GQ (Australia) - - MOTOR -

Nowa­days, you can’t move for soul-search­ing middle man­agers on the Kokoda Trail, the cy­clepath of any free­way at 4.30am is a mess of fortysome­things pump­ing $15,000 of car­bon like they’re Cadel Evans with a paunch, while the en­tire Crossfit in­dus­try is held up by for­mer 1st XV blokes re­fus­ing to let go of PBS. But you’ll hear no judg­ment from us. We say yes to ex­treme fit­ness as an an­ti­dote to the post-40 funk. Not only be­cause get­ting and stay­ing fit will stave off the less ap­peal­ing aspects of ex­treme-late-youth (man boobs, mak­ing an ‘oof’ noise when sit­ting), but be­cause, con­fi­dence-wise, train­ing for the New York marathon, tack­ling the am­a­teur leg of the Tour de France or hik­ing to Everest base camp will off­set the sad re­al­i­sa­tion that not only are you not go­ing to play for the Wal­la­bies, you’re old enough to be David Po­cock’s father. But again, work up to the new you. No­body wants ‘He died play­ing squash for the first time since ’96’ on their head­stone. Train prop­erly, en­gage a pro­fes­sional, get the right gear and look af­ter the ir­re­place­able bits of the dad­bod so the next decade isn’t blighted by a busted knee.

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