Life doesn't give you all the practice races you need.

The words of Jesse Owens, “Life doesn’t give you all the practice races you need,” carry the sound of an ancient bell, struck in the silence of the soul. They remind us that the road of existence does not always prepare us gently, nor does it always grant us the luxury of rehearsal before the final test. Life, unlike the games of men, offers no endless series of warm-ups; often, the contest begins without warning, and the outcome is written in the fire of the moment. This saying is not only for the athlete who sprints upon the track, but for every traveler who walks the winding path of time.

Owens himself knew this truth in the marrow of his being. Born the grandson of slaves, raised in poverty, he faced not only the burden of competition but the shadow of prejudice. Yet when the time came at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, under the cold eyes of a regime that sought to prove the superiority of one race, he had no second chances, no repetitions. He had only one race, one leap, one throw, each moment demanding his fullest strength. And in that brief blaze, he conquered not just the track, but the weight of history, winning four gold medals. His triumph was a living testimony that life’s greatest battles come unannounced, and one must meet them as they arrive.

The ancients often spoke of fate as a river: it carries us forward whether we are ready or not. To protest that the waters are swift does not slow the current; to wish for more practice does not summon calmer shores. So it is with life: the exam of destiny appears before the lesson is complete, and the trial descends before the soldier has sharpened his sword enough. But therein lies the beauty: in the unprepared moment, the hidden strength of the spirit is revealed. It is not in the comfort of rehearsals but in the peril of reality that the soul discovers itself.

Think also of the tale of young Alexander, who, before he was twenty, inherited the vast and troubled kingdom of Macedon. He had not been given endless practice in kingship, nor rehearsed the conquest of empires. Yet when the mantle fell upon his shoulders, he stepped into the race without hesitation, and his stride changed the world. Like Owens, he did not wait for further preparation; he trusted that his training, incomplete though it seemed, would become enough in the crucible of necessity. So too must we walk into life’s challenges, unready yet resolute, trusting that readiness is forged in the flame of action.

The words of Owens remind us that life tests us suddenly: a loved one falls ill, an opportunity arises, or a door opens that will never open again. Shall we falter, wishing for more practice? Or shall we rise, imperfect but determined, knowing that no rehearsal could ever match the reality of this moment? The lesson is simple: hesitation is the enemy of destiny. The race is before you, and though you may not have run it a hundred times in training, you must run it now with all the breath in your lungs.

What, then, is to be done? First, cultivate the daily habits of discipline, for while practice may never be enough, it will always prepare the soil for courage. Second, embrace the unknown with a warrior’s heart, for the unexpected race is not your enemy but your proving ground. Third, hold faith that within you lies more strength than you can see; the race itself will call forth what your training has not revealed.

Therefore, O listener, let Owens’ words not fall lightly upon your ears. Life will not always prepare you gently, nor give you endless rehearsals. You must be bold enough to step forward when the hour strikes, even trembling, even unready. For the truth is this: the practice you thought you lacked will be made complete in the running of the race itself. And when you cross the line, breathless yet victorious, you will know that destiny does not wait for the perfectly prepared—it crowns those who dare to run.

So walk forward, children of tomorrow. When life thrusts you into the race, do not ask for more time, do not look backward for rehearsals. Run. Run as Owens ran, as Alexander ruled, as countless nameless souls before you rose to the hour. Run, and the world shall make way for the one who accepts that practice ends, but the race goes on. This is the wisdom of the ancients: the unready shall triumph, if only they have the courage to begin.