Burning bridges (Part one)

Many times during my life, I’ve burned bridges. On several occasions, it was unsuccessful, but quite a few times it ended up with a positive, if not an excellent outcome. 

For instance, I remember deciding to go to the Cluses boarding high-school, a very tough place, and that adventure worked out very well for me. Then going to work as an R&D technician at Odo, in the god-forsaken town of Morez, Jura, was marred by discouragement and subsequent failure. 

Same thing when I moved to Geneva to work as an airplane mechanic for TWA and couldn’t make it last. Then again, when I work for that land surveyor in Saint Gervais, near Mont Blanc, that venture didn’t long either, or when I worked at that small firm in Cluses, doing an odd, almost indescribable work that would have been seasonal in nature to dovetail with my ski instructor job but didn’t mobilize my personal passion.

I remember that when I foolishly hitchhiked through the Australian Nullarbor desert, that move miraculously worked out. Likewise, taking the plunge at Look both in Nevers and in America or later moving to Utah were successful “burn your boat” type decisions, albeit with their load of pain and challenge. 

The spirit of adventure has always inhabited my persona for good and for worst. I used to believe that “burning bridges” made a lot of things possible as the incentive to succeed was too strong to ignore and made it impossible to fail. Was it’s possible to say that when I engage in a very uncertain, succeed-or-die endeavor my brain would somehow make sure that I’d come through it with flying colors? 

The answer might be, yes—but only up to a point. This idea captures a real psychological phenomenon, yet it goes much further than the evidence supports. Tomorrow, we’ll try to understand why.

Dave Jacobs’ Spyder saga (Part Two)

At the beginning, Jacobs started designing race sweaters for his sons as he became convinced that the equipment available to young skiers was falling short — not fast enough, not protective enough, not built with real racers in mind. Rather than wait for the industry to catch up, he decided to build something better himself. 

He started small as a mail-order operation run out of his Boulder home, offering a race sweater designed with a competitor's eye for performance. It didn't stay small for long. The turning point came when Jacobs designed a pair of navy blue racing pants with yellow ribbed padding for protection. 

Fellow racers thought the pads looked like spider legs — and Jacobs, ever attuned to a good idea, ran with it. In 1978, he formally named the brand "Spyder," from the Ferrari Spyder, one of his favorite cars. What began as a homemade fix for junior racers grew into a global performance-apparel company. 

Jacobs pushed Spyder to focus relentlessly on aerodynamics and materials science, chasing the same margins that mattered to him as a racer — fractions of a second, degrees of warmth, ounces of weight. 

That focus paid off: Spyder went on to become an official apparel supplier to both the US and Canadian Ski Teams, outfitting athletes at the highest levels of the sport, including the Winter Olympics. 

Colleagues and competitors alike have long placed Jacobs among a small group of ski-industry pioneers who built their businesses the same way they raced — by identifying a problem on the hill and refusing to accept it. His path, from a kitchen-table mail-order business to Olympic podiums, became something of a legend within the ski community. 

Unfortunately after bouncing from private equity groups to incompetent investors, the brand is now defunct, and that’s really too bad. Jacobs is survived by his family, including the sons whose junior-racing days first inspired him to pick up a needle and thread. His broader legacy, though, extends to the countless skiers around the world who have raced — and stayed warmer, safer and faster — in gear built on the principles he first sketched out decades ago. 

David Jacobs was a true ski industry visionary who will be missed dearly. RIP. 

Dave Jacobs, 1933-2026 (Part one)

The former alpine racer and coach who built Spyder, one of skiing's top brands, died early this month. He was 92. Jacobs's life was centered on nearly every level of ski racing, from the start gate to the factory floor. He began as a competitor, by becoming in 1957 the first Canadian to win a national downhill championship, a breakthrough that established him as one of the country's top skiers of his era. 

Jacobs was born in Montreal, Canada, and began skiing at age 13. At 21, he won the Quebec Kandahar, and from 1957 through 1961 was a member of the Canadian National Ski Team. In 1957 he captured the title of Canadian Downhill Ski Champion, and was the top-ranked member of the Canadian FIS Team the following season. 

He later moved from racing into coaching, taking on the role of the Canadian National Ski Team's first full-time head coach from 1964 to 1966. In that position, Jacobs worked closely with a rising generation of Canadian athletes, applying the technical instincts he'd developed as a racer to help shape their training. In 1965, Jacobs was contacted by Bob Lange and asked if the Canadian team was prepared to test the boots. 

When they did, Dave Jacob said that "they were really bad boots," so he traveled to the factory in Dubuque (Iowa) and suggested a number of technical improvements to be made on the product. In June 1966, three pairs of re-designed boots incorporating the required changes were made available to the Canadian team when they trained at Mt. Hood; Gerry Rinaldi, Rod Hebron and Nancy Greene tried them on, went skiing, and they thought they were great. 

At Portillo, Jacobs repaired and rebuilt racers’ Lange boots then and there, and wrote copious reports home to the factory. As a result, the boot evolved, growing higher and stiffer. This is when the boot started to become popular with top racers. Nancy Greene started winning on the brand new World Cup circuit wearing Lange. That same year, Lange-Jacobs Inc was formed and in 1967 opened a small factory in St. Jerôme, near Montreal, to assemble the boots. 

This is where I became aware of him. After that company merged with Lange USA in 1969, David moved to Boulder, sat on the board of directors, and was the company's vice president from 1969-1972. During this time, he designed the first Lange competition ski boot, which became the hallmark of World Cup ski boots and predecessor to the Lange race boots used today. Jacobs's most lasting contribution, however, came after his coaching career ended. 

It's in 1978 that he started what would become a world-famous sportswear company right out of his Boulder kitchen. Stay with us for the rest of the story...

Trump and Infantino’s corruption

Setting aside national pride and bias (after all, I am a U.S. citizen), what can be said about the scandal Trump triggered by involving FIFA? While most Americans felt a sense of national pride and an instinct to defend "our team," the Trump-FIFA affair was fundamentally a matter of political interference in an international sports governing body, FIFA’s willingness to bypass its own rules, and the detrimental consequences for the fairness of the competition.

The central issue was not whether the red card issued to Balogun was harsh; it was simply the fact that a head of state took the liberty of successfully pressuring FIFA to overturn a sanction that, according to the regulations, was not subject to appeal. That is why global football authorities reacted so strongly. For those unaware of the facts or who do not recall them: Trump personally called FIFA President Gianni Infantino to ask him to review Folarin Balogun’s red card. 

He also acted hypocritically, ignoring the fact that Balogun’s case hinged precisely on citizenship by birthright—a practice Trump vehemently denounces. In response, FIFA rescinded the automatic one-match suspension by invoking Article 27—a rarely used clause allowing for the discretionary suspension of disciplinary measures. UEFA, Belgium, former FIFA officials, and numerous players and coaches were furious; they condemned the decision, describing it as "unprecedented," "incomprehensible," and a case of a "red line being crossed." 

Critics argue that this reversal undermined the tournament's integrity and set a dangerous precedent regarding political influence over officiating and disciplinary procedures; I fully share this view. The scandal is not about Balogun (the player), but about the future of sporting fairness. Smaller footballing nations (like Belgium) lack such leverage. 

Trump demonstrated consistently disastrous judgment by following his instincts: he cast the American team in a poor light and provoked such resentment that Belgium won out of sheer anger—even though the Americans were, on paper, highly competitive. 

His intervention highlighted a two-tier system: on one side, powerful nations capable of influencing outcomes, and on the other, the rest of the world forced to accept decisions they cannot challenge. This imbalance is precisely what global sports governance is meant to prevent; this is not a matter of ordinary football politics, but a crisis of governance and a case of blatant hypocrisy. 

Ill-gotten gains never prosper!

How fast are years aging us? (Part two)

Following our review of mortality risks and physical performance, we’ll turn today to organ function and biological markers. Recent research examining thousands of proteins, metabolites, and DNA markers has found that aging may proceed in "bursts" rather than at a perfectly steady rate. Some studies identified major biological transitions around: 

40–45 

60–65 

75–80 

The exact ages vary between studies, but the general finding is that biological systems often undergo periods of accelerated change rather than a smooth decline. Again, does aging double at 70? Not really, a more accurate description would be that the rate of decline for many bodily functions accelerates after 70, and often accelerates further after 80 and again after 90. If we tried to express this mathematically, there is no single multiplier. 

This table is a rough conceptual illustration. Different systems age at different rates: Then there a some people who seem to escape this which shows an enormous variability among older adults. At age 80, you can find people who, require daily assistance. hike mountains. ski regularly. travel internationally and learn new languages.
 

The difference is often explained by genetics (perhaps 20–30%), lifelong physical activity, smoking history, body composition, social engagement, cognitive stimulation, sleep quality and just plain luck! In fact, among healthy, active octogenarians, the trajectory often resembles that of people 10–15 years younger. 

In reality, aging is less like a car that accumulates one mile of wear per mile driven and more like a dam holding back water. For decades, tiny defects accumulate with little visible effect. Then, as reserves diminish, each additional defect has a larger impact. The body's resilience—its ability to recover from illness, injury, stress, or lack of sleep—declines. Many gerontologists consider loss of resilience to be one of the key indicators of advanced aging. 

That is why a 30-year-old may recover from a hard fall, flu, or sleepless night in days, whereas at 80 the same event can have consequences lasting weeks or months. So my friend's saying is not literally correct, but it captures a real phenomenon that after about age 70, and even more after 80, many aspects of aging become increasingly nonlinear because the body's reserves and repair capacity are shrinking. 

The body is not necessarily aging "twice as fast," but the effects of aging become progressively more visible and consequential.

How fast are years aging us? (Part one)

A friend of mine used to tell me: “When we get to be 70 our bodies age twice as fast as they used to…” I’ve always wondered if this French popular expression held a kernel of truth and if it was the case was the multiplier “two” correct at 70, but how much should it be upgraded at 75, 80, 85, 90 and further as we age. 

I wondered if there had been any studies made, what was objectively measured and what were the findings if any. After doing some research, I soon realized that my friend’s saying contained some figments of truth, but not in the literal sense that "the body suddenly ages twice as fast at 70." Researchers who study aging have found that aging is not linear. 

Many aspects of human physiology decline gradually for decades and then accelerate at certain milestones. However, the acceleration differs depending on what’s being measured. There are in fact at least four ways to measure aging: 

• Mortality risk (chance of dying within a given year) 
• Physical performance (strength, balance, walking speed, endurance) 
• Organ function (heart, lungs, kidneys, immune system, etc.) 
• Biological markers (DNA, proteins, inflammation, cellular changes) 

The above categories or aspects do not all age simultaneously. 

Starting with mortality risk, one of the most robust findings in demography is the Gompertz law, discovered in the 1820s. It shows that after adulthood, the risk of death increases approximately exponentially with age. A rough rule is that mortality risk doubles every 7–9 years after middle age. 

For example, if a healthy 60-year-old has a certain annual risk of death, at 68–69, that risk is about twice as high. At 76–78, it’s about four times as high, then at 84–87, it’s about eight times as high. This does not mean the body is aging twice as fast; it means the consequences of accumulated aging become increasingly apparent. 

In terms of physical capabilities, we see several bodily functions declining at an accelerated rate, starting with muscle mass and strength. After age 30, muscle mass declines slowly (about 3–8% per decade), but past age 60–70 the loss often accelerates significantly, with strength falling faster than muscle mass itself. 

This is why many people notice that, at 80, they may lose strength in a year that would have taken several years to lose at 50. Walking speed and balance both decline gradually until about 70, then the slope steepens after 75–80. These measures are among the best predictors of future health and longevity. 

Tomorrow, we’ll talk about how aging affects organ functions and other biological markers...

Getting rid of grudge (Part four)

My way to eradicating grudges began with chronologically walking my memory and making a list of the resentments I had towards specific people, grading them in intensity and stating the reasons. 

Symmetrically, I created a parallel list, including those I feel gratitude from, including mentors, friends, relatives, colleagues and even adversaries that planted in me the seed that made me who I am today. As you may already know, showing gratitude plays a major role when I meditate and having both lists helped me see that the gratitude list is longer and more consequential than the resentment list. 

The benefit of this entire exercise is that grudges often exist as a vague emotional cloud. Identifying them explicitly helps me turning them from something that unconsciously influences me into something I can see and examine consciously. There are however, two very different ways of establishing the list, either by creating a detailed inventory of offenses and repeatedly reliving them, not a helpful one, or treating it as an audit whose purpose is closure. Look at the example below.

The crucial questions are the last three listed. Instead of dwelling on, "How badly was I treated?", I gradually move toward "What exactly hurt me?", "What lesson did it teach me?", "What’s the reason for not forgiving now?". 

Many find that the actual offense is not the deepest wound, for example, a betrayal may conceal a need for recognition, A family conflict may hide a need for love. A professional slight may suggest wounded pride, A friendship rupture may hold back disappointment. Once the deeper wound is identified, the resentment often weakens considerably. 

At my age, there’s another dimension that’s worth noting. I discovered that some of the folks who hurt me were immature, as they acted out of fear, were carrying their own burdens, were badly sick or no longer alive. This doesn’t excuse their actions, but it often changes the emotional view. 

Many people my age also report an interesting shift; what once seemed like malice increasingly looks like human frailty and this can make forgiveness easier. When all entries are finished I suggest you try completing this sentence: "The event remains part of my history, but it no longer deserves space in my future." 

You don’t have to force yourself to feel forgiveness immediately, the objective is not to convince yourself that the hurt never mattered but it’s just to stop paying emotional interest on an old debt. In many ways, my approach resembles an end-of-life accounting process—not in a morbid sense, but in the sense of closing old books before moving on. 

Given my interest in meditation, gratitude, and continual self-improvement, the exercise becomes less a catalog of grievances and more a map of how life's difficulties helped shape the person I eventually became. 

In conclusion, holding onto resentment is like carrying a hot coal in the hand with the intention of throwing it at someone else, but meanwhile, our own hand is the one being burned. Just let go of all our grudges and good luck!