Allyson Felix's knees will soon remember what suffering feels like. Her hammys are about to hate her. Her feet will protest against the threat of plantar fasciitis. She'll experience shin splits like it's nobody's business.
As she subjects herself again to the rigors of Olympic training in an attempt to make a comeback at 40 years old, her body might gently, or loudly, suggest to her that she's indeed a middle-aged mother of two. But she'll get into those starting blocks anyway. Her choice is a brave one.
Then there's Drew Dalman , whose hands will no longer resemble gnarled pieces of meat. His wrists won't have to be protected by braces just so he can finish a day's work, and his brain will no longer be subjected to trauma similar to that of a victim of a car crash. At the very capable age of 27, his body surely has more to give, but he has retired from the NFL anyway. His decision also seems courageous.
An athlete in her autumn, and another in his prime. Both have rejected the conventional wisdom of what is expected of their bodies. And I can't decide who's more impressive.
This week, Felix announced that she will soon begin training in an effort to make the U.S. women's track team for the 2028 Games in her hometown of Los Angeles . Though she has more Olympic medals than any other woman in her sport, it's not another gold that she's after.
Felix, who would be closing in on 43 years old if she makes the team, isn't competing against Father Time. Rather, she wants to crush limitations and leave fear choking on her dust.
"So many of us have been told not to do the big, bold thing," Felix told Time Magazine in an interview serving as the hard launch to her comeback. "You know, at this age, I should probably be staying home and taking care of my kids, doing all that. And just, why not? Let's flip it on its head. Let's go after the thing. Let's be vulnerable."
The safe call for Felix, who last competed professionally at the 2022 world championships, would be to keep building her business empire, her sports management firm and women's footwear brand, and leave the sprinting to the kids.
Much like 41-year-old LeBron James, who could be in the stands right now cheering on his oldest son, but instead he's sharing the court with Bronny, tossing his boy alley-oop lobs. Or Philip Rivers , who could've stayed on his couch in Alabama as a 44-year-old grandpa last season, but instead took on QB1 duties for the Indianapolis Colts ahead of Week 15. Or even Lindsey Vonn, 41, who could've snuggled up with a good book and her three Olympic medals, but rather chose to go blazing down that mountain this winter in Italy.
For these aging athletes, there's a risk of embarrassment or worse, a disastrous injury. Vonn had to be airlifted after crashing in Cortina, and recently, she was photographed being pushed around the Los Angeles airport in a wheelchair.
Ask any commoner in their 40s, a treadmill dialed up to 10 would be cause to spend the rest of the week bathing in Epsom salt. Even for a former elite athlete in the 40 club like Felix, the all-encompassing training journey that she's about to embark on could be fraught with pain and injuries. However, the could be isn't as debilitating to Felix as not trying at all. For Felix, success isn't running 100 meters in 10.72 seconds. It's testing herself, her will, her body.
"I would probably be upset at myself if I just didn't give it a try," Felix told Time. "However it turns out, I'll still be there with my kids, hanging out and cheering everybody on."
She's chasing something only she can fully understand (she doesn't need the money or the spotlight of fame that shines on Olympians once every four years). That drive of hers, as incomprehensible as it is inescapable, should be applauded. But while my aching 40-plus bones stand in awe at an old head like Felix, who continues to storm the doors of the stadium to stay inside, I also marvel at a young'un like Dalman, who walks away.
Last month, Dalman, a Pro Bowl center for the Chicago Bears , did not announce his retirement in an exclusive with a news magazine. His decision came through the anonymity of various "sources" and hasn't been explained.
Bears general manager Ryan Poles told reporters last month that Dalman's retirement "was a pop-up on us. I want to respect him and his decision. The why, the reasons why and all that, I'll let him answer those things at his time."
So, without Dalman explaining his "why," many stories have framed his departure as a transaction amid the broader implications for the team's salary cap. As though Dalman is just another body to be replaced on the Bears' 53-man roster.
Dalman still had two years remaining on the three-year, $42 million contract he signed in March 2025. He's still a summer away from attending his 10-year high school reunion. And yet, after he remained sturdy and healthy enough last season to start every game for the NFC North champions, he still chose to become a retiree.
For Dalman, the expected move would be to collect his millions and use the genetic blessings passed through his lineage (he's the son of former offensive lineman Chris Dalman) to play as long as he can. However, much like former Colts quarterback and fellow Stanford alum Andrew Luck , who abandoned $58 million at age 29, the desire to walk away rather than be carted away might have been a much stronger pull.
There's an adage that compares an athlete's retirement to a first death. So in that way, Dalman giving up the ghost on his football identity seems scarier than any failure Felix might face in her Lazarus act. When you've spent your life sweating, practicing and mastering a sport, it takes guts to leave it all behind to redefine yourself beyond your physical abilities.
Still, both athletes — the mom who left the track four years ago and the NFL offensive lineman who never missed a snap —share one thing in common through their differences.
She's leaving the boardroom for the blocks. He's going from Pro Bowl player to ordinary Sunday afternoons.
He's hanging up his cleats at 27, while she's dusting off running shoes at 40.
Both are fearless.
This article originally appeared in The Athletic .
Chicago Bears, NFL, Opinion, Culture, Olympics, Chicago Bears, National Football League, Olympics, Women's Olympics
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