This is an ambiguous question to answer. After all, not a soul among us doesn’t risk his or her with every waking hour. As mortals, our lives are constantly at risk—the burger we just ate may contain mad cow, the auto we just stepped into may prove fatal, an unforeseen aneurism may whisk us away like a gust of wind, etc. etc etc.. Taking risks, therefore, is inherently a matter of degree.
And then, how can we conclude that someone standing up to an armed robber is risking his life for something silly? Can deeply-rooted, honest principles be silly? Folding, with death at the table, may reveal that we didn’t hold our principles to be as important as we thought.
What about recreational life endangerment—bungee jumping, sky diving, base jumping, speeding, etc. Something about self-endangerment naturally draws our interests, elevates our pulse, makes our soul tingle with the rush of being alive and on the edge.
To answer your question, I don’t know how to define what I will risk my life for. I risk it with every waking moment, and I live. Risk is inherent within me, and I play the cards I’m dealt. When death calls, there’ll be a big jackpot for the winner.