A Trip of a Lifetime: A View into “Wholistic Wealth”

I almost didn’t go. Between training for a 100-mile race, a desk piled high with work, and my daughter heading back to school, it felt irresponsible to disappear to Montana. But how many chances do you really get to stand waist-deep in the Madison River with your dad and uncles? To trade to-do lists for trout and deadlines for drift boats? Rare. Too rare.

We flew into Bozeman, drove out to Ennis and settled at Rainbow Lodge, a cozy spot run by Ed and Jeanne, hosts whose warmth made us feel less like guests and more like family. The setting was everything I’d imagined. Big skies, jagged peaks, the kind of air that tastes like freedom.

 And then came the fishing.

Fly fishing isn’t what I thought it would be. I’d imagined something laid-back and leisurely. Instead, it demanded focus, rhythm, patience. At first, my nerves got the better of me. No one wants to be the rookie dragging the boat down. But within minutes, line tightened, rod bent, and I had my first fish. From there it became addictive. Cast, mend, wait, feel the strike. Some moments were frustrating, others triumphant, but by the end I understood why people call it an art form.

 The Real Wealth

 What struck me most, though, wasn’t the fish we caught. It was the conversations we had between casts. My uncle Davey shared how he spent 33 years with the county surveyor’s office, a career he loved from the day he walked in fresh out of high school. My uncle Craig laughed through stories of his years in oil sales and the travels it brought him. My dad, a master mechanic nearing retirement, spoke with pride about the work of his hands.

These weren’t stories of just “getting by.” They were stories of men who found work that mattered. Work that filled their lives, not just their bank accounts. And now, because of that, they still have the health and freedom to spend a week chasing trout in Montana.

That’s real wealth.

Not the kind measured in commas, but the kind that lets you cast a thousand times in a river, hike the bank, and wake up ready to do it all again.  It’s being “wholistically wealthy”: the blend of financial, physical, and emotional capacity to live a long, memorable retirement.

It made me think about my own passions. I’ve been fortunate to build a career I love. Ultra-running drains me physically but fills me emotionally. And now, maybe, I’ve found another pursuit in fly fishing.

Each of these adds to my version of wealth.

 And here’s the kicker. Building that kind of life isn’t about splurging on every latte or gadget. Skip that $5 coffee every workday for a year, and you’ve bought yourself not just a fishing trip, but a memory you’ll carry for a lifetime. Which do you think compounds more joy?

Casting Forward

Comparison is the thief of joy. Maybe we haven’t found our passion yet—professionally or personally.

The data tells us what we already know: too many people are working without passion.

• Only about 20% of U.S. employees say they’re truly passionate about their jobs, while 65% are simply satisfied.

• A staggering 85% of employees are disengaged at work.

• And “quiet cracking", that slow burnout where people feel stuck but can’t quit, hits 20% frequently and 34% occasionally.

That’s okay. We have time, we have space, and we can keep searching. But we also need to remember to slow down, to breathe, and to sit with the ones we love. Because when we look back, it won’t be the coffees or the gadgets we remember.

It’ll be the days creating meaningful experiences with the ones we cherish.

We need a bigger vision of retirement than just dot-com returns. We need a plan that gives us health, time, and space to discover passions, or rediscover them, long after we’ve clocked out for the last time.

And maybe that’s the lesson: a good cast on the Madison River doesn’t guarantee a fish, but it does give you the chance to land something remarkable. Retirement is no different. We can’t control every current, but we can prepare in a way that lets us stay on the water longer.

So the real question for all of us isn’t “How much is enough?” It’s “How do we plan for a life filled with meaningful experiences that we’ll carry long after the numbers fade?”