When I was 35 and doing my first Solvang Century I was passed by an older man with grey hair and beard and I thought I couldn't let this old guy drop me. We diced for miles with him getting away before the first rest stop. Humbled, I rolled into the stop and spotted him seated on the ground with his prosthetic leg off, massaging the end of his leg. A couple years back I was riding in the hills and was heading home pretty tired. I saw a rider up ahead and pushed to catch him. He told me he was a former pro and was about the nicest guy you could meet. He was about 55 but still looked fit. We told bike stories and he kept dropping me on the climbs, but would wait at the top of each hill. I figured I'm tired and he was a pro, then he told me he had lost a lung to cancer some years back. Incredible! I used to carry a Zefal frame fit pump and I knocked it off with my knee in an intersection and parked my bike to walk back and pick it up. A woman waiting at the light going the other way had seen the whole thing and when the light turned green she looked at the pump, looked at me, then just ran it over and sped off.