A few days ago, I learned about a woman named Kelsey Pfendler.
She’s currently rowing from California to Hawaii.
Alone.
In a boat.
Across the actual Pacific Ocean.
Meanwhile, I consider it a personal triumph when I find a parking spot that doesn’t require parallel parking.
At 31, Kelsey is attempting to become the first American woman to row solo and unsupported from California to Hawaii — more than 2,400 miles of open ocean. For 70 to 90 days, her whole world will be water, sky, a small boat, and her own thoughts.
Which sounds inspiring and, if I’m being honest, slightly terrifying. I get rattled when the Wi-Fi drops for an hour.
But here’s what struck me.
It’s easy to hear a story like hers and think, “Well, good for Kelsey. But I’m not rowing to Hawaii.”
Neither am I. (See earlier note about parking.)
And that’s the point.
This isn’t really about rowing. It’s about becoming — about deciding there’s still something in you that wants to be tested, stretched, or finally let out of the garage.
At some point, a lot of us got handed a script for the second half of life. Work hard. Be responsible. Take care of everyone else. Then someday, slow down.
But what if that’s not the whole story?
What if this chapter isn’t about winding down, but waking up?
Too many people reach this stage assuming their biggest adventures are behind them. Not because they want to believe it — but because nobody ever handed them a different script.
So they drift. They watch. They wait. They tell themselves they’re too old, too late, too tired, too out of practice, too whatever.
Meanwhile, a woman is rowing herself across the Pacific.
Again — not about the ocean. It’s about possibility.
Your version of rowing to Hawaii might look nothing like Kelsey’s. Maybe it’s starting the business. Writing the book. Learning the instrument. Taking the trip. Going back to school.
A few years ago, I retired after a long career in financial services. I thought I was entering a season of rest. Instead, life handed me a season of questions.
Who am I now? What do I want this next chapter to look like? Who do I want to be?
Today, at 68, I’m building a speaking business. I’m standing on stages. And this week, I’m making myself a promise.
By Sunday, the first episode of my podcast will be in my editor’s hands.
There. I said it publicly. Now I actually have to do it. (This is either accountability or a deeply unwise decision. Ask me Monday.)
The podcast is called No Roles. No Rules. Just You. — a title that’s at least as much a reminder to me as it is to anyone listening.
Because courage isn’t measured in miles. It’s measured in movement.
The question isn’t whether you’re rowing across an ocean. It’s whether you’re still willing to leave the shore.
That’s what I love about this season of life. We’re finally old enough to know time is precious, and wise enough to know that waiting has never once made a dream easier.
We don’t need to do something outrageous. We don’t need to row to Hawaii. We just need to stop talking ourselves out of the things that still call to us.
Something a little bigger. A little braver. Something that reminds us we’re still growing, still becoming, still gloriously, wonderfully alive.
Kelsey Pfendler is rowing to Hawaii. I’m launching a podcast. You might be doing something else entirely.
The size of the dream isn’t the point. The willingness to answer it is.
Because we’re all headed somewhere. The only question is whether we’re drifting there by default or moving there by design.
As for me?
I’m still not ready to row across the Pacific. I’m still not great at parallel parking.
But I’m learning that the best chapters of life aren’t found while anchored safely in the harbor. They’re found when we push off from shore and see what we’re capable of becoming.
No Roles. No Rules. Just You.
Now start rowing.
