There’s a version of fear most of us talk about — the dramatic kind. Fear of heights. Fear of failure in some big, cinematic way. The kind of fear that feels easy to identify and, in theory, easy to work around.
Then there’s the other kind. The quiet, adult kind. The one that doesn’t announce itself as fear at all — it shows up as hesitation, as “I’ll start Monday,” as a very reasonable-sounding list of reasons why now isn’t the right time.
That’s the fear I want to talk about. Because that one is running more of your life than you probably realize.
How Fear Changes as We Age
Kids are fearless in ways adults find almost reckless. They fall off bikes and get back on. They walk into rooms full of strangers and immediately find a friend. They try things — badly, joyfully, without embarrassment — because no one has yet taught them that trying and failing in public is something to be ashamed of.
But somewhere in the journey to adulthood, that changes.
We accumulate things worth protecting — reputation, relationships, money, identity. And fear, which is fundamentally a survival mechanism, starts guarding all of it. What began as a tool for keeping us safe from genuine danger evolves into something much more pervasive: a near-constant filter on our choices, quietly steering us away from anything uncertain, anything uncomfortable, anything new.
Psychologists call this increased risk aversion. The more we have to lose, the more we avoid the possibility of losing it. And the cruel irony is that the more we avoid the things that scare us, the more power those fears accumulate. Every time you don’t do the scary thing, your brain registers it as confirmation: that thing was dangerous. Stay away.
So the fear grows. And we stay still.
The Day I Let Fear Make My Decision
In January 2024, I was the general manager of a CrossFit Lincoln. I loved what I did, loved the people around me, loved the community we had built. Then the owner came to me with a question I didn’t see coming:
“Do you want to buy the gym?”
My immediate, visceral response was not excitement. It was fear.
I had watched what being a gym owner looked like up close. I knew the grind, the financial pressure, the weight of responsibility. And my brain, doing exactly what adult brains do, immediately started generating all the ways it could go wrong. What if I fail? What if I’m not equipped for this? What if I damage the very thing I care about most?
For a while, that fear was the loudest voice in the room.
But then I made myself do something different. Instead of just examining the fear of buying the gym, I got really honest about the fear of *not* buying it.
What actually happens if I walk away?
The answer hit hard. There was a real possibility the gym wouldn’t survive without me being the new owner. And that meant losing the community that had become my home — the athletes, the coaches, the shared purpose that had given my work meaning. The thought of that loss was more terrifying than any version of failure I could imagine.
That fear — the fear of inaction — changed everything.
I bought the gym. And I am genuinely, deeply glad I did.
Not because it’s been easy. It hasn’t always been. But because I learned something in that process that I think about constantly now: sometimes the fear of doing the thing isn’t nearly as powerful as the fear of what life looks like if you don’t.
Flipping the Fear Around
This shows up constantly when people talk about starting their fitness journey.
“I’m afraid to walk in.” “I don’t want to look stupid.” “I’m not in good enough shape to go to a gym yet.” (Yes, people actually say this — they want to get in shape before going somewhere designed to help them get in shape.)
I understand that fear. It’s real, and I’m not dismissing it.
But I want to ask you to flip it for a moment.
Think about someone in your life who never prioritized their health. An older relative, maybe. Think about what their daily life looks like now — the chronic pain, the limited mobility, the medical appointments that have become their primary calendar events. Think about watching them struggle to do the ordinary things that used to come easily. Think about what they’ve missed.
That is the fear worth sitting with.
Because walking through a gym door and feeling a little uncomfortable for a few weeks? That fades quickly. What doesn’t fade is a body that was never taken care of. The consequences of that — chronic disease, lost independence, the inability to keep up with the people you love — those are permanent.
I promise you, the people inside a good gym community are not scary. They are, almost universally, supportive, welcoming, and completely uninterested in judging you. They were all beginners once.
What is actually scary? Chronic heart disease. Obesity. Falling at 75 and not being able to get back up. Not having the energy to play with your grandkids. Missing out on life because your body can no longer keep up with it.
Let yourself be afraid of that for a minute. Really feel it.
And then recognize that the thing standing between you and that outcome is just a conversation. One step. One small, uncomfortable, completely survivable moment of doing the thing anyway.
Which Fear Gets to Drive?
Fear isn’t going away. That’s not how humans work. As adults, fear will show up every single time we’re on the edge of something that could matter — a new opportunity, a hard conversation, a change that might make our life better.
The question is never whether you feel fear. The question is which fear you choose to act on.
The fear of starting — or the fear of what life looks like if you never do?
I know which one I’d rather live with.
If you’ve been sitting on the edge of a decision — fitness-related or otherwise — I want you to spend a few minutes today with the other fear. The one on the other side of not acting. Get specific with it. Let it be real.
Then take one step. It doesn’t have to be a big one.
It starts with a conversation. That’s it. Just start there.
I can’t wait to talk to you and help you overcome your fears if you let me!