Story by Chad Marler | Photos by Tanner & Travis Lyons
The truth is there’s no real “off-season” in professional fishing. The tournaments may take a break, the crowds may go home, but for most of us chasing this dream, that’s when the real work begins. The time between seasons isn’t about rest, it’s about rebuilding, refining, and regaining that edge that so easily slips away if you stop moving.
When the last weigh-in of the year wraps up and the stage lights fade, I’ll be honest, there’s always a few days where you exhale. You let yourself breathe. You look back on what went right, what went wrong, and what you never want to repeat. But that reflection quickly turns into motivation. The boat doesn’t sit long before I start tearing it apart piece by piece.
Rebuilding from the Inside Out
Every compartment gets emptied. Every rod, reel, and bait is evaluated. If something didn’t earn its keep, it doesn’t stay. This is when I clean, repair, and restock, but more importantly, it’s when I analyze why things worked … or didn’t.
Maybe that color crankbait landed me one key fish at Logan Martin, or maybe I realized my confidence in a certain jig setup was misplaced. Either way, the off-season is when you tell the truth to yourself about your decisions on the water. You can’t hide from performance data, from your instincts, or from your gut.
My electronics get the same treatment. I make sure every transducer, wire, and connection is perfect because when you make a living off information, you can’t afford glitches. I’ll spend hours on the water in cold weather, just idling, scanning, and marking. I re-map familiar lakes like Sam Rayburn as if I’ve never seen them before. Things change. Grass lines shift, creek channels move, and baitfish habits evolve. The angler who assumes he “already knows” a body of water is the one who gets left behind.
The Mental Rebuild
The physical work is one part, but the mental game is another beast. I learned that long before I ever fished a professional event. Back in my Army days, we used to say that mindset is everything when you’re cold, tired, and hungry. Fishing isn’t combat, but it’s a grind that tests your will in quiet, invisible ways.
The off-season is where I reset that part of me. I take time to reconnect with family, with my faith, and with the things that remind me why I do this. You can’t run at full throttle all year and expect to stay grounded. Sometimes you have to slow down to speed up.
I also study. A lot. Not just fishing videos, but environmental data, seasonal trends, and behavioral shifts in fish migration. I take notes like I’m in school-because in this sport, the second you think you’ve “graduated,” you’re already behind.
Physical Preparation Matters Too
It might surprise some folks, but fishing professionally takes a toll on your body. Long runs across rough water, heat, cold, sleep deprivation-it all stacks up. During the off-season, I work on flexibility, core strength, and conditioning, not to become a bodybuilder, but to stay durable. You can’t make good decisions when you’re physically broken.
Even something as simple as hiking or running helps me stay sharp. I train balance and hand strength, because you can’t handle a rod effectively if your muscles fatigue halfway through a long day. Every ounce of endurance counts when you’re on the water for 12 hours and your paycheck depends on the next cast.
Building for the Next Season
The off-season is also when I look at partnerships and sponsors, evaluating what I can improve for the people who believe in me. It’s not just about logos on a boat. It’s about communication, ideas, and making sure I’m delivering value.
That means planning new content, refreshing the look of my boat wrap and jersey, and brainstorming how to better showcase the products I genuinely rely on. Every relationship I have in this sport—whether with a sponsor, a client, or a fan—is built on trust. The off-season gives me time to strengthen that.
Preparation Becomes Purpose
Somewhere in the middle of all that—between rigging wires, restocking baits, and writing new goals—you start to feel the season calling again. That’s when I know it’s time to go back.
Fishing is a lot like life: you only get out what you put in when nobody’s watching. The off-season is where your future victories are built in silence. It’s where small details become habits, and habits become wins.
When the lights come back on and the field launches for the first event of the year, that’s when all the quiet work pays off. You don’t rise to the level of the moment, you rise to the level of your preparation.
And for me, preparation never stops.
Chad Marler – Angler Profile
