I stared at the ground, trying to focus on something, my vision blurry. One leg stretched forward, my arms trying to stabilize myself from falling over, hands touching the cold steel fence in front of me.

My breath was hot and short, my lungs completely winded from having just run around the track two times in my first 800m race at the worst pace. (I had gotten too excited and sprinted the first lap and thus finished the second lap at a slow jog.)

Mentally, I wanted to throw up, but physically my body disagreed. My coach walked over to me and said, “Good job, Amanda.” Panting, I managed to sputter, “Thanks,” before raising the water bottle to my mouth as I tried to even my breathing.

At that moment, there were two thoughts on my mind: that it was the worst I had ever felt after a race and that I was never going to run another 800m.

Fast forward to 1 week later, and I was back at the start line for the 800m race.

My coach had deemed my performance in the 800m from the week before apparently not terrible, or he saw improvement in my abilities, so here I was again, about to race, not on my own will, but his. Not wanting to back out or disappoint my coach, I had said yes to running the 800m again. That, and because there was a shortage of girls interested in running the 800m (I wonder why).

Fast forward to the end of track season in high school, and the 800m had become my favorite event to race. My first year in track, I had specialized in 100m and 200m sprints, while the last two years, I focused on the 800m and the 1600m, so I had tried all the different running distances. I liked how the 800m was not a complete sprint yet not a jog. It was an in-between pace, which in the end, suited me just fine and was the perfect challenge.

My first 800m race emphasized the fact that the first time you do anything can be a challenge, but it is not always defining of yourself or the experience. It’s the aftermath that matters more. This is a lesson that I have carried with me since then every time I’ve experienced failure or struggle with new experiences, places, or people.

For example, my first Econ test? Yup, bombed that one, but my failure just made me more determined to bounce back. Or the first time I went hiking or hung out with a new friend, and it didn’t go as well as I wanted to and planned. I learned not to judge them or the experience on the first impression but instead look forward to the possibility that laid in the future.

Because it’s about the progress, the journey, the improvement you make from taking that first step to the final stride (literally and figuratively in my case). It’s about whether you have the courage to get back up on your feet and say yes again. It’s the faith that things will be better the next time. It’s not about how or where you started, but where you ended up.

And if you wait around long enough, the end result has the potential to be beautiful and could even surprise you. Trust me, I know.