When you've won 525 races, five Tours de France, five Giros d'Italia, and a Vuelta, you've earned the right to slow down. Most people would. But Eddy Merckx — the greatest cyclist who ever lived, now 81 years old — never really stopped. He couldn't. Cycling wasn't what he did; it was who he was.
That's what makes his story over the past four months so quietly remarkable. And it's what makes it resonate so deeply for those of us who ride not for trophies, but because we simply can't imagine stopping.
A New Kind of Aging
Something is happening out there on the roads and trails that previous generations never saw. Older athletes — not just staying active, but training hard, competing seriously, pushing their bodies at intensities that would have seemed extraordinary for their age even a decade ago — are showing up in growing numbers. Researchers have documented a remarkable increase in masters athlete participation in endurance and ultra-endurance events over recent decades, with older competitors not just finishing but genuinely contending. One cycling coach who has worked with athletes in their 40s, 50s, 60s and beyond wrote recently at CycleCoach that many of his older riders are measurably faster than they were a decade ago — not "fast for their age," but actually faster, with higher power output and better endurance across long rides.
This is genuinely new territory.
Eddy Merckx is a perfect example of this shift. After retiring from professional racing in 1978, he never really left the sport. He built a successful bicycle company. He coached the Belgian national team for eleven years. He helped organize major international races. And through all of it, he kept riding — out on his bike with friends, staying active well into his late seventies, a real-world example of what staying on the bike can do for you well past your racing days.
The Other Side of the Coin
But Merckx is also, unfortunately, an example of what can happen at any age when a cycling accident leads to a serious injury and things don't go smoothly from there.
On December 9, 2024, Merckx fell from his bike at a railroad crossing in Hombeek, Belgium. He fractured his hip, underwent surgery, and received a titanium prosthesis. That alone would have meant months of rehabilitation for anyone. But then the complications began — a prosthetic joint infection that kept returning despite repeated surgeries and courses of antibiotics. According to the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons, when infections take hold around a hip implant, they can require multiple operations and prolonged antibiotic treatment to resolve. Since his fall, Merckx has undergone eight operations on the same hip — because infection after joint replacement surgery is one of medicine's genuinely stubborn problems.
His son Axel has been measured in his updates, noting that his father is tough and determined but that recovery from this kind of complication takes time — for anyone.
What the Bike Gave Him
And yet, through all of it, the sport has never left him. His son noted that even from his hospital bed, when races are broadcast, Eddy watches — and "the first thing he wanted to know was who had won."
That's not a man clinging to his past. That's a man whose entire identity is woven into cycling, and who has drawn genuine vitality from it for more than six decades.
As Merckx told Cyclingnews earlier this year, even after everything: "I hope to be able to ride a bike again someday." Not to race. Not to prove anything. Just to ride.
And as he once told The Guardian, "cycling is a good school for life. It makes you hard and gives you ambition, but you can never say you've arrived." That philosophy doesn't stop at the finish line. It carries you well past retirement, well past your peak, and — if you're lucky — well into your eighties.
Closer to Home
Look around and you'll see this story playing out right here in Tacoma. Riders in their 60s and 70s keeping pace on the Foothills Trail. Members who've been rolling through Point Defiance Park for decades and show no sign of stopping. That's not a coincidence — that's what a life on the bike does for you.
Merckx's story holds both the inspiration and the honest truth. What happened to him after his fall is genuinely rare — a cascade of complications that can strike anyone who ends up with an infected joint implant. The overwhelming reality for people who stay active late in life is not injury and setback; it's vitality, purpose, and more good years on the bike. The benefits far outweigh the risks.
But his accident does offer one practical thought worth sitting with. Merckx fell at a railroad crossing — a hazard that might have been avoided with a different route. As we log more years on the bike, it's worth thinking a little more carefully about where we ride. Not to limit ourselves, but to keep ourselves riding. The Foothills Trail and Point Defiance aren't just beautiful — they're smart choices. More miles, fewer hazards, more years in the saddle.