Slow down. Construction ahead. Watch for flagger. Icy bridge. After a recent road trip, the images of signs like those are fresh in my memory. Likewise, a recent extreme-sports film festival brought the flip side of caution into focus. Extreme athletes find joy in the face-off with nature. They may also find death waiting for them there.

I tend to romanticize risk. That tendency pairs with an even stronger inclination toward caution. I drive to the mailbox on icy mornings, fearing another hard fall on concrete. I retreat to the treadmill when it is dark, windy, and wet. I check and re-check weather and road reports as departure approaches. I am, as a result, entranced by those who are skilled enough to thrive under harsh conditions. I seek to grow from their example, knowing that my degree of exposure to harm differs by an order of magnitude from theirs.

The ambiguity of facing and dealing with threat is captured in a phrase from Running the Edge by Tim Catalano, Adam Goucher, and Billy Mills. When writing about the journey to world-class competition, they refer to "the fine line between tough and stupid." They draw examples from their own lives to distinguish between the impulsive risk of a runaway ego and the calculated push beyond comfort needed to improve performance.

 Adventure entails risk. It has an element of the unknown, and of facing things we can't control. It means stretching beyond the threshold of confidence to test our limits and improve our skills. It carries the real possibility of failure: freezing in the midst of a speech, relapse on the road to sobriety, rejection in the search for love, death on an alpine snowfield.

 In reflecting on risk, I like the distinction between tough and stupid. Tough builds capacity in ambitious but calculated steps. Stupid counts on bravado to leap across the void. Tough sees the difference between soreness and injury. Stupid does not. Tough understands the implications of failure and accepts them. Stupid denies the implications and ignores them.

 I welcome the example of extreme sports. We are capable of more than we think, and competence is built in the face of fear. I also honor the validity of caution signs along the road. It is smart to slow down in the tangled web of work zones. It is stupid to brake hard on an icy bridge. I can honor the warning signs, modify my approach accordingly, and continue moving ahead; or I can ignore them, proceed at full speed, and hope for the best.

Where in life do you take calculated risks? Where do you act on impulse when caution is called for? Where does fear impede the progress you want to make?