Imagine standing at the foot of a towering rock wall, your heart racing with excitement and fear. Perhaps, like me, you have always been one to shy away from looking silly or facing the sting of defeat. After all, if you’re not playing to win, what’s the point, right?

But I’ve slowly realized that is not why we play in the first place. We play instead because we tried. We play for the exhilaration. We play not to compete but instead to complete.

Life has a funny way of challenging our perceptions, and for me, that moment of truth came in Mr. Myers’ physical education class back in high school in Kuala Lumpur. Tasked with conquering a big rock climbing wall obstacle in pairs, I was frozen with doubt as my classmates effortlessly scaled the big school wall week after week. I watched from the sidelines, hoping to blend into the background to escape notice.

But fate had other plans. Mr. Myers, with his eagle-eyed observation, wasn’t about to let me slip through the cracks. “Pallavi,” he announced one day, determination etched into his voice, “We’re not moving on until each and every single student climbs the wall and reaches the top.”

My palms grew clammy, and my stomach churned with nerves. Sports has never been my forte; weirdly, being with a mic on a stage is my safe happy place, not the unforgiving terrain of a climbing wall. Yet, a tiny spark of curiosity amidst the fear urged me to try. I approached the challenge with hesitant steps, my partner securing the belay as I tentatively searched for footholds.

And then, something unique happened. Instead of ridiculing or mocking me, my classmates below became my guides, offering encouragement and pointing out the next handhold. With each upward step, the fear began to fade, replaced by a surge of exhilaration.When I finally reached the summit, a wave of disbelief washed over me. The cheers of my classmates echoed in my ears, and a feeling of accomplishment swelled in my chest.

As I descended, Mr. Myers greeted me with a proud smile and a resounding high five, signature to him. In that moment, I recall feeling that fear isn’t just a barrier—it’s a choice. We can either let it consume us or confront it head-on and emerge stronger for it. Forget everything and run or face everything and rise.

Sometimes when I navigate unfamiliar challenges, I remember the two meanings, and it’s up to me to decide which path to take.