Patrick Cummins has been fighting in the UFC for the past five years, but the character he cultivates on his Instagram feed is less battle-hardened tough guy and more adventure-loving goofball who loves to ride old-school mountain bikes.
Patrick Durkin Cummins breaks a lot of bikes.
He doesn’t mean to, of course. Cummins is not sending massive gaps or hucking himself off ten-foot drops. The problem is that he weighs 220 pounds, has quads like concrete pylons, and makes a living pummeling people in the face with his fists. Carbon, steel, aluminum frames—all have failed under his might.
Cummins will be blissfully pedaling up a trail on one of those perfect Southern California mornings when his chain starts skipping. He’ll look down, bemused, trying to diagnose the problem. That’s when he spots the whole rear triangle flopping around. “You never think to look at the frame,” he says when I meet him for a ride high in the San Gabriel Mountains, east of Los Angeles.
Cummins, 38, has been fighting in the UFC for the past five years, but the character he cultivates on his Instagram feed is less battle-hardened tough guy and more kombucha-chugging, adventure-loving goofball. He’s more likely to share his favorite flax and chia seed pancake recipe (#pancakeparty) or post a picture of himself giggling as two butterflies copulate on his face (#notoothtuesday) than tell you about his weight-lifting regimen. “He’ll shrink himself down to mix in,” says his brother, A.J. Cummins, a chef based in Denver. “He doesn’t want to be trapped and labeled as a meathead.”
“I’m definitely not ashamed of what I do,” Cummins says. “I want that room to just be a goofy kid.”