I don't understand this.

[Ajax]

I haven't read the studies linking death to retirement, but I'll bet that contributing factors are that the people in these studies got all sedentary and deflated or took up or accelerated bad habits like smoking and drinking.

If you remain busy and engaged doing work that you find fulfilling during retirement, I'll bet you live longer. How much money you have during retirement may be a factor. If you have little money and just sit in your house, then you're not engaged and active.

I might pay my mortgage off a few years early, but I doubt I'll be able to make a drastic change. I'll take whatever I can get, though.

[Orestes Munn]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

[kimbottles]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

[Orestes Munn]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

The comparison has never been made, but I'll betcha nickel that social interaction is a better preserver of old people than exercise. Of course, a combination would be best.

[kimbottles]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

The comparison has never been made, but I'll betcha nickel that social interaction is a better preserver of old people than exercise. Of course, a combination would be best.

Ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton.....

[Orestes Munn]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

The comparison has never been made, but I'll betcha nickel that social interaction is a better preserver of old people than exercise. Of course, a combination would be best.

Ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton.....

That's the ticket!

[BeauV]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

The comparison has never been made, but I'll betcha nickel that social interaction is a better preserver of old people than exercise. Of course, a combination would be best.

Ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton.....

That's the ticket!

When I went through my lousy divorce in '08 I took to riding my road bike for at least 3 hours a day. I quit working that year too, my third attempt to retire. Life really sucked! So I decided to get my old ass in shape by riding my bike.

One time I was heading north across the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning and gaggle (flock?, murder?, herd?, pride?) of pro cyclists from Menlo Vello passed me. They had come from Menlo Park, CA by the time they got to the bridge. So their legs had about 40 miles on them already when they passed me. I was feeling pretty good so I started sucking the last wheel in their group over the bridge. What I hadn't predicted was that rather than riding to the right into Sausalito, they turned left at the north end of the bridge and started up the 700' STEEP CLIMB up to Hawk Hill atop the Marin Headlands.

About halfway up the hill the guy just ahead of me shouted to the rest of the pack: "Hey, Grandpa is still hanging on. Time to pick up the pace!" With that they all stood up and tried to leave me. Well, y'all know I enjoy a good battle, so I decided I'd rather have a heart attack than let this group leave me by the side of the road. It damn near did kill me! I hung on until the top where most folks stop to breath, look at the view, breath, and lay down gasping like a dead fish. Not this group, they headed right on over the top and started hitting 50-60 MPH on the downhill out to Pt. Bonita Lighthouse.

I'm pretty sure I said a lot of bad words, and some might have even made it out of my mouth as I tried to breath, but I rather like downhill runs at high speed so I figured I'd take a shot. The road goes flat at the bottom for about half a mile, and I was still there. (Thank god the front tire was in good shape, it's have died if I'd crashed on that road. No guard rail, 500' to the rocks below.) Then there's a little uphill and down again to the Lighthouse. "They'll have to stop at the lighthouse!" I promised myself.

Nope, they screamed around the turn onto the road that leads off the point and started the 2-mile steady climb to the tunnel. I was nearly dead by this point, but still there. Two of the guys in front dropped back, one on either side of me. "Do you think he's going to die?" one asked the other. "Na, he'll be ok, his face is still all red. We only have to worry once his face turns white." and of me, they asked: "How are you doing, Grandpa? Want to go on?" I could only nod yes while they were breathing easy. For me, talking was not an option. Going east the tunnel runs downhill and I was able to start breathing again and by the time we turned left on Alexander Ave and descended into Sausalito I was actually beginning to breathe again.

Then we hit the flat road through town. "Is Grandpa still there?" one of the leaders shouted back, and the guy ahead of me said: "Yup, sucking my wheel the whole time."

"I guess we better pick it up a little." came the response from the middle someplace, and they did.

Someplace about half way through town I just couldn't do it anymore. We were going faster on the flat than I'd ever gone and my legs were cooked noodles. I gasped: "See ya tomorrow!" to the guy ahead of me and slowed down. Ten minutes after they'd left me behind I was really surprised to see them all heading back the other way on the other side of the road. They turned around and the one who'd been at the back most of the time said: "We don't ride up here every day. We'll see you on Thursday."

With that, they were gone.

Thursday morning I was warmed up. I had my food tubes, water bottles loaded, tires pumped up as much as I dared, and I was riding rather gently across the bridge to save my strength. "Get outa the way, Grandpa!" They were back. I slid in behind the last guy and we did the route again. The harder tires helped, except on the downhill Again, I faded, but a bit further on, and this time they just waved.

This went on twice a week for about three months. Eventually, I made it up to San Anselmo, then Fairfax, and then finally out to Bolinas over the Fairfax-Bolinas Road (about a 1,500 foot pass). When I dropped off in Bolinas, I caught a ride home in a pickup truck from a farmer. Finally, after six months of riding with these guys, I made the entire loop from the Bridge over all the hills and back to the Bridge again. As we crested the Bridge on the way to San Francisco and started to coast along, slowed by bike traffic, there were lots of "thumbs up" and a few "high fives" from the guys. I could hardly see, but they say I was grinning like a fool.

Just past the old toll stop the road turns right and goes up and over part of the Presidio. At the top, there's a view turnout looking out over the Pacific Ocean and the pack pulled in. Gasping I stopped next to them, wondering why they were stopping. One of them pulled out a hip flask and handed it to me. One pulled a Menlo Vello jersey from his back pocket and handed it to me. I was stunned. Over the months I'd come to know them a little and this action touched me in a way I still mist up about. They'd saved me in a way. We passed the flask around, draining it, and then with some waves and a number of "Well done! See you Thursday."

They'd dragged my old ass up and down hills, got me to ride faster than I'd ever believed possible, and had told their stories and shared their lives as they road along and I gasped for breath. I still see a few of them about twice a year. They really saved me.

If I ever really quite working, it will be to ski, bike, sail, or something that keeps my body from rotting and my mind from fossilizing. I'm pretty convinced that retirement is fatal.

[kimbottles]

These studies are controlled for things like smoking or drinking, but if you look at the epidemiology, social isolation is large factor in mortality, particularly from vascular causes. The immune system says, "You're done, Chief" and gives you a nice thrombosis.

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.......

The comparison has never been made, but I'll betcha nickel that social interaction is a better preserver of old people than exercise. Of course, a combination would be best.

Ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton, ride in a peloton.....

That's the ticket!

When I went through my lousy divorce in '08 I took to riding my road bike for at least 3 hours a day. I quit working that year too, my third attempt to retire. Life really sucked! So I decided to get my old ass in shape by riding my bike.

One time I was heading north across the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning and gaggle (flock?, murder?, herd?, pride?) of pro cyclists from Menlo Vello passed me. They had come from Menlo Park, CA by the time they got to the bridge. So their legs had about 40 miles on them already when they passed me. I was feeling pretty good so I started sucking the last wheel in their group over the bridge. What I hadn't predicted was that rather than riding to the right into Sausalito, they turned left at the north end of the bridge and started up the 700' STEEP CLIMB up to Hawk Hill atop the Marin Headlands.

About halfway up the hill the guy just ahead of me shouted to the rest of the pack: "Hey, Grandpa is still hanging on. Time to pick up the pace!" With that they all stood up and tried to leave me. Well, y'all know I enjoy a good battle, so I decided I'd rather have a heart attack than let this group leave me by the side of the road. It damn near did kill me! I hung on until the top where most folks stop to breath, look at the view, breath, and lay down gasping like a dead fish. Not this group, they headed right on over the top and started hitting 50-60 MPH on the downhill out to Pt. Bonita Lighthouse.

I'm pretty sure I said a lot of bad words, and some might have even made it out of my mouth as I tried to breath, but I rather like downhill runs at high speed so I figured I'd take a shot. The road goes flat at the bottom for about half a mile, and I was still there. (Thank god the front tire was in good shape, it's have died if I'd crashed on that road. No guard rail, 500' to the rocks below.) Then there's a little uphill and down again to the Lighthouse. "They'll have to stop at the lighthouse!" I promised myself.

Nope, they screamed around the turn onto the road that leads off the point and started the 2-mile steady climb to the tunnel. I was nearly dead by this point, but still there. Two of the guys in front dropped back, one on either side of me. "Do you think he's going to die?" one asked the other. "Na, he'll be ok, his face is still all red. We only have to worry once his face turns white." and of me, they asked: "How are you doing, Grandpa? Want to go on?" I could only nod yes while they were breathing easy. For me, talking was not an option. Going east the tunnel runs downhill and I was able to start breathing again and by the time we turned left on Alexander Ave and descended into Sausalito I was actually beginning to breathe again.

Then we hit the flat road through town. "Is Grandpa still there?" one of the leaders shouted back, and the guy ahead of me said: "Yup, sucking my wheel the whole time."

"I guess we better pick it up a little." came the response from the middle someplace, and they did.

Someplace about half way through town I just couldn't do it anymore. We were going faster on the flat than I'd ever gone and my legs were cooked noodles. I gasped: "See ya tomorrow!" to the guy ahead of me and slowed down. Ten minutes after they'd left me behind I was really surprised to see them all heading back the other way on the other side of the road. They turned around and the one who'd been at the back most of the time said: "We don't ride up here every day. We'll see you on Thursday."

With that, they were gone.

Thursday morning I was warmed up. I had my food tubes, water bottles loaded, tires pumped up as much as I dared, and I was riding rather gently across the bridge to save my strength. "Get outa the way, Grandpa!" They were back. I slid in behind the last guy and we did the route again. The harder tires helped, except on the downhill Again, I faded, but a bit further on, and this time they just waved.

This went on twice a week for about three months. Eventually, I made it up to San Anselmo, then Fairfax, and then finally out to Bolinas over the Fairfax-Bolinas Road (about a 1,500 foot pass). When I dropped off in Bolinas, I caught a ride home in a pickup truck from a farmer. Finally, after six months of riding with these guys, I made the entire loop from the Bridge over all the hills and back to the Bridge again. As we crested the Bridge on the way to San Francisco and started to coast along, slowed by bike traffic, there were lots of "thumbs up" and a few "high fives" from the guys. I could hardly see, but they say I was grinning like a fool.

Just past the old toll stop the road turns right and goes up and over part of the Presidio. At the top, there's a view turnout looking out over the Pacific Ocean and the pack pulled in. Gasping I stopped next to them, wondering why they were stopping. One of them pulled out a hip flask and handed it to me. One pulled a Menlo Vello jersey from his back pocket and handed it to me. I was stunned. Over the months I'd come to know them a little and this action touched me in a way I still mist up about. They'd saved me in a way. We passed the flask around, draining it, and then with some waves and a number of "Well done! See you Thursday."

They'd dragged my old ass up and down hills, got me to ride faster than I'd ever believed possible, and had told their stories and shared their lives as they road along and I gasped for breath. I still see a few of them about twice a year. They really saved me.

If I ever really quite working, it will be to ski, bike, sail, or something that keeps my body from rotting and my mind from fossilizing. I'm pretty convinced that retirement is fatal.

There is an old saying in serious bicycle racing: "It does not get any easier, you just go faster." Looks like you got to experience that saying first hand. Good job Beau.

Back when I was a serious racer we trained often on the roads that went around the golf course down at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. We would get some pretty big packs of riders, and some of them were among the best riders in the country.

One day this old guy riding in cutoffs and with saddle bags jumped onto the back of the pack. We of course started to turn up the wick and people started to get dropped, but the old guy hung on.

Then we REALLY started to hammer, pretty soon we were going pretty much full gas and there were only about 5 of us left, but he was still there (drafting of course but still alive.)

That's how I met my dear friend John Hood, Sr, a star rider from England during the 50's. Unfortunately he was killed by a car while riding in Texas about 15 years ago. I am still in touch with his son John Hood, Jr. who was a top rider well into his 50's. Great people, I miss senior, he ended up being my coach. Wonderful fellow.

I tear up every time I think of him.

[TheOffice]

Beau

Awesome story! My divorce freed me to get back to serious sailing and now here I am spending Richs money on a new main and planning my third Bermuda race.
Joel

[Orestes Munn]

I can't even keep up with the girls, these days.

[kdh]

I really enjoyed reading that story, Beau.

I agree with you about retirement.

[kdh]

That's how I met my dear friend John Hood, Sr, a star rider from England during the 50's. Unfortunately he was killed by a car while riding in Texas about 15 years ago. I am still in touch with his son John Hood, Jr. who was a top rider well into his 50's. Great people, I miss senior, he ended up being my coach. Wonderful fellow.

I tear up every time I think of him.

Danger from cars. Fucking worst thing about biking.

[BeauV]

I really enjoyed reading that story, Beau.

I agree with you about retirement.

Keith - thanks.

[BeauV]

Kim,

I just poured my second large glass of medicinal wine tonight, having spent the day digging and chopping in the yard. I feel about like I did when trying to keep up with those young men on bikes. In this case, I'm trying to keep up with our gardener. A few weeks ago I got a giant compliment. My lovely Admiral reported that our gardener said: "Your husband works like a Mexican." That is high praise

Riding bikes has been wonderful for me. But, sadly, the roads in Santa Cruz country are too narrow and the pickup truck drivers ride the right shoulder on blind right turns. I've lost two friends to them. Both hit-n-run. Now I find myself either riding groomed bike trails or mountain biking.

B

[kimbottles]

Kim,

I just poured my second large glass of medicinal wine tonight, having spent the day digging and chopping in the yard. I feel about like I did when trying to keep up with those young men on bikes. In this case, I'm trying to keep up with our gardener. A few weeks ago I got a giant compliment. My lovely Admiral reported that our gardener said: "Your husband works like a Mexican." That is high praise

Riding bikes has been wonderful for me. But, sadly, the roads in Santa Cruz country are too narrow and the pickup truck drivers ride the right shoulder on blind right turns. I've lost two friends to them. Both hit-n-run. Now I find myself either riding groomed bike trails or mountain biking.

B

Yes, one must be very selective where to ride their bicycle. Interestingly enough, my favorite place to ride is France. French drivers are the best when it comes to watching out for cyclists. At least that is what I have experienced.

[Olaf Hart]

We have an active road safety program now in Tassie, asking motorists to keep 1.5 meters clear of cyclists.

[BeauV]

California requires 3 feet between a car and a bike. Doesn't work around here. The folks who live in the Santa Cruz Mountains live up there, in part, because they hate Gubmint. Many of them work in construction in town or over in San Jose. When they are driving home, especially after a few drinks, they put their right two wheels on the extreme right edge of the road sometimes even in the dirt, to straighten out the corners and speed their trip home. Many of the corners are entirely blind due to the Redwood trees growing next to the road. A result is a dead person in the truck if there is a semi parked around the corner, or a dead guy on the hood of the pickup if there is a bike just around the corner.

Before I gave up on it entirely, I discovered it was far safer to ride out on the left side of the lane on right turns. I have VERY bright flashing red lights on my helmet and bike, folks would see those and slow down sooner. That said, four times some ass went by me on the right at about twice the safe speed screaming at me to get out of the way.

We 'Muricans have a fundamental belief that the roads were built for cars and trucks and everyone else, including kids walking, should get the hell off our roads. (I know that's a gross over-generalization, but I can't explain the various laws that look like they allow drivers to hit pedestrians if the driver things that pedestrian is "protesting" something.)

[Orestes Munn]

I ride few thousand miles a year and it's obvious that the danger is from inattentive drivers, not reckless ones. I expect the last words I hear will be, "Sorry, I didn't see you."

[Olaf Hart]

With my population health hat on, I have been a long term advocate of safe bicycle pathways, and don't ride on the open road myself.

After the GFC we had a labor government that thought the proper keynsian thing to do was stimulate the economy by making work for tradesmen. They thought up a massive public school renewal program, so every school got a new library or a new assembly hall, generally something that looked good at a press opening, rather than something the school actually needed.

So there is this story going around about childhood obesity, the disease du jour. I was a Federal AMA spokesperson at the time, and they asked me to go on national radio and do an interview. We chatted on for a while, and I said "Its a real shame the government didn't decide to spend some of this money they are wasting on school halls on safe bicycle paths for children instead"

The next day the Feds announced a $100 million grant for safe bicycle paths. Don't know where it went, but there are a lot more out there now than there were.

Nice to know I contributed to the deficit ...

[Orestes Munn]

Strong work! In my opinion, every dollar that helps wean our populations from their miserable dependence on
the automobile is well spent and will yield returns in health costs and real estate values.

[BeauV]

YES! Great job getting someone to actually build bike paths.

'Round here we have a war going on with the horse riders vs mountain bikers. The folks on bikes build trails and complain about horse shit on the trails. The folks on horses complain about the speed of the bikes and that they freak out the horses. The poor hikers complain about all of it.

Despite all this, we now have a LOT of miles dedicated to mountain bikes. So much so that I rarely ride my road bike.

I was in the Netherlands a couple of years ago, they have the entire bike/car thing worked out. But walking across a bike lane is about as bad as walking about a freeway. Pedestrians should keep off the bike roads. The Dutch have really gone for the bike thing. Almost overboard!