Laughing at Longevity

August 5, 2026

If, like me, you find yourself, from time to time, in need of inspiration, I know a guy.

This guy. 

His name is Mike Gale.

“Okay,” you say. “Looks like a nice fella, Rob. Hard to tell from a still photograph, but looks like he might be getting on in years, maybe has a hitch in his gitty-up.”

To which I would say, “What the hell do you expect from an 85-year-old guy who still runs a working cattle ranch?”

This cattle ranch.

If you drive west from Petaluma toward the coast on Chileno Valley Road, you will pass through the ranch. You might not notice it, save for the stately Victorian that Mike’s wife Sally’s great-great-grandather bought from Henry Halleck who left California to become chief of staff to Abraham Lincoln.

Here’s Sally with Mike. They met when both answered John Kennedy’s call and served in the Peace Corp in the sixties. 

You might have heard about Mike and Sally. Two years ago they were written up in the New York Times for their efforts to save newts.

Yes, newts.

“For the past four years, volunteers have spent their winter nights shepherding newts across a one-mile stretch of Chileno Valley Road, a winding country road in the hills of Petaluma. They call themselves the Chileno Valley Newt Brigade, and their founder, Sally Gale, says they will keep showing up until the newts no longer need them.”

NY Times 1/24/23

“Four years ago, Ms. Gale, who runs a cattle ranch in the area, was driving home from dinner with her husband when she spotted several newts trying to cross the road. Concerned for their safety, Ms. Gale got out of the car and started moving them out of harm’s way. As she walked, she noticed the flattened bodies of dozens of newts that had been run over. The experience inspired her to start the newt brigade, which has since amassed dozens of dedicated members.”

NY Times 1/14/23

But enough about newts, let’s get back to the photo of the old fella with the hitch in his giddy-up. 

Look again. 

Look closely. 

Look at his shoes.

Do you know what kind of shoes those are? The shoes on the 85-year-old guy?

Those are called ‘throwing shoes.” You wear them to throws things …things most 85 year olds don’t throw. Things like…oh I don’t know…a discus or a javelin or a hammer. 

Like this…

Or when you want to shot put or… to put it more properly… when you want to put a shot. Like this…

If you stop at the Chileno Valley Ranch, walk to the left of the barn, past the grove of fruit trees, through a cattle gate, you’ll see in a corner of the ranch specifically chosen to test your skill in the prevailing breeze that blows in from the Pacific just  a few miles away, a throwing ring Mike has built to Olympic specs

There, Mike and his friends, practice.

These are Mike’s friends. They are serious about their throwing.

Wanna know how you can tell? See the woman with the outstretched arm pulling on a show lace on her throwing shoes?  Zoom in on her left forearm.

“Right foot, hand, head”

I’m not sure what it means, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t a dance step.

Here she is going into her wind-up with the hammer.

Three weeks from now, Mike and some of his friends will compete for a gold medal in the World Masters Track and Field Championship in Daegu, South Korea. 

Mike will be entered in the Throws Pentathlon where he will compete in five events in one day:

• Discus
• Hammer
• Shot Put
• Javelin
• The Weight

He also plans to compete in the individual discus.

Six throws in each event. Maybe more if he qualifies. That’s 30+ throws in one day. 

Not to go all-Ag on you, but I don’t think Mike would take offense if I said he is no spring chicken. He was born on June 29, 1941. By virtue of his birthday, he will compete in the 85 and older age bracket. Right now, Mike is ranked in the top ten in the world for his age group.  But that could change.

How, you ask?

Well, first off Mike is improving. At an age in which most recede, he strives to exceed. Because of his hard work and practice, he is gaining on the field.

Second…how to put this delicately…at age 85 and older, the number of contestants in your age bracket …let’s just say… is not static. The ranks tend to dwindle rather than grow with time. “No shows” though rare, are presumed more likely the result of heart failure than a change of heart.

Longevity.

In throwing, as in life, it’s pretty simple.

There are no style points. Nothing for artistic interpretation. Sure, there are rules for what you can do in the ring, but it’s really all about how far you can stretch the tape.

Some, like Mike, stretch the tape a long way.

This is a photograph of the 1962 USC football team. That’s Mike in the upper right, No. 82 (His number had been 73) He played defensive end and was in large measure why that team held their opponents to single digit scores and went on to a perfect undefeated season. They beat the heavily favored  and much vaunted University of Wisconsin Badgers in the Rose Bowl that year.

But Mike did not play in the Rose Bowl. He watched the game from the bench where he sat in a full body cast. You see… in the first quarter of the final game of the regular season against Notre Dame while rushing to tackle their quarterback, Daryl Lamonica, Mike was blindsided and suffered a fractured vertebrae. He would learn only days later that he played the next three quarters of that game, his last game, with a broken neck.

Most men, denied their boyhood dream in such an arbitrary and cosmically cruel way, might go on to live a life of bitterness and resentment telling tales of what might have been.Mike will tell you that his injury was the best thing that ever happened to him because it led to the Peace Corps and to Sally and to his three children and grandchildren, to the Chileno Valley Ranch, the Newt Brigade and the Throwers.

Some people, without ever seeking attention, and embarrassed should they happen to draw it,  set quiet examples for us all. They don’t mean to; they just do.

Whenever I get to feeling sorry for myself with all this Parkinson’s stuff, I remind myself of my friend Mike: the adversity he has weathered and the adversity he still undertakes.

This past Sunday, I had a chance to stop by the Ranch, stretch my legs and watch the Throwers prepare for Korea. They are an inspiring bunch.

They laugh at longevity.

While I was there,Mike presented me with a medal. It was a kind gesture to encourage a friend through his own struggles of late. Typical Mike; always thinking of others.

I don’t pretend for a moment to have joined the ranks of the Chileno Throwers. I wouldn’t dare to step into throwing shoes in front of thousands of people. Hell, I’d get lightheaded just returning my ass to an upright position after bending over to pick up the damn thing I signed up to throw.

That said, I’m just shameless enough to slip my medal on beneath my hospital gown before the next surgery. The surgical team won’t allow it, I’m sure. But I like to imagine the puzzled look on my surgeon’s face were he to see two skeptical bulls staring back at him just as he’s about to plant the gizmo in my chest.