The danger of feeling twenty-five

We recently discussed the difficulties in downshifting our aggressive activities as we grow old. Right, we still feel like we’re 25 years old and are still filled up with all kinds of crazy plans, strategies and tactics inside our “brand-new” feeling little brain, while the rest of our personal infrastructure is starting to accuse a clear and present decline. 

It often takes an accident, a mishap to make us, or force us to realize that it’s time for us to slow down and disregard our brain's insatiable hunger for exciting action. 

This makes sense, as down-shifting isn’t something we want to sign for, especially while the Olympics and their "Citius, Altius, Fortius" (Faster, Higher, Stronger) motto are part of our daily soundtrack. 

As I believe it now, we should remember that when a door closes, another opens, but that is easier said than accepted! Well, let’s face it, we don’t want to die and before this, get old, so we cling the very best we can to the status quo, in that case a little, sometimes pesky inner voice that tells us “You’re still 25” and of course, we’re too delighted to believe it. 

That’s why sometimes, some of us find themselves in big trouble. Some censorship, at least for false ideas, isn’t that bad after all... 

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part Three)

To learn more about practical methods to “unclog the pores” and how to cultivate a "porous" state, you’ve arrived at the right place. Well, we’re looking at something very real, without cosmic rays or mystical downloads, but just knowing the inner conditions that make a human mind more permeable, more intuitive, more insightful. When we talk about “unclogging the pores,” we’re describing the process of removing internal noise so that ideas, patterns, and insights can flow more freely. 

Let’s explore practical, grounded methods that genuinely cultivate this “porous” state — the same state that Mozart, Einstein, or Mother Teresa lived in. Let’s begin with “Quieting the Noise”, that is the foundation. We can’t be porous if our mind is jammed with static. A warning, the solutions sound simple but can be very demanding. It’s mindfulness meditation and takes at least 15 minutes daily. It’s not mystical and consists in just training your attention to stop jumping around.

In time, it will reduce our internal chatter, increase awareness of subtle thoughts, and improve emotional clarity, just like rinsing the pores of our skin. It’s demanding because it’s daily and needs to become a habit and it takes time that’s measured in years, not just hours. You’ll know when you get there. It will be where the “porous” state really begins. 

We’re teaching our mind to notice what it normally filters out. We need to cultivate our sense of observation or awe to literally quieten the brain’s self-focus regions and open us to the world through our senses. Following this, we must strengthen our subconscious “receiver”, like tuning a radio. This is where creativity, intuition, and insight emerge. 

We’re not pulling knowledge from the cosmos but we’re allowing our subconscious to surface what it already knows. This includes a period of incubation involving time, thus patience and the ability to let our minds drift among other tools. Then we must work on the emotional component to remove resistance. 

Porosity isn’t just cognitive, it’s emotional. So we start by letting go of perfectionism, choosing curiosity over control and self-compassion, which means that we need to remove the harsh critic that we often are. Finally, we need to use our body as a receiver, keeping in mind that a tense body results in a tense mind. We do this with our breath, where slow, deep breathing increases neural coherence and opens us literally as do light movement and natural immersion. 

This is the physiological version of opening the pores. When all this is achieved and all is aligned, insights feel like they come from “outside,” even though they’re emerging from the deepest layers of your own mind. This is what Mozart meant when he said music appeared “fully formed,” or what Einstein meant by “intuition.” This is what we’re pointing toward when we commit to it. Work smart at it, and good luck!

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part Two)

We could say that the forces of our universe work in unison with the way our brain works. Our brain is constantly absorbing patterns, forming associations, recombining ideas, generating insights, noticing subtle cues and making leaps that feel sudden, but are built on years of subconscious processing. When our mind is quiet and receptive, these processes become more visible and feel like “inspiration arriving out of nowhere.” 

In fact, it’s not coming from outside, it’s inside, but it feels cosmic because it originates from a domain so vast that we can’t fully fathom it. If we aren’t as “porous” as Mozart or Einstein, the keys to let that universal wisdom rush in, can be found in mindfulness, the best “unclogging” mechanism that includes meditation, stillness, and even awe.

Mindfulness help reduce internal noise, increases neural coherence, improves attention, quiets the default mode network (especially the “self-chatter” region), enhances creativity, increases sensitivity to subtle patterns and improves emotional clarity. This is the mental equivalent of “opening up the pores.” Unlike what I might have thought or said before, we’re not absorbing cosmic energy by the cubic foot, we’re just removing the blockages that prevent our own mind from functioning at its highest capacity. 

In fact, Mozart and Einstein weren’t cosmic antennas but were both uncluttered minds. Amadeus Mozart described music as “already complete” in his mind, as if he were discovering it rather than inventing it. Albert Einstein said his ideas came as “intuitive leaps,” not logical steps. Their descriptions match what happens when the subconscious is highly active, the conscious mind gets out of the way, the person is deeply attuned to patterns, the internal critic shuts up or is at least quiet, the mind is in a state of flow. 

This feels like receiving something from beyond ourselves, but it’s really a measure of the mind functioning at its most open and integrated. I find this approach to be a modern, secular version of a very old idea where the insight comes not from force, but from receptivity. We are not looking at magic but mental permeability, that is the ability to let the world, ideas, patterns, and inspiration flow through us without resistance. 

It’s not mystical, it’s simply wisdom. This approach, I believe is not only coherent, it actually grasp a procedure that has existed for millennia and sees cosmic or universal energy as something that penetrates us to help us grow while clearing all the internal noises that make our lives so hard to live. 

If you don’t have the “porosity” of the famous folks we talked about and want to know how to get it, just stay tuned for the next episode...

Tapping into cosmic energy… (Part One)

The entire universe is immense and contains an almost unlimited amount of energy. So my thinking has always been “Why not tap a tiny bit of that energy, to help us when we need it and make our lives easier both from physical to a mental standpoint?” In fact, without a clear and definite answer to my question, I had intuitively believed it was possible. 

I thought it could happen by opening up, body and mind, and immerse ourselves into that unlimited sea of knowledge and power, just pulling the tiny bit we need of its immense content. How does this strike you? Perhaps what I’m saying here is actually more common, and more profound than people will admit. To me, “cosmic or universal energy” is not literally a physical substance like some parcels delivered by Amazon. 

Instead, it’s a permeable model, as if we were immersed into vast substance, and our degree of openness would determines what we received and perceived. This could mirror a view held by a limited few that have thought already about this. What I’m trying to define is a real psychological phenomenon. Not a few magical cosmic rays, nor a literal energy transfer, but something far more subtle and far more powerful. Something that would make our mind becomes more creative, insightful, and perceptive when it’s open, quiet, and receptive. 

This is not mysticism either. It’s more like neuroscience, psychology, and lived experience. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Albert Einstein, and many others didn’t “receive” knowledge from the universe like a computer downloads a new update, but by cultivating a mental state that allowed ideas to emerge to their attention with unusual clarity and fluency. This in fact is the mechanism I want to discuss and try to explain. 

For instance, Trump stands at the opposite end of this spectrum of awareness, by remaining totally impenetrable untouched by the forces of the universe. “Porous to the cosmos” could be a metaphor for the cognitive openness I’m trying to explain. This means a heightened pattern recognition, a deeper intuition, the ability to hold complex ideas lightly and keep a mind that doesn’t fight or resist insights. 

That also implies a nervous system that isn’t cluttered with noise and a capacity to easily “go with the flow”. These are measurable traits that have nothing supernatural about them. They’re just psychological and neurological and can be cultivated. We are in fact immersed in a “sea of knowledge” and it’s up to us to let it soak in or work at improving our own “porosity”. 

Tomorrow, I’ll share with you what really goes inside the process of opening up the pores...

Dialing down to last longer… (Part Two)

As we continue aging, we also need to build more predictability into our activities as accidents often come from surprises due to terrain, weather, fatigue, traffic, or other people. We’ll be safer if we choose conditions we know we can handle well, like avoiding crowded days or knowing when to stop before we’re tired. It’s not fear, it’s simply strategy. 

Let’s not neglect good equipment that can compensate for aging reflexes and stability. For instance, better helmets, goggles, bindings, and skis well tuned. Cars with advanced driver-assist features, reverse view screen, or bikes with disk brakes and all the modern accessories. We should also train for stability, not just strength, as with age, our biggest accident risks come from slower reaction time, reduced balance and reduced ability to correct a mistake.

These measures don’t just make us safer, they make you feel younger. We must be willing to listen to our bodies “whispers” before they become “shouts”, as our body never fails to give us early warnings long before it breaks down. What I mean are slight hesitation, a moment of imbalance, a sense of being “off”, a little stiffness or a tiny lapse in focus. 

When we were young, we could ignore these, older we shouldn’t. We also need to redefine what “risk” means. It’s not just the chance of injury, but it’s losing the ability to keep doing what we love. This doesn’t mean that, as BB King sings “The thrill is gone”, as we don’t need to eliminate excitement, simply just recalibrate it. 

Like skiing groomers more often now instead of fighting the trees or drive spiritedly on the open roads, not in heavy traffic, cycle hard on familiar paths, not unpredictable ones. Reframe aging as an evolution, not a decline. The most active older people aren’t the ones who fight aging; they’re the ones who adapt to it. Let’s stay curious, disciplined, and self-aware. 

We don’t stop moving, we just adapt the way we move. With this said, Lindsey Vonn’s unfortunate fall at the Olympics wasn’t in vain, but she delivered a strong teaching moment to all of us who still believe we’re 25 but are no longer there...

Dialing down to last longer… (Part One)

A few days ago, following Lindsey Vonn’s accident a the Olympics, I felt grateful to her for reminding me that, as we age, we must slow down or at least control our expectations when it come to performance. From that indisputable reality, I wonder how does highly active and competitive persons can dial down the personal risk they take, and the effort they make as they age, so they don't get into trouble or are exposed to the kind of bad accidents generally linked to an advancing age?

It’s absolutely true that the years don’t totally erase an active person’s identity, they simply affects the rate of certain risks. The real challenge is psychological. Our instincts, confidence, and appetite for intensity stay young, while our reactions like time, balance, and recovery quietly and inexorably shift. 

The trick is not to stop living boldly, but to adapt the way we take risks, so we stay in the game instead of getting sidelined by preventable accidents. As we age, brute force and split‑second reactions become less reliable but, smoothness, skill, precision, and planning become our new superpowers. For instance, when I get on the hill to ski, this new paradigm pushes me to control my boards even more effortlessly with cleaner lines instead of pushing maximum speed. 

When I drive my car, I focus infinitely more, pay as much attention as I can, I’m much more courteous, patient and in all cases, I’m not doing less, and whatever I do is much smarter. In my vocabulary and mind’s eye, I’m replacing “proving myself” with “preserving myself”. 

Younger people often push limits to test themselves. Older folks push limits to stay alive and active for decades. This should make us say: “I’m not here to win the day — I’m here to win the next 20 years!” Such a mindset naturally reduces unnecessary risk-taking. Tomorrow, we’ll add a few more crucial tools to our quiver, so come back for more! 

Managing liars (Part Two)

So we know one or a few confirmed liars. What are we going to do with them? Attempt to reform them, put them in the fridge, hope for some miracle or exile them faraway? What kind of relationship will we choose to carry on with them in the future, if any? 

If we still want to be friends with someone who lies, remember that friendship requires trust. If someone’s lying erodes that trust, the friendship becomes lopsided and unsafe. Can we even be friends with a liar if the untruths told are small, infrequent, or rooted in insecurity? Maybe, if the individual is willing to talk about it, show remorse and grow out of the practice. 

All of this is theory, instead I tend to go with “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” a 17th century proverb, advising that while being deceived the first time is the offender's fault, being fooled again is the victim's fault for not learning from the experience. So, I can’t be friends with a liar if I must feel anxious around them or am constantly second-guessing what they say.

This holds also true if we see them lying to manipulate or control, Just remember that friendship is voluntary; we don’t owe anyone access to our inner life. Then there’s the question as to whether liars can be reformed? The answer is NO for me, but could be YES, only if the truth manipulator wants to be. Let’s remember that people can change when they fully recognize the harm they’ve caused and feel safe enough to tell the truth. 

They must also be motivated to build healthier patterns and practice honesty even when it’s uncomfortable. People won’t change if they continue to see lying as a very effective tool, blame others for their behavior, deny their lying problem and continue to benefit from the deception it procures them. We can encourage honesty, but we cannot force integrity.

It’s up to the individual to decide, and I don’t know about you, but I’m still incapable of reading other people’s minds too well. Finally, should we shun liars or what level of access does this person’s behavior earn? Trust is not a moral judgment — it’s a calculation. We should certainly distance ourselves when someone’s lying consistently harms us or others. 

That’s not cruelty — it’s self-respect. What we shouldn’t do is humiliate or punish liars and declare them “bad people”. Instead we can choose to limit the access they have to us, not place ourselves in their way and don’t rely on them. Boundaries are not rejection, they’re clarity. 

Now, I hope you’ve got some useful tools to navigate the murky waters of dealing with a person whose proven track record was never to be reliant about telling the truth...

Managing liars (Part One)

How do we deal with liars once they’re identified as such? What form will our relationship take with them? These are brave and important questions, and it’s a good thing that they don't stop at just asking “how to spot dishonesty”, but what to do with that knowledge. 

Human relationships are messy, and lying sits right at the intersection of trust, fear, insecurity, and self‑protection. There isn’t a single “correct” response, but there are patterns that should help us navigate it with clarity and self‑respect. We’ve seen before that not all lies and liars are the same. People lie for very different reasons and it’s important to understand the type of lying they use to helps us decide how to respond. 

Let’s start with the situational or fear-based liars, those who lie because they’re scared of consequences, embarrassment, or conflict. There is a figment of hope with that group as it can change, because some individuals usually feel guilt. In fact, they may lie less when they feel safe enough to be honest. Next, we have the habitual liars, those who lie reflexively, even when the truth would be easier. They’ve often learned lying as a coping mechanism and if they’re willing and able to put in the effort, they might change, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.

The following and scarier group are the manipulative or self-serving liars who lie to control, exploit, or gain advantage. These are dangerous dudes. They rarely change without major consequences or professional help, so don’t ever touch them with a ten foot pole! That brings me to the subject of whether or not we should consider working with someone who lies. 

 This might be tried, but only with boundaries. We could work with someone who uses fear-based or minor lies, if they acknowledge their behavior, show consistent effort to improve, and we are clear-headed about what to expect and can live with the consequences. Clearly, do not work with someone who lies if they use it to manipulate outcomes, deny or justify their flaw and use them to harm others or undermine trust in the team. 

If a liar ever is a candidate for working in a professional setting, the key is structure with documented agreements in writing what the expectations are and there can’t be any reliance on verbal assurances alone. This isn’t punishment — it’s protection. 

Tomorrow, we’ll see if we can continue any relationship with liars. Could we be stay friends with them? Reform them? Or should we just shun them?

2-12 The “art” of lying… (Part Two)

Obviously, even when somehow related, lies are all different. Today, we’ll try to bring some clarity to their vast diversity. So, is there a good way to classify them into buckets that range from their intensity, immorality, expediency, and issues that define one’s character. 

What follows is a framework that attempts to capture all this. In sorting them out by intensity, we measure how far a lie departs from reality. Is it creating minimal distortion, like small exaggerations? Is it of moderate fabrication, like mixing truth with fiction? Is it on the contrary total and complete invention, creating a false reality? 

Then it gets worse with a lie that sustains deception by maintaining a falsehood over time. That intensity factor often correlates with the effort required to maintain the lie. If we sort lies by moral weight, how much harm does the lie cause or intends to create? Are they just harmless / prosocial lies that are meant to protect feelings? 

There are these neutral lies used for convenience, privacy and to avoid embarrassing situations. We also find self‑serving lies that are there to protect ego or avoid consequences. It gets worse again when lies become harmful in order to cause clear damage to others. That goes also for malicious lies that are intended to deceive for personal gain or to hurt. In those instances, the liar’s nefarious intent becomes totally visible. 

When we sort lies by expediency, it measures how quickly they can solve a problem. Like the instant‑relief lies used to escape a moment of discomfort. The so-called “strategic lies” that are planned, calculated and often manipulative are much worse. Those are chronic lies, the convenient, habitual shortcuts that are used to avoid responsibility. Expediency often reveals whether the lie is impulsive or deliberate. 

Finally there are the lies that reveal a liar’s character. This is probably the dimension people care about most. It begins with the occasional, low‑stakes lies that are part of normal human behavior. Then there are these that are used to avoid accountability, signaling immaturity or insecurity. In dialing up we find the lies that harm others for personal gain, showing some clear, ethical cracks. 

When the mind gets too cloudy for its own good, there is compulsive lying that signals the need to talk to a mental professional. Today with Trump and his enablers, we see lies that rewrite history and reality, white signaling a strong dose of narcissism or a fractured sense of self.

Of course, character isn’t measured by whether someone lies — everyone does — but by what and why one’s lies about, how liars behave when confronted with the truth. So to conclude this voyage in a world of lies, we should wonder if there’s more lying today than in the past? 

It may not be more common, but it’s more visible because digital communication leaves permanent traces, social media rewards exaggeration and performance, public figures go for casual dishonesty, people live in echo chambers that normalize bending the truth, and anonymity reduces accountability. So the perception of widespread lying is strongly amplified. 

I don’t think there’s any falsehood in making that statement!

The “art” of lying… (Part One)

It seems that lying has never been so prevalent, at least that is the way I think it is. In fact, I tend to believe that Trump “legalized” the practice. So, this leads me to wonder why do people lie, and if anything how lies can fall into categories like, intensity, immorality, expediency and can they help us gauge someone’s character?

Whether lying is actually more common or simply more observable in a hyper‑connected world is debatable, but the experience of being surrounded by dishonesty feels very real for many people. What we’re talking about is the psychology of deception and the moral “spectrum” of lies. In other words, why people lie, how those lies differ, and what they reveal about character. What I’m really asking is what does lying say about who someone is? 

Of course, it depends on the motive, the stakes, and the pattern. A single lie tells us almost nothing but a pattern of lies generally tells us everything. Let’s go deeper into any of these dimensions, especially the character side, which is where the topic gets most interesting. People lie for a surprisingly small number of core reasons, even though the forms vary endlessly. 

Most lies fall into one or more of these categories. First it’s for self‑protection, that’s the most common motive. They want to avoid embarrassment, punishment, conflict, or loss of status. Next comes the need to boost one’s image, competence, or desirability; we’ve all seen that. This includes exaggeration, humble‑bragging, and résumé inflation. 

There is also lying to protect others, what’s often called “white lies.” It’s used to sooth feelings, avoid hurting someone and maintain good harmony. In a more dishonest category are those who use lying to gain some advantage, through manipulation, exploitation, or strategic deception. This is where lying becomes morally darker. 

We also have all those who lie by habit or compulsion. They just lie reflexively, even when the truth would work fine. In these situations these people should clearly seek mental assistance. Naturally there are also the lies many of us use for “social lubrication” (or hypocrisy) like saying “It’s so great to see you” or “I love your dress – or your car – or your new skis”, etc. 

Finally, there is what’s called “Identity maintenance” when people lie to preserve a story they’ve built about themselves, even to themselves. Maybe the kind of mode of operation Trump uses daily? Tomorrow, we’ll explore how we can classify lies and measure them, so please stay tuned and don’t forget to bring a measuring tape!

Who originated paragliding? (Part Two)

In 1985, As Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with Gérard Bosson and André Bohn were busy developing their new sport, came Laurent de Kalbermatten. A Swiss pilot, he made the jump from modified parachutes to "La Randonneuse," the very first wing designed solely for paragliding (using non-porous fabric and rigid lines).

This is when paragliding ceased to be a variant of skydiving and became a free-flight sport in its own right. This model was at the beginning of mass production. Other manufacturers and designs soon followed. With more models available, the number of practitioners increased along with marketing and competition between companies, all this resulted in the technical development of paragliding in terms of ease of use, performance, and safety. 

The first recorded record in free flight distance is 69.15 km and was set by Hans Jörg Bachmair on 10 June 1989, which has been officially recorded by the International Aeronautical Federation (FAI). Soon paragliding was organized as a legitimate sport. The first European championship was held in 1988 in St Hilaire, France. The following year, the first world championship was held in Koosen, Austria. Much later, in 2004, the Asian championship in Handong, South Korea and in 2008, the Pan-American in Castelo, Brazil. 

My friend Anselme Baud who was a faculty member at the ENSA, the Chamonix-based school for mountain guides and ski instructors, in addition to being one of the pioneers of extreme (steep) skiing, played a role in adding the use of skis to the practice. In the early winter 79/80, on Plan Praz, at the Brevent’s gondola mid-station, in Chamonix, as Jean-Claude Bétemps was conducting tests with his "paraplane" (the name for the early paraglider). 

Instead of taking off on foot, Anselme Baud ​​ket his skis on to gain speed. He launched himself down the slope, took off for a few hundred meters before touching down on the snow again and skiing away. Anselme saw in the paraglider not just a flying machine, but a "mountain tool" allowing him to descend faster or overcome obstacles impassable on skis.  

In conclusion, Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with partners André Bohn and Gérard Bosson, while an instrumental trio in inventing the sport, were more focused on the technical development and the promotion of paragliding as a new, accessible sport, rather than aggressively marketing and monetizing it like a Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg would have done. 

The sheer popularity of their innovation created a massive boom in the 1980s. Independent manufacturers quickly stepped in to improve the equipment, leading to a booming industry that they paved the way for, without enjoying the fruit of their invention. 

Now, just like me, you know the whole story...

Who originated paragliding? (Part One)

Paragliding has always amazed and interested me, even though I knew nothing about its origins. It was preceded by the delta-wing, hang-glider, a key precursor to foot-launched aviation, invented in 1963 by John Dickenson, an Australian engineer for water-ski towing. 

It’s Bill Bennett and Bill Moyes that further developed Dickenson's design in the early 1970s, turning the water-ski kite into a foot-launchable hang glider which hooked many of my French countrymen. Hang-gliding led to paragliding which history is quite fascinating because it’s not based on one single invention, but on a series of pioneers who transformed a survival device (the parachute) into a fun implement. In searching for those "truly" at the origin of the sport as we know it today, we find a group of technical precursors. 

Before paragliding became a sport, it was necessary to invent the double-surface wing that would allows it to work. In 1964 an American, Domina Jalbert, the real inventor, Domina Jalbert, patented the Parafoil. Consider it as the birth certificate of the cell wing. Before him, parachutes were round; after, they became rectangular and capable of generating real lift. 

One year later David Barish, a consultant for NASA, developed the Sailwing (a single-surface wing). He was the first to practice what he called "Slope Soaring" on a ski slope at Hunter Mountain, near New York, dropping 200 feet. 

Although Barish was technically the first "paraglider," the activity did not catch on and fell into oblivion for more than a decade. 

On June 25, 1978, in Mieussy (17 miles from my hometown of Montriond, in Haute-Savoie) three parachutists from the Annemasse aero-club decided to take off from a Mieussy slope instead of jumping from a plane to save on flying costs. 

Their idea came from reading an article in the 1972 Parachute manual that referenced David Barish's Sloape Soaring. Jean-Claude Bétemps, who will turn 77 this year, often called the father of paragliding, was the one who performed the very first test (a small jump down the slope).

André Bohn: a high-level Swiss skydiver followed and made the first true sustained flight later that year, taking off from a slope on Mont Pethuiset and landing 1000 meters lower in the valley, on the Mieussy football field. 

Gérard Bosson structured the activity and in 1979, founded, with Michel Didriche and Georges Perret, the world's first paragliding club and school: "Les Choucas" in Mieussy. He was instrumental in promoting the sport internationally. 

Tomorrow, will see how further improvements and adaptations have molded the practice of paragliding...

Age and risk-taking

The accident just sustained by Lindsey Vonn at the Olympics reminds me of another ski comeback, that of Bill Johnson, former downhill Olympic champion at the 1984 Sarajevo Games. At age 40, weighed down by personal struggles and chasing a sense of former glory, he attempted an improbable return for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. 

The bid ended abruptly on March 22, 2001, when Johnson crashed during a training run before the downhill race at the US Alpine Championships in Montana. The injuries were catastrophic — severe brain trauma, a nearly severed tongue, and a three‑week coma. His body simply couldn’t cash the checks his competitive instinct kept writing.

I’m not in Lindsey’s head, but watching her come in fast, catch air, catch the gate and lose control, we can almost feel the split-second where instinct and physiology parted ways. That’s the paradox of aging: the mind stays young, hungry, convinced it can still summon the same reactions, while the body quietly rewrites the limits. 

The gap between intention and execution becomes just wide enough for disaster to slip through. I half-jokingly call this the “Biden syndrome” — not political commentary, but a shorthand for that universal human illusion that we’re still 25 on the inside. It’s a reminder that experience doesn’t always compensate for the slow erosion of reaction time, balance, and resilience. 

More than ever, I’ll try to learn from this when I ski or drive. Respecting one’s limits isn’t cowardice; it’s wisdom earned the hard way by others who pushed past theirs.

Why older skiers can’t get back up? (Part Two)

Besides what we covered yesterday, aging also affects the inner ear, joint receptors, and neural pathways that tell us where we’re in space. This makes it harder to coordinate the “roll, plant, push” sequence needed to stand up on snow. 

Balance decline is one of the major contributors to fall‑related difficulty in older adults. On flat terrain, where gravity can’t help us, this deficit becomes even more obvious. Even strong older athletes experience slower reaction times and reduced “explosive” force, like that quick impulse needed to rise from the ground. 

This isn’t just muscle mass; it’s the nervous system firing more slowly and less efficiently. As we age, knees, hips, and spine lose flexibility and range of motion. Getting up from a fall requires hip rotation, knee and ankle flexion and the ability to bring the torso over the center of mass. Our ski boots lock the ankles, so the hips and knees must do even more work in the exact places where stiffness tends to accumulate. 

Then there’s fear as older adults often hesitate to do what they remember doing because they’re subconsciously protecting joints or worried about falling again. This “mental brake” or apprehension, reduces the fluidity needed to stand up efficiently. 

Ski instructors who work with older clients emphasize that getting up with skis attached is dramatically harder unless the slope is steep enough to help position the hips above the feet. On flat terrain, people get stuck and the only way out of a fall is to release the bindings and take off the skis.

Heli‑ski operators know this, which is why they often restrict older skiers, not because they are not good enough to ski, but because they may not be able to self‑recover after a fall in deep snow and will unnecessarily hold the group. 

So the obvious conclusion of this quick discussion is to avoid falling and if this still happens remember that we’re goddamn lucky to still ski as septuagenarians or even older!

Olympics opening ceremony

Yesterday afternoon, skiing wasn’t good enough to go out and try to have fun, so, instead my wife and I watched the entire Olympic ceremony. Something we hadn’t done in a very long time. We liked some of the acts, like as always the athletes' presentation and fashion show in which the best outfit is the enemy of the good.

Some acts were a bit over the top, but that’s a question of personal taste. We found the event far too long. Almost 3 hours could have been done in two. I liked it when J.D. Vance and Israel got jeered. 

Still, we liked the speech by Zimbabwe’s Kirsty Coventry, the new President of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) as of June 2025. 

We felt bad that people still die in Sudan, Gaza and Ukraine, while thousands have fun in Italy, but I guess humanity can still walk and watch their smartphones at the same time…

Why older skiers can’t get back up? (Part one)

After the age of 70, skiers increasingly find it quite difficult to get back up after a fall, especially on flat terrain. This is so bad that ski helicopter operators discourage, or simply disallow older skiers from boarding their aircraft. 

Besides a drastic reduction in overall loss of muscle mass, we’ll see today what’s really behind that disability. Obviously, the answer turns out to be more complex than “less muscle.” Muscle loss matters, but it’s only one piece of a larger age‑related shift in how the body moves, stabilizes itself, and generates coordinated force. 

Research on older adults and fall recovery points to several interacting factors that make getting up from the ground, especially with ski boots on, on snow, and with skis attached, disproportionately difficult after about age 70. Standing up from the ground requires a sequence of movements that many of us simply stop practicing as we grow older. 

Physical therapists will tell us that rising from the ground demands hip mobility, core engagement, shoulder stability, and rotational control, all of which decline with age even in active adults. Ski boots and skis amplify this problem: they restrict ankle flexion, limit leverage, and make it impossible to plant the feet under the body the way younger skiers instinctively do. 

So what we’re up against in that case is a combination of reduced mobility, weaker balance, reduced neuromuscular response, less self-confidence and a ski gear that literally stands in the way. Muscle loss is only one contributor, so tomorrow we’ll try to get the whole picture!

A step down, now what? (Part Two)

What sparked yesterday’s two-step story, was skiing with my daughter the day before. Over the years, I always stayed comfortably ahead of her in difficult terrain and conditions, but now that I’m 78, times might be changing as she’s now nipping at my heels. This, to me, means that I'm getting old and close to taking that infamous "step down". 

We're both very good skiers and current snow conditions in Utah are extremely challenging at the moment and it’s what gave me the “step down / step up” idea. Skiing is a visceral way to notice change, with speed, balance, reaction time, concentration, confidence on such variable snow and terrain conditions. It’s one of those activities where the body tells the truth before the mind has fully caught up. 

True, at 78 I’m still in love with skiing and still seeking tough terrain and conditions. This isn’t true of all the folks my age. Most aren’t on the mountain at all, let alone keeping pace with a strong 43‑year lady who’s been skiing all her life. The fact that she’s “nipping at your heels” instead of disappearing in front of my eyes over the ridge perhaps is telling about my baseline. 

My daughter catching up isn’t just about me slowing down, it’s also about her hitting her own peak. She’s in that sweet spot of strength, experience, and confidence. I’m witnessing her ascend while I adjust; a generational handoff, not a personal failure. I see that shift with clarity, not self‑pity, without reacting defensively or denying what’s happening. I simply observed it, named it, and then used it to spark a philosophical idea about balance. 

Let’s call this a mental “step up”! Sure, our current thin and hard snow conditions amplify everything. Icy, scraped‑off, or refrozen conditions punish even small changes in strength or reaction time. On soft powder, the gap might look different. Conditions shape performance more than pride wants to admit. 

A physical “step down”, even a small one, can be matched with a “step up” in something else, like refining one’s technique, becoming even more efficient and deepening the joy of skiing with my daughter rather than ahead of her. That’s not compensation, it’s just evolution. What I experienced on the slopes wasn’t just aging; it was a moment of recalibration. 

And the fact that I’m thinking about it with nuance is not a sign I’m losing ground, I’m only shifting terrain!

A step down, now what? (Part One)

Since life is far from being a linear experience, as time goes by and as we age, there are unavoidable “steps down” that come along the way, and I believe that logically, for every “step down” we should imagine and implement a “step up” to compensate for it. If one is physical, the compensatory other could be mental, spiritual, or just perhaps physical too, but much easier to carry on. 

This would offset a sense of loss through an equal transfer into something different. This idea that popped up inside my mind this morning, strikes me as surprisingly practical. Perhaps a personal version of homeostasis, the way living systems maintain balance by adjusting one part when another shifts. In that case it applies to the emotional and existential terrain of aging, change, and loss.

It’s probably my way of rejecting the myth of linear decline that treats aging or setbacks as a one‑way slide downward. My view acknowledges the “step down” but refuses to let it define the whole trajectory. Instead, I’m proposing an adaptive upward motion which is not denial, but recalibration. I like it because it matches the dynamic nature of life. Physical limitations don’t have to be the end of growth; they can signal the beginning of a different kind of development. 

A loss in one domain can open space in another without being a compensation in a shallow sense but a whole redistribution of energy. This could mirror how we naturally evolve. For instance a runner with knee problems becomes a swimmer, someone who loses physical stamina deepens their intellectual or creative life or a person who retires from a demanding job invests becomes a philosopher. I’m just articulating that instinct consciously. 

While a “step down” often feels imposed, this concept reframes it as an opportunity to choose a “step up”, something intentional, nourishing, and self‑directed. That alone can soften the sense of loss. Of course, it’s not about pretending the decline didn’t happen. It’s about refusing to let it be the whole story. In many ways, I see this as a workable tool, not just a philosophy that would begin by noticing the step down. Instead, it’s choosing a step up in another dimension while letting the two coexist without resentment. 

Some kind of an emotional counterweight, a deeply human idea, honest about limitation, but not fatalistic. It respects the reality of aging while preserving the possibility of growth. And it avoids the trap of trying to “win” against time; instead, it suggests adapting with grace and creativity. I’m so grateful, this thought came to me. 

Tomorrow, I’ll share with you what actually triggered it.

The apprentice diagnostician (Part Two)

Playing diagnostician and not succeeding the first time is a common occurrence. This practice, in my opinion, is more art than science and is linked to some important factors. The first one is that our brains love an obvious culprit. 

For instance, when something breaks, it feels satisfying to identify a single source. New device installed? Must be the device. We’re wired to prefer clean narratives over messy systems. It’s very hard to think thoroughly about systems, because they’re inherently complicated. Most real‑world problems involve interactions between multiple elements. 

To return to yesterday’s thermostat story, there are so many things involved aside from the thermostat itself, the furnace, the electronics, the wiring, the ducts and the various sensors. 

Still, our intuition ignores these other components. It’s the same reason people misdiagnose car problems, software bugs, or even interpersonal conflicts. 

In addition, the familiar quickly becomes invisible. We had that furnace running like a clock for a dozen years, so as a loyal servant, it faded into the background. 

The thermostat was the novelty, so it got the blame. This is the “assumed good” bias — we trust what we know. All this to say that my recent experience is just how most professionals in engineering, medicine, and aviation describe diagnostic errors. 

They warn against “anchoring” onto one explanation too early and “confirmation bias” by only noticing evidence that supports our initial assumption. We can only break out of that loop by stepping back and widening the frame. That’s the real skill: not just fixing one lone defective part, but recognizing a narrow way of thinking. If anything, my story is a perfect reminder that most problems aren’t isolated but relational. 

The thermostat wasn’t misbehaving alone; it was dancing with a partner I forgot to watch!

The apprentice diagnostician (Part One)

No matter what we’re trying to resolve, coming up with the right diagnosis isn't always simple. In recent months, I've struggled with the functionality of some new Google-Nest thermostats, and on repeated occasions, I’ve been so narrowly focused on these specific devices, that I forgot that "it takes two to tango". 

In my whole myopia, I had forgotten that my heating furnace could play some role attributed solely to my thermostats' behavior. That let me to take a serious, long look at the furnace and, to make a long story short, I finally determined that it was indeed the source of all my troubles. I have tried this with ski boots when the main problem was not canting, but their longitudinal placement on my skis, or in struggling with ski-tuning issues when my technique constituted in fact the insurmountable hurdle. 

We always learn a lot from our self-administered sloppy diagnostics. Isn't it a common mistake we all make when trying to resolve a problem? We're so obsessed with one piece that we conveniently forgot that it might be perfectly linked to another one in the overall puzzle? What I just described is one of the most universal cognitive traps we humans fall into. 

That’s what is called “tunnel vision” or “fixation error”. When something isn’t working, the mind instinctively narrows its focus to the most obvious or most recently changed component. In that most recent case, the new thermostats were the shiny, suspicious newcomers, so they drew all the attention. Meanwhile, the furnace, the “old reliable maid”, quietly escaped my angry scrutiny. 

If you’re curious to find out the causes for this weird way of thinking, read tomorrow’s blog...

Salomon’s boot business (Part Two)

The lack of performance available in its rear-entry boot left Salomon vulnerable to criticism coming from better skiers, the retailers’ selling staff and the specialty press. This male-dominated group, at the time, suddenly and forcefully turned its back on the rear-entry design, to the point that Salomon's R&D team didn't have the time nor the leeway to further improve upon the concept.

This happened to the chagrin of countless users who love its convenience and inherent simplicity,  as well as large volume rental operators. I might also add that to a  degree, it probably hurt the growth of skiing. Probably blinded  by its efforts to launch the ski, Salomon blinked and missed the opportunity to remain the dominant brand in boots. 

By the late 1980s, rear‑entry boots were widely adopted by recreational skiers, and Salomon was considered the market leader in the category and particularly in comfort‑oriented boot design, that are the ones the vast majority of the market want and need. When the rear-entry boot design fell out of favor by the mid to early 90s, and the company scrambled to acquire San Giorgio (a reactive purchase of an also-ran Italian brand making 4 buckle boots), 

Salomon had to learn from scratch the art of making conventional boots that worked, and as result, went from dominant to non‑competitive after the mid 1990s. This was one of the most dramatic product‑driven declines in ski‑equipment history, but it was never quantified publicly. 

Today’s boot market is totally fragmented among Lange, Tecnica, Nordica, Atomic, Dalbello, and Salomon with no single brand holding an overwhelming share. Still, Salomon returned to being a respected boot brand, especially with models like the X‑Pro and S/Pro but never again dominated the way it did during the rear‑entry era. 

The brand remained strong and even grew in other categories (skis, clothing, footwear, later trail running) but is now far more associated with trail running and outdoor footwear than with ski boots. A surprising turn-around from a pioneer!

Salomon’s boot business (Part One)

After writing the blog comparing Nordica to Salomon, I decided to add some thoughts about Salomon and its remarkable influence and legacy on the entire ski business. 

From artisan to industrialist,  Geoges Salomon was focused on scaling up his metal ski edge business into, at first, bringing to market rudimentary safety ski bindings with releasable toe-unit and cable system before ushering in modern ski bindings as we know them today, while at the same time, hiring Roger Pirot to run his marketing department. Simultaneously, this appointment turned his already efficient manufacturing company into a juggernaut marketing machine. 

The development of the Salomon ski boot was part of a growth plan capable of offering bindings, boots and skis as part of a whole package. It also coincided with a vanguard company's focus on its all-powerful retailer network that could make or break any ski supplier as the market was then fully dominated by ski or sport shops. 

The bindings and then the boots were developed with ease of selling, installing and adjusting in mind and not necessarily with a deliberate focus for on snow performance as this was totally secondary. With this consideration in mind, its sole boot division was expected and able to pay for developing the ski, the third component of its plan.

Only Austria’s Marc Girardelli heavily modified it to bring a semblance of functionality to it. No reliable source gives a detailed, technical list of the exact modifications made to Marc Girardelli’s boots. The “bucket” that Salomon rear entries were, had to be “tortured” by adding lateral stiffness through internal stiffening plates, reinforced cuff pivot using stiffer plastics. 

Girardelli’s liners were foam‑injected liners with heel‑hold reinforcements. Flex also had to be improved as the SX series were way too soft for racing in stock form. Salomon’s race‑room stiffened the rear spine and added flex‑limit stops. Forward lean, boot-board angle and canting were also modified. Closure and buckles were also beefed-up with shorter and stiffer cables, high‑tension cams, reinforced heel‑retention mechanisms that improved the biggest weakness of rear‑entry designs. 

The talented Austrian racer made up the difference. Salomon had no other option but totally transform a boot never meant for racing use in the hope to create its non-existent performance image. In the next blog, we’ll see how this fairy tale of sorts ended.