Rebuilding the Foundation for a Wild Encore
Please note - this post reflects my personal experience with recovery and fitness. It is illustrative, not prescriptive. Everyone's path is different - consult with your healthcare provider before making changes to your health routine and practices. (Full Disclaimer)
In 2016, I had my first total left hip replacement. I bounced back fast—riding my Peloton, skiing, and doing most of what I loved—but the pain that led me to surgery in the first place never fully went away. I kept pushing forward, but deep down, I knew something still wasn’t right. A couple of hard falls on the slopes made that abundantly clear.
In the spring of 2022, having retired and preparing to pursue a life of travel and outdoor adventure, the truth became impossible to ignore. Carrying a backpack—or even my granddaughter—would send sharp pain through my hip and down my femur. I tried to power through, hiking Zion, roaming the Nevada desert, and grinding up Phoenix trails. But exercise wasn’t fixing it—it was making it worse.
So I pivoted. I postponed my travel plans, returned home to Springfield, and renovated what I now call “base camp”—a simple, easy-to-maintain home that would support a lock-and-leave lifestyle while I trained and traveled. In the fall of 2022, a local orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Megan Manthe, confirmed what I’d feared: the original implant had come loose. On February 13, 2023, I underwent a full left hip revision.
The new implant was rock solid - Dr. Manthe is an outstanding surgeon - but recovery wasn’t easy. I was alone in those first days (a mistake I wouldn’t repeat), vulnerable and hurting. At times, I felt frail—old in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to feel before. That’s when the spark hit: I needed a goal bigger than my pain.
I started reading about long-distance cyclists in their 60s and 70s—riding across the country, defying the narrative of decline. Road touring didn’t appeal to me (too many distracted drivers), but when I stumbled across the Great Divide Trail—2,711 miles along the spine of the Rockies from Banff to the Mexican border—I felt something shift. That trail was a calling.
So I got to work.
With excellent physical therapists and a fierce daily commitment, I rehabbed hard. In April I bought a gravel bike. In June I packed up and spent the summer of 2023 in Colorado, living in a cabin near the Great Divide Trail south of Steamboat Springs. High altitude. Steep hills. No excuses.
I trained. I wrote. I stretched. I rode. I named the very worst of all the hills (Nemesis). I cooked real food. I rested. One stone at a time, I laid the foundation for a bridge between the vision I’d long carried and the life I was determined to create. By late summer, I was in the best shape of my life—at age 67.
But back home in September, I realized how much I missed my daughter and granddaughter. So I pivoted again: less travel for now, more local adventure and family time. That’s when I discovered the National Senior Games—and decided to attempt to qualify in the cycling time trials. Around the same time, a friend handed me a book: Outlive by Dr. Peter Attia. It was a game-changer. I began weaving his principles of longevity into my own goals—to reject decline, embrace healthspan, and become a model for what’s possible in our legacy years.
Winter and spring 2024 was all about FTP (Functional Threshold Power) training—grueling, focused, and wildly rewarding. I even brought my gravel bike to Las Vegas for a March trip with friends, riding in Red Rock Canyon and Death Valley. I was finally living it—the life I’d imagined, only better.
In April, 2024, I bought a starter road bike and trained with laser focus for the Missouri Senior Games. In early June, I raced for the very first time. I finished last in my age group in both the 5K and 10K—but with only four riders in the 10K, I also placed 4th.
And that meant I qualified for the 2025 National Senior Games.
Racing was glorious - complete surrender to the moment, to flow.
Having qualified, the dream became a reality. I had 13 months to prepare for Nationals. I mapped out a schedule for fall races across Nebraska, South Dakota, Oklahoma, and Arkansas. I had a vision. I had momentum. I had a plan.
But as they say, Man plans—and God laughs.
[To be continued in Part II: Knee-Deep in Rehab & Resilience...]
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