The Long Ride with Greg Pallone
Five pieces. Five kinds of loss. The shrinking table. The parents who are no longer there. The guilt of still feeling well. The self that retired along with the career. And finally, the clock — the one you can’t unhear once you’ve started listening.
That was The Long Losses. I didn’t plan it as a series when I started. It became one because the territory was larger than a single piece could hold, and because readers’ responses told me that most of you were carrying some version of the same weight. Quietly. Without expressing it. Some readers expressed worry for me, so I’m glad we walked it together.
But here’s the thing about sitting with loss long enough, honestly enough: it eventually points you back toward the living. Toward what you can still do. Toward the body and mind you still have, and the question of how well you intend to use it for whatever time remains.
That’s where The Long Ride goes next. I’m excited to share the rest of the ride with you.
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The tagline of this publication — aging is a sport, let’s train for it — is more than a slogan. It’s a philosophy. A position. A refusal to accept that the years after 60 are primarily a story of decline to be managed rather than a game still worth playing hard.
I approached it intuitively, as a former competitive cyclist, rugby and football enthusiast. Sport taught me early that the body responds to what you ask of it, that decline is real but rarely as rapid or as fixed as we assume, and that how you train matters as much as whether you train.
Those instincts, formed on the bike over decades, are now being sharpened by something more rigorous: I am currently working toward my NASM certification, with a focus on strength training, nutrition, and corrective exercise for adults in their 60s and 70s. Why I’m doing this at 69 requires a more thoughtful answer.
What I’m learning is both clarifying and, honestly, a little alarming. The research on what’s possible — and on what’s quietly happening to our bodies in this age group - is more compelling than I expected. Most of it isn’t making it into the conversations people are having or, for that matter, into the fitness industry.
That’s the gap I want to close.
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Here’s what’s coming, and why I think it matters.
We’re going to talk about muscle — why it’s the single most important physical asset you have after 65, why most people are losing it faster than they realize, and what it takes to reverse that loss.
We’re going to talk about nutrition, not as a diet conversation but as a tool of precision: what does a body in its late sixties or seventies need, and how far off are we?
We’ll cover sleep, the cardiovascular picture that goes beyond “do your cardio,” cognitive health and what the research says about reducing dementia risk, and the chronic conditions — diabetes, hypertension, arthritis — that are manageable if you engage them early and devastating if you don’t.
We’ll also return to mental health and loneliness, because the research on social isolation as a physical health risk is as serious as anything else on this list, and because the emotional interior of aging doesn’t stop mattering.
Throughout, I’ll try to do what I’ve always tried to do here: give you the research without the jargon, share what I’m actually doing and learning rather than preaching from a position I haven’t earned. And I’ll trust you to make your own decisions with better information than most of us have had so far.
I’ll also encourage you to get reacquainted with your doctor or health practitioner. If you are like most people, you probably don’t see your doctor as often as you should. Something I learned in sports applies here, too: you can’t measure changes in your health without first getting a baseline measurement.
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The Long Losses was about what we carry. This next chapter is about what we’re still capable of.
Those two things are not in tension. You can grieve what’s gone and train consistently and habitually for what remains. You can hear the clock and decide that’s exactly the reason to show up to the gym at 6 am. You can be, as I am, somebody who has sat with the hard questions about aging and mortality — and still choose, every morning, to lace up and go.
Thank you for staying with me on this.
Next: Muscle Is Medicine — Why Strength Training Is the Most Important Thing You’re Probably Not Doing.
If The Long Losses resonated with you, I’d love to know which piece and why in the comments. And if you’re new here — welcome to The Long Ride. Still free for all subscribers.




I am trying to find the words to describe how much this article resonated with me.
At 60 I had my knee replaced and my hip at 62. Before that, I was a triathlete. At 65 and a new retiree, I’m finding it difficult to get back in the game. My head is still a triathlete but my body isn’t.
Reading that I should “grieve what is gone and train what remains” hit very hard. I needed to hear that. And I’m in a place to accept that wisdom. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
During Tri training, I had a poster next to my bed that said “Don’t think, just move.” It was motivation for 5am swims. The poster is going back up adding “Aging is my sport. Train what remains.”