I spoke on Friday’s Hero Report about my journey and the way adventure shapes me as a person.
Hosts Matt and Ari had some great questions, one of which I had no answer to. After I described the dangerous areas of my trip and the preparation that I’m making, Ari asked me a:
[Laughing] Every word you say makes it sound worse to me than it sounded before you said that particular sentence. I don’t like adventures. I am a homebody: I like to sit and read a book or watch television or listen to music. Or think about something, whatever. I am not racing out and doing and seeing… What kind of adventure could I have?
I answered by sputtering through a personal anecdote and threw some softball suggestions: try a leadership position? Volunteer somewhere? Travel to a non-resort area?
What I should have said to this question is: Ari, I have no idea.
I don’t know if armchair adventure is possible. I hope it is, but I’m not sure what it even looks like.
A point that I’ve made over and over is that I don’t expect everyone to do what I’m doing. When I advocate that people add adventure to their lives, I mean they should find a way to do so that matches their passions, their interests and the realities of their personal life.
I believe adventure can be accessible and safe for anyone. Loreen Niewenhuis was a single mother when she successfully walked around Lake Michigan. She did it in segments, driving to where she left off last time, to balance it with her duties at home. 1,000 miles on foot, one short trip at a time: amazing.
But it seems even this kind of controlled, safe adventure would be too much for Ari and, I suspect, lots of other healthy adults.
So I have this dilemma. I want to identify practices that anyone can do—anyone at all, indoors or outdoors, at age 20 or age 60. But I don’t want to redefine adventure to mean any old activity you do on your couch.
I need your ideas. What does a starter adventure look like? What does “adventure” mean for people who are homebodies or prefer the indoors?
Is it possible?