Leave the wrist guards at home (sometimes)

November is the month when I think about death more than usual. There's a good reason for that. In Poland, the month opens with All Saints' Day, when we visit cemeteries and light candles for those we've lost. And by then, autumn has stopped being a pretty postcard and started being something you feel in your bones. This year, the season came with two personal events. First, I had surgery to correct my deviated septum. Shortly before that, I tried a small stunt on my rollerblades and injured my wrist. Yes, I was riding without protective gear, which was a bit reckless. In my defense, I'd lent it to my son, so I consider myself at least partially absolved. Thinking about death leads me, naturally, to thinking about growing old - or, as I sometimes call it, the second half of life. And closely tied to that is the question of risk. When I look at my dear parents in their later years, there's one thing I find hard to watch: how they've let go of some of their goals and ambitions. Some of…

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