Balancing Adventure, Challenge and wellness

This past weekend, my friend Alec and I set out on an adventure with our dads. We set off to ride  our bikes and called it a “camping trip,” but in truth, it was little more than pitching a tent and building a fire. Still, as we sat around the flames late into the evening, telling stories and laughing until our sides hurt, we realized it wasn’t about the gear or the location, it was about connection. That night of conversation set the stage for something much bigger the next morning: The Door County Century Tour.

We woke at the crack of dawn, stiff from tent “sleeping,” but buzzing with anticipation. After focusing on hydration the night before, everyone complained of their frequent bathroom breaks throughout the night. After quickly packing up our gear at 5am, the event gathered an incredibly diverse crowd: cyclists young and old, friends, families, seasoned riders, and first-timers. Everyone carried the same smile of adventure. From the start line, we felt like we were part of something larger than ourselves. We were part of a community pushing forward together.

The ride itself quickly became a rhythm of camaraderie and humor. We all found ourselves laughing consistently, well, maybe not up all the uphill climbs. Our dads weren’t shy about reminding us they were keeping up just fine. Every few miles, one of us would call out to check on the others: “How are the legs holding up?” “Are you staying hydrated?” “Ready for the next hill?” It was more than just riding, it was an exercise in teamwork, care, and shared determination.

Out on the course, we couldn’t help but notice how valuable drafting was for so many riders. Whether it was intentional or simply a response to those strong Lake Michigan gusts, cyclists took turns leading and then tucking in behind to conserve energy. It was a reminder of how shared effort works—sometimes you’re the one pulling into the wind, and other times you’re sheltered by the strength of those ahead of you. Everyone had stretches of struggle and stretches of strength, but the steady rotation kept people moving forward together. It was more than a cycling strategy; it was a clear metaphor for life and the value of leaning on one another when the headwinds hit. We took advantage occasionally, but we were amateurs. There were some real pro bike clubs out there.

The organized rest stops became their own little stories. With so many calories burned, it didn’t take much convincing to pile our plates high. Maybe we overate just a little, okay, more than a little, but we justified every bite. After all, the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were gluten-free, so they had to be healthy, right? Those breaks gave us time to laugh, stretch, regroup, and head back out feeling fueled not only by food but by community and shared energy.

At one of the rest stops, I wandered up to a cliff that overlooked the crashing waves of Lake Michigan. I closed my eyes and let the wind brush against my face while the sound of the waves echoed below. The trees and brush were singing, and the sound of laugher filled the park. For a few quiet moments, I wasn’t thinking about the miles ahead or the muscles already sore, I was simply present, grounded in the adventure, grateful for the chance to pause and take it all in.

As the miles added up, we saw riders start to bow out, exhausted from the challenge.  Support trucks were called and family members helped load up the bikes. Our little team of four pressed on. The climbs were demanding, but there was something almost meditative about finding a steady cadence up the inclines. The reward, of course, came with the swooping downhills, moments of peace, wind rushing past, hearts pounding with both effort and joy. We finished strong, not just completing 100 miles, but completing it together.

I couldn’t help but feel proud as we watched our dads push through mile after mile with sheer tenacity, determination, and grit. Every climb they conquered and every headwind they faced reminded us of the strength and perseverance they’ve carried throughout their lives. Sharing this ride with them was more than an accomplishment, it was a living example of resilience that inspired us just as much as the event itself.

For me, as a health coach, this adventure highlighted the importance of taking healthy risks. Adventure doesn’t always mean cliff diving or scaling mountains; sometimes it’s simply saying yes to something hard, something outside your comfort zone. The ride was demanding, but it offered laughter, connection, and a reminder that health isn’t only about physical endurance, it’s about balance. It’s about choosing experiences that strengthen our bodies, deepen our relationships, and nurture our minds.