“That’s my ADHD!”
I often hear people say this when they’re distracted, jumpy, or caught themselves in some absent-minded reverie. Similar comments are made about obsessive-compulsive disorder and other psychiatric disorders, with the implication being maybe we all have a touch of these conditions. While it’s true many such issues exist on a continuum, spanning mild to extreme symptom configurations, there are also noteworthy differences between normal fluctuations in brain performance and real-deal diagnosable, chronic malfunctions. Blurring the distinction between these can lead the unimpaired to minimize the struggles of those who suffer genuine limitations, which can in turn leave the truly impaired questioning whether they should seek help or simply need to somehow will themselves up to the same level of functioning as others around them. They can feel—and be seen by others—as though they’d be evading responsibility by considering their difficulties worse than what everyone else has to deal with. Those without the debilitating disorder usually can’t accurately imagine what it’s like and assume it’s much the same as the occasional glitches with which they’re familiar.
Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) is the current nomenclature for a neurodevelopmental (meaning neurological in origin and first manifesting in childhood) condition previously split into two separate designations, ADD and ADHD, with the latter denoting the addition of hyperactivity to the symptom picture via the straightforward addition of an “H.” Don’t get me started on the absurdities of psychiatric diagnostic entities, but now it’s all relabeled as ADHD, albeit with sub-types indicating the inclusion or exclusion of hyperactivity. That’s right! You can have ADHD without any H. Naming inefficiencies aside, it’s valid to distinguish between people with primarily cognitive attentional difficulties and those with additional behavioral problems of hyperactivity, which usually also include impulsivity. Deficits in attention can be further subdivided into distractibility (e.g., ones train of thought is easily derailed by an external stimulus—SQUIRREL!), inattentiveness (e.g., one gets lost in thought and doesn’t notice external stimuli), and poor concentration (e.g., attention cannot be sustained consistently over time). Paradoxically, attentional problems can also include hyperfocus, usually with an associated difficulty shifting from one focus to another. I’ve had plenty of parents tell me their son can’t possibly have ADHD because he can play the same video game for countless hours at a stretch. It turns out these same boys have a terrible time stopping any activity to start another, as though their mental gears were grinding in poorly clutched shifts. Healthy attention is more smoothly flexible than that.
Depending on which research you survey, there are as many as seven distinct subtypes of ADHD, although these aren’t all represented in current official diagnostic classifications. The most common form, accounting for around 60-70% of cases, seems to involve “sleepy” frontal lobes. These areas of the brain are underactive and may exhibit an over-large proportion of relatively slower brainwaves. Because the frontal lobes play an important role in steering attention, we need them to be fully “online” if we’re to function well in all sorts of endeavors. They also inhibit other areas of the brain related to our physical activity and reactivity (impulsivity). So, if the frontal lobes aren’t doing their job, those other brain areas may be left to run wild.
Knowing this makes sense of something which otherwise seems backwards. The familiar medications used to treat the symptoms of ADHD (Ritalin, Adderall, etc.) are stimulants. While it’s not hard to understand how a stimulant could improve mental sharpness (most everyone has used caffeine for this effect), it seems counterintuitive that a stimulant would help a hyperactive or impulsive person settle down. Stimulants achieve this unlikely outcome by boosting the inhibiting function of the frontal lobes, which are now awake enough to “apply the brakes” elsewhere in the brain. People without this type of ADHD are likely to have the opposite reaction if they take the same medications. They’ll feel antsy and their concentration may actually deteriorate, since their frontal lobes were already aroused to an optimal degree; over-revving them results in exaggerated reactivity and fragmented attention. This is also why some people who truly do have another version of ADHD respond poorly to standard pharmaceutical interventions: they don’t have the most common type, but their prescriber may lack the clinical sophistication to discern this.
Finally, the fact people with ADHD are often drawn to high-risk activities is likely a function of how danger can deliver some of the same benefits of stimulant medications. These folks depend on adrenaline rushes to get their brains “firing on all cylinders,” and otherwise feel like they’re slogging through deep mud. Something similar happens for those who need multiple channels of simultaneous stimulation to keep their minds from wandering. The child who insists on doing their homework with the television or music blaring nearby may actually be doing exactly what helps their brains focus best, even though most people would find such a barrage of stimulation distracting or obnoxious sensory overload. Certainly, many people with ADHD also need much less external stimuli to concentrate, but parents who insist on a quiet environment for homework may unwittingly be making things worse for some ADHD children.
As an aside, neurofeedback has proven to be a highly effective non-pharmaceutical treatment for not only ADHD symptoms, but their root causes at a neurological level. Unlike medications, which only work as long as they’re being taken, neurofeedback yields changes in brain activity appearing to last long after the course of treatment has ended—more like getting braces to straighten crooked teeth; the teeth stay put after the braces come off. Neurofeedback can also be tailored to different versions of ADHD, rather than the one-size-fits-all remedy offered by stimulant medications. I mention it because it’s not as familiar to the general public as medications are, but deserves consideration by those looking for relief.
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I certainly can’t do a thorough job of explaining ADHD or the range of physiological and psychological treatment options for it here. Tons of information is readily available elsewhere for those who are curious. My point is this thing we call one name, “ADHD,” is really a collection of difficulties and those who qualify for the diagnosis can have vastly different struggles—different from others with the same diagnostic label and definitely different from those without it. Whereas all human beings experience momentary lapses in attention, those with ADHD must fight to maintain their focus most all the time (perhaps with the exception of during intensely stimulating activities). Whereas everyone has felt annoyed by a boring task, such tedium is excruciatingly painful for our ADHD cohorts. And whereas we’ve all had to buckle down and concentrate on tasks we’d rather not do, many with ADHD have more trouble concentrating the harder they try. Imagine the plight of such a person whose ADHD (or at least this aspect) is unrecognized, and who is told they aren’t trying hard enough by teachers, parents or supervisors. It’s no wonder kids of this sort fall into despair about school and often drop out, despite their average or superior intelligence.
I’m not aware of research demonstrating this, but it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising to find a disproportionately large percentage of motorcyclists have ADHD. Both groups have experiences and interests often placing them outside the mainstream, especially in terms of their preferred level of stimulation and acceptance of risk. Maintaining concentration is an essential requirement for riding well and surviving over an extended riding career. In many cases, a rider with ADHD is apt to have extra difficulty on this count, but it can also work the other way around. Just like the aforementioned boys who can stay laser-focused on their video games because of the extreme stimulation involved, an ADHD motorcyclist may actually be at their mental best on challenging rides. (Note: Many people with ADHD procrastinate until they can use the anxiety of a looming deadline to kick their brains into high gear and get things done with extraordinary efficiency.) Similarly, those who as kids needed multi-channel stimulation to focus on their homework may be extra adept at processing visual, auditory and kinesthetic data in parallel while riding. The same darting attention that’s a liability in algebra class or board meetings could be an asset while continuously scanning the terrain ahead for surface irregularities or other hazards. And the reactivity manifesting as poor impulse control in routine situations might translate into uniquely timely responses to fast-paced changes in riding conditions.
Of course, not all people with ADHD possess motorcycling superpowers. But, for some, it’s possible certain features of the condition could actually give them an edge. Others, unfortunately, will find ADHD a riding hinderance across the board—and not only in the saddle. A motorcyclist with ADHD may have the most impossibly disorganized garage of anyone in your group. They may easily lose track of what they’re doing during a maintenance or repair project and either leave out steps or need to backtrack repeatedly. They may have lots of trouble keeping directions straight or sticking with a schedule. And they might be so rowdy or daring as to present a serious safety risk to themselves and those riding with them. I wonder how many bad-judgment-related motorcycle injuries/fatalities were a function of inattention or impulsivity driven by stimulation hunger.
Perhaps you have ADHD or one of your riding buddies does. It’s impossible to make a blanket statement about how this is likely to impact the various dimensions of motorcycling life. It could help in one way and hurt in another. What’s important is recognizing if/how ADHD affects the unique individual in question. Maybe someone should pursue diagnostic clarity with a mental health professional. Maybe some form of treatment is indicated and could greatly enhance riding competence, pleasure and safety. Maybe such needs are obvious to everybody but the one with the problem. In any case, there’s absolutely no way to ride well without really sharp attention and sustained concentration, coupled with reliable self-control. Riding might supply the necessary charge to get one ADHD brain working at its best, or the multiple demands of riding might quickly stress another ADHD brain beyond its capacities. This is not something to take lightly, whether we’re talking about the brain in your helmet or the one next to you. We must avoid the moral judgements often levied at people (self or other) who are actually suffering from neurophysiological impairments they can’t just decide not to have. But at the same time, we must not shrug off such things as mere quirks; they can be terribly consequential and help is available.
Mark Barnes is a clinical psychologist and motojournalist. To read more of his writings, check out his book Why We Ride: A Psychologist Explains the Motorcyclist’s Mind and the Love Affair Between Rider, Bike and Road, currently available in paperback through Amazon and other retailers.
