelong communion with the simple act of moving forward.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
My closest friends would probably say that what matters most to me is authenticity—living and creating in a way that’s real, not contrived. They’d say I care deeply about community, whether that’s on a bike ride, behind a drum kit, in the surf lineup, or building brands and events that bring people together. They know I value connection over transaction, impact over ego.
My closest friends would probably say I care most about the real stuff—family, community, creating things that actually matter. They’d tell you I’m happiest when I’m with my kids, or out walking Ruffy (maybe with the phone left at home), just being present in the world. They’d also probably tell you that I’m obsessed with endurance—physically, creatively, spiritually. That I’ll keep going when most people would stop, not because I’m chasing accolades, but because I find meaning in the process, in the suffering, in the growth.
And my family, friends, coworkers—they all know I care about authenticity. Not the buzzword version, but the lived one. Doing the right thing, even when no one’s watching. Finding meaning in the work, the ride, the run, the music. They’d probably tell you that what really matters to me is connection—leaving people and projects a little better, a little lighter, than I found them.
At the end of the day, I think they’d say what matters to me is leaving things better than I found them—whether it’s a brand, a race, a relationship, or just the feeling someone carries after an interaction with me.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: When do you feel most at peace?
I feel most at peace when the noise falls away—on a long gravel ride where the only soundtrack is tires on dirt, or out in the surf where it’s just me and the sea sorting things out wave by wave. Behind the drum kit, too, when rhythm takes over thought and time disappears. Or writing. I love writing.
Lately, it’s also been with Ruffy, walking four quiet miles with the phone left behind, or sitting with my kids when the world slows long enough to remember what actually matters. Those are the moments when I’m not chasing or performing, just being. That’s when peace shows up.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.belgianwaffleride.com, www.digitalunionmarketing.com, https://mmxishere.substack.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ibemmx, https://www.instagram.com/belgianwaffleride/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ibemmx/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ibmmx/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@UnroadUNLTD
