I was talking to a 65 year old XC racer at the last Gone Riding event about what it would take for me to stay in the saddle for another 10 years. The first thing he said was "good parents". He said he trained as hard and rode as much at 65 as he did at 55. "At about 58 I noticed I was using just as much energy, riding just as hard, but going slower". "Nothing I did made any difference in my speed".
So there it is. I have three more years to try and improve until I start the slide back down. I know everybody's different. I know that what happened to him has no bearing on my future. Still it got me thinking. If you're under 50 you probably have never thought about not being able to improve. Heck, maybe you don't even want to improve. Yea, maybe that's the attitude! Just enjoy the ride. Why do some of us think we have to always get better? Do more? Go faster? Can't we just enjoy the simple pleasures of riding through the woods? What possess me, when I see a rider ahead, to try and catch him? Most of the time he (or she) is at least 10 years younger than I am. In the grand scheme of things does it really make a difference? Apparently it does to me.
We had another Dirty 30 last Sunday morning. I should have been in church like BJS was. Instead I lined up for our "group ride" at a secret location. It was hot and muggy. LiL Ball said "go" and off we rolled. Just like in the paragraph above whenever someone passed me or lapped me I tried harder. It hurt, you know how it feels. Why would I put myself through this? The only person who was there that was anywhere near my age was WB and he's still 7 years younger than me. What makes us want to do this to ourselves? When it was over there were smiles all around.
Last night at the Higher Ground ride only the fast guys showed up. It was red lined from the time we crossed the rail road tracks. They dropped me like a hot potato. Why do I care? I shouldn't. They're all younger, faster, and just plain better cyclists than I am. So why at 55 do I even think I can keep up?
I have an answer. It's because when I ride, I mean when I'm really into the ride, I don't think I'm 55. All I think about is the ride.
So should we try to mentally prepare ourselves for the downward spiral? Will we even notice it? It will come to all of us eventually if we do this long enough. Is acceptance the healthiest way to go? I guess you would never have to worry about it if you didn't participate in any type of physical sports.
Anyhoo try not to look at me so funny when I pull up and complain about how fast you've gotten. It may not be you. I just might be on the way down.
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Holy mortality, Batman!!!
ReplyDeleteHere's the bright side:
1st, google Ned Overend. Deadly Nedly is an alien, but gives hope to all those who recognize the effects of aging.
2nd, at least you're into mountain bikes. And, you're still in the beginning of the learning curve, skillwise. Efficiency is the key. It's often not who pedals hardest, but who pedals smartest. Defeat the decrease in strength with an increase in finesse. Even on the road, it makes a big difference. We have a local in town, who regularly schooled me on the Food Lion ride, while I was in my late 20s, early 30s, and he in his early 50s. He simply rode smarter.
Lastly, stay in the gym. Apparently that type of resistance training goes a long way to prevent muscle atrophy, and increase bone density.
Nice post! I think allot of how we age is in genetics and how we have lived most of our lives. Not much we can do about our genes but my hope is that staying active now will keep me active later.
ReplyDeleteBig Jim
Do not go gentle into that good night,
ReplyDeleteOld age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.