Lesslee Dort

When getting up from a squat feels like an extreme sport and you can throw your back out dancing in the shower, an honest question surfaces: how do we measure adventure versus risk?

We can easily see adventure-seekers and extreme sports athletes whenever we open social media or turn on the news. Somebody’s scaling a mountain, free-climbing tall buildings, or flying off a cliff without commonly accepted safety protocols in place. Is that unnecessary, risky behavior or simple, straightforward thrill-seeking adventure? Is there a difference?

What about the everyday adventures we face: switching jobs, retiring early, changing majors, moving, and making new friends? Each carries its own mix of fear, vulnerability, and courage. According to author, behavioral psychologist, and Nobel Laureate Daniel Kahneman, people rarely evaluate risk purely rationally – we weigh potential loss and gain through emotion and past experiences.

So how do we balance living a full life while considering our circumstances? Are you single? Do you have family depending on you? Can you afford it? Is your health compromised? How do we know when we’re testing our boundaries in a healthy way versus being careless with the precious life we’ve been granted?

This is something I’ve pondered at different points in my life. Now that I’m beyond middle age and my body has changed, I judge things differently. There are many physical activities I choose to no longer participate in.

I struggle from time to time as I try to determine whether I’m limiting my experiences, giving in to aging; or, if I’m acting in a measured and thoughtful way, respecting my body’s limitations, therefore savoring my time and potentially extending my days.

So, when my sister suggested we give luge a try, I jumped at the opportunity. Heck yes! Let’s do it. Let’s do it right now! And we just about did. If there had been tickets available, we wouldn’t have given it another thought. But all tickets for the day we wanted were sold out.

Unbeknownst to either of us, I’d been bitten by the bug to experience something new. I was completely happy not doing it until I understood that it was a possibility. Once the idea was planted, I couldn’t let it go.

I asked some friends to join me. A shared adventure can be so much more fun. Some friends had no interest, a few friends thought I was foolish, almost reckless. But one friend didn’t hesitate. So, a few weekends ago we tried the Olympic-designed luge track in lower Michigan.

Once we had our reservations and time neared, a low-level uneasiness set in. Were my other friends right? I started questioning my motives. Was this for me or for some kind of outside approval/adoration? I didn’t quite know if I was going through with it because of stubbornness, or if I truly wanted the experience. I knew I could get injured. But I kept telling myself that any serious injuries would be statistically unlikely. No adventure park would risk its clientele, much less its public image. Injuries would be bad for business.

In the end, I leaned into what I learned long ago when looking into the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). NOLS often talks about the difference between calculated risk and reckless risk – one informed by preparation and awareness, the other by impulse.

We also need to remember that risk and adventure aren’t limited to physical activities. In fact, some of the biggest adventures of our lives don’t involve helmets, sleds, or mountains at all. The anxiety I experienced prior to my first luge run was certainly palpable. But not unlike the feelings I experienced when my husband and I chose to move our family from Chicago to a small rural town.

The physical concerns I had about luging were confirmed when the instructor told us that a luge sled had no brakes. He then explained that no matter what one did while on the sled, they would, one way or another, end up at the bottom of the hill. In other words, once you pushed off, there was no reconsidering your decision halfway down.

I arrived at the top of the hill, sled in hand. I took a deep breath, made sure my helmet was secure, and pushed off. The difference between the first run and the second – and then deciding I didn’t need to do the third or fourth – told me something important. Somewhere between the rush of the first ride and the calm of the second, I realized I had chosen the adventure for myself and no one else.

So, let’s live our days and experience our moments.

Adventure isn’t defined by how extreme the activity is. It isn’t measured by speed, height, or someone else’s approval. More often it’s simply the quiet decision to lean toward life rather than away from it.

Because the truest adventures are the ones we choose for ourselves.

Preferably ones that don’t involve throwing out your back in the shower.