Step into his office and he has each wall dedicated to a different facet of his life. The Adventure Wall boasts photos from his events all over the world (though it's so full he hasn't put any new photos up in seven years). The Family Wall has numerous photos of his wife and three children and grandchildren, but as he notes, "the family is growing so much it's hard to keep up." The Civic Wall is packed with plaques of recognition, and Cleveland Browns paraphernalia can be seen throughout the room.

We recently met with the 72-year-old Shaker Heights native in his office at Gries Financial LLC, the money management business his wife, Sally, runs. "She works and I work out. Not a bad life," he says.

Have you always been an athlete?
I played football in high school. Wrestling was my favorite sport, but I would avoid running anytime I could. They'd send us out for five-mile runs and I would hide behind trees because I did not enjoy that (laughs).

Then what prompted you to take up running at age 51?
I had a bad back that was not getting better. I hadn't exercised in five years; I was way out of shape. New asthma medication came on the market at that time. One of my sons encouraged me to try running. He was a runner in high school. He got me out to run a short race. I struggled, but I got through it. Then he informs me that if I really want to race, I had to run a 10K. I said, "What's a 10K?" He told me it was 6.25 miles. I thought, "Oh, my God," but I was doing it. Pretty soon I was running every weekend in races. It just happened for me and I kept extending it. By July I was running 71/2-mile races; by September 10-mile races; by October, 18-milers.

I called my son and told him, "I'm ready to run a marathon, and you're going with me." I found the flattest, driest climate that had a marathon, Las Vegas. He sort of coached me all the way through. I finished under four hours, under nine-minute miles. I accomplished all my goals. I then ran a marathon every year, sometimes two, sometimes three. I ran New York, the Marine Corps, Chicago, Montreal and the original in Athens, Greece, to name a few.

What made you want to keep running?
When I was 58, I was in pretty good shape, and someone told me about an ultra marathon-a 50-miler. I liked the challenge.

You said you had a bad back.
I had a chronically bad back for 30 years before age 50. I was in constant pain and was literally dragging my leg. I had three degenerated disks in my back. The conventional doctors told me if I ran, I'd destroy the disks. But then I talked to sports medicine people and they said if I ran I might be able to build up enough strength to do things differently. They showed me how to sit and stand so I wasn't putting so much pressure on my back. The disks are still there but I have no problem with them.

How did you get into mountain climbing?
One day I thought, "There's got to be something besides running." I had read about going up to Kilimanjaro and talked to someone at the office who had tried it. So I called my friend Ronnie Bell and asked him, "Ronnie, you may think this is crazy, but how would you like to climb Kilimanjaro?" He brought along his daughter, and I brought along a son and daughter. We sent our wives on a safari, and met up with them after. Now I know that Kilimanjaro isn't really a climb; it's strictly a hike. All you need are hiking boots, a walking stick, layered clothing and you can do Kilimanjaro. It's 19,340 feet. About half the people who attempt it fail.

Yet you continued to run even more challenging races.
I went back to the ultra marathons for a few more years. When I was 60, I started to look at exotic events. I found out about an event in Death Valley called To Hell and Back. It's 157 miles and is the hottest event on earth. I decided to do it, I brought Ronnie along, and he brought a son and I brought a son. This wasn't the son who got me into running, it's my other son, who's now the lacrosse coach at Hawken.

Then I did the Sahara race. That was the most extraordinary race. At that time there were 197 people in the race, and only 12 Americans. It has since grown to about 450 people total. But it lasts seven days, and you must be self-sufficient.

There are three things to preparing for these kinds of events: the physical, logistical and mental. The physical aspect is going out and getting your body in shape. If you're young, you might get through without your body being 100 percent in shape. When you get older, you must be 100 percent. Logistical is preparation and having the right equipment. The mental part is the ability to focus. Two weeks before a race I would start to shut out everything else. I learned not to make major decisions. Once I left for the event, I would do what I call "freeze" time. I would not look at a paper or watch T.V. Only one thought allowed-get the job done!

The Sahara race required a lot of logistical and mental preparation. You've got to decide everything you need for a week because you carry it on your back. Do you take only one pair of shoes? What if they fall apart in the heat? How much toilet paper do you take? How much food do you bring? I brought a small paperback; at least it was something to stimulate my mind.

I also brought tapes and ear phones. I had a wonderful experience in some of the villages. People would come out, and I'd put the ear phones on the kids' heads. Some of them were scared, but others started dancing.

After the Sahara, I did more ultras: the 501/2-mile ocean-to-ocean Panama Canal race, the 100K race over two mountains in Italy, a 100-miler in the northern India mountains.

Tell me about some of your climbing experiences.
When I was 62, Jon Lindoeth told me about a climbing trip down in Mexico. He faxed me an equipment list. I didn't even know what the things were: harnesses, crampons (spikes worn on the bottom of the feet). I spent hours at the supply store.

Once in Mexico with Jon and his wife , Ginny and excellent guides, we climbed 17,800 ft. and 18,700 ft. mountains. I had done Kilimanjaro, but this was different. It was real climbing. I was hooked just like with the marathons. The next year was Ecuador, where we did two mountains, one was 19,500 and the other one was my first one over 20,000, it was 20,500. The next year was 20,000 feet in Bolivia. The year after that I made it up to the tallest part of the Andes, 23,000. It's between Argentina and Chile. That's the highest I've been and ever will be.

The following year I went to Antarctica and climbed Mt. Vincent, the highest mountain there. It's possibly the coldest mountain in the world. The temperature was minus 25 degrees, and the winds at the summit were 60 to 70 miles per hour, a windchill factor that's off the charts. At the time I summited, I was the oldest person to have done so.

Having done Antarctica, I wanted to find out what the highest mountain in the Arctic was. In the Arctic you don't have a lot of climbing going on. But there are a lot of mountains. The highest is only about 12,500. The question was how to get there. There have only been about 40 people that had ever climbed it. I found a guy in Montana who'd done the trip. I contacted him and asked if he wanted to guide a trip. He said, "Sure." I said, "Now I'll tell you the bad news: all the climbers are over 60 years old." (laughs) That didn't bother him.

We flew into Iceland. There we got a plane that's only one of two planes that can land on snow up there-NASA has one of them. It dropped us 150 miles into Greenland, and we trekked a day to get to our mountain. That's a different experience than anywhere else you go because there are no tracks. You don't see a sign of life; maybe some birds. But it's yours ... it's all yours.

We found the mountain and the snow was freshly fallen. We had to make new tracks to our high camp. We waited until the weather cleared. Then we crossed-country skied two-thirds of the way up, and then we put our crampons on, fixed rope and climbed to the top. Jon and Ginny were with me; they were the people I climbed with in Mexico, Ecuador, Bolivia and Antarctica. Ginny was the first woman to summit, and I was the oldest man. We went hand in hand the last steps to the top.

In addition, I've climbed a number of times in the Cascades-Mt. Hood, Mt. Baker. I've climbed Rainier twice.

How tall is Mt. Rainier?
Rainier is 14,000 plus. It's the best mountain to climb in the United States. It's the most like foreign climbing.

Are you still climbing as much?
When I was 70, I went down to Chile. I wanted to see if I could still make it over 20,000 feet. Not many have done that. I made it. I'll tell you one thing: you never "conquer" a mountain. You may reach the summit, but you never conquer it, because that same mountain, an hour later, could turn deadly on you. You learn to respect the mountain.

The ascent is difficult for me because of asthma; the descent I love. A lot of people don't. It's four times as dangerous coming down. I only worry about getting up. The guides have to know me, because they think I'm going to run out of gas. I tell them, "don't worry about me." I can make it if I go at my own pace. Once I get to the top I get a surge of energy because I know I don't have to worry about breathing anymore, now it's all legs. If they know me, then they accept that. But I would never climb with unknown people.

Now tell me about how you became a cyclist.
My friend Ronnie had always wanted to get me to bike. So all of a sudden I get something in the mail. I was 64 years old at the time. It was about a round-the-world bike trip. It was broken into 14 segments; you could join any one segment.

Now, I was looking at this thing and I didn't even know how to ride a bike. But I saw that there was a segment in Asia, and I was looking for something to do in Asia. There was a segment that rode from Ulan Bataar, through Mongolia, to Beijing, China. It was a 1,000 mile ride across the Gobi desert, 800 miles without paved road. I found that intriguing, so I called Ronnie and asked him to teach me how to bike. We went out and I took a crash course, and when I say crash course, I can show you the fence I went through at the bottom of River Road where I didn't make the turn! (laughs). But five months later, we were in Ulan Bataar. My first day in the Gobi, my asthma hit me with a vengeance, I think because of all the dust. But two treatments into my nebulizer got me breathing again.

In past years, I did some rides in France and a week in the hill towns of Italy, which is a beautiful ride. Also, the challenging Andalusian mountains of Spain.

Do you still run as much as you did?
No, but I still do a little running, during workouts, but not any competitions or event running. I hike a great deal, but you know, the knees get a little bit older, and your knees and back start to give you some arthritic problems. I'd like to climb until I'm 80. I'd like to keep biking beyond that.

If I kept running, I could probably get another year or two out of it, but then the knees might have really gone, and I wouldn't be able to do any other things. So it was a tradeoff. But I do a lot of hiking today. And frankly, I could do an event like the Sahara just hiking. You don't have to run, you've got do what you've got do to get to the finish line.

So those are the three careers that I'm still going strong in. I had four events last year, I hope to have four events again this year. I try to do about four a year.

So where are you off to next?
I'm leaving Sunday for a very modest bike ride in the San Juan Islands outside of Seattle because they're very beautiful and I want to see them. There is one very challenging six mile climb, about 2,500 feet.

Then I'm going right from there to the Canadian Rockies, where I'll be hiking six days. Challenging hiking. Then I'm home for a few weeks, and then I go biking from Vienna to Budapest, and then for three or four days, biking up in the Carpathian Mountains. Then I will come back for two weeks, and then I'm going to the Himalayas for a 17-day trip. We will hike to about 13,000 or 15,000 feet, and then climb to the summit at over 18,000 feet.

How do you decide you want to do these trips?
I never had a plan, things just took their course. It just sort of happened. Something comes along I want to do. The one thing that I stick to is that it's got be self-powered. I don't use motors. I'm not interested in anything where you're propelled by anything but your feet. When it comes to bike rides, and mountain climbing, those are endurance events.

But I know my limits. You have to take the falls to be able to learn, and when you're 72 years old, you don't heal fast enough. You aren't Superman, and boy, you better know it. Now, would I go back, and do some of these things? Yeah, sure. I wouldn't mind going back to Antarctica again, climbing a different mountain. I wouldn't mind going back to the Sahara again, though that would be pretty tough.

What is it about you that draws you to take risks?
I like a challenge. Let's put it this way: there are things out there with a 1 or 2 percent chance of accomplishing. I wouldn't do that, because it's too small a chance. That's not what I'm about. The events I take on are things where you would probably assess that you have a 15 to 20 percent chance of succeeding. Then through physical training, logistical preparation, and mental focus, you can get the job done.

You have to be willing to fail; you're not always going to succeed 100 percent of the time. I had one mountain- and it's not a big one-up in the Cascades, where we had to go three times to get up to the summit. The first time, we camped out, we were going to get up the next morning and go for the summit. We woke up the next morning and there was a foot of new snow on top of three days of freezing rain, and we had to get out of there quick because those were avalanche conditions.

What's the most beautiful place you've ever seen, either from running, climbing or cycling?
Oh... that's a tough one. I'd say one of the highlights was one night on Aconcogua in the Andes. We were only about 8,000 or 9,000 feet. We were hiking our way in. It was a beautiful night, we didn't even put up tents. We just slept under the stars. The Southern Hemisphere stars are more glorious than the northern hemisphere stars. Just a beautiful night to watch the sun disappear and then rise again.

In Antarctica, you don't need a color camera; everything's black and white. But there's a stark beauty to it. You stand there and look out over hundreds of miles that nobody will ever set foot on. You're just looking at unexplored territory.

Another time, in that race in the Sahara we had a sand storm at the end. When it ended, you had the prettiest sky I've ever seen in my life, and I've been to a lot of places. It was pure gold.

In India, there were forested areas, and in them are little homes. People are living right in there and you can't even see it when you're looking across the ridge. But the next day you're down there running through it; you're into places that just sort of exist in those trees.

Who has been an inspiration to you?
When people ask me, "Who are your heroes?" I tell them my heroes are disabled people who are making the most out of their lives, because they're really doing wonderful things. I love doing events with them. I've biked the Gobi desert, the length of Vietnam, and Boston to St. Louis with disabled riders: paraplegics riding hand cycles, blind cyclists on tandems, one or no leg or one-armed riders, and a rider with cerebral palsy who could only use one side of his body. The blind athlete, Eric, who just climbed Mount Everest, was on the Vietnam trip, riding with his Dad, a Vietnam vet.

You look at one of these people and you realize they have to fight every day of their lives to do what we take for granted. Yet they're doing extraordinary things. When you ride with people like that, you get a whole different attitude.

If I'm hurting, I could quit anytime, and know I'd feel better. But they've got to fight every single day of their lives. There was one guy who walks on his hands. He could never use his legs; in fact, he can pull them around his head. He was as strong as can be; the strongest biker of the handcyclists. I saw him playing soccer with the little kids, using his head to bounce the ball and jumping on his hands.

Some of the good riders can ride alongside of the hand cyclists, hold the pole in the back of their bike or put their hand on their back and give a little push up a hill. I wouldn't do that because I'd probably fall over on them. So they figure it out, "you can't give me a push? O.k., get in front of me," and they bungee off of your bike (laughs). It's just wonderful.

We were at the Hard Rock Café in Beijing. You should see these guys dance in their wheelchairs. They'd dip backward so far, I thought they'd flip back and hit their heads. Just then they'd bring themselves up! Extraordinary people.

When you're with people like this, you just realize how lucky you are, and their spirit is contagious.

Is there anything particularly memorable from your travels?
The Vietnam event was the most emotional. There were 40 Americans and 15 North Vietnamese. Of the Americans, 30 were Vietnam vets, and 20 of those were disabled vets who had lost legs, sight, whatever in Vietnam. We were cycling through the villages where they got injured. The reactions were varied. Some of them wanted to talk about it, some of them got tense, some got silent, some of them cried. We were there to listen if they wanted, put an arm around them or whatever.

Some had seen the war in a boat, some had seen the war as a front-line grunt, some had been pilots, some had been medics-the worst job in the war-some were pacification officers, some were chopper pilots. Each one saw the war from a different angle. Some had been disabled, some had mental problems or physical problems.

The attitudes ran the gamut. They used to get together and talk about it sometimes. You had everything from the mea culpa bunch who thought, "We never should have been in Vietnam, it was a terrible thing ... " to the other side who said, "Don't give me that, I was asked by my country to do a job, and I'm proud of it."

We had talks with the North Vietnamese who had their own stories to tell. "You bombed Hanoi, you killed my mother and sisters. I never thought I'd talk to an American. But that was 30 years ago, this is now." Other ones said, "Why would I hate Americans? Some of my family went over there and they sent a lot of money home." All kinds of attitudes. That was the most extraordinary thing.

Each of the able-bodied had a purpose in being there. We were chosen by the event organizers. I didn't know why I was chosen until later: I was the old man. I was there to show them you can still do these events when you're older.

You recently co-chaired the commission which recommended the bond issue for improving the Cleveland Public School buildings. You could say you took a chance on that.
Of course I took that on when I was asked by Mayor White and Barbara Byrd Bennett. One, just because I think it's absolutely necessary. Cleveland has to educate its 77,000 kids. Technically, learning does take place in those deplorable environments-some people can learn in any environment-but a lot of them cannot. I know I couldn't. The distractions are tremendous.

Secondly, looking at that, that wasn't a 2 percent chance we'd succeed; it was probably a 15 to 20 percent chance. If everybody got on board and worked hard there was a chance of bringing it off. Everyone did get on board and got behind it. The unions came aboard, which was very important. Barbara was incredible in over 200 presentations, and Arnold ran a masterful campaign.

What do you do when you're not training, traveling or working on bond issue campaigns?
I spent 30 years as a venture capitalist. Today, I'm pretty much out of the business world. I'm still working with a couple of companies. The rest of my time is spent in philanthropy.

I've tried to nurture my children into philanthropy. Sally and I have established philanthropic funds for the next generation, and they make all the decisions as to how to allocate the money.

Tell us about your grandchildren. How many do you have?
I count seven grandchildren. A nephew lived with us for many years and he's like a son, so I count his two kids as grandchildren. The grandchildren range in age from two weeks to seven years. All but one live within one mile of the house. How lucky can I get!

What is it about you that sets you apart from others your age-those who think 72 is old?
Seventy-two is looking younger all the time (laughs). I have a number of motivations ... one is staying alive. Ronnie's mother is 99, and she is as amazing as she can be. But both my parents died by the time they were 65; and three of my grandparents were gone by age 57, so I can't count on genetics.

Bob Kahn, who wrote the book "Successful Aging," would tell you genetics only has 25 percent to do with how long you live.
That's true, but I don't have that 25 percent, so I really believe in what I do. I don't think I'd be alive today if I weren't going on my adventures. People ask me, "Why do you do these events?" But it wouldn't work. You've got to have that goal at the end of the line.

There are too many times where you're tired or not feeling 100 percent and you've got a workout to do. You don't feel like going to the gym, or getting on the bike. It'd be too easy to bag, and pretty soon you wouldn't be doing it. I set goals and tell myself I have to accomplish a specific amount of training I won't go.

Are you as strict with your diet?
I don't take vitamins. I eat everything. I'm not on any medication other than my asthma pill and inhalers and pills for atrial fibrillation. I had atrial fibrillation for 15 years. It began to affect my workouts. I'd feel weak and tired. The doctors put in an experimental device to cardiovert my heart. Since it was experimental, it didn't work too well for me. So I decided to just cut out all alcohol and caffeine and lose 12 pounds. I haven't had any fibrillation for two years now.

What is your attitude about age?
I never thought about old age because I thought I'd never be around, given that my parents died by the time they were 65. I suppose I'm living on borrowed time, but I'm having so much fun!