I’ve noticed something about courage in my life.
It usually doesn’t begin with me feeling particularly courageous. 😆
More often, there’s an idea.
Something I want to experience.
Something I want to create.
Something I feel drawn to explore.
And somewhere between That would be amazing and actually doing it, fear joins the conversation.
Suddenly there are questions.
What if I can’t do it?
What if it doesn’t work?
What if I’m not ready?
What if people don’t understand?
What if I fail?
Those questions can make staying exactly where I am seem incredibly reasonable.
But eventually another question has a way of getting through:
What if I try anyway?
I Just Want to Try
Trying is important to me.
I’ve only recently realized just how much.
Years ago, my sister asked me to train for a half marathon with her.
At the time, I wasn’t a runner.
Not secretly.
Not recreationally.
Not even a little bit. 😂
I was going to the gym consistently, but running 13.1 miles was nowhere on my personal list of aspirations.
My sister had found a beginner training program and was excited about trying it. I didn’t want my response to be another voice telling her all the reasons we couldn’t do it.
So I made myself a deal.
If I could complete one mile on the elliptical without stopping, I would follow the training program with her and sign up for the race.
I did the mile.
And apparently that meant we were doing this. 😭😂
Except…
After a couple of training days, my sister stopped.
I kept going.
I trained outside through cold weather, rain, and snow. I gradually increased my mileage until eventually I had covered twelve miles during training.
By race day, I still didn’t know exactly how those 13.1 miles were going to go.
Before we left home, my sister even reminded me that I could change my mind.
I remember telling her:
“I just really want to try.”
That was enough.
Earning the Opportunity to Try
I had spent months preparing.
I didn’t believe preparation guaranteed that I would finish.
But after all those miles, I felt like I’d earned the opportunity to find out.
So I started.
And somewhere around miles nine and ten, I began wondering why the mile markers suddenly appeared to be getting farther apart. 😭😂
By mile eleven, I was struggling.
My sister saw me and joined me.
She walked alongside me through part of those final miles, encouraging me and the other runners around us.
And when I finally saw the mile thirteen marker, I found whatever energy remained and headed toward the finish line.
I finished within the four-hour time limit.
Barely.
There was approximately no time available for unnecessary celebration before that cutoff. 😂
But I finished.
Medal and everything.
And somehow, that wasn’t even my favorite part.
You Never Know Who Is Watching You Try
I wore a shirt during the race that said:
“Slow runners make fast runners look good. You’re welcome!”
It made people laugh.
Throughout the race, people encouraged me to keep going and jokingly thanked me for making them look good.
But afterward, a few people told me something I hadn’t expected.
They had seen me continuing.
One foot in front of the other.
And watching me keep going had encouraged them to keep going.
That stayed with me.
Because I wasn’t trying to inspire anybody.
I was trying to breathe and remain upright. 😭😂
I wasn’t performing courage.
I wasn’t thinking about how my persistence might look to someone else.
I was participating in my own experience.
But apparently, simply allowing myself to try created something another person could use too.
I’ve thought about that many times since.
Sometimes we withhold ourselves because we’re afraid what people might think.
Meanwhile, something about our imperfect attempt may be exactly what helps another person give themselves permission to try.
Trying Doesn’t Always End at the Finish Line
Of course, I have other stories.
Stories where I tried and didn’t finish.
I went to Tanzania hoping to reach the summit of Kilimanjaro.
I didn’t.
My toes were injured, continuing became unsafe, and my guide and I made the decision to turn back.
I was disappointed.
I cried.
And I still consider that trip something I successfully experienced.
I showed up.
I climbed as far as I safely could.
I saw landscapes I’d previously only seen in photographs.
I learned what my body could do.
I learned when determination needed to yield to wisdom.
And I came home with a story that reaching the summit couldn’t have taught me in quite the same way.
That’s important to me because sometimes we make trying worthwhile only if it produces the outcome we wanted.
I don’t believe that anymore.
Trying doesn’t guarantee success. It creates possibility.
Possibility of success, yes.
But also possibility of discovery.
Growth.
Connection.
Information.
A story you couldn’t have gained by remaining where you were.
Sometimes the outcome is:
I did it.
Sometimes it’s:
I couldn’t do it this time.
Sometimes it’s:
I tried it and discovered I don’t even want this. 😆
All of that is information I couldn’t have gained without participating in my own life.
What Fear Can’t Tell Me
Fear is excellent at predicting.
It can generate possibilities all day.
Unfortunately, it tends to have a very particular editorial preference. 😆
It shows me embarrassment.
Failure.
Rejection.
Pain.
Everything that might go wrong.
What fear cannot reliably show me is what will actually happen.
It couldn’t tell me that people at a half marathon would remember my ridiculous T-shirt and feel encouraged watching me continue.
It couldn’t tell me what being above the clouds on Kilimanjaro would feel like.
It couldn’t tell me that publishing something I’d been afraid to share could lead me to keep writing.
Fear can imagine.
But sometimes experience is the only way to find out.
And I can’t know what an experience might hold for me if I never give myself the opportunity to try.
Wilderness Reflection
Maybe there’s something you’ve wanted to do but fear has given you a lengthy presentation about everything that could go wrong.
You’ve listened.
You’ve considered the legitimate concerns.
You’ve prepared where preparation is possible.
Now ask yourself:
What would trying look like if success weren’t the only outcome that made the attempt worthwhile?
Maybe trying means taking one small step.
Making the call.
Submitting the application.
Sharing something you’ve created.
Having the conversation.
Starting before you feel completely confident.
You don’t have to promise yourself a particular outcome.
Maybe you can simply give yourself the opportunity to find out.
Scripture for the Wilderness
“Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
— Deuteronomy 31:6
Courage has never meant that I know exactly how everything will turn out.
For me, it has often looked much simpler.
I pray.
I ask the Most High to protect me and guide me.
And then, when it’s mine to do, I try.
Carry This With You
There will probably always be reasons not to try.
Some will deserve serious consideration.
Others will be fear attempting to protect me from an outcome that hasn’t even happened.
I’m learning to tell the difference.
And when I’ve prepared appropriately, considered what I know, prayed, and still feel afraid, I don’t necessarily need to wait for fear to disappear.
Courage doesn’t always silence the inner critic before we move.
Sometimes we learn that the voice doesn’t control us because we move while it’s still talking.
Maybe I succeed.
Maybe I don’t.
Maybe the experience becomes something entirely different from what I imagined.
But I participated.
I learned.
I gave possibility somewhere to exist.
And sometimes, without realizing it, somebody else sees me trying and decides to keep going too.
Maybe courage begins there.
Not with knowing I can.
Not with knowing how it ends.
Sometimes it begins with:
I just really want to try.
