When Lucas was sixteen, he was one of the fastest runners in his school.
His coach noticed it immediately.
“You should enter the regional race,” he told him one afternoon.
Lucas laughed nervously.
“Me? Against those runners?”
“Absolutely.”
Lucas wanted to compete.
Deep down, he dreamed of winning a medal.
But another thought quickly appeared.
“What if I come last?”
That thought bothered him all evening.
Then came another.
“What if everyone expects me to be good and I embarrass myself?”
By bedtime, Lucas had imagined every possible disaster.
The following morning, he told his coach he wasn’t interested.
“You sure?” his coach asked.
Lucas nodded.
“I don’t really care about racing.”
But that wasn’t true.
He cared enormously.
He was simply afraid.
Race day arrived.
Lucas sat in the stands watching.
One of his classmates, Jordan, entered instead.
Jordan wasn’t nearly as fast as Lucas.
Halfway through the race, he was near the back.
Then he stumbled.
The crowd gasped as Jordan hit the ground.
Lucas felt terrible for him.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t enter,” he thought.
But Jordan stood up.
His knee was scraped, and there was no chance of winning now.
Still, he finished.
When Jordan finally crossed the line, something unexpected happened.
People applauded.
Not because he had won.
Because he hadn’t quit.
Lucas watched Jordan walk away smiling despite finishing near the bottom.
Suddenly, Lucas felt something far worse than the embarrassment he had feared.
Regret.
A few weeks later, Lucas visited his grandfather and told him what had happened.
“I suppose I avoided failing,” Lucas said.
His grandfather shook his head.
“No, you didn’t.”
Lucas frowned.
“I never entered.”
“Exactly.”
Grandpa leaned forward.
“You’ve convinced yourself that failure only happens when you try something and don’t succeed.”
He paused.
“But sometimes failure is allowing fear to stop you from trying at all.”
Lucas became quiet.
His grandfather continued.
“When I was young, I wanted to open a small furniture business.”
“What happened?”
“I spent ten years thinking about it.”
Grandpa laughed sadly.
“I researched everything. Saved ideas. Made plans. But I kept waiting until I was certain it would succeed.”
“Did you ever start it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Fear.”
His grandfather looked toward the window.
“Eventually, I had responsibilities that made taking the risk much harder. The opportunity passed.”
Lucas had never heard his grandfather speak about it before.
“Do you regret it?”
“Very much.”
“Even if it might have failed?”
Grandpa nodded.
“Because if I’d tried and failed, at least I would have known.”
He smiled.
“Regret loves unanswered questions.”
Those words stayed with Lucas.
The following year, another regional race was announced.
Lucas’s stomach tightened when he saw the poster.
The same fears returned.
“What if I lose?”
“What if I embarrass myself?”
But this time, Lucas answered them differently.
“Then I’ll lose.”
“Then I’ll learn.”
“Then I’ll try again.”
He wrote his name on the registration sheet.
For weeks, he trained.
On race day, Lucas stood at the starting line with his heart pounding.
When the gun fired, he ran.
He didn’t win.
He finished third.
For a few seconds, disappointment washed over him.
Then the bronze medal was placed around his neck.
Lucas couldn’t stop smiling.
He had spent an entire year afraid of discovering that he wasn’t good enough.
Instead, by trying, he discovered that he was much better than he had believed.
More importantly, he discovered that losing wasn’t nearly as frightening as he had imagined.
Years later, Lucas kept that bronze medal in a small box.
It wasn’t his greatest athletic achievement.
He eventually won much bigger races.
But that medal remained his favorite.
Because it represented the day he stopped asking,
“What if I fail?”
And started asking,
“What might happen if I try?”
Fear of failure is dangerous because it often disguises itself as wisdom.
It tells you to wait.
To prepare a little longer.
To stay somewhere comfortable.
To avoid embarrassment.
And before you know it, years can pass while your dreams remain untouched.
You will fail at some things in life.
Everyone does.
Some applications will be rejected.
Some ideas won’t work.
Some risks won’t pay off.
Some attempts may even leave you embarrassed.
But failure gives you something fear never will:
An answer.
You learn.
You adjust.
You grow.
You try again.
So don’t let fear make your decisions for you.
Apply.
Enter the race.
Start the project.
Take the chance.
Speak up.
Give yourself the opportunity to discover what you’re capable of.
Because failing after giving something your best may hurt for a little while.
But spending your life wondering what might have happened if you’d only been brave enough to try can hurt for much longer. 💛