Failure is Just a Step

The freezing cold air of the ice rink bit my face. I was an eight-year-old kid wearing a tight speedskating suit and balancing precariously on razor-sharp blades. Just yesterday in school, we had read the legend of King Robert the Bruce and the spider. I learned how the Scottish king watched a tiny spider fail six times to spin its web between the wooden ceiling beams. On the seventh attempt, the brave bug finally succeeded, inspiring the discouraged king to stand up and keep fighting. Because of that determined creature, I decided today was the day I would finally master the perfect short-track crossover move around the tight corner.

“Watch this, Mom!” I yelled, waving eagerly toward the cold metal bleachers.

I leaned forward, bent my knees, and glided across the slick, mirror-like ice surface. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. The wind roared in my ears as I zoomed toward the bright track markers. As I reached the apex of the turn, I tried to cross my right skate completely over my left skate to lean into the sharp curve. Instead, my ankles wobbled, and I accidentally tripped over my own long, clumsy blades.

The unforgiving ice rushed up and hit me. I slid completely out of control across the slippery rink and crashed directly into the safety barriers. The heavy mats mocked my failure with a hollow sound. Thud, thud, thud. My hip throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain, and my hands shook inside my thick gloves.

“Are you alright, Miles?” my mom called out anxiously, leaning over the plexiglass barrier.

Frustrated tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I lay on the ice for a moment, thinking about that tiny spider in the lonely shed. It had faced defeat over and over again, yet it never quit trying to reach its goal. If a little bug possessed that much grit, then I could find the courage to stand back up, too.

“I’m fine!” I shouted back, wiping the frost off my face.

I dragged myself up and my skates scraped against the ice as I found my footing. I got back into position, lowered my shoulder, and accelerated forward. Whoosh, whoosh. Approaching the turn, I crossed my right foot over, dug my edges deep into the ice, and pushed off perfectly. I flew around the corner like a true professional. I smiled wide, knowing failure was just a necessary step to getting it right.