Midlife Rock Stars?

On this date in 1969, Apollo 11 landed on the moon. The following day, Neil Armstrong and “Buzz’ Aldrin became the first humans to walk on the lunar surface.

I was a kid, so those days were not like any others I had ever known.  It was the first time that I could recall when, it seemed, the world stopped: regularly-scheduled television programs, baseball games and other events were paused, postponed, canceled or rescheduled. There was nothing else on TV because, really, not many people would have wanted to watch anything else.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Aldrin and Armstrong—and Michael Collins, who remained in orbit around the moon and, arguably, was the most important person in Apollo 11’s success— were given a hero’s welcome. I would go as far as to say the that they attained a status in people’s minds that no one else has before or since.

In one sense, they were like rock stars: They seemed larger than life and so many young people wanted to be like them—or, at least, the image they held of those men. And that image includes one of youth: The fame, fortune and glamor of being a rock star seems attainable because some achieve it in their 20s or even earlier: They aren’t much older than siblings, cousins or, in some cases, aunts or uncles. And in one sense, the astronauts seemed young because they were fit and energetic (and, depending on your perspective, handsome) and represented the future.

The image, of course, differs from the reality. Just almost no young person has any idea of just how much hard work it takes to become a successful musical performer, even if you have Jimi Hendrix’s talent, they don’t know how much intensive training someone has to undergo—sometimes at the cost of marriages and other things in life—to become an astronaut.

Oh, and the astronauts weren’t as young as they might have seemed. Aldrin, Armstrong and Collins were born within a few months of each other in 1930. That would have made them nearly 40 by the time of Apollo 11. While that is not old, I think some would say they were middle-aged. Given Armstrong lived to be 82 and Collins to 90–and that Aldrin is 96–they could all be said to have been, literally, in the middle of their lives when they took that historic flight.

Did that make them midlife rock stars?

Bicycling in (the) Middle Age(s)?

 Bicycling in (the) Middle Age(s)?

Midlife Bikes

 

Yesterday I pedaled Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike, to City Island and back. It wasn’t a long ride: about 16 miles (26 km), and only because I took a slightly convoluted route on my way out. But I was happy because I felt good: My body and bike felt as if they were were one, an absolutely perfect form of energy spinning across pavement and dirt.

I have been riding Tosca for nearly two decades, longer than any other bike I’ve ever owned. It was repainted once. I can’t think of anything I’d change on her. I feel the same way about my other bespoke Mercians—Dee-Lilah, my Vincitore Special and La-Vande, my King of Mercia—and Vera, my Miss Mercian mixte.  

Why am I praising my bikes now?  Somehow Infound myself thinking about how, in my youth, I would’ve followed the Tour de France (running now) and other races and wanted to make my bikes more like those Eddy Merckx, Bernard Hinault, Lance Armstrong (before I knew how much he’d cheated) and other champions. Their bikes weren’t very different from the Colnago or Land Shark I rode. But I always felt the need to keep my bike “up to date,” even long after I’d stopped racing or even riding with wannabe racers.

Today I hardly follow racing and am much less interested in professional sports (except for women’s) than I once was. Today I ride only for transportation or pleasure. My bikes serve those purposes; the ones ridden by the pros would not. Integrated cockpits might be great for efficiency, but they don’t allow for adjustment. Disc brakes are more work than I am willing to do; I have not had trouble stopping with caliper brakes as long as I keep them adjusted.  And I don’t need 12 or 13 gears on the rear of my drivetrain.

In other words, the bike I might’ve wanted if I were, today, the young rider I once was has no use or appeal to me as a midlife cyclist.