Tuesday, February 17, 2026

A Different Kind of Adventure

Not long after we start asking whether life gets smaller when we “get it right,” another question sneaks in, usually unannounced: who decides what right even looks like now? Is it our doctors, our families, the well-meaning commercials, or the quiet voice in our own head that has learned to speak in warnings instead of possibilities?

Aging has a way of putting us in a room full of advice. Some of it is wise. Some of it is fear dressed up as concern. And somewhere in the middle, we are left to sort out what still gives us energy, what quietly drains it, and what we are doing simply because it seems expected. I meet people every week who are quietly negotiating this terrain.

One of them is a 92-year-old woman I serve with on a board. Some days she has more energy than I do, and yet she worries she isn’t doing enough. She’s become a quiet role model for me. Many people her age might be sitting at home, but she’s dancing the Maypole, walking in the May Day parade, sitting in the hot sun at our booth during the car show, encouraging other seniors to stay engaged, or advocating for our latest project supporting caregivers of people living with dementia.

She doesn’t overreach. When she’s tired, she rests. There’s no inner argument between caution and curiosity for her. She has learned something many of us are still working toward: excitement doesn’t have to be loud, fast, or risky to be real. For her, adventure has shifted from adrenaline to purpose, from speed to depth. Discernment, not fear, has become the skill that keeps her moving forward.

And as we reflect on our own lives, perhaps the most daring adventures now aren’t measured in miles run, slopes skied, or ladders climbed. They are measured in connection, nurturing relationships, exploring new ideas, trying creative projects, or simply being present in ways that matter. The bravest risks later in life are often quiet, emotional, or relational, and they can bring more meaning than any physical feat ever could.

So, I invite you to pause for a moment and ask yourself: Where has your adventure evolved? What risks now feel worth taking, and what joys are waiting just beyond your comfort zone? The answers may surprise you—and they may just lead to the richest, most unexpected adventures of all.

Adventure in later life doesn’t have to be loud or risky—it can be found in laughter, new ideas, and small acts of courage. What might happen if you tried something just because it sparks your curiosity? Step lightly, step boldly, and see where joy finds you next.

Life’s later chapters invite a different kind of daring, one that blends curiosity with care, connection with creativity. Ask yourself: what risks are worth taking now, and which joys are waiting just beyond your comfort zone? Step forward, the next adventure is yours to discover

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