The Immortality Delusion

Every human body has an expiration date. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, especially those of us for whom the mirror suggests clear evidence of decline. But ego is a remarkable thing, and well into my later years—with just the right amount of squinting and Advil—I’d managed to cling to the idea that endless youth was within reach.

Which, in part, explains how a guy who had devolved into a white-haired, slightly paunched sexagenarian found himself at the starting line of Grand County’s first Never Summer Adventure Race, three years ago this month. Along with two nephews, also hoary at 50 and 56, I had signed up for the multidisciplinary event, which required our team to mountain bike about 15 miles of backcountry, navigate by compass deep into brushy wilderness, answer one confounding riddle, solve a sloppy logistics problem, and canoe around a set of islands in Lake Granby.

Each team would have six hours to complete a circuit of checkpoints, punching a passport