You Don't Build Confidence and Then Begin: What I Learned Falling in Roller Derby

Cat Rainwater, Roller Derby 2012

There’s a voice that shows up right before you try something new, and it’s very committed to keeping you small: loud, relentless. Very sure of itself.

When I was 41 ( I am now 55), I did two things that scared me at the same time: I started a social media marketing business, and I joined a roller derby team. I spent my days wondering if clients thought I was making it up as I went; my nights were spent convinced everyone at the rink could see I was one bad fall away from a permanent limp.

Then something unexpected happened. Nothing. No one exposed me. No one pulled me aside. No one cared nearly as much as I thought they did. They were all too busy on their own wobbly skates and focused on how many elbows away the blocker and pivot were.

At the rink, everyone was focused on their own balance, their own timing, their own fear of screwing up. In business, clients weren’t looking for perfection; they were looking for movement, progress, someone motivated to stick the landing.

That’s when I stopped arguing with the voice and started naming it. “Oh. That’s imposter syndrome.” Once named, it lost its power. It became background noise instead of a command.

I made a small deal with myself. Five minutes. That was it. Five minutes to answer the email, draft the post, practice the pitch, and work on a stop on my skates. I didn’t need confidence. I just needed motion. Almost every time, five minutes turned into more.

The quiet surprise I didn’t expect? I was good at both. Not instantly, not effortlessly, but genuinely capable. Once I stopped using the timer as an exit and started using it as an entry, I found myself invested. I wanted to get better. After every five minutes, I cared a little more, learned a little more, and showed up again and again with more intention than fear.

Whether it’s skates, marketing, speaking, or whatever you want for yourself or your business, you don’t wait until you feel ready. You start, you study the basics, and you let people see you learning in real time. Most people don’t need to see mastery. They need to see action before they believe it’s possible.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t disappear; it does get quieter when you stop listening and keep moving. You don’t build confidence and then begin. You begin, and confidence catches up.

Starting is the hardest part. Action is the antidote to fear.

If this sounds like your experience, stick around. This page is for people building something real, not pretending they have it all figured out. If someone you know is quietly doubting themselves, you can share this with them. Sometimes seeing it named is enough.

Fun Fact: Seconds after this picture, I broke my ankle and wrist. Roller Derby ended, then mountain biking and trail running entered the chat.

Get up, change direction, keep going. Write on, Cat