Sometimes he stops sipping air from the oxygen tank in the living room and walks slowly into the garage and looks at his bike. While he is at it, he also looks at his other bike, the dusty one he rode in the Olympics in 1932 and 1936.

As he begins his 93rd year, his amazing body is finally failing. For the first time in his memory he is easily winded. "I just feel tired," he says sheepishly. It is not his nature to complain, so he adds, "But you know, I am stronger now than I was a few weeks ago."

On Dec. 18, friends are staging an "I Rode With the Legend" bicycle ride beginning at St. Petersburg's North Shore Pool parking lot at 8:30 a.m. The 20-mile excursion will follow his favorite route through the city and conclude with breakfast at his favorite restaurant, the Gold Coffee Shop, at 336 First Ave. N.

The old man fully intends to ride his own bike. If he feels weak, he might sit on the back of his son's tandem. Then again, he may just gamely wave as the younger cyclists take off.

After riding more than a half-million miles in eight decades, he became ill in September, a short time after winning his 18th national championship, in his age group, in Utah.

The Utah hills seemed higher than ever, but he finished. And then, on one of his daily rides with the St. Petersburg Bicycle Club days later, he felt weak as a newborn. Somebody had to drive him and his bike home.

Twice doctors have drained fluid from his lungs.