Faster. Stronger. Longer. For a longer health span.
I’m 67 years old—and I’m training harder, feeling stronger, and performing better than I ever did as a young man. That’s not luck. It’s the result of focused training, smart nutrition, and a commitment to staying faster, stronger, and more resilient—well into later life.
The science is clear: regular exercise reduces the risk of major diseases like cancer, heart disease, and dementia. It also strengthens mental health, improves mood, and builds cognitive resilience. The message is simple: movement is medicine.
But this blog is about more than physical performance.
It’s also about:
• Mental resilience — how I’ve navigated the psychological toll of aging, injury, and transitions, and how I build a mental health toolkit to stay grounded.
• Life reinvention — after 50 years of intense work, I’ve stepped into a new phase: one of reflection, curiosity, and purpose. I write about travel, music, culture, and the search for meaning beyond productivity.
• Longevity — not just living longer, but living better. I explore the science and practice of healthspan: from supplements and training to rest, mindset, and recovery.
I wasn’t an elite athlete in my youth—just average. But today, I rank at the high end of performance metrics for my age group. That’s not because I chase perfection, but because I keep showing up. I train, I learn, I adapt. I fail sometimes. But I always move forward.
This blog documents what’s working for me: the workouts, the nutritional strategies, the science-backed longevity insights, and the moments that give life depth. I’ll share what’s real—and call out what isn’t.
The challenges I take on are real. Some I complete. Some stop me in my tracks. But if I hit every target, the bar wouldn’t be high enough. I’ll share the wins—and the setbacks—because both matter.
Join me.
Let’s build a life that’s not just longer—but stronger, sharper, and more alive.
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May 10, 2025Targeting My Misogi
Show up. I have been putting the work in over recent months. A year since my clavicle surgery and six months since the effect of my head injury abated, I have worked hard. Show up. There is no shortcut, no magic diet or supplement or routine. You need to show up. All else fails. Since my surgery, I have run more than 100 times and been to the gym more than 100 times. Plus, I have thrown in other stuff for variety, such as rucking. I have tended to train five times a week over the last year, with only a bad bout of winter flu slowing my pace.
I’m 68 in a couple of weeks, and various parts of my body hurt, and I’m not as fast or strong as I was. But I show up, which measurably puts me ahead of most of my peers. I know I would hurt more and feel less vibrant if I sat on my ass all day. I know my mental health would not be as good if I didn’t remain curious and open to learning new relationships and novel experiences.
It’s about to get real over the next 24 weeks. Last year, I was locked in for the New York Marathon, even running two weeks after my surgery. That was my misogi for 2024. But post-traumatic vertigo from my head injury defeated me. But no backing down; I rolled over my entry to 2025. My first ever marathon at the age of 68 is a worthy misogi.
Having A Plan
I have made many mistakes during my exercise journey, including having a plan and ignoring the key parts. Yes, you have done it. I can show up and do the work, too. However, I am not the best at adhering to the more subtle elements. In my case, I have repeated two negative behaviours.
Firstly, I don’t prioritise my training, and I must. I quickly let a business call push a training session aside. That’s dumb of me; one of the attractions of my third-phase work life is that I have a portfolio of work, and I don’t have to work 60 or 70 hours a week. I believe I am owed the luxury of prioritising my training when I consider my diary for a given week.
Secondly, I exhibit weapons-grade stupidity when it comes to deload week. My excellent coaching support has me on a three-week push, one-week adapt cycle. I have tended to get to the start of week four and said to myself some version of, “I feel great; I think I will push on!” Even typing this makes me feel stupid. Training adaptation is crucial for any athlete. For a 67-year-old athlete with an accumulation of injuries, wear and tear, and a naturally longer recovery time, it’s even more important.
Coach Parry has given me a 12-week half-marathon training plan, and then I have a further 12-week marathon build plan. I deliberately rested for two weeks while on vacation. On Monday, it’s time to show up and execute 24 weeks of training if I am to deliver on my misogi.
The Bigger Picture
I am not only looking at pounding the tarmac for 24 weeks. Strength training, mobility work, proper recovery, nutrition, supplementation, and support from people like my osteopath are also crucial. I need to bring my 67 years of wisdom to the table. My age and physical shape lengthen the odds of completing my misogi. But my mental resilience, wisdom, and ability to learn more than balance that out. I must show up in all these seven spheres if I am to succeed. This will be a mental game as well as a physical game. I can’t beat a marathon into submission with a head-on attack; I need to surround it with various weapons. Show up and do the work.
And you know, I may still fail. That’s my nagging fear. Yet, I have come to terms with the thought that if I give my best possible effort in all the key elements, I will have done all I can. If I succeed, great. If I don’t, I will have done everything I can.
I am very honoured to have Olympic cyclist Chris Hoy among my friends, and it has always stayed in my mind that he talks about alleviating pressure if you know you have done all you can while preparing. The philosophy emerged from his close collaboration with sports psychologist Professor Steve Peters. Here’s Chris:
“If you go to the line knowing you have given it absolutely 100% in every training session you have done, you know that there’s nothing else you could have done, and that helps you to deal with the pressure.”
I’m taking that piece of wisdom onboard on my 24-week journey to the start line in Staten Island. If I manage the big picture and show up for the next months, I will be physically and mentally better, and that’s a huge win. Then, I can get on and enjoy the event. I know that pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. I must show up and do all the work in my preparation—all the work, not inconsistent cherry-picking.
Show Up – Run & Lift
I have worked with South Africa-based Coach Parry for a few months. As an old but rookie runner, I needed some guidance. One strength of the team is their specialism with over-50s runners, and that closed the deal for me. There is an option for one-to-one coaching, but at present, I use the annual subscription service. Excellent coaches Devlin, Ntutu, and Nicky quickly answer questions posted in the forum.
I have learned a lot—the above-mentioned periodisation technique, for one. The ego-crushingly slow running pace can be an advantage – building time on the feet and aerobic capacity being more advantageous for me than pushing on too much. The criticality of strength training, given the age-related muscle loss that older athletes deal with. The strength work is thorough enough to have time spent on foot strength – after all, a marathon is 55,000 steps long. Mobility work is fundamental.
I confess that I detest mobility work, but spending a few minutes daily on it has been a game changer. My hips and knees thank me for this. And when I drop my ice cream on the floor, I’m mobile enough to swoop and recover it gracefully.
Strength Work For Runners?
I’m an experienced weightlifter and am fortunate to be a member of Third Space in Soho, London. I probably double the average age in the gym simply by putting my foot on the strength room floor. But I show up and do the work. Nothing flashy, and I don’t stay too long. If you’re working correctly, 45 minutes, including warm-up and cool-down, is enough. I focus on basics such as deadlifts and bench presses.
I’m leaving out heavy squats at present and using single-leg leg presses and Knees Over Toes Guy single-leg body weight squats; I want to pay real attention to the musculature around my knees. Ben Patrick also convinced me to use a Tib Bar for lower leg work, and I added that in, too.
We all naturally start to lose muscle from our late 30s onwards, but the good news is that we can reverse this trend, even in our 70s. Simply running and not paying attention to muscle mass will be a one-way trip to injury. Running three times and lifting twice sounds odd, but it’s essential.
For the next 24 weeks, I have a simple routine: Run three times a week, including a Saturday long, slow run. Strength work twice. Rest completely for two days. One week in every four is a de-load week. Simple, huh? He said naively.
Feel free to keep me honest. You can see all my workouts on Strava here. I will show up.
Nutrition Is Key
I should have an edge here, given that I was the CEO of the endurance nutrition company Science in Sport for 12 years. We supplied elite athletes in a range of endurance sports across the world. I was fortunate to work alongside world-class sports physiologists and nutrition experts such as Professor James Morton. In my third-phase advisor, coach, and investor portfolio, I have also worked with Dr David Dunne and Dr Sam Impey. I always say if you cut me across the middle like a tree trunk, you will see Science in Sport imprinted inside me. Now, part of my third-phase career is a role as a non-executive director of running supplement company Puresport, which maintains my exposure and learning in the sports nutrition sector.
You can see that just by osmosis and being around such high-quality people, I should have a clue here. It’s dead simple for me: hydration, energy, and protein. Show up, have a solid, non-flashy nutrition plan, and be consistent.
I don’t tend to hydrate enough, and that’s more common than you would think. I need to step up my game, not only during exercise but also in my life. I need to get it into my head that mainlining coffee isn’t enough. I use high-quality hydration powders from the top-quality companies already mentioned. (He said, being riven by mixed loyalties.)
For energy, I must have enough glycogen in my muscles before training, and that comes from food-based carbs such as oatmeal, bread, and pasta. Always get your food right before you think about sports nutrition. When running, I know I will use about 90 grams of carbohydrates an hour. I take a Science in Sport gel, chew block, or bar every 45 minutes.
Post-run, I will always have a protein shake within 30 minutes of finishing. I want to start the muscle repair process as soon as I can. More broadly, protein is essential to the older athlete; I have written about it previously. I aim to ingest at least 150 grams of protein daily and will go up to 200 grams if I plan well enough. As with energy, I try to get as much protein as possible from quality food sources. But I can eat only so much fish, chicken, meat, eggs, therefore protein shakes help me make the number.
There is a lot of pseudoscience around sports nutrition. I haven’t seen human physiology evolve that much in my career, so many of the wilder claims and more esoteric products can be ruled out. Think hydration, energy, and protein. Think of the three phases of before, during, and after exercise. It’s really that simple—or not.
It’s crucial to note that no magic sports nutrition or supplement product is magic. You must get your basic diet right; it’s all about a solid foundation of good food. Sports nutrition products while out there pound the tarmac and add to your normal diet sensibly; for example, protein shakes to hit your target. I would say focus 90% of your attention on your diet, the bulk of the next 10% of your headspace on your sports nutrition, and 1-2% on your supplementation.
Supplementation
Now, supplementation can start to get more cloudy. Again, wild claims abound, and the scientific proof that many supplements are truly helpful is sometimes not compelling. I will tell you what I take, and while some of my supplements have great scientific support, some aren’t as slam dunk.
Creatine. This is the supplement with the widest, deepest body of proof. I take 5 grams a day. It’s even more critical for me as an older athlete. The benefits include muscle preservation, increased strength, and faster recovery times. There is an increasing weight of evidence around neurological benefits, which, while not that useful in the athletic arena, must be a great plus for a man of my years. Creatine is the must-take supplement.
I use Puresport Magnesium 30 minutes before bed each evening. Magnesium deficiency is common, and more so in athletes. While the range of benefits is potentially broad, I use it to promote better sleep, which is crucial for recovery.
L-glutamine is my third go-to. It’s a non-essential amino acid that is essential for several key body functions, including protein synthesis, immune function, and gut health. Supplementation can help recovery, so I take it. To show up consistently, it’s all about recovery.
Vitamin B-12 is crucial in converting carbohydrates to glucose, our fuel source for exercise. It also assists in the synthesis of protein. People over 50 can have B12 deficiency due to changes in gut function, meaning less becomes available in the older athlete. It’s a must in my supplementation regime..
Those four supplements support my running and lifting efforts and meaningfully contribute to my ‘show up’ armoury. I also take Vitamin D and K2 daily for general well-being.
The Fine Tuning
I continue to show up, and my body takes a battering from running. I’ve been logging 60,000 steps in some weeks recently. Natural wear and tear magnifies the effect on my frame. And it has recently been highlighted to me that my two cycling accidents have exacerbated the damage in my knee and hip. My right knee doesn’t quite straighten after a major collision with the tarmac. And my left hip may be in the early stages of serious decline, triggered by my three pelvic fractures. None of these are excuses in waiting; an inactive me would potentially have multiple physical issues to deal with. I see them as items to deal with.
I have invested in a weekly osteopathy session with the excellent Guy Gold for the last three months. An hour a week has improved me incredibly. I am more mobile and flexible, and my knee pain has been alleviated. I am a realist and know my frame will undergo a lot of wear and tear in the next six months, and I see osteopathy as a tool to help me show up. The clock can’t be turned back on decades of wear and tear, but I can optimise my condition.
I mentioned mobility earlier. Coaches Devlin and Nicky from Coach Parry convinced me to spend time on mobility with this simple, three-exercise routine. I have found every excuse under the sun not to do any work on flexibility and mobility. This routine takes me less than ten minutes. Even my stubborn self knows that I will likely induce injuries in the hip girdle and knees without this work. And so far, so good. Take ten minutes to watch the video, and give it a crack.
Not Just Physical Fitness
In the end, this all boils down to the mental game. Can you show up and do the work, week in and week out? I’ve found that as I age, my body has earned the right to mumble, complain, and throw various challenges my way. But equally, age has made me mentally stronger. Indeed, the concept of misogi is something I relish in my 60s.
I have faced up to issues of depression and anxiety for much of my life. I left it longer than I should deal with some of this stuff; it’s a tough spectrum of health considerations to even admit to, let alone deal with. But I took it on and have worked with some great professionals over the last 15 to 20 years. And I’ve used it to learn more about resilience and the basic workings of the human mind.
From a purely mental health perspective, I have found the number one tool is to talk to someone and tell them what’s going on for you. I have rarely been rebuffed; decent humans tend to lean in with empathy and support. My second tool has been to talk to mental health professionals; keep it in perspective – a session with a good therapist costs less than a night at a local restaurant. In addition to this work, I have developed self-awareness and resilience from exploring mindfulness meditation. I signed up for a Sam Harris Waking Up subscription some months ago, and that’s taken my learning to another level. It’s next-level thinking.
I must add that this isn’t the ‘poor me’ section of the blog. It’s the section where I make the point that the whole human runs the course—body and mind. Accepting mental health as something that can be improved in the same way physical health can improve is a step change.
Show Up In Mind And Body
Show up. It won’t be a smooth road for me over the next 24 weeks, and Sunday, 2nd November, will be a serious challenge. There will be injury. Life will get in the way. I will feel defeated some days. I won’t want to step out on that miserable, wet day when my legs still hurt from two days before. A misogi challenge should, by definition, be challenging.
I will be training anywhere between six and nine hours a week, and I will also be spending time on mobility work, osteopathy, and such. And I need to do it 24 weeks consecutively. That’s hard yards. And I will show up. I wasn’t as resilient earlier in life, but life has taught me that resilience, consistency, and embracing the grind have their rewards.
Sometimes, you only make a millimeter of progress in a day, and some weeks, you can backslide a little. That’s part of the rich game of being human. If I zoom out my focus, then the setbacks are thrown into perspective. If I look at the jagged graph line of progression in my total well-being—physical, mental, philosophical, attitude, mindset, optimism, thirst for life—the trend line is an upward one.
The challenges and setbacks are part of the overall story of coming home and being the person you want to be and can be. And it starts with two words. Show. Up.
I will practice all I have preached in the various sections of this blog and will be on the start line in Staten Island on 2 November. And if life, health, or any unforeseen obstacle emerges and I don’t make it, I will be a stronger, more resilient, more complete man through having shown up and worked. The work itself will improve me. But I would bet on me being on that start line. [...]
May 3, 2025A Years Long Pull Towards New Orleans
For years, I dreamed of going to the New Orleans Jazz Fest—but somehow, it never happened. The eclectic sounds of New Orleans. Jazz, blues, Cajun, Zydeco, and the musical mishmash of the Deep South have been a fixture in my life. Every morning, my radio wakes me with the sounds of WWOZ 90.7, the local New Orleans station. That music plays throughout our home. My vinyl collection and Tidal playlists speak volumes about the influence of NOLA on my musical taste.
It’s said that jazz emerged from the voodoo and drumming rituals that once filled Congo Square before the Civil War. The melting pot of African, Caribbean, and European slaves and settlers found common ground in rhythm, song, and soul. That cultural alchemy gave rise to a sound—and a city—like no other.
I’ve visited New Orleans five times over the years, each time drawn in by the music’s variety, passion, and accessibility. Walking through Congo Square, drifting down Frenchmen Street, or pausing on an average street corner, you hear a rich blend of styles: a contemporary brass band playing Al Green, Zydeco pouring from a bar, and trad jazz pulsing from the sidewalk. Live music is everywhere—vibrant, chaotic, colourful, and rooted in deep history.
The quality is astonishing. One of the things I love most is how accessible the musicians are. You don’t need a stadium ticket to see greatness. You can stand five feet from world-class artists, performing multiple times a day not for fame, but for the sheer love of the music and the city that feeds it. I find myself worrying about the artists. I’m told many of them don’t like to leave the city and tour. It has to be a tough living, and it’s common to see musicians play three and four times a day, leading their band or popping up in support of another New Orleans stalwart. But I guess the city’s addictive musical undercurrent pulls them in and carries them along.
Why Jazz Fest? Why Now?
For years, I’d said I wanted to attend the full eight-day Jazz Fest—but I always found a reason not to. Why now? Why this year?
In late 2023, I stepped away from full-time work after 50 years—almost to the month. Like most major life events, the reasons weren’t black and white. I had fallen out of love with work—and, truthfully, work had fallen out of love with me. I was also recovering from a serious cycling accident that had come uncomfortably close to being fatal. My mental health had been worn down over a few years. I felt a growing sense that there was more to life than I had so far discovered.
But it’s not as simple as finishing work one day and stepping smoothly into a new life the next. Disorientation hit hard. At times, I felt like I was working through the five stages of grief. I had wanted this change—had worked toward it—but the process of saying goodbye to one identity and stepping into another was far from straightforward.
I leaned heavily on the mental health tools I’ve gathered over the years—journaling, meditation—and ramped up my exercise to support my mood and focus. I knew I didn’t want to stop working altogether; I still craved intellectual challenge and purpose. That led me to build a more flexible life of coaching and advisory roles. I have been very conscious to not simply recreate a diluted version of my work life, and as such, I have satisfied a long-term craving by learning to play a musical instrument. I have been taking electric bass guitar lessons for some months now, and play every day; it opens up so many possibilities in my psyche.
Still, the shift from decades of 60- and 70-hour weeks felt like a brick to the head. How do you fill all those hours? The sudden vacuum left me confronting fears of irrelevance, of slowly fading into an anonymous old age—a pinprick of life, quietly extinguished. But others around me reminded me of the value I still offered—to them, and the wider game of life.
Jazz Fest happened, finally. Because it’s time for me to explore new ways of being. Not to aimlessly fill the days, but in recognition that my life may have more layers to it than the grinding train track of making progress in business. What can I learn from diverse music history and the rich cultural heritage and legend that surrounds the art form? Humans use music to communicate some of their deepest challenges and joys; what can I discover?
The Soundtrack Of Reinvention
We humans fall into routines that can become self-made prisons. We lose the key somewhere in the recesses of our minds. But if we pay attention, life will whisper: There’s more to be had. A different pace. A less focused, less monomaniacal existence. One with more uncertainty—and more possibility.
And that’s what I’m starting to see unfold. Unfurling slowly, millimeter by millimeter; there is no big reveal. Indeed, it’s a journey most likely to occupy my remaining years.
The last week of April saw us on the 10-hour flight from London Heathrow to Louis Armstrong International Airport. Truth be told, I was somewhat nervous about entry into the country, having seen a few press stories about hapless tourists being detained and sent home. But the border guard complimented us on our choice to visit the Jazz Fest, and ten minutes after walking off the plane we were in a humungous Chevrolet, cutting through the soupy night air to our hotel in the Warehouse District of New Orleans.
The next morning was soon with us, assisted by a bleary, jet-lagged early wake-up.
The Joy Of Connection
I read a fascinating New York Times article summarising 100 years of research into happiness. I’m not sure if it was coincidence it appeared while I was contemplating my place in the world. The link is here; you may find it behind a paywall, or be lucky and it be one of your free articles. It’s worth 15 minutes of your time. The quote below summarises one of the key findings:
“Talking to strangers — on trains, in a coffee shop, at the playground, online at the D.M.V., in the waiting room at the doctor’s office — could be dismissed as an exercise that simply makes the time pass. But it could also be seen as a moving reflection of how eager we all are, every day, to connect with other humans whose interiority would otherwise be a mystery… Talking to strangers guarantees novelty, possibly even learning. It holds the promise, each time, of unexpected insight, as well as the warmth of human connection.”
I have been an introvert throughout my life, although I could—and can—role-play more extroverted styles to survive in business. Part of my transition to this new life is learning to talk to people I randomly meet. And to listen to them, too. You could be reading this and thinking this is so basic. But we all come from a place, and my place was the quiet kid who was told to shut up.
I mention the New York Times article here because I find in New Orleans that everyone will talk to you—and do it with real attention and care. Sure, the music is next level, but some of the conversations are memorable. Even the passing pleasantries lift the mood, which doesn’t need much lifting after a few hours of sublime music.
But I digress.
Immersed In The Music
More than 400,000 people attend the festival, which runs over two weekends, with a four-day break between the two intense tranches of music, colour, and noise. As well as music, there are hundreds of craft stalls from around the Americas, and the busy avenues between the eight stages feature Second Line bands, Indian Chiefs, and Mexican marching bands. The food is incredibly alien to a Brit like me—alligators, crawfish, gumbo, Po Boys, and on and on. All senses were assaulted from morning to night, for eight days straight
Day one of the festival started and we were full-on soaking in the plethora of musical choices around the vast concert grounds at the race course. We kicked off with Bonerama and then saw the blues legend Little Freddie King, still sharp at the age of 82. Over and again we saw musicians in their late seventies, and eighties, and even one of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band lineup leading from the front at 92. I guess music is a calling rather than a job, and artists play until they drop. The first day rounded out with John Fogerty blasting through his Creedence Clearwater Revival catalogue of music, coming hard out of the gate with Bad Moon Rising and rounding out the set two hours later with Proud Mary. And so it went for four days; quality music from 11:30 until 7 each evening.
It met my expectations, and I found myself immersed in the music and surroundings, very deeply. An almost other worldly feeling to the few days. Jet lag came and went very quickly, which was a plus.
A City Of Contradictions
Between the weekends, we went to an unusual Cuban gig in an obscure corner of the city, a few nights into our visit. Afro-Cuban drumming and rhythm with an electronic overlay. It sounds odd, but it was a cracking gig, played inside the artist’s studio to a very small audience. We chatted to some locals while waiting, and a guy who had moved from Portland, Oregon a few years ago talked eloquently about the contradictions of New Orleans. It resonated with me, and I thought of my contradictions and how they inform my life view and future.
It’s true that New Orleans is a place with mystique, contradictions, and layered truths. The city has a deeply pluralistic culture, with history, identity, and politics that are complex and paradoxical. It has a diverse legacy, and that is a source of both pain and pride. New Orleans is known for its music, food, and celebration—but also for deep poverty, systemic inequality going back hundreds of years, and high crime. We walked to a pizza restaurant slightly north of the usual tourist areas and were quickly told we had drifted off “The Strip”—a kindly warning to me, an out-of-place tall, white tourist.
The city holds the tension between tradition and reinvention, too and customs like Second Lines—those jubilant parades of brass bands and dancers that spill through the streets—are fiercely protected, while simultaneously being reshaped by gentrification, climate threats, and tourism. I hadn’t logged it until this visit, but outside the French Quarter, most of the city is six to eight feet below sea level, protected by levees. The scars of Hurricane Katrina are still visible and deeply etched into the psyche of its residents.
Multiple Narratives Of Identity
It’s a deeply Democratic place, with progressive ideals but institutional dysfunction. Many residents advocate for social justice and reform, yet the city’s major institutions have long been criticised for corruption and inefficiency. This liberal stronghold within a conservative state creates friction—invigorating and unstable in equal measure. It is resilient, but many residents, especially post-Katrina, carry the scars of abandonment, displacement, and the knowledge that the recovery was never quite finished.
There are multiple narratives of identity. It is African American—founded by the French in the early eighteenth century, it saw a huge influx of enslaved Africans to underpin plantation agriculture. It’s still shocking to see the small monument on the Mississippi bank close to Jackson Square, noting where slaves came ashore after their brutal Atlantic journey. By the early to mid-nineteenth century, it was the largest slave market in the American South. But it is also Creole, Cajun, Catholic, French, European, Caribbean, Southern, and American. This is the foundation of a rich culture—but one in tension with the idea that no single version of the city can contain its reality.
Here are a few images of locals, taken by my wife Mish Aminoff – link to her website.
From Music To Meaning
Soon the second weekend came around, and another four days of world-class music unfurled before us. The highlight of the first day was seeing the legendary Carlos Santana. I find him unique. If you close your eyes and Santana plays a single note, you immediately identify it’s him. Something about the resonance of the note and how it hangs in the ether. He and the band opened with a strong Soul Survivor, with Cindy Blackman – aka Mrs Santana – driving the whole outfit on forcefully. Brilliant set. But as with the first weekend, we found some gems earlier in each day, on the smaller stages. The talent is deep at Jazz Fest. Saturday afternoon had the festival packed to the rafters for a two hour set by Pearl Jam – a brilliant set which had the place on fire. I hadn’t considered Eddie Vedder and his band in my life’s soundtrack, but this set brought home the power and spiritual connection that life music brings.
A good friend once told me that one of my distinguishing features is my comfort with ambiguity—he even said I thrive in it. Perhaps that’s why I have an affinity with the dangerous appeal of New Orleans. The place has flawed beauty and great depth, but there’s something unsettling about it. I believe ambiguity is not just tolerated in New Orleans—it’s essential to its soul. That’s why I’m drawn to it. And it’s why it’s the perfect place for me to contemplate a new chapter. Or rather, not a new chapter, but an emerging phase in my spiritual, emotional, and intellectual journey. Several days of being immersed in this unfathomably deep roster of artists compounded the emotions the complex New Orleans environment was already invoking in me.
Building this visit around music has been the perfect vehicle. I’ve explored an incredibly broad range of genres and styles from different geographies and cultures—overlaid with rich cultural tones from Mardi Gras Indians, Klezmer, Cajuns, Mexico, Africa, and the Caribbean. Add in the big acts—country star Luke Combs, John Fogerty nailing the Creedence Clearwater Revival catalogue, grunge rockers Pearl Jam, and the Latin fire of Carlos Santana.
A massively complex city and culture. An impossibly broad range of music. And my own inner dialogue on meaning and purpose.
From the chaos, a clearer sense of direction is beginning to emerge—a transition from intense career years, with all the stress and good fortune they brought, to a more reflective and intentional life. The tensions and contradictions within the culture of New Orleans mirror the complexity of my own history—my flaws and strengths, spirit and soul. The endlessly complex inner self, and all the possibility it holds. [...]
April 21, 2025A Marathon Not A Sprint
April has seen me build up my running volume as I think about the startline in New York for the marathon, now six months away. I know many of you are thinking I have more than enough time, and it should be a matter of routine the to get there in shape. That’s the logic, but my body doesn’t subscribe to that thesis. As my sixty-eighth birthday creeps up on me, I find my body to be a complex matrix of slightly dysfunctional and mostly aching parts. So my mantra is slow down for the long run.
And my recovery is not what it used to be; a hard running or lifting session can take anything up to three days to recover from. Clearly, if I have to recover for three days, I will never do the training volume needed to attain my desired fitness level. (The desired level being to simply get around the course, whether running or walking or crawling.) That being the case I find myself more often than not training while still hurting from the last session.
I’m not doing it mindlessly. I monitor my heart rate variability regularly and that lets me know if I am recovered enough to train or not. It’s very rare that my HRV tells me not to train, and so I put up with the physical discomfort and crack on. I’m a fan of my Kubios HRV, as it converts all my data into a physiological age, and currently it tells me I’m 31 years old, or less than half my biological age. I have no idea if that’s close to being a meaningful reading, but I tell myself, “Not many men of my age are this fit” and I push on.
Slow Down, Run Long
I had a great exchange with my coach at Coach Parry, as I have for some time struggled to keep up with the training volume and pace. It’s hard for my ageing chassis to run three times and lift twice in a week. I used to be okay with this, but as the length of sessions has increased, I have struggled and this saw me missing more sessions than I would like. The photo on the left shows the struggle.
My coaches told me to slow down and focus on the time spent on my feet. They told me to run in the 7:30 minute per kilometre to 8:00 minute per kilometre pace. The macho side of me was resistant to this at first, complaining it was no better than a fast walk. But then I did a few runs at this pace, and all of a sudden I was logging longer runs, with 10 kilometres being a breeze, and more recently me clocking 15 and 16 kilometres. I’m acutely conscious I need to run 42 milometres in November, and therefore I need to triple the distance. But I now feel that with time and consistency, I can build the training distances up. Slow down for the long run.
Is Slow Realistic?
The pace I am training at equates to a 5 hour 16 minute to 5 hour 38 minute marathon finish time. The Marathon Handbook states that 5 hours 44 minutes is a benchmark for a marathon beginner in the 65-69 age group, with 5 hours 6 minutes being the average finish time for all 65-69 year old marathon runners.
So yes, slow is realistic. I would be more than happy to finish the marathon at all. But my real target is 5 hours and 44 minutes. Yes, I aspire to be an average marathon beginner. It’s misogi stuff for me. Can a 68-year-old, 6’5″ and 103 kilogram novice, who has recovered from two stays in intensive care with 27 fractures and head and lung injuries finish a marathon. There is nothing average about that.
Yes, slow is realistic. I understand that increasing the distance will make even this slow pace a challenge, and I have to add in race day crowds, bathroom and nutrition breaks, and the like. But if I can build up my distances at this pace patiently over coming months, then I am being realistic.
Holding It All Together
Slow down for the long run requires my body being able to complete the work. Virtually all runners I speak to accept that injury is inevitable. Remember that running places 2.5 to 3 times bodyweight of stress on feet and knees and hips. During a marathon I will take around 55,000 steps, therefore I create between 14,000 to 16,000 tonnes during a marathon. Before you kindly note that I am not running this distance, I can offer that I am now running the equivalent of a marathon a week. Therefore my joints are absorbing this tonnage.
I am feeling it in my moderately arthiritic knees, and my osteopath tells me that oseteoarthiritis may be slowly creeping into my left hip. My knees and hips feel it acutely, and when distance goes above a dozen kilometres, I start to feel a touch of lower back pain as well.
I am being treated by the outstanding osteopath Guy Gold, and he has improved matters immensely for me. I can see myself being in Guy’s treatment room a lot between now and November. As well as reducing pain and increasing mobility for me, he is also directing various mobility and foam rolling techniques to be done before and after runs. Again, this is proving to be helpful.
55,000 Steps
55,000 impacts with the pavement per week is a lot, and therefore the quality of my running shoes is important. I tried a number of brands, and eventually settled on my old favourite, the ASICS Kayano. I have worn these for many years, but I thought it wise to try some of the newer brands on the market. None give me the stability and shock absorption of the ASICS. For example, I found the HOKA shoes to great on shock absorption, but they were almost over the top with the thick layers of sole, and this led to my foot rolling slightly.
I alternate two pairs of ASICS, and track the kilometres logged on each. I hear this myth that running is a cheap sport, but I know that the recommended maximum distance on a pair of running shoes and the £180 cost of a pair of Kayano 31 shoes means it costs me 60p per mile in shoe wear. Slow down for the long run, and be prepared to invest a tidy sum on the shoes that will take tens of thousands of impacts on the road.
Interestingly, as my volume has increased, my feet have spread and become a full size bigger. I now take a UK 15 in ASICS! I’m hoping my feet don’t continue their growth spurt, as size 15 in the outer limit of the size range for virtually all running shoes.
Hit The Gym
I know that strength training is a critical part of my regime. As an old guy, muscle loss is a daily issue that need addressing. If I don’t hold off the muscle loss, then my joints become more prone to injury, without the support of key muscle tissue around the injury-prone joints. There is no doubt that when thinking, “Slow down for the long run” that it isn’t about the mental image of a skinny runner, it’s about a more rounded athlete with the resilience to get the work done.
Two decent sessions in the gym a week do the trick for me. I have to confess that I don’t experience the fabled ‘runner’s high’ – sacrilege to confess to, but I just don’t get it. I am more from the Haruki Murakami school of, “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” Running is painful. But I could sit in the gym all day, every day and beat my body up. I get a lifter’s high, but hope to one day experience the running version of it.
As well as lifting the weight, I pay attention to getting enough protein in my diet. On a good day I will get 150 grams or even more of protein into my diet. At the very least, I consume 100 grams. I also supplement with 5-6 grams of creatine, to aid with muscle synthesis.
Slow Down For The Long Run
That’s where I am today. On one hand I am under no illusion that this is true misogi stuff for me, with months of uncomfortable training to come. But on the other, I am driven by the scale of the challenge, the prize of achieving the highly improbable. And, in my customary style, no stone is left unturned when in comes to the breadth of my preparation. I have always gone deep into nerd territory with anything I have wanted to explore in my life, and running is no exception. Hence the coach, the osteopath, the shoes, the nutrition, the lifting, and finally the running.
This is truly a marathon and not a sprint. So I will focus on it a week at a time, a day at a time, and a training session at a time. Slow down for the long run. Be thorough, be well informed, and most of all, work hard. [...]
March 30, 2025Rucking – Effective Training
I decided to add rucking to the mix a couple of years ago. While recuperating from an accident in mid-2023, I bought a TRX weighted vest and used it to good effect. It’s not perfect; I find the way it sits can slightly constrain my chest. But a few hill reps with it can deliver a quick and effective workout.
I used a Built for Athletes rucksack to transport my daily kit to the gym, and it’s robust enough to handle a few weight plates. That’s a nice change up for a workout. The weight sits differently, and while my chest is more open for effective breathing, it tends to cause me to lean forward a little.
The big advantage of the rucksack is that I can carry hydration, fuel, and other handy items such as a spare top and the keys to get back into the house on my triumphant return.
I’m building up running miles before I get into a hardcore marathon training schedule. But yesterday was a good day to add rucking to the mix. My sisters and brothers from Chaingang Cyclists were looking to cycle up the notorious Swain’s Lane climb in North London. Only 0.9 km long, it stings, given it pitches up to a 20% gradient in parts. My two-wheeled colleagues planned to ascend it 24 times, which is apparently the equivalent of cycling to the top of Everest or some blatant BS.
Get The Rucking Reps In
Given its proximity to my house, I thought I would join them, adding rucking to the mix in my training week, and do a few ascents. I did the first one, a 0.9 km climb from the base. Then, I focused on the steepest part from the Highgate Cemetery gates to the top for the successive efforts. This smaller section is around 0.4 km but is brutally steep from the start. Karl Marx is buried in the cemetery, and I thought maybe I would join him if my efforts were too much.
Before leaving home, I loaded small weight plates from my TRX vest into the backpack. Sometimes prone to being overly analytical, I placed the bag on my Garmin scale and added plates until it was precisely 20 kg.
Getting ready to add rucking to the mix, I threw a couple of Science in Sport Beta Fuel gels into the pack and added a bottle with Puresport electrolytes to the side pouch. On with the ASICS Gel Kayanos, add a Garmin HR Pro and Forerunner 965 watch, and out the door.
Ruck The Road, Jack
It was a beautiful spring morning and a great atmosphere for me to tackle my rucking effort. Around 25 cycling colleagues were climbing Swain’s Lane. As they spread out, I had company on the way up and down. A lot of much-needed encouragement came my way. I reciprocated, given that some of them were having to dig in hard. 18-20% on a bike is no joke.
I quickly made my first full-length ascent and then settled into a steady groove of descending to the Highgate Cemetery gates, tapping the gate post, turning, and heading back. I found that leaning slightly forward and touching my hands as though getting ready to pray was a good technique. Coming back down, I was aware that knees can take a lot of stress on inclines, so I struck with my heel first and my bodyweight slightly backwards. All good. Rucking in the mix, and my heart rate is firmly in zone two.
I hydrated at the top of each ascent, and halfway in, I hoovered down a whole stick of Beta Fuel chews. They come in handily grooved cubes, but not being one to stand on ceremony, I found that the whole stick easily fit into my big gob with a slight push. Properly fuelled.
I wasn’t sure how long I would go for, and at some stage, I decided 10 km was a good target. I’ve recently started to run that distance, so why not ruck that far? Up a steep hill. Perfect logic. At times, my heart rate touched the top of zone two. My quads were starting to burn from around climb six, and I was conscious I was starting to lean into the climb more. I was less vocally encouraging my cycling mates, too. Focus was needed. Around 8 km, another Beta Fuel stick was shoved into my mouth and was needed.
On my ninth ascent, I was getting close to my 10 km target, so I turned left at the top and headed back down Highgate West Hill to the start point, with 10 km coming up on my Garmin as I hit the informal finishing point.
Rucking In The Mix – Good Workout!
Looking at the TrainingPeaks data was a pleasant surprise. My Training Stress Score was 213, the equivalent of a decent bike ride. I scrolled back through my training calendar to find a bike ride where my TSS was at this level. The answer was a 5 hour 16 minute, 127 km loop from home to Windsor and back. I had titled it “Broken. Officially.”, so it wasn’t an easy ride. Two hours up and down Swain’s Lane with a rucking pack delivered the same training effect. The average and maximum heart rates for each activity were virtually identical. Rucking in the mix also gave me a better overall workout, as I could feel my shoulders and abdominals had done some extra work.
Summary? I enjoyed the novelty of the workout. Having rucking in the mix gives me new dimensions for my training. It’s a solid combination of cardiovascular and muscular workout—like Hyrox, but without the near-death sensation. Think about putting this somewhere in your training regime. You don’t need an expensive kit—an old backpack and a pair of trainers will do the job. As you can see with my comparison of two workouts, you can get much work done in a fraction of the time of a long bike ride.
I enjoyed a social with my cycling and running family after. As a footnote, my Sunday DOMS has revealed parts of my arse and hips I didn’t know existed. That’s always a plus in my book, as it means I’ve tapped into muscle regions that don’t normally get a run out.
Give rucking a go. Trust me, it offers many benefits as part of any effective exercise regime. [...]
March 16, 2025Misogi Prep – Digging In
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. I’m digging in to the training and preparation for my New York Marathon misogi, 33 weeks from today. It was a slightly dispiriting January, as winter flu dragged on for a month.
The diagram on the left illustrates my Chronic Training Load on TrainingPeaks – a proxy for fitness. It has only just crept ahead of where I was 90 days ago. The dip in fitness due to my flu-related downtime stung me. But the good news is my fitness is where it was a year ago, and I was in fine form then, as I got ready for my cycling trip in Girona.
Spring is here, and my form is returning, which is motivating. This year, I’m running, rather than cycling, and it brings a new set of challenges.
Risk Management
When my first marathon comes around, I will be 68. I realise that digging in and getting this done differs from when I was younger. The challenges are threefold. Ageing naturally results in the loss of muscle mass, which creates the potential for injury; therefore, regular strength training is key. Recovery takes longer, and my training plan must allow for enough rest. Indeed, for the first time, I’m starting to plan a deload week once every four weeks. I have osteoarthritis and missing pieces in both knees, which need to be accounted for; there’s no evidence that I will make this worse by running, but it needs some thought.
The most significant addition to my preparation is to start seeing an osteopath. Anything I can do to improve my mobility and posture must be a benefit. I’m fortunate to have an award-winning practitioner, Guy Gold, close to where I live and have an hour of treatment weekly. It’s delivering benefits already. I won’t try to BS my way through his expert opinion of my raddled body. But I do hear him talking about very tight quads and hips, and my pelvis being tilted. Given my propensity to fall off bikes this last couple of years, it’s no surprise that he highlights left hip and right knee problems almost undoubtedly related to hard contact with the tarmac. At the time, my medical help dealt with the more acute injuries, and these two problems have surfaced later. At least they are being addressed.
Pumping Iron, Shifting Timber
I’m hitting a hard session in the gym once a week, focusing on quads, hamstrings, and calves. A second session is less intense but has the same focus. I also do some top-half work and am pleased to be benching more than I have in at least ten years. Overall, this strength work helps, but I know it can add to my training load, and I must be sure not to overtrain. Digging in when in the gym is helping my running, there is no doubt. And it’s fun to get the ego lifts on the bench too. Minor improvements all help in the big picture.
While putting on some muscle mass—according to the mirror and the more fact-based opinion of my Garmin scale—I’m also conscious that losing some weight must help me. At 110 kgs, a force between 275 and 330 kgs goes through my raddled hips and knees while running. Therefore, losing some weight has to help ease the strain. My doctor told me to lose 5 kgs last August, and I was 105 kgs at the time, so you can see that advice wasn’t fully embraced. But I’ve been conscious of diet for a few months and am back down to 105 kgs. Who knows, maybe I swagger sylph-like into my medical this year?
Schedule Planning
I’ve worked with my coach at Coach Parry to cut the work back somewhat. I am currently hitting the road twice a week, and I have substituted the third run (already cut down from four) with a WattBike session. This gives me some good cardiovascular base while saving the pounding of running. Two runs, one Wattbike, one heavy gym session, and one lighter gym session. As important as all of those, two full rest days.
The plan has three weeks of increasing load, and then one deload week. I’m monitoring total TSS for the week, and can see my load progressing. But it’s also a safety valve. For example, two of my sessions this week have delivered higher than planned total TSS, and my total for the week is very high for me. Therefore, I’m looking at tomorrow’s strength session and wondering if I skip it. It must me a sign of my developing maturity that I can miss a session and think it the right thing to do. Not only listening to my body, but using real metrics. Digging in when I know I can go.
I’m Only 29!
I continue to measure my heart rate variability to give myself a more accurate measure of my fitness and recovery. Elite coaches regard it as the best measure of conditioning and recovery. I use the KubiosHRV app and my Garmin Pro chest strap; the whole routine takes only three minutes.
The screenshot on the right is my measurement from yesterday, and you can see my readiness was very high. With a big run planned for today, I restrained myself and took my rest day. Then today I ran 14 km at a steady marathon pace. My HRV said I was good to go, which proved itself, as today’s run was the longest I have done for around 25 years. Yes, 25 years. Using data to let me know when digging in is the right thing to do.
As a meaningless brag, check out my physiological age on the left of the diagram. 29! I guess I stack up well against the sample set of men my age. I will stack any motivational win, trust me.
My setup is working well. My electrolytes are loaded in two flexi bottles in my Salomon vest. For today’s extended run, I slammed a Science in Sport Beta Fuel gel halfway, providing enough carbs to get the job done. The ASICS Kayano shoes are giving me great support. And I was sporting some hugely overpriced but achingly of the moment running shorts and vest.
Getting nutrition across the spectrum is crucial, so my first job when getting home was a full-on serving of SiS Vanilla Whey Protein and 6 mg of creatine powder in the mix. The sooner my recovery starts, the better. My protein consumption is high throughout the day, as I’m trying to consume between 150 and 200 grams daily. With lean muscle mass being crucial, and ageing affecting protein synthesis, I ensure I consume more than an average citizen. I find it challenging to get that amount from food, so one or sometimes two protein shakes enable me to hit the target.
Don’t Forget To Enjoy It
33 weeks to misogi time, and I’m digging in. This is unfinished business for me. And I know it’s a big challenge, one that I may not succeed in. The average time for a 65+ male marathon novice to finish in is 5 hours 44 minutes. So that’s my target. I am most certainly a novice, and I’m definitely not built like Eliud Kipchoge. In this case, average will be more than welcome. To be honest, if I have to walk the course, I will walk it. 5:44 equates to 8 minutes per kilometre, and I can do that. I will do the training, my mental strength will make that happen. My biggest risk is injury. And I’m doing everything I can to offset that risk.
Today was a beautiful spring morning. 2C when I left home, but blue sky and sunshine. I headed south from home, around Regent’s Park, down to Marble Arch, through Hyde Park and then along King’s Road to Putney. It being early, the pavements were clear, and I felt I had large parts of the city to myself. I’ve noticed the city looks very different when running. New perspectives; things I didn’t spot while cycling or when bustling along day to day on transport. I feel a sense of mindfulness and start to take in the sky, and the magnificent architecture, and notice small details that pass me on other days. A real connection with the city. I am not one of those people who claims to get a ‘runner’s high’, but I have found this new immersion in my surroundings a good place for me. For my spirit.
There will be a lot of bad days out on the road in the next months. A lot of pain, and I imagine some frustration to come. But days like today bring home how fortunate I am to have my health and to be able to enjoy my chosen sport. [...]
February 2, 2025Father Time Has Presented The Bill
Misogi reality is kicking in, as my challenge appears to be in deep conversation with Father Time. I’m due to run the New York Marathon 39 weeks from today. It’s a true misogi, as I haven’t completed a marathon before. I’m 67 and not exactly Eliud Kipchoge in stature or athleticism. I can complain that I have missed a month of training with the heavier-than-usual UK bout of winter flu hitting me hard. My knees hurt around the clock. I can add up many small obstacles and say my misogi reality looks bleak.
The harsh reality is that Father Time is undefeated. Looking in the mirror, I know that thought is affecting me. The old saying goes, ‘Two certainties in life are death and taxes.’ Being an avid reader of the financial press and observing what’s happening in US politics, I’m not sure about the taxes part of the saying. But death? Without doubt. My thoughts can drift: How do I navigate the road from here to death?
Commonsense Advice
Without realising it, two people have gotten under the skin of my misogi reality in the last month. The challenge is me saying that I won’t accept the inevitable that quickly, despite my body protesting. As long as I can keep challenging myself hard, I can have at least some pretence that I have a say in my fate. I can maximise my healthy years if I stay active and keep pushing. As I’ve said many times, I don’t fear death. But I would find it hard to be incapacitated due to poor health. The science is clear: regular exercise does wonders for healthspan.
I have been told by entirely rational people that I should think about exercise in a long-term sense. Do I want to be running and going to the gym in my seventies and potentially eighties? And if that’s the case, is my misogi reality that I should drop the brutal challenges? Thirty-nine weeks of hard training and a major marathon may leave a permanent mark physically, one that may affect the next years.
The mental high and physical buzz of exercise are core to me. I worry about my world shrinking, about having fewer choices as Father Time strips them away from me. I immensely enjoy this phase of my working life, where I can support, mentor, and advise smaller businesses. The variety and intellectual stimulation fulfil me without the grind that decades of long working weeks served up. I like exploring new areas, such as music and writing. It’s all good so far. But I live in fear of my physical choices being taken from me.
Misogi Reality – Pain
The truth is my body hurts a lot of the time. During exercise, I largely feel great. I need an extended warm-up in my runs before my knees feel okay. But exercise is a buzz. The downside is that often, I’m kept awake by knee pain. In the morning, I move like an ironing board, my body painfully unfolding from bed. Post-exercise aches and pains can last two or three days. I can often start a training session while still hurting from the last session. My misogi reality looks like a long road of high discomfort.
People reading this think, “You are supposed to recover fully before training again.” I know. Using today as an example, my body hurts from a treadmill session two days ago, but my HRV data tells me my readiness is high. The engine is well-tuned, but the chassis is falling apart. That’s my reality. If I waited for pain-free days, then my fitness would sharply decline. I know this from my last month of flu-forced layoff. The aches and pains left me, but my TrainingPeaks fitness score plummeted. Age makes “no pain, no gain” a harsh reality.
This is my misogi reality, too. The whole misogi idea is to attempt a challenge that’s tough to complete. If you think you can do it, then you are cheating, in effect. A marathon is undoubtedly a misogi for me; the odds of finishing are well under 50%. Sometimes, I wonder about the odds of getting to the start line. It recently occurred to me that I trained for a marathon when I was around forty and pulled out on the advice of a knee specialist when an MRI scan showed bone bruising around my right knee. So why go again 28 years later?
Make A Choice?
Now, I have had this bucket of commonsense tipped over my head by two people I listen to carefully. Do I want to be training when I’m 80? Damn right, I do. Yet I balance that rationality against my fear of having my exercise options taken away before I’m ready. I get it; none of us get to choose. Father Time serves the subpoena when he wants, not when we want. I can make a very rational case to myself that a weekly 5k run and a few sessions at the gym are a great way to keep myself healthy for as long as possible. So why torture myself with almost impossible challenges? Many chapters can be written on that one, a minefield of psychological complexity that has made me who I am. For some reason, the simple road has not been one I’ve chosen that often in life.
I will push on for now. My misogi reality is that I will likely fail in my attempt to run a marathon at the age of 68. The questions are: What long-term physical damage might I incur in the effort, and what will the psychological damage be if I take the more conservative approach to lifelong exercise? At some stage, I need to make a choice. But not today; I’m off to the gym. [...]
