|
Blog:
|
|
Summary Jackie Morreale shares her journey of celebrating success, facing failure, and the lessons learned about preparation, resilience, and community. This episode emphasizes that failure is a stepping stone to growth and the importance of lifting others as we climb. Topics:
Takeaways:
Quotes:
Chapters: 00:00 The Day After My Biggest Success, I Failed 00:20 Thank You, Wisdom for Wannabes Community 01:09 YouTube Silver Creator Award Celebration 01:54 I Failed a $200 Fitness Certification Exam 02:20 Shout Out: School of Rock 02:32 Shout Out: Lucie Pierro & Breathe Music Vocal Collective 03:12 Preparation Isn't Punishment—It's Protection 04:32 Wisdom from Pilot Johannes Schwab: Confidence Through Discipline 05:09 Respect the Process 05:31 Imagination Exercise: Picture Your Finish Line 07:30 My Son's Lesson at the Finish Line 08:16 Wisdom from Educator Dr. Roy McGriff: "Lift as You Climb" 09:02 Final Thoughts & Thank You
Failure is a Teacher! Finish Your Race, & Lift As You ClimbBy Jackie Morreale The day after I celebrated one of the biggest accomplishments of my career, I failed. But not in the way you would think. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. First, I failed to say thank you. Thank you to every person who has watched an interview, listened to an episode, subscribed to the channel, left a thoughtful comment. Last Sunday, my family and closest friends gathered to celebrate the arrival and opening of the YouTube Silver Creator Award for Wisdom for this channel. Woohoo! This award represents one year of my life fully devoted to interviewing remarkable people. Taking a leap of faith that the wisdom shared through those interviews would somehow reach the people who need it most. Every conversation teaches me something new, and those thousands of quiet hours have become this very public milestone. The award may have the Wisdom for Wannabes name on it, but it belongs to every guest who trusted me with their story, and every person who believed those stories were worth watching. Before I tell you about my second failure, thank you, thank you. Thank you for building this community with me. Thank you for being here. Then, on Monday, I failed a test. I sat for a group fitness certification exam, and I failed, with flying colors. The exam cost about $200, but the real cost was my pride. The truth is I convinced myself that I didn't need to study. Twenty years ago, I was a certified personal trainer, group fitness instructor, spinning instructor, Zumba instructor, Pilates instructor, yoga instructor, you name it. I assumed that all that experience would carry me through this exam. It didn't. I learned that experience might be valuable, but preparation is indispensable. For a few days, I was disappointed in myself. My daughter even reminded me that I wasn't acting myself after I got the results. She was right. Failure has a way of shaking our confidence before it strengthens our character. A week later, though, I realized something inspiring: I learned far more by failing than I ever would have by passing. If I had passed without studying, I would have walked away believing that preparation wasn't necessary. Instead, failure reminded me that every worthwhile goal deserves our full attention. It humbled me. (continued below)
Ironically, another experience from this year taught me the exact opposite lesson. I auditioned for something that genuinely scared me: a singing group. Unlike the fitness exam, I prepared. I signed up for lessons at a local school called School of Rock. Shout out to all my teachers at the School of Rock. You rock! I joined a group Breathe Music Vocal Collective. Shout out to Lucie Pierro and all the folks in the Breathe Music Vocal Collective. I practiced scales, lip trills, breathing exercises, harmonies, and vocal technique. I surrounded myself with singers who were more experienced and better than I was and am. I became a beginner again, open to anyone and everyone's skills. I gained wisdom and practiced skills that I hadn't used in years. And the audition went well. (Yay!) The difference wasn't talent; the difference was preparation. A few days later, on the 4th of July, my family and I decided to celebrate by running a 5K before watching the fireworks. My nine-year-old son has always been the strongest runner in the family, but this race was different. He hadn't been training consistently, the weather was brutally hot, and in hindsight, eating a hot dog before a 5K race probably isn't the best decision. Around mile two, he started hurting. He wanted the race to be over. I slowed down, and I held his hand. Reminded him that he'd already done the hardest part; that we were closer to the finish line than we were to the start. I told him to picture the finish line, to imagine all the spectators cheering for him, and to remember how lucky he was that his body could carry him forward. How lucky we all are, in fact. Little by little, his stride came back. He found another gear. He crossed the finish line one second ahead of me, very happily. Watching him struggle, though, reminded me that preparation isn't punishment; it's protection.
Preparation doesn't eliminate challenges; it gives us the strength to meet them. One of my podcast guests and very good friends, Johannes Schwab, a pilot from Austria, shared something I will never forget in his interview. He studied so thoroughly for his aviation exams that by the time the test day arrived, he wasn't worried about failing. He had prepared beyond what was required. The 5 Ps – prior preparation prevents poor performance. That's confidence that can only be earned through discipline. There's an old saying that what people see in public is simply a reflection of what happened in private.
Those invisible moments are where success is actually built. Failure reminded me: Respect the process. The next time I walk in to take that exam, I won't assume that my past accomplishments are enough. I will walk in overly prepared. Not because I'm afraid to fail, but because I've learned what preparation really means. It isn't just passing a test; it's about becoming the kind of person who earns the result (continued below) Imagination Exercise: Finish Your Race, Lift as You ClimbA simple imagination exercise. It might help you get to the finish line. Let's close our eyes for a minute. Picture your own finish line. Maybe it's the exam that you've been studying for. Maybe it's an audition. A presentation. A race. A business that you've dreamed of starting. A book that you're writing. Artwork you're creating. Or simply becoming a healthier, happier version of yourself. Now imagine you're in that last mile of a race. Your legs are heavy. Your breathing is louder than the crowd. Your mind whispers, 'You've done enough.' Then another voice answers, 'You've already come this far.' You're no longer standing where you started. Every practice session, every early morning, every page you studied, every mistake, every failure, every time you got back up... they have all brought you here, to this moment. You look ahead, and the finish line is finally in sight. You can hear the announcer calling names. You hear cheering. Now imagine that every person lining the course knows exactly what you've overcome to get here. They know the setbacks no one else saw. They know the mornings that you didn't feel like getting out of bed but did anyway. They know about the failures that taught you. They know the dream that you almost gave up on. They're cheering anyway. Not because you're the fastest, but because you didn't quit. Your stride gets a little lighter. Your shoulders relax. One more moment of courage, then you cross the finish line. Someone reaches out a hand. Maybe it's a volunteer; maybe it's the exact encouragement you needed at exactly the right time. Take a deep breath. Feel the gratitude. Feel the relief. Feel the quiet confidence that comes from doing something hard. Then notice something else. There are still people out on the course. Some are smiling, some are wondering if they're going to make it. Without thinking, you turn around, you go back toward clap, you cheer, you hold out your hand. You tell them exactly what someone else once told you: ‘You've got this. Keep going. I'm here if you need me. I believe in you.’ At that race finish line, that's exactly what I saw my son do. After finishing the race, exhausted, the announcer said, 'Somebody shake that young man's hand.' A woman stepped forward from the crowd; she smiled, congratulated him, and shook his hand. A few minutes later, after he'd caught his breath, he walked back to the finish line. Not to race again, not to celebrate himself. To congratulate other runners as they crossed. He offered high fives, he shook hands, he cheered for people he'd never met. I don't think he realized it, but in that moment, he stopped being someone who needed encouragement and became someone who gave it. Watching him reminded me that maybe the finish line wasn't the destination after all. Maybe it's the place where our next responsibility begins. One of my earliest podcast guests on Wisdom for Wannabes, Dr. Roy McGriff, an educator and sixth-degree black belt, shared a phrase that has stayed with me ever since that conversation: ‘Lift as you climb.’ That's what preparation is for. That's what failure prepares us to do. Not simply to collect another simply to pass another test, but to become the kind of person who reaches back, extends a hand, and reminds someone else that they can do hard things too. So, prepare, study, practice, and fail. Try again and cross your own finish line. Then turn around, someone else is still out there. You didn't need someone to carry you this time, but maybe someone else needs you. 'Lift as you climb.' Have a wonderful day and thank you for showing up for Wisdom for Wannabes. Shout-Outs in this blog article:
0 Comments
Wisdom for Wannabes host Jackie Morreale explores the deep connection between body health, self-image, and personal well-being through personal stories and reflections. She emphasizes gratitude, self-acceptance, and the importance of viewing our bodies as vessels of strength and resilience. Topics: • Body image and self-perception • The importance of health and wellness • Reframing personal flaws as strengths Quotes: • "Nothing else matters when your body's in pain." • "No matter how thin, I always thought I was too big." • "Disease begins with dis-ease, out of alignment." Chapters: 00:00 The Journey of Body Image and Health 03:08 The Importance of Movement and Gratitude  Transcript: What if the thing you hate most about your body... actually proof that it's working? My name is Jackie Morreale and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes, the podcast that seeks to wise words in business, beauty and betterment. Today, the focus is on betterment, personal wellness through the lens of physical fitness and body image. This morning, I finished a 5k, probably my slowest time on record. 33 minutes. Somehow that made me smile because 33 always felt lucky to me. I've been seeing it everywhere: 3:33 on the clock, 33 on receipts, little winks from the universe. I figured this was my cue to speak. Earlier this month, someone I love very much drove himself to the hospital in excruciating pain. That night, he woke up at 3:30am. I woke up not long after. There's almost nothing more helpless than watching someone you love suffer inside of their own body and not being able to fix it. It turned out to be... a kidney stone. A tiny black speck of a thing, something that his own body created, probably from too many sugary drinks, too much salt, not enough water, the usual suspects. After fluids, medication and fear and uncertainty, it finally passed. The kidney stone. It was the reminder that when your body is healthy, your mind gets to wander. You can think about dreams and goals and deadlines and magazine covers, but when your body is in pain, nothing else matters. Health is the only thing. It's bizarre timing because right now I put myself out there as a candidate for the cover of a fitness magazine. I've even made the top 10 by some miracle. And thank you to everyone out there who's voted. Still, let's be honest, body image has always been personal for me. We tend to study what wounds us. I look back at my career in fashion design and I can trace my body confidence through the hemlines. When I felt lean and model-like, I designed things that were tight, sheer, bold, unapologetic. When I didn't feel enough, my designs were longer, darker, more covered. I went back to school in my late 20s and studied body image as part of a fiber science and apparel design program. My instinct was to research bathing suits because what makes you more aware of your own body than that? But my professors wisely redirected me to jeans, because everyone wears jeans. The truth is no matter how thin or fit I've ever been, I have always thought I was too big. There's something broken in that. Not in my body, but in the way of seeing it. I could run marathons and still only see the jiggle. I could be at my smallest and still compare myself to five years younger. I could achieve the goal and still move the finish line. That's not health, that's distortion. So lately, I've been trying to reframe what I see. If I notice a softness under my chin, I remind myself this mouth has given me a voice. It is sung. It has spoken ideas into existence. It has smiled at my children. (Hi guys!) If I see a stomach that isn't flat, I remember that stomach stretched not once, but twice, to give life. If I look at my hips and thighs that I once criticized, I remember these legs have crossed marathon finish lines. They carried me through 26.2 miles more than once. It had me thinking: What if everything that we call a flaw... is actually a metal? We rarely appreciate our bodies until they scare us, until a kidney stone, until the diagnosis, until something stops working. I've heard it said that disease begins with dis-ease, something out of alignment, in our habits, our emotions, our spirit. When I run consistently, I feel better, not just physically, mentally. The noise quiets, my focus sharpens, and I have more energy, not less. Movement doesn't deplete me, it multiplies. We put a lot into our bodies, fast food, sugar, caffeine, stress, expectations. And somehow, our bodies keep showing up for us, breathing, digesting, healing, carrying. Would I give this loved one a kidney? Without hesitation. But the fact that I even could, that I have a healthy body capable of offering something like an organ, that's not something I take lightly. I'm grateful for this body. Not just for having visible abs on a magazine cover, and if that happens, wonderful. I hope that it makes another woman feel more at home in her own skin. We need more real bodies out there, more mothers, more women who have lived. But the goal isn't the cover. The goal is longevity, peace, a healthy, vibrant old woman someday. Modeling for my children that caring for your body isn't vanity, it's future-proofing. So 14-year-old, 27-year-old, 39-year-old Jackie, stop chasing a smaller version of yourself. You are not behind. You're not wrong. You are here. And this body, this resilient, imperfect machine, is doing its job. So thank you, body. Thank you for running, even slowly. Thank you for healing. Thank you for carrying babies and dreams and groceries and grief. Thank you for forgiving me when I've criticized you. We only have the best version of ourselves at this moment. Not compared to 10 years ago, not compared to her or him. Just here and now. Health is the foundation, gratitude is the shift. Everything else - the aesthetics, the numbers, the pace - is just a detail. Final Reminder: You are a beautiful person, exactly as you are, right now, inside and out. Have a beautiful day.  Thank you to HERS Magazine, for the opportunity to compete for Ms. Health & Fitness 2026! |
Jackie MorrealeJackie writes from her own experiences and reflections on her journey in seeking wisdom, creativity, spirituality, and life in general. This is "putting thyself out there" at its finest. 
Archives
September 2026
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
|
Wisdom for Wannabes
10299 Southern Blvd. Unit 212771 Royal Palm Beach, FL 33411 USA |
© Wisdom for Wannabes LLC 2026. All Rights Reserved.