Dennis Cummings is an individual who defies his years, thanks in large part to skating. He admits that he turned his life around by starting to skate. His body a mess from years of carousing, Dennis slowly crawled out of that rut. When he finally reached level ground, he kept on going. Skating gave him a different ritual to follow and a sense of purpose like none other.

Dennis bathes in in-line skating's fountain of youth at least three times a week, once indoors with the kids and twice in the "garage" with the big boys. What the big boys do is no Sunday skate in the park by any stretch. It is serious business. We go hard and we hurt.

I exercise with Dennis twice a week in the "garage," and the funny thing is, as long as I've known him, I've never heard him utter a complaint, never heard a single excuse out of him.

We meet in the "garage" in the Berkeley hills each Monday and Wednesday night at 9 p.m. The "garage" is a rectangular parking structure the size of a football field whose third level is open on three sides. There, oblivious to the sparkling view of downtown San Francisco from the near turn of the 300-meter course, we subject ourselves to 32 minutes of finger-tingling, stomach churning, anaerobic haze. Our workout consists of four 5-minute intervals (with five minutes of rest in between), four 2-minute intervals (with three minutes of rest in between), and four 1-minute intervals (with two minutes of precious rest in between).

Positive Progress

Dennis suffered badly that first workout he did with us. We'd lap him on each repetition as if he were standing still. He'd be gasping for air with legs that looked like overcooked noodles. Yet with each succeeding session, Dennis was able to hang on for longer and longer before getting dropped quietly.

Dennis doesn't get lapped anymore. His starts are razor sharp, and he's even in contention during the one-minute intervals. Late in the workout, guys half his age are dry-heaving and bowing out before its over. They complain that they're tasting their dinner or that their legs are toast. Dennis may be doubled over from exhaustion, hands barely holding on to his knees, but he'll always summon the strength to flash me a grin and give me a thumbs up to indicate he's still with the program.

Last week, while I was on the road, Dennis almost landed on the podium in a local race, beating a whole host of big-time skaters for the first time. His eyes were glowing when he told me how he found himself in a savory situation all the way until the end.

"I was in the mix right up to the final sprint. Dan Burger had told me before the race, 'You can keep up with us, Dennis. Just make sure you stay in position and you'll be okay. Stay in position.' After Joey jumped, I went with him. We went by a whole bunch of people and I could tell they were pissed."

The beauty of Dennis' performance is that he's gotten such great results with such little work. The exigencies of his workaday life preclude monster training days, so he relies on short bouts of lung-bursting intensity. High-quality training without much quantity means that, come race day, Dennis' body is rested but still remembers what it's like to go hard.

Dennis is living proof that some thins just get better with age. He personifies the saying "It's never to late" -- because he didn't start in-line skating until well past his mid-life crisis. If you're like Dennis, really just an old teenager wanting to show a little muscle, go ahead and turn back the clock on in-lines!

At the ripe old age of 29, Eddy Matzger is considered a "grandfather" of inline skating. He first tried in-lines in 1988 and turned pro in 1991 -- drafted, in essence, straight out of college by a wheel manufacturer. Matzger, improving every year, now skates for long-time sponsors TWINCAM bearings, Roces Roadskates, PowerBar, Breathe Right, and Transpack.