Cycles of Life

Pangs of Outrageous Fortune
If you hang around older riders enough you get drawn into the pangs, pains, laments, what-I-used-to-be's, and any other whine and complaint imaginable discussion. We do this because we were once virile and indestructible. Now we're rife with ailments and aches large and small and we just don't think that's fair.

We've all heard someone say, "thank goodness I have my health." But, what if that's a quote we can't use for a while? The longer you're on this earth, the more likely that something is going to tap you on the shoulder and say, "hey pal, I'm here to remind you of your tentative state in the grand scheme of things. You're just mortal flesh and bone."

Let me reveal a couple of exasperating truths. First, growing older is a pain in the butt, physically. Our bodies don't recover as quickly as they used to and our abilities diminish. Second, some of us get tossed some difficult hereditary things to deal with, or we've done enough stupid stuff in our youth to leave us tattered in our dotage. Our health becomes an issue more and more, slapping us in the face, whether we like it or not. What we could have once overlooked is now, sometimes literally, pounding at us with relentless fervor.

Athletes' Feat
I think some of these issues are also particularly difficult for highly active people. We define much of who we are by our ability to get out there day after day and wail. The days, weeks, or months when wailing is not possible throws us into confusion and languid torpor. Sometimes the new successes are measured in the ability to simply do. And simply doing does not in any way match the once wailing self.

Perseverance
I attended a day long heart conference recently for those of us who have received the gift of an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator (ICD). These are the computer devices plopped in your upper chest with wires running into your heart that will revive you in the event of an arrhythmic tachycardia (mild) or fibrillation (severe).

There were many speakers that day, among other activities, but I really enjoyed the group session. Men met with men, women with women, kids with kids, and spouses of recipients with other spouses. These were basically a mix of group therapy and information updates. We all have our specific issues and concerns to deal with. In my group, Dr. Good (the doctor who implanted my device--great name, huh?), a therapist, a device salesman, a nurse, and a number of ICD recipients sat around a large table and talked defibrillators. It's not the kind of session you want to sign up for, but once that little shocker is part of your life, it's a good place to be.

The most surprising aspect of the session for me was the realization that, though my heart issue was a big event in my life (see DirtHammer 911 in the 2007 section of this blog), there are those who have had to deal with much more serious heart issues than I had ever dreamed of. And many in that room had done so since they were children or at least beginning at a much younger phase in their lives than I had. Most of them were not athletes, though they looked surprisingly good for men who have struggled with heart disease for a long time. Most were in middle or advanced middle age, though there was one dynamic young guy with a good sense of humor who was about 18.

The only other athlete besides me was the moderator, Kevin, who liked to race in triathlons. He did look fit. He'd also had an ICD since 2000. It had gone off--which means a shock to the heart--a number of times, often falsely, scaring the heck out of him. Worse it did so twice while he was training in a pool.

False shocks have been one of the few downsides of these devices. My sense is that they are becoming less common as the technology advances, but any shock, from reports of all who've had them, is psychologically devastating. The pain is apparently crushingly intense (it's compared to getting kicked in the chest by a horse), but it's the realization that your heart needs assistance that is most sobering. Most of us get these ICDs hoping that they'll never go off. We want to think that our hearts are okay, but just in case...

When that just-in-case occurs it leaves an emotional scar that lasts longer than the physical shock. It's a reminder of our mortality, and who wants that reality check? Most of us would put an X in the "No Thank You" box. But for some of us that box is X'd in whether we like it or not.

Forever Young
For athletes, the sense of immortality is often what keeps us going. We're often younger looking, or at least more physically spry and toned, than our peers because we tend not to have their double chins, beer bellies or cellulite hips. Athletic endeavors, in themselves, can be redeeming when our bodies are young and our abilities seemingly boundless. Even as we age, some of us can still gladly put the hurt on our younger counterparts. I've been in races or on rides where my body has lifted to levels I didn't know were possible, then lifted again. It truly is one of the most amazing feelings a human can have. Through our own discipline and hard work we find someone within ourselves who is in some ways not even us. It is, for those few moments or hours, the best of who we dreamed we could be.

Then again, part of the reason we advance to such levels is due to heredity. We tap into a sport that will bring the best out of us due to our particular body type and ability. Some of us are built for endurance, some for short bursts of raw power, some with amazing coordination, some with the facility to rebound easily after intense physical stress. And beyond the obvious external physical attributes, there are unseen connections within us, synapses firing, brain cells sending signals, muscles soaking up their chemical requirements with utmost efficiency, and hearts sending amazing amounts of oxygen replenishing relief throughout the body.

Whether we like it or not, this whole system becomes less efficient as we age. Some, through discipline and good genes, are able to carry along at high levels for many years. There are always those who seem to go on and on, even putting their much younger companions into a struggle to keep up. Then there are those whose abilities fade dramatically no matter how hard they try to keep the level high.

Most competitive athletes are, pause here, competitive. They're out there to win, or at least they have a hope of winning even if most of the odds are against them. What if that's no longer possible? Does it mean we have to give up? That's a tough call. It's up to each individual and to their ability to accept their humble place in the grand scheme. Kevin's goal, quite often, is not to finish last in any race he enters.

Maybe, when it all comes down to it, it's not really about aging, or genes. It's not about the race or our place in the standings. It's about the fight. It's about the challenge. It's about perseverance. It's about taking what you have and still living life as best you can.

It's also about health. Most of the men in that ICD group session weren't athletes and couldn't be even if they wanted to. And if they are, their abilities are compromised to some degree. We met for only an hour or two. I didn't know any of them before that day. I wasn't with any of them long enough to determine if they were leading happy, fulfilling lives. On the whole, though, our discussion wasn't about their inadequacies, but about what's available to make their lives as normal as possible. These people were getting on with their lives. Medical technology is amazing enough these days to often make that possible.

I haven't read all of It's Not About the Bike (sorry, Lance, I'll get there one of these days), but I do know others who've fought back, or are currently fighting back, from some debilitating disability or disease. I do think that some things are tossed our way to test our character. I also know that there are often other people with greater struggles than our own. When it comes down to it, though, most of us still want to return to some semblance of where we were before we descended from our heights (even if those heights were humble to begin with). For many of us that is not as possible as we'd like it to be, but we still have hope and desire mulling around in the back of our thoughts. Sometimes that hope is enough to sustain us until we return to be the best that we can be.

Yet, sometimes, we don't get anywhere near where we once were, due to age or health or both. At that point we need to pull out a pair of reassessment goggles and look around us. Where are we in that grand scheme? Sure, it's disappointing to think we can't be what we'd once dreamed, but maybe there's a better dream. In that dream we'll find newer and more sustainable goals, perhaps even more fulfilling ones. Maybe the most important thing is that we're back out there, or we're preparing to be.

I'd be curious to hear other voices and opinions on this matter. I mean, after all, who am I to say? I'm not old, nor--like most of us--do I plan on getting old. And as to health, I look to people like Kevin. He perseveres.

There are many individuals in the photos above who are amazingly young despite their age.