By Nicko

Sorry for the prolonged absence. Anybody in online media will tell you that regular posting is crucial to all the metrics and Google analytic boosting and other dark backroom workings of Her Majesty’s Amazing Electric Interwebs that makes a site a worldwide hit. Generally, I agree with that logic.

But that doesn’t necessarily cater for ‘life’ happening along the way, right? You, the targeted readership of this site (45-60) know that as well as anybody on the planet.

So yeah, since the last post, in no particular order, I got kicked out of a rental house, my father died, I had a baby, my dog died, I bought a house, my footy team lost to Collingwood in a major final (if you’re in Victoria, Australia, you’ll know how bad that is), I got sick, I got better, I got sick, I got better (this is part of having a baby go to childcare – usually shrugged off while in your 30s, yeah?), I played some ice hockey, I played some footy, I laughed, I cried, I have my dog’s ashes in the garage at home, and am about to collect my father’s.

TL;DR (Too Long; Didn’t Read) version: updating this site got away from me for a while. Sorry. It meant I missed the chance to bring you some great news you need to know over the last few months, such as the fact that the Italian town that is home to the foreskin of Jesus is apparently under threat. See, and you thought you didn’t miss me?

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Can you spot the Holy Foreskin somewhere in this picture? (Source: a News Ltd silly season special)

Happily, here we are, as real and vital as Jesus’s umm offcuts. Out the other side of the storms, hopefully, and ready to keep searching for paths to make the most of being in The New Prime, as I like to call post-45.

In case you’ve forgotten why we set up this site, our premise is this: You’re a good chance to be on the planet until you’re in your late 80s or early 90s, all going well. So if you’re 45, you’re only half way there. If you’re in your early 50s, stop thinking about cardigans and impending retirement, and start thinking about adventures and changing gear UP not down.

We don’t quite push the mantra all the way to: ‘It’s never too late to be the man you could have been’, especially if you planned to be a professional boxer, but there’s so much potential for Big Life still out there, so go get it.

With that in mind: some headlines:

Why we should all practice ‘kiya’

Sydney Stack, one of my more beloved Richmond players after only a handful of games, gained some heat and some love for highfiving his opponent after that Crow (a fellow Indigenous player, Eddie Betts) scored a crazy good goal.

Des Headland, a very respected Indigenous player for a long time in the Australian Football League, has explained how non-Indigenous people could learn from such gestures, rather than bemoaning the lack of bullshit fake-mask aggression that some people think professional sport should never let slip. Everybody should learn the true meaning of the word, ‘Kiya’, immediately! If only they taught that in schools.

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Liam Patrick and I (red helmet) had fun trash-talking one another, moments before this where we fought 100 per cent for the puck, which Liam won and then moments later scored a goal. We laughed and hugged. Sport as it should be. Pic: Wayne McBride

Me? I remember playing ice hockey one time and lining up for a face-off and giving my opposition centre, a lowlife called Liam Patrick, one of the greatest verbal strings of abuse in history, which Liam met with even more colourful and coarse language. We’re both hunched over our sticks, waiting for the puck to drop, and just yapping like we had seconds left to live in which to pour hate on one another. The ref about to drop the puck (who happened to be the captain of Australia’s ice hockey team and also the captain of the then-reigning national champions, Melbourne Ice) watched politely as these two low-talent hacks puffed up. What he didn’t realise is that Liam and I are great mates and were just having immense mutual fun, abusing each other remorselessly. It goes without saying that Liam not only won the face-off but got the puck back literally seconds later and scored a great goal. He instantly spun around looking for me, huge smug, victorious smile on his face, and I was right there to give him a hug, laughing through the cage on my helmet.

To me, that’s what sport is all about. Go hard, know what behaviour is okay (very much depending on who your opponent is) and don’t take it too seriously. It’s supposed to be fun, right? Even if you’re a professional. It’s still entertainment for the masses and you are playing a game.

In other words: Sydney Stack and Eddie Betts? Rock on, you legends.

The Big Push v True Endurance

And finally, how far and hard can a human push themselves? From crazy-endurance events to that time your wife was pregnant, a new study has been looking at just how far we can physically go. (As reported by Wired magazine)

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Silver Foxes flying (two smiling: Kiya!)

(Keep this one in mind, next time you’re struggling to lug shopping bags to the car)

Or for another take on how to age well as an athlete, try this article. It’s all in the mind.