I’ve stepped onto the lanes plenty of times feeling ready—because I’d
practiced, prepared, and done the work. Confidence, for me, has always
come from preparation. Those long hours before the competition? That’s where the belief gets built.

But sometimes, you’re in the middle of making changes to your game—tweaking your timing,
adjusting your release, sharpening your physical game—and then time runs out.
The competition is here, and you haven’t had enough reps for it to feel natural yet.

And other times, the changes aren’t intentional at all. Something just… shifts.
Your timing feels different. Your release changes. Your body mechanics start doing something you didn’t plan.
You’re suddenly playing a game of “find your way back” while the clock is ticking.

Either way, you’re faced with the same challenge—you have to step up,
fight through the awkwardness, and trust that the work you’ve done will carry you through.

Anytime you work on your game—whether on purpose or because the
game throws you a curveball—there’s a part of you that wonders if the work will hold when it matters.
I’ve lived that. I’ve seen it in others. And here’s what I know: the only way to it is through it.

Through the discomfort of change.
Through the awkwardness of doing something new—or relearning something old—for the first time again.
Through the doubts that creep in at the most inconvenient moments.

No champion skips this part. Not one. Every single one of them has
walked through that uncomfortable middle where nothing feels natural yet.
Some people avoid it—and then wonder why they never reach the top.

I’ve had my share of those moments. Standing on the approach,
knowing I was working through changes in my game, feeling like my
timing was just a hair off or my body didn’t quite remember what to do yet. It’s a vulnerable place to be.

In those moments, what pushed me forward was believing in the process.
I trusted the changes I was making. I had faith in my coaches. And even when my confidence wavered, I chose to trust myself.

That’s not to say the doubts didn’t speak up—they always do. But I learned not to let them steer the ship.
I leaned on the work I’d already put in. Because if you’ve truly shown up for yourself in practice, you’ve already done the hardest part.

We put so much value on “feeling perfect” before we begin—but honestly,
that perfect feeling doesn’t exist. There will always be something to manage.
Something that feels off. A distraction, a worry, or a voice in your head asking, Are you sure you can do this?

The truth is, confidence doesn’t magically appear when the moment starts.
It’s built in the grind—on quiet days at the lanes when no one’s watching, in the awkward
phases when your body is learning new movements, in the decision to show up even when it doesn’t feel perfect.

If you wait to feel perfect and ready, you’ll wait forever.

So if you’re standing at the edge of something big right now—go for it.
Fight through the discomfort. Push through the awkward stage.
And when fear tells you to wait, take it as a sign that you’re exactly where you need to be.

Because if you feel uncomfortable, uncertain, and a little out of place… you might be closer to your breakthrough than you think.