01/24/2026
Good morning. Here's your great read for the day!
https://www.facebook.com/100050177093034/posts/1429748568707699/?mibextid=Nif5oz
Fear of Failure.
I’ve got three rules that sit at the very top of my training program, and they don’t change no matter what horse is in my barn or what level of training we’re working on.
Rule 1: I don’t get hurt.
Rule 2: The horse doesn’t get hurt.
Rule 3: One of us must learn something.
Most folks nod their head at the first two because they sound obvious. And they are. But that third rule is the one that separates a productive day from a wasted one, and it’s also the one that forces us to tell the truth about what really happened in the ride.
Because here’s the easy part: it feels good when we clearly see the horse learn something. The horse softens. The horse tries. The horse gets it. The horse repeats it. That’s the part that feeds our ego in a healthy way. We get to say, “Look what I taught him,” and sometimes we even get to feel like we’re a little smarter than we were this morning.
But the harder part—the part that serves you for life—is when the horse didn’t learn what you wanted, and you realize you learned something instead.
And most of the time, what we learn sounds a lot like this:
“Don’t do that again that way.”
That kind of learning feels like a bite out of a humble pie, and it can sting your pride because it’s not the kind of lesson you can post a victory lap about. It’s not pretty. It doesn’t come with a ribbon. It doesn’t come with applause. It comes with an uncomfortable moment where you recognize that you made a decision that didn’t work, or you asked a question at the wrong time, or you pushed too hard, or you didn’t prepare the foundation enough, or you let your emotions get ahead of your timing.
And at first, that can feel like failure.
But I’m going to say something that a lot of people don’t want to hear: that kind of “failure” is one of the best things that can happen to you.
Because real failure in horse training isn’t “that didn’t go like I planned.”
Real failure is refusing to learn.
Real failure is blaming the horse for everything.
Real failure is being so scared of looking wrong that you never grow right.
I’ve learned over the years that most of what holds people back—whether it’s in a show pen, in training, or in life—is not the lack of knowledge. It’s not the lack of talent. It’s not even the lack of opportunity.
It’s the fear of failure.
That fear will put a cap on you. It’ll keep you small. It’ll keep you doing the same safe stuff over and over again because the safe stuff protects your ego. The safe stuff keeps you from getting embarrassed. The safe stuff keeps you from having to admit you don’t know everything. The safe stuff keeps you comfortable.
But comfort is expensive. It costs you growth.
And here’s the part I wish everybody would really let sink in:
The fear of something is almost always worse than the actual thing.
People build failure up in their head like it’s going to be this catastrophic event—like it’s going to expose them, ruin them, prove they don’t belong, prove they aren’t good enough, prove they don’t deserve to be doing what they’re doing.
But most of the time, when you finally take a deep breath and do the thing you’re afraid of… you don’t fail at all.
You might struggle.
You might wobble.
You might not get the result you wanted on the first try.
But that isn’t failure. That’s feedback. That’s data. That’s information you didn’t have before.
And even if it really does go sideways, even if it truly does not work out like you pictured it in your head, you still didn’t lose—because if you follow Rule 3, you learned something.
And if you learned something, you’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re not exposed. You’re not defeated.
You’re becoming.
I want people to understand this: the goal is not to be perfect. The goal is to be honest enough to learn and brave enough to try again. The goal is to be the kind of horseman who can look at a rough moment and say, “Alright. That’s not how I’m going to do that next time.”
Because that sentence is powerful. That sentence is growth.
And here’s what happens when you truly embrace that mindset: doors open.
When you stop treating “failure” like a life sentence and start treating it like a teacher, you start doing things you used to talk yourself out of. You start trying exercises you were afraid to try. You start working through holes in your program instead of hiding them. You stop needing to look perfect, and you start needing to get better.
And when you do that, you grow into things you never dreamed were possible.
I’ve lived that.
I’ll give you a real example that has nothing to do with a lead change or a stop or a cow work maneuver, but has everything to do with the same mindset.
When I was considering doing my live training videos on YouTube, that fear of failure absolutely tried to grab ahold of me.
I got asked a question that sounded simple but carried a lot of weight:
“What if what you’re doing doesn’t go good?”
Now think about that for a second. Because that question is the voice inside a lot of people’s head every day. That question is why people don’t enter the show pen. That question is why people don’t take lessons. That question is why people don’t start colts. That question is why people don’t haul out alone. That question is why people don’t try the new job, don’t start the business, don’t apply, don’t audition, don’t post the video, don’t step up, don’t take the risk.
“What if it doesn’t go good?”
And I had to lean back on Rule 3 and remind myself what kind of horseman I am and what kind of teacher I want to be.
If it doesn’t go good… then we talk about what went wrong.
We break it down.
We learn from it.
We learn together.
Because that’s real horsemanship. That’s real training. That’s real leadership.
I’m not here to pretend everything is always smooth and picture perfect. Horses aren’t robots, and neither are we. I’m here to show what it looks like to stay safe, keep the horse safe, and keep learning no matter what the ride hands you.
That’s why the fear of failure doesn’t get to run the show.
I’m not saying I don’t feel it. I’m saying I don’t obey it.
And if you’re reading this and you’ve been held back by that same fear—whether it’s fear of failing in the arena, fear of failing in training, fear of failing in front of people, fear of failing in life—I want you to hear me clearly:
The fear is lying to you.
It’s telling you that failure is the end.
But failure, handled right, is often the beginning.
Because one “failure” followed by honesty and effort will teach you more than a hundred safe, careful, boring rides where you never challenge anything.
So here’s what I want to leave you with today:
If you follow the rules—if you keep yourself safe, keep the horse safe, and commit to learning—then you don’t have to fear failure the way you think you do.
You can respect it. You can take it seriously. You can make good decisions.
But you don’t have to be controlled by it.
Try the thing.
Take the step.
Do the work.
Be willing to learn.
And if it doesn’t go exactly how you wanted the first time, don’t call that failure.
Call it training.
Because training—real training—is built on thousands of small moments where you learn, adjust, and try again.
And that next try… a whole lot of times… is the success you were looking for all along.