Fitness Solutions for Busy Professionals

When my wife Cheryl and I moved from Pennsylvania to Wisconsin, we got a lot of raised eyebrows. “Why would you leave the East Coast for Wisconsin?” people asked. To them, it was a step backward. But for us, it was a leap forward—an opportunity for new beginnings, simpler beauty, and open trails.

Shortly after we arrived, I registered my truck and chose a personalized license plate: WHAT IF U. It wasn’t just a quirky saying—it was a spark. A nudge. A dare. What if you… chased a dream, learned something new, told someone how you really feel? It was meant to start conversations as I drove by, parked at job sites, or waited at stoplights. And it worked. People would ask, “What does it mean?” and I’d say, “It means what if you did that one thing you've always put off?”

It became more than just a phrase. I had latex bracelets printed with ‘What if U’, and I started handing them out. Friends, strangers, folks on the trail. People of all ages. It was a small reminder that big change often starts with a single brave question.

But then life brought a new chapter, one we didn’t expect.

Cheryl was diagnosed with terminal stage 4 cancer. The words no one wants to hear. And just like that, the meaning of “What if U” shifted. It wasn't just about aspirations anymore—it was about presence. What if you made today count? What if you smiled through pain? What if you refused to stop living even as life became fragile?

Through it all, Cheryl kept riding.

Biking was her joy, her escape, her personal form of flight. Her own license plate read BIK 4 LIF—a testament to her love for rails-to-trails adventures. Even during her cancer journey, she would ride her Catrike recumbent trike for 10 to 30 miles at a time. Slowed down a bit, sure—but still riding like the wind.

One of my favorite memories is from Road America in Elkhart Lake—a world-famous racetrack. We rode the course on our bikes, and in the final quarter-mile stretch, which includes a brutal 110-foot vertical climb, Cheryl kicked it into high gear and passed me like I was standing still. No hesitation, no excuses—just raw spirit and strength.

After Cheryl passed, I sold her SUV. I couldn’t let go of everything though, so I kept her license plate—BIK 4 LIF—and hung it beside mine above our bike bench. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Just a tribute. A gesture.

But the next morning, I walked past the bench, looked up, and suddenly saw it:

WHAT IF U BIK 4 LIF?

It stopped me in my tracks.

What if you biked for life—not just in the literal sense, but as a metaphor? What if you kept going no matter what the hill looked like? What if you pedaled through pain, through loss, through doubt? What if you found freedom in motion, joy in the journey, even when the destination is uncertain?

That unexpected pairing of plates became a symbol. A message from Cheryl. A reminder that living fully is an act of courage.

“What if U” has taken on so many meanings over the years. It started as a way to provoke thought. It became a philosophy for surviving loss. And now, it’s a rallying cry—for anyone who needs a little push to step out of their comfort zone and into the life they truly want.

I still give out those bracelets. I still drive with that plate. And I still tell people: “What if you tried? What if you risked? What if you chased that spark, even if it scares you a little?”

Growth doesn’t happen in the safe zone. It happens when we stretch, stumble, sweat, and soar. 

Cheryl knew that. She lived that. And now I try to as well.

I’ve watched people do amazing things just because they dared to ask, “What if I…?”A woman stopped me early one morning as I stepped out of a bakery in Cedarburg and asked me if the black truck was mine and I said, "Yes".  She asked about the meaning of my plate and after a brief explanation, her response was, "That gives me something to think about on my walk this morning".  A woman kept hers on during chemo treatments.   Small moments. Big shifts.

So now, I pass the question on to you:

What if you stopped waiting? What if you got on the bike, metaphorically or literally, and just started pedaling? What if you biked for life—not just to get somewhere, but to become someone?

Because the finish line isn’t just a place. Sometimes, it’s a moment when your late wife flies past you on a climb, still teaching you how to live.

What if U?