Recently, I attended the Montgomery County (PA) Chamber of Commerce golf outing. Like many things, on paper it sounds simple: show up, play golf, network. For me it was more than that - it turned into an opportunity to exercise courage. I had multiple chances to pull back. I could have skipped buying the ticket. I could have accepted the Chamber CEO's offer to bow out when I mentioned my nerves. I could have stayed home the morning of the event. I could have sat in my car at the country club and talked myself out of it. Instead, I chose to say yes.

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I sponsored a tee sign. I showed up. I played all eighteen holes. I hoped that my experiences playing mini golf could carry me through. From the start, I chose honesty over image. I told my foursome I had never even stepped foot onto a course before. I told the Chamber CEO. I told the pro shop manager while he helped me pick out rental clubs. I asked what to do at the first hole, and frankly, many of the holes after. I asked for pointers. I asked about how to hold and swing a club. I asked how things worked. I tried to relate golf mechanics to softball and baseball.

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Here is something that surprised me. Two people in my foursome had years of experience. One played multiple times a month for decades. He had played the event course dozens of times. Another had been golfing regularly for eight years. Both went to the driving range a few days before the event to warm up. Even the experienced players wanted to feel prepared before being seen. Showing up ready is not the same as showing up unafraid.

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We were playing a scramble format, meaning the group played from the best position each round. There were a few holes where my swing was good enough to push us from the rough onto the green. Thankfully, I was not just along for the ride and by jumping in with both feet, I was actually able to help the people I was playing with.

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The day ended with a dinner and awards ceremony. The foursome with the best score took home the prize. Our team was nowhere close to the leaderboard. I stayed for all of it anyway.

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As a mid-career professional, I have spent years building competence and have earned my title. I have put my nose to the grindstone and built a reputation. I know my work. That is exactly why for me and other professionals, being a beginner again can feel so threatening. Most people are not avoiding risk. They are avoiding looking foolish, the moment where they have to say I don’t know, the awkwardness of asking basic questions, and the possibility that someone might see them struggle. Growth requires struggle, and struggle requires courage.

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Not making a choice or avoiding the choice is still making a choice. Courage is showing up nervous and doing it anyway. Asking the question even when it feels embarrassing. Trying in earnest when the outcome is uncertain. Confidence is built through that process, not before it.

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Being good at something requires being willing to be bad at it first. Professionals established in their careers are used to being competent. They are used to being the person others rely on. The idea of being bad at something again can feel like a threat to identity. There is no shortcut around the beginner phase. It cannot be skipped, faked, or polished away. That means asking questions, seeking help, and letting others know you are learning instead of hiding it.

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Preparation has its place. Privacy has its place. The real issue is avoidance, letting fear make decisions that belong to me.

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Growth does not come from protecting my image. It comes from being willing to look like a beginner again. The professionals who keep evolving are the ones who choose to try, ask questions, and learn out loud.

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I personally call experiences like this "paying tuition." I paid the tuition of hitting grass, missing swings, learning how golf is scored, and losing a ball in the water, to learn that golf isn't for me. So, what's the last thing you've paid tuition for?