“I Can Do It" – Lessons in Grit, Grace, and Getting Back Up

As spring settles in and the days grow warmer here in Texas, I’ve been starting more of my morning walking the pups around the neighborhood.

One day last week, I caught sight of a familiar scene: two pre-teen boys were teaching their younger sister how to ride a bike.  

I couldn’t help but smile, instantly flooded with memories of my older brothers doing the same for me more than 30 years ago...although perhaps a bit less encouragingly than these boys.  

Just as nostalgia started to bring a smile to my face, the little girl lost control. Handlebars began to wobble, panic rushed over her face, and she took a sharp left straight into a lamppost.

She went down...hard.

"Ooooh" I heard from one of the boys – "that's gotta hurt" clearly implied. I held my breath as they both ran toward her, watching her jump up and grab her elbow with a wince.

But within another moment, she spun toward them, brushed herself off, and declared loud enough for the whole street to hear: “I’m OK! I can do it!”

Then she got back on the bike.

No dramatics. No hesitation. Just courage.

And in that instant – teary eyed and all – she reminded me what resilience looks like in real-time.

Falling Off My (Proverbial) Bike

Starting something new is rarely graceful.  And for me, that was never more true than when I started to study coaching.

I came into coaching with a lot of heart and good intention...and almost zero understanding of what professional coaching of this kind actually required.  

I thought being a good coach meant listening carefully, offering kind encouragement, and gently nudging the client toward a more logical path – one that I most likely came up with on their behalf.  As one of the mentor coaches in my program would share from her own journey: people often came to me for advice, so I thought I was already coaching.

Wrong.

I also had a favorite line, delivered with calm, therapist-adjacent curiosity: “Where do you think that comes from?” as though I were ready (and qualified?!) to guide someone through deep emotional excavation of their childhood traumas.

Then I volunteered for my first mentor-observed coaching session. I felt good about it.  I was nervous but confident I would at least cover the basics.

So imagine my surprise when we wrapped the session, and the first words from her mouth were, "OK so one thing before we jump into the feedback in more detail: you are not therapists, and you should not be pretending to be. "

Oof - rough start.  Unfortunately, it didn't really get better from there.

To summarize? “You built a great connection with your client, but you didn’t really do any coaching."

Cue the metaphorical lamppost.

Getting Back Up

For a few days, I was discouraged. To be really honest, I sat at my desk following the class for a solid 30-minutes wondering if I had any hope of being a good coach.  

Then, I questioned everything – my path, my potential, even my ability to start over. I had fallen face-first into a big, vulnerable lesson: good intentions aren’t the same as good coaching.

That's when Angela Duckworth’s research on grit came to mind; the kind of perseverance that doesn’t just carry you through the good times, but helps you stay committed through the setbacks.

In her wonderfully engaging and inspiring book Grit, Duckworth explains that our effort counts twice: once when it builds skill, and again when that skill is applied to achievement. In other words, falling down isn’t a detour on the road to success – it’s part of the path.

So it's no real surprise that studies have shown those who experience and learn from failure often outperform those with natural talent. Why? Because setbacks help us to develop the resilience, perspective, and strategy needed for long-term success.

As it turns out, it’s never been about perfection.  

It’s about being willing to practice, to show up, and to keep going – not because it’s easy, but because growth is worth the effort, the scrapes, and the bruises.

So, that's what I did: I practiced.

Over the next several months, I pushed myself to set up coaching sessions with friends, colleagues, and other coaches-in-training from the program. I read everything I could get my hands on about coaching techniques, core competencies, and powerful questions to evoke awareness.

I practiced mindful listening in nearly every conversation – learning how to stay present without problem-solving, how to create trust and safety without "gently" nudging, and how to empower clients without inserting myself into their process. I began to understand how to help clients reconnect with their values, challenge limiting beliefs, and define success on their own terms.

I began to learn how to coach.

And 100-hours of coaching later, I’m deeply grateful for that face-first fall into my own proverbial lamppost.

Not because it wasn’t uncomfortable or discouraging (it was both). But because it showed me how much I cared about coaching. About having a real impact.

It clarified what mattered.

And it reminded me what it means to really show up — for myself and, as a result, for my clients.

What That Little Girl Already Knows

Watching that little girl fall and get back up wasn’t funny or cute, but it was deeply inspiring.

She didn’t wait until she was perfect to try again, and she didn’t need a full recovery plan to keep going.

Instead, she trusted that her perseverance and dedication would be worth the scrapes and bruises on her path toward achievement.

That’s the kind of grit and resilience that keep us moving. Keep us growing. Keep us learning.

Whether we're launching something new, facing feedback that stings, or just trying to ride our own proverbial bike without crashing into a lamppost – I hope we all can remember this:

"It's ok. Even when I fall – especially when I fall – I can still do it!"

Final Thoughts

Courage and resilience may be two of the most underrated skills we can hone.  

They allow us to release our grip on perfection, to lessen the sting of discouragement, and to get back up with greater strength, clarity, and purpose.

So please take a quick breath.

Where in your life are you riding straight toward your own proverbial lamppost? Or where have you maybe already fallen off the bike? 

Please know that it's ok – you're ok – and you can still do it.

I believe in you, and I hope you believe in yourself too.  

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If you are looking for a coach to help you get back on your bike and hone your own grit and resilience, I would be honored to support you along the journey. Schedule your first coaching session today!