“To be honest, when Noah Lyles is being Noah Lyles, there’s nobody.” Noah Lyles said that with confidence before heading into the Paris Olympics. And he had every reason to believe it. In Tokyo, he missed the chance to even contest the 100m final. But in Paris, the reigning world champion walked in ready to claim the crown that had eluded him. “Every time I’m gonna gonna do [something]… I do it,” Lyles said. “Achieving almost everything that I put my mind to. And it’s gaining that confidence each step of the way. That slowly builds it up higher and higher and higher.” That mindset isn’t reserved for major championships. It’s how Noah Lyles operates, every season, every meet. Ask someone who’s been on the receiving end of that intensity. Like? 

Joseph Fahnbulleh knows firsthand what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with Noah. The Liberian sprinter and double NCAA champion lined up alongside Lyles in the 200m final at the 2022 World Championships in Eugene, where Noah took the title. But the more telling encounter happened away from the global spotlight, in a far more intimate setting: the 2023 Tom Jones Memorial.

In the latest episode of Ready Set Go, hosted by Justin Gatlin and Rodney Green, Fahnbulleh shared a revealing story. The topic? His sub-10 clocking in the 100m that day—9.98 seconds, still his personal best. But behind the time was a chaotic, oddly comic pre-race moment involving Lyles. “Here comes Noah, trying to shake my hand,” Fahnbulleh recalled with a smirk. “‘Shake my hand,’ I’m like, ‘All right, bro.’ I’m chilling, like, stop.” He keeps reaching. “Shake my hand. I’m like, ‘Oh, come on.'” The vibe? A mix of irritation and confusion. Then came the false start. Actually, multiple false starts—including one from Fahnbulleh himself.

“As I got in the race, everything blurred, everything got like gray, you know,” he said. He remembered hearing his Florida Gators coach, Mike Holloway, yelling at him to focus. He got back to the line, reset, and when the gun finally went off, everything else vanished—except one thing. Beat Noah. As the race progressed, Fahnbulleh felt like he was this close, like he could reach out and touch Lyles. “I was mad because he [Noah Lyles] was trying to be funny and shake my hand,” he said. “So I was like, ‘Bro, come on now.'” In the end, Lyles edged him out with 9.95 to Fahnbulleh’s 9.98, but the motivation was real. Whether it was psychological warfare or just Noah being Noah, it lit a fire.

So—are these mind games just a Lyles signature? Maybe. From his pre-race antics to his supreme self-belief, Noah Lyles doesn’t just run races—he owns the moment. Whether it’s on a global stage or at a regular-season meet, he brings the same energy. To him, it’s not just about winning; it’s about sending a message. And that message?

Noah Lyles prefers to get under his opponents’ skin 

Noah Lyles doesn’t just sprint. He studies. He strategizes. And most importantly, he gets inside your head. In last year’s Sprint docuseries, fans got an unfiltered look at just how calculated the reigning world champion really is. One standout moment? Lyles openly admitted to studying his rivals—not just their racing habits, but their personalities, quirks, and pressure points. Why? So he knows exactly which buttons to push. And push them, he does.

The clearest example came on one of the biggest stages in sports—the Paris Olympics. After claiming gold in the men’s 100m, Lyles stepped into the post-race press conference with a familiar grin and his signature swagger. Seated beside him were two sprinting heavyweights: Fred Kerley and Kishane Thompson. Both were legitimate threats for the upcoming 200m final. But Lyles? Unbothered. Asked about how confident he was heading into the 200m later that week, he didn’t flinch. “Pretty confident, can’t lie,” he said, flashing a smirk. But then came the real jab.

When the topic of Kenny Bednarek came up—another top contender and someone Lyles has shared many sprint showdowns with—Noah went full psychological warfare. “That man ain’t winning,” he said flatly. Then added, “None of them is winning. When I come off the turn, they will all be depressed.”Boom. Just like that, the press conference turned into a mental battlefield. And if you’ve followed Lyles long enough, you know—it wasn’t off the cuff. That moment was crafted. Delivered. Intended.

Noah isn’t arrogant for the sake of it. He’s deliberate. Every sound bite, every stare-down, every handshake delay at the starting blocks (just ask Joseph Fahnbulleh)—it’s part of the playbook. Noah Lyles doesn’t just win races. He makes sure you feel the loss before the gun even goes off.