Here’s the thing about fear: it sounds incredibly reasonable. It’ll convince you that what you’re trying to do makes no sense — and maybe, in that moment, it’s right.

Let me give you an example I draw on a lot: running a marathon.

When I decided I wanted to run one, it made absolutely no sense. I wasn’t running consistently. I wasn’t strength training. I wasn’t eating or hydrating properly. I was just a guy on the sidelines of the NYC Marathon, cheering on my friend as he approached mile 22.

If I had attempted to run a marathon that day, I probably would’ve been carted off the course before mile 6.

So was my brain correct in saying it was a ridiculous idea? Technically, yes. That version of me wasn’t ready.

But here’s the thing: big goals live in the future. And your brain is only capable of making decisions based on who you are today. It doesn’t know how to account for growth, for practice, for commitment. It runs the numbers and says, “This isn’t possible.” But it’s doing the math based on a snapshot — not a journey.

It didn’t account for the months of training, the miles I’d slowly stack, or the discipline I’d develop along the way.

Fear said I wasn’t ready. And in a way, it was correct. But I didn’t need to be ready for 26.2 miles. I just needed to be ready to run a couple times that week. To lace up my shoes. To start.

And that’s the trick. The goal shrinks to meet you where you are. All you have to do is move.

At first, those small steps feel like nothing. Running 2 or 3 miles that week felt like doing something I’d already done a thousand times. My brain told me I wasn’t moving toward anything. It said: “You’ve done this before. This isn’t new. You’re wasting your time.”

Unfortunately, we tend to believe that voice. Because we’ve learned to trust it. It’s the internal teacher or parent — the one that wants us to stay safe, that doesn’t want us to get hurt or disappointed.

But that voice isn’t always right.

Yes, the run might be the same distance. Yes, the action might look familiar. But this time, the path is different. You’re headed in a new direction. You have a new destination. That changes everything.

You’re running 2 miles with a marathon in mind. And that makes those 2 miles something new.

You might not feel it at first. But something inside you knows. A shift has happened. You’re listening to a different voice now — the one in your heart.

That voice is the second teacher. And it wants different things for you.

It wants joy. It wants exploration. It wants you to climb trees and dig in the dirt and try things that might not work, because the experience itself will be worth it.

It knows that even if things don’t go perfectly, you’ll still grow. That heartbreak and missteps can lead to insight, clarity, and new strength. That you’ll learn what matters to you, and who you’re becoming.

That voice — the heart — wants you to experience life.

The other teacher, the one in your brain, wants you to stay safe. But it doesn’t know how bored you’ll get if you never leave the classroom.

Eventually, you’ll crave more than the flat, predictable ground you’ve been walking.

And there’s so much more world to see.

The truth is, both of these teachers matter. The real work is learning when to listen to which one. When to stay put. And when to go explore.

For me, running a marathon was exploration. It led me to discover a version of myself I didn’t know existed — focused, consistent, disciplined. And full of joy. Every step toward that race, and the race itself, brought a sense of wonder and purpose I’ll never forget.

If I had stayed on the sidelines, I would’ve missed it entirely.

There’s so much world to experience. I hope you don’t keep yourself locked up reading about it. I hope you close the book, shut the screen, and go outside. Try something. Learn something. Explore the world — and yourself — along the way.

The world will test you. And I think you’ll love every second of it.

I’d love to hear from you:

Have you ever done something that didn’t make sense in the moment — but changed everything later?

Reply in the comments or hit that share button if this spoke to you. Let’s inspire more people to take the first step.