Fear whispered, ‘This will terrify you.’
I replied, ‘Thank you, friend.’
Little did I know, this conversation would transform my life.
When I was a teenager, I was often limited by fear. I would be shivering in my shorts playing rugby, clutching the muddy ball on a frosty English Tuesday morning, two lads running towards me, and I’d be terrified. I took that fear as a sign.
A sign that Rugby ‘wasn’t my sport.’ A sign that this game was to be endured and — ideally — avoided.
Rugby didn’t go well for me because I took this feeling seriously. It affected my performance on the field and made me weak, miserable, and vulnerable.
But at other times in my life, I would feel fear, do the thing as best as I could, and come out of it feeling invincible. For example, I’d be charging across a field in a different context: during a military exercise in school cadets, which I loved.
I’d be leading a group, heavy gear jangling, holding a rifle, shouting at the top of my lungs, adrenaline firing, under enemy blank fire. This was enlivening and exciting. I was feeling what could be described as fear, but I interpreted it more as excitement.
This experience was similar to being on the rugby pitch. But my response was very…
