I Learned It at Camp — Emma Dewhurst

There's a moment I've thought about more times than I can count. School camp. Marlborough Sounds. One of those places so beautiful it barely feels real. Someone else was already running.

We were at a meal when one of the camp organisers stood up and made an announcement. The first person to come up to the front would win a free return trip.

I hesitated. Not from fear. Not because I didn't want it. Just a half-second. Wait, really?

I didn't get the trip. And I have thought about that moment ever since. Not with the sharp sting of regret. More like a splinter that lodged somewhere useful and never fully came out.

The opportunity was real. The window was genuinely short. My hesitation wasn't even a decision. It was just a reflex. A half-second of needing to confirm what I'd already heard before I moved on it.

That was enough.

Hesitation is a decision.

Not deciding is deciding. Waiting to feel certain is choosing uncertainty. The moment you pause to check whether the opportunity is real, whether you're ready, whether now is actually the right time. Someone else is already running.

They're not braver than you. They're not more qualified. They didn't have better information. They just moved before the reflex kicked in.

Missed opportunities rarely feel like a door slamming. They feel like a half-second. A beat too long. A moment where you needed just a little more confirmation before you committed, and by the time you had it, it was gone.

What I did differently after that

I signed up for my first pole competition about a year after I started. Didn't wait until I felt ready. I wasn't.

The lease on my first studio. Hands shaking. Everything on the line if it went wrong. But I'd already learned what waiting cost. So I signed it. The second studio was even scarier. Signed that too.

None of those decisions came without fear. Fear is fine. Fear means it matters. What I'd learned not to do was let the half-second reflex of wait, really? cost me something I actually wanted.

The people who move aren't the ones without doubt. They're the ones who've decided that doubt is not a reason to pause.

The other version of this

Here's what I've watched happen to other people, in studios and businesses and careers.

The opportunity comes up. The role, the showcase, the lease. And instead of moving, they wait. For the right moment. For more certainty. For things to be less complicated.

I've watched students at my own studios say they'll compete when they're ready — they'll just do showcase for now. Some of them have been training for years. There are beginner competitions built exactly for where they are. They've trained past those categories without ever entering one. The window closed while they were getting ready to use it.

The right moment doesn't arrive on a schedule. Certainty is a feeling, not a fact. Things are never less complicated. They're just complicated differently. And while they're waiting, someone else takes the seat. Someone less experienced, less qualified, less ready in every way that should matter, but willing to move before the reflex kicked in.

That person gets the trip.

On being ready

This isn't a "just say yes to everything" argument. Hesitation has its place. There's a version of moving fast that's just impulsivity dressed up as confidence, and it costs you differently.

The question worth asking isn't am I ready? It's is there a real reason to wait?

Ready is a feeling. Real reasons are specific. If you can name a concrete thing that will be different in three months: a skill you'll have, a resource secured, a situation resolved. Then waiting might make sense. But if the honest answer is that you'll just feel more ready, that's not a reason. That's the reflex talking.

Feel more ready after you've done the thing. Not before.

Whatever it is you're circling right now: the showcase, the comp, the instructor course, the studio, the price you've been meaning to set, the conversation you keep almost having. The seat is real.

And there are two ways to lose it. Someone moves faster than you. Or you wait so long you grow past the thing you were waiting to be ready for, and by the time you finally move, that category no longer exists for you. The beginner comp you weren't ready for last year is the intermediate comp you're too good for this year. The opportunity that was yours to take becomes the one you can only watch someone else hold.

You already know what you want. The only question is whether you move before the reflex does. Or before the seat is no longer yours to take.