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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:
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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:
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One Year Anniversary! How Do You Measure a Year? An Entrepreneur's Guide to Returning to the Trail6/24/2026 Summary In this reflective voice note, Wisdom for Wannabes host Jackie Morreale celebrates the first anniversary of the podcast and YouTube channel by exploring a question inspired by the musical Rent: How do you measure a year? Through a year marked by 100,000 subscribers, six books, three marathons, unforgettable travels, personal growth, and the loss of her 99-year-old grandmother, Jackie reflects on the milestones that can be counted—and the ones that can't. She shares a guided imagination exercise inspired by her favorite morning running trail, inviting listeners to reconnect with a place that grounds them, inspires them, and reminds them who they are. This episode is a meditation on entrepreneurship, resilience, gratitude, and returning to yourself when life feels busy or overwhelming. Topics:
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Chapters: 00:00 Introduction and Reflection on One Year of 'Wisdom for Wannabes' 00:41 Measuring Success in Entrepreneurship 01:06 Celebrating Personal Milestones and Achievements 01:49 The Unquantifiable Aspects of Growth 02:39 The Power of Visualization and Memory 03:57 Inner Strength and Resilience 04:52 Final Reflections and Closing Thoughts  Transcript How do you measure a year? An entrepreneur's guide to returning to the trail. My name is Jackie Morreale, and I'm the host of Wisdom for Wannabes. That still feels a little bit odd to say. One year ago, on June 9th, 2025, I uploaded the first Wisdom for Wannabes video. At that time, I had no idea where this would lead. There was no guarantee that anyone would watch. No annual review. No boss telling me whether or not I was doing a good job. That's one of the strangest parts of entrepreneurship. When you have a traditional job, success is often measured for you. There are salaries, bonuses, performance reviews, promotions. When you're building something on your own, the measurements become much harder to see. And yet, they matter. Recently, as Wisdom for Wannabes celebrated its first anniversary, I found myself thinking about that song from Rent that goes: How do you measure a year? In sunsets? In cups of coffee?
Wisdom for Wannabes year one looked something like this: A hundred thousand YouTube subscribers. How is that even possible? Wherever you are in the world, thank you so much for joining me. I never would have expected this. Six books published. One, two, three, four, five. Most recently, six. Six books published. My life dream of becoming an author and illustrator, fulfilled! Three coloring books published. Two school readings. (My gosh!) Author speaking events.
Thirty-five conversations with remarkable guests on this podcast. One unforgettable trip to Austria, Italy, and Germany, and 'memory lane'. Three marathons completed, so I had to show the hardware. Miami. Publix Fort Lauderdale. Treasure Coast. Hundreds of morning runs. One semester of a PhD program. Two spiritual healing seminars. One fitness certification. Nearly 400 consecutive days of Duolingo... that one started before the year. Singing every Sunday. Getting past the third and sixth grade, again, vicariously.
The older I get, the more I realize the most important things aren't always the easiest to count. How do you quantify creativity? How do you measure resilience? How do you count the mornings when you wanted to quit and went anyway? How do you measure the wisdom of a grandmother who lived 99 years and who was still singing into her final days? Some things don't fit neatly into spreadsheets. Some things live in our memories, some things live in places. For me, one of those places is a morning running trail. Almost every morning I run through the same park, the same lake, the same turns, same sunrise reflections over the water. I've celebrated victories there, I've mourned losses there, I've found story ideas there, I've solved problems there, I've prayed there, I've imagined entire books there. Lately, I've been thinking about something: What happens when we can't be 'there', wherever there is for you? Maybe you're traveling, maybe life gets busy, maybe you're recovering from an injury. Or maybe you're simply in a season of life where your favorite place feels very far away. Can you still return to it? I think you can. Close your eyes for a minute. Two-Minute Imagination Exercise:Imagine your favorite trail, beach, park, mountain path, neighborhood street, or forest road. Picture where you begin. Feel your shoes beneath your feet. Notice the first sounds, the birds, the breeze, distant conversations, the rhythm of your own breathing, and start moving forward. Not quickly, just enough to remember. Notice the landmarks that you've passed a hundred times before. The tree you always look for, the bend in the path, the bench where you've stopped to think. The view that never gets old. Keep moving. Feel your body become lighter with each step. Leave behind the emails, the deadlines, the expectations. Leave behind the opinions of people who don't understand what you're building. Just keep moving. Notice how familiar everything feels. Notice how safe it feels. Notice how much of yourself you've left here over the years. Your victories, your disappointments, your hopes, your ideas, your prayers. Now imagine reaching that final stretch. The place where you know you're almost home. The place where you've crossed the finish line before. The place where you've proven yourself again and again that you can do hard things. Stand there for a moment. Now take it all in. The people you've met, the lessons you've version of yourself who started this journey, the version of yourself standing here today. They're both present. Remember this:
Those places simply helped reveal what's already there, within you. Whenever life gets busy, whenever entrepreneurship feels overwhelming, whenever motivation fades, you can return to the same place in your mind. Because the path is still there. The sunrise is still there. The memories are still there. And the person who started this journey is running beside you. One year, 100,000 subscribers, millions of views, books, miles, conversations, lessons, losses, victories. How do you measure a year? Not just in numbers, but in the places that shaped the person I became while traveling through them. Have a wonderful day, and thanks for being with me this year. Love from Wisdom for Wannabes. Timelapse art videos:
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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. 
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