Embarrassment Is the Price of Entry

Peter Baines OAM Leadership Insights_Embarrassment is the Price of Entry

I have been repeatedly invited to join a group of men who train early in the morning a couple of times a week down at the beach where I live.

A number of them are former professional football players in the NRL. Others have been into fitness for their entire lives.

Their training is a mix of lifting heavy things.

Not something I am, or have ever been, particularly good at.

I can run. I can ride a bike. But I am not the go-to person to open a jam jar when the lid is on too tight.

I hand that over to my wife.

Part of the reason I don't go down, if I am completely honest, is that I would be embarrassed by my capacity to lift heavy things compared to theirs.

And as I went for a run on my own yesterday, I thought about that.

I wondered what I might be missing out on.

I also accepted something else.

For many of us, embarrassment is the price of entry.

Not necessarily embarrassment created by others, but the kind we create in our own minds.

We imagine not being good enough.

We imagine everyone else being more capable, more experienced, more confident or simply more comfortable than we are.

And so we don't enter.

Sometimes the biggest barrier is the one we create ourselves

At Hands Across the Water, we run bike rides in Thailand, and I wholeheartedly believe they are incredibly inclusive and welcoming experiences.

They are not designed for the hardcore riders.

They are designed for people who are looking to challenge themselves in a supportive environment.

An environment where it is safe to publicly expose your limitations and vulnerabilities.

Where being in the fight is appreciated more than crossing the line first.

That culture is difficult to explain.

It really needs to be experienced to understand just how inclusive it is.

But that creates a problem.

How do you experience an environment that feels intimidating from the outside?

For a while now, I have thought there was space in our ride calendar for a female-only ride.

Conversations on our most recent ride convinced me that the time was absolutely right for one.

HerRide.

Led by women, for women.

HerRide will debut in August 2027, taking a new coastal route through Thailand before finishing at Baan Tharn Namchai in the Khao Lak region after five days of cycling and 500 kilometres on the road.

But the kilometres aren't really the point.

The point is creating another way in.

Creating another way in

My hope is that there are women who have watched our rides depart and return over the years and thought:

I'd love to do that.

But then, for whatever reason, the next thought has been:

Oh no, I couldn't.

Perhaps it was the cycling.

Perhaps it was the fundraising.

Perhaps it was the thought of being surrounded by experienced riders.

Perhaps it was simply not seeing themselves in the group.

I don't see those barriers in quite the same way.

I've completed 48 of these rides since 2009.

I know what happens once someone enters the tent.

I know the culture.

I know how people support each other.

I'm looking from the inside.

And that is the point.

The blokes training down at the beach probably see their community as welcoming too.

I'm sure it is.

But standing outside, before we enter the tent, we don't know that.

We imagine what it might be like inside.

And sometimes, embarrassment is the price of entry.

What if the doorway changed?

Creating HerRide doesn't remove every obstacle.

There are still physical challenges.

There is fundraising.

There is preparation.

There will be moments when the kilometres feel long and the road feels harder than expected.

But perhaps it removes one barrier.

Perhaps it changes the conversation in someone's head from:

Oh no, I couldn't.

to:

Maybe this is for me.

And perhaps that is enough to get someone through the door.

Because sometimes creating inclusion isn't about making the challenge easier.

It is about creating a doorway that makes someone believe they are allowed to walk through it.

That idea has stayed with me well beyond the bike rides.

I've seen it in leadership.

I've seen it in teams.

I've seen it in the work we do through Hands Across the Water.

And I've experienced it myself.

We can spend an enormous amount of time worrying about whether we belong in a room, on a team, in a conversation or at the starting line.

Sometimes the invitation is already there.

The only thing standing between us and the experience is the story we have told ourselves about why we don't belong.

Perhaps we don't need to be the strongest.
Perhaps we don't need to be the most experienced.
Perhaps we don't even need to be confident.
Perhaps we just need to be willing to enter.

And maybe, just maybe, that is where the real adventure begins.

If HerRide sounds like it might be for you, I'd love you to find out more. You can view the full outline here or learn more through the Hands Across the Water page⁠.

 

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