As I get older, I’m becoming a great deal more and much, much less adventurous.

* “Never heard of orange wine!” I heard myself say once, many years ago, “…sounds interesting!” I told the cashier as I purchased a bottle.

* “We’ll just rent a car, because driving in Europe is probably the same as driving at home!” said a man who looked exactly like me, only younger.

* “Now this cat looks like he needs a lot of love… what does “feral” mean, exactly?” spoke a previous version of myself, a short 14 hours away from bloodied hands and arms.

My youth, and a great portion of whatever came directly after that, operated on a general philosophy of “appreciable risk”, where… sure, there was risk, but how much risk does it take to make something risky?

50%, I thought.

- That cheese sounds good.

- Those rides look safe.

- This date is going well.

Experiences were worth the risks, so I had experiences, lots and lots of them… and then all new ones, with new risks attached. Thank Heaven I didn’t get to that point where it flipped and I became one of those people who just sought out risks for risk’s sake; instead I began to curate my experience/risk ratio.

Today, I identify a lot less experiences as “worth the risk”.

* Severely overcrowded subway train? Let it pass by.

* Cello bag of green beans that got lost at the back of the refrigerator bin from two weeks ago and are curiously glossy? Don’t cook ‘em.

* Calls from an unknown number? Voicemail.

My keys are latched to my belt, I keep the gas tank full, and I haven’t indulged in mysterious hors d’oeuvre at parties in over a decade.

My risks seem less jarring now: how late can I stay up working before the next day becomes a bleary, unnavigable haze? 9:30? 11:15?

My risks seem tiny now: how do I find the current barometric pressure on my phone without seeing breaking news pop-ups?

And my risks seem necessary now, as it feels so often that the only way forward is over rickety bridges and through dark forests. Metaphorically.

The majority of my current risks fall into the category of “unavoidable”. No longer am I courageously choosing the paths least chosen, it’s just that all the other elevators are stuck on the 13th floor and not moving and there’s no way I can walk up 18 flights of stairs while holding these boxes so I have no choice but to take the one that ever so often gets stuck between floors for a couple of hours.

The world today changes with unrelenting consistency, few days like any other, a walk through a funhouse or a Dali or Escher painting. My job is to adapt as quickly as possible, keep moving forward, and try to put a positive spin on the whole thing.

My latest challenge? 5:30 in the morning. A new school year with new school schedules means that 6:30 alarm I relished ignoring has moved back an hour and is now a rule rather than a guideline. To compensate, I have begun going to sleep around 10PM. To be honest, the first day we got up at 5:30 I had absolutely no problem being in bed by 9.

I repeated Ben Franklin’s adage:“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

Vague, but worth a shot. Let’s play this out and see how it goes. Those are three great things…could be worth it.

I started out strong the first few days: eyes somewhat bright, world lit by a fresh sunrise, the excitement of a new schedule…

…but a few days later the sun wasn’t up at all when we got up. Then it began to get really cold at night, the kind of cold that’s more than cold because it’s humid as well, and makes one want to stay in bed.

And then the coffeemaker broke.

I have the flu now, as it turns out. And we have to fix the coffeemaker, which even though we’re doing it ourselves represents a pretty significant unanticipated spend. Thus, I am not healthier, nor am I wealthier, and by the tone of this very rant I believe you would agree that excess wisdom has not been bestowed on me to any significant degree.

But I will valiantly keep at it, mostly because I’m an adult and this is the time we have to get up now and it’s (close to) Autumn and the days are getting shorter and I can just wear thick socks to bed and pile on more blankets until Spring.

The circumstances change, but we are all moving forward, and as long as we end the day somewhere ahead of where it began (even if it began before sunrise), then whatever the effort, challenge, or risk, it’s worth it.

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