Cool Location line, by the way.
My FIL is 70. He lifts weights 5 days a week and is much stronger than I am. In the winter he skis black diamond trails at least once a week in New Hampshire. He owns a 300 acre cattle farm and does heavy manual labor at least 10 hours a day every weekend. He is also a multimillionaire and runs his company by working 11 hour days during the week.
Wow Shagnasty that guy sounds like a real supie-man.
May I ask how old you are (to compare with your statement)?
I just turned 31 this summer, and I can read most of the Sunday Times and eat a bagel, all by around 3pm. MACHO!!
Sure, I am 31. It kind of sucks really because daughters (my wife in particular) almost always compare men to their fathers and I am nothing like him but I have my own strengths in guess.
The Juice Guy on TV
My grandparents were the owners, operators, and sole employees of “5 Bar Dash Custom Trailers” until well into their 60s. They built horse trailers, all by themselves. Did all the work, from lifting to cutting to welding to painting to rivoting to sanding to whatever else it does to take to build a horse trailer, some of which doubled as mobile homes for the cowboy or cowgirl on the rodeo circuit.
When he was 64, he took third place in the World Championship Chariot Races. Yeah, he wasn’t out running the quarter mile, but I know men half his age who don’t have the balls to get in that tiny little buggy behind two horses. In the qualifying rounds for the final championship race, he set a world record that, to my knowledge, has never been broken.
Then they retired somewhere near my grandpa’s 70th birthday and celebrated by building a brand new house. All by themselves. No help from anybody. It’s a big, beautiful house. Now they spend their days tending to five acres, riding horses, target shooting, and whatever else catches their fancy.
It’s easy to forget their old alcoholics when you watch them go.
When my grandfather was 87, he called me to come help him move some furniture, air conditioners, and other fairly heavy stuff. At the time I was 17, and had been lifting weights a lot for the previous year or so. I was no “Arnold” or anything, but I could bench about 280 and easily squat over 400. Well, guess who had to keep stopping to rest. Not him. That was pretty embarassing. When he was about 93 or so, we had to take his lawn mower away from him because he kept losing his balance due to his Parkinson’s. I just can’t imagine push mowing a couple of acres at 93 with pretty bad Parkinson’s. :eek: I don’t do it healthy at 30!
Well, his class is M50, and the current world record is 11.87 according to your link, so if he really can run a hundred metres in 11.5, then he’s got the world record if he wants it.
I remember doing a triathlon, back when I was in my twenties. The triathlon was Tri-Fed USA sanctioned, so everyone’s age was written on their left calf. Competitors could see the age of the people ahead, and if anyone was in their age group then it might be worth their while to pass them.
I’m a slow swimmer, but I used to be fairly fast as far as recreational cyclists go. Halfway through the ride, I saw a man ahead with “67” on his calf. I was not about to let a man over twice my age beat me on a bike. It took about a mile but I finally pulled past him. On the return leg, I noticed that I was putting some distance between us.
Apparently, running was his strong suit. I was less than one half of a mile out from the transition when “67” blew past me. I never saw him again.
In his mid-fifties, my father changed careers, from mechanics to remodeling. I helped on his last job, tearing off a flat patio roof and converting it to a shed (sloped) roof, tying into the house’s roof and reroofing the patio part… In Houston… in August… in what was officially being called a heat wave. Dad understood that the best way to get a job done is to not stop. I was nineteen at the time and I remember standing on that roof, dripping with sweat and thinking to myself that there was no way in the world that I was going to tell a sixty-five year old man that I needed to take a break! We usually worked straight through until Three, stopped for water, then finished at Five.
Dad finally (politely) let me go during the roofing phase; it was obvious to both of us that I was holding him back.
My town is apparently filled with super-human old people. My parents have two elderly neighbors who spend most of their time working on their properties and who say things like “well, now that I’m over 80 I have to start thinking about slowing down” right before helping Dad with pulling stumps.
The other night I went to a self-defense course. An 82-yo lady was there, and not only did very well, but showed off her muscle tone and talked about how she goes walking in the park armed with a trowel as a weapon (it’s a very large park, lots of trails and wilderness, and sometimes some trouble).
Then, DangerDad’s grandfather is the Man of Steel. He’s in his late 80’s, has survived a bout or two of cancer, is missing some rather vital bits of organs, but runs around same as ever and just refuses to die or even slow down.
My late father married for the first time at 55, and subsequently fathered three sons at the ages of 59, 66 (me) and 68. All of us were unplanned – in fact, Dad went to get a vasectomy after he found out Mom was pregnant with my younger brother.
(I know Dad is no record holder – Tony Randall and Andres Segovia got him beat).
Wowwwwwwwwwwwww!!! The old sucker can break a possible world RECORD!!! I never knew anyone who broke a sprinting record before!
Even if my timing was out by a quarter of a second he’d still qualify as mesmerisingly fast by the record books.
Job now is to try and convince him.
Oh, it counts 
How much younger was your mom?
I remember those pics – IIRC, they were taken shortly after the inactivity mandated by his heart surgery.
But it still was a shock – I remember thinking, “I never thought I’d be able to say this, but, I’m in better shape than Arnold!”
This year we celebrated my grandfather’s 90th birthday.
He lives alone in the house he’s owned for the past sixty years, cooks for himself (and us when visiting), grows his own lettuce and potatoes, bakes bread and makes wine on occasion. 20 years ago he had part of his tongue removed because it was carcinogenic, but has had speech therapy and you can’t tell.
When he was 80 he tried a sailboard for the first time in the Caribbean. When he got home he sold his Laser racing dinghy for a sailboard.
Aged 82, he became the oldest person ever to do the Milford Sound trek in New Zealand.
He finally gave up racing dinghies when he was 85, after he capsized his albacore in a strong wind and realised he didn’t have the strength to pull the boat back up.
Now he tours an old-time music hall round the area, performing song-and-dance numbers at geriatric homes to people who are up to thirty years younger than him. And rings the bells in the local church.
An inspiring man.
24 years younger than Dad.
Not sure if my father (age 76) would measure up to some of these folks–he doesn’t run triathlons or lift weights. He can still beat me in a sprint though.
Dad’s main claim to fame is that he’s driven across Canada–from St. John’s, Newfoundland; to Victoria BC, about five thousand miles one way–three times. Twice after age 70. He knows people in a lot of locations across the country, and this way, he can get to see them all. I wish he’d get a newer car for these jaunts, but he says his 1990 Oldsmobile does just fine. If he doesn’t have a friend’s place in the location where he happens to be at night, and doesn’t feel like going to a motel, he just parks and sets up a tent nearby.
When he is at home in the winter, when cross-Canada driving is not a good idea, he curls nearly every day. That’s the game of curling I’m referring to, where you heave heavy stones down the ice and sweep like crazy. Or he will build something in his workroom. Or he will do some freelance consulting for the industry he supposedly retired from 10 years ago or so. Or he will offer to build us a garage.
Only a few grey hairs, but no Grecian Formula. I hope I look that good and am that active when I’m 76.
I’m sure the genetic factor will kick in.
My late grandma, who would be 114 if she were alive, could run circles around my Mom, who was in her late fifties, well until she was 91. Cooking, cleaning, stuff.