What Daring Greatly Really Looks Like

I can’t stop thinking about Lindsey Vonn.

I woke up this morning with my partner, Rick, next to me scrolling through his phone. He said, “Bad news.”
I thought, Oh god—what now.

“Lindsey Vonn crashed.”

And my heart just sank.

I’m not a skier—never have been. But the story of her comeback drew me in deeply, especially as an athlete of an (ahem) certain age.

Years after stepping away from the sport she once dominated, Vonn made a decision that felt almost defiant: I’m not done yet. This was a woman with nothing left to prove deciding to do it all over again.

And for the rest of us—especially those competing in sports at an age when we’ve been told we shouldn’t be—it was a thrilling example of what might still be possible in our 40s and beyond.

By the time she retired, she had endured a staggering list of injuries—fractures, ligament tears, surgeries piled on surgeries. She’s said she couldn’t even go on a hike without deep pain. In 2019, she underwent a partial knee replacement, a procedure most people associate with finality.

And yet.

It changed everything. Pain gone. She felt amazing. Began training again. Fully aware of what another fall could cost.

And when the Olympics came around, she chose to go for it—putting herself back in the arena, drawn to the mountain Cortina d’Ampezzo. A mountain where she won multiple World Cups and that became synonymous with her style: fast, technical, fearless.

For Vonn, it represented both memory and possibility. A full-circle return to the kind of terrain that made her her.

Then, at the race this morning, she fell just seconds after pushing out of the start gate.

Hard.

This is what Daring Greatly actually looks like in real life. Not the version that ends in triumph. But the version where you step back into the arena knowing there may be no reward waiting for you at the bottom.

Daring greatly isn’t winning. It’s choosing to go for it.

And I think about how radical that choice is for women in midlife. By then, we’re taught to manage risk, to protect what we’ve built, to be sensible. We’re praised for restraint. For knowing our limits. For being careful.

And yet—something in us still wants the mountain.

Watching Vonn, I felt that visceral recognition: the deep, cellular understanding of what it means to want something that may cost you—and to decide it’s still worth attempting.

But here’s the other truth, and it matters just as much.

It is also okay to say no.

It is okay to look at the slope and decide the risk is too high. To choose your body. Your longevity. Your future self. Stopping can be as brave as starting.

The lesson here is not that we must always go for it.

The lesson is that we get to choose.

Lindsey Vonn reminds me that courage isn’t defined by outcome—it’s defined by agency. By standing at the edge, fully informed, and deciding for yourself whether this is a moment to charge or a moment to step back.

She went for it. In front of the whole world. Because it was something she wanted to do for herself—at an age when women are encouraged to stop reaching.

And for that alone, she inspires me.