You see, with me, when I'm nervous, I smile and laugh.

Hear the words of Paula Radcliffe: “You see, with me, when I’m nervous, I smile and laugh.” These words, though simple, carry with them the wisdom of a warrior’s spirit. For they remind us that fear and uncertainty do not always show themselves in trembling hands or downcast eyes. Sometimes, the heart cloaks its unease in brightness, clothing its turmoil with a smile, wrapping its tension in laughter. This is not deception, but resilience—a way for the soul to transform anxiety into energy, to face the unknown not with despair but with light.

The ancients knew this power well. Among the gladiators of Rome, many stepped into the arena not with tears but with fierce grins, their smile a shield against the terror of death. To smile in the face of fear is to declare: “You have not mastered me. I still choose joy.” Radcliffe, a runner who faced the long miles with the world’s eyes upon her, learned that in moments of great trial the body may falter, but the spirit can be steadied by the simple act of laughter. It is a way of saying to the storm, “I am still my own.”

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, who carried the weight of a divided nation upon his shoulders. In times of greatest crisis, when sleepless nights gnawed at him, he often told stories and jokes, bringing laughter even into rooms filled with sorrow. His laughter was not frivolity—it was medicine, for himself and for those around him. Like Radcliffe, he knew that to cloak nervousness with humor was to keep despair at bay, to transmute fear into strength.

Yet there is also humility in these words. To confess, “When I’m nervous, I smile and laugh,” is to reveal the vulnerability behind the image of strength. The runner who appears radiant at the starting line may, in truth, be battling storms within. But that is the greatness of humanity: to turn trembling into laughter, to turn fear into gestures of joy. It is not hypocrisy—it is courage. For the act of smiling, even when nervous, creates calm not only for oneself but for others who watch.

Science now confirms what the ancients intuited: the very act of smiling can soften the heart and still the body’s panic. When the muscles of the face lift in joy, the mind is tricked into peace, and courage awakens. The body, once gripped by nervousness, finds rhythm again. Thus, Radcliffe’s instinct is not accident but wisdom written into the human form—that the expression of joy can reshape the heart itself.

The lesson is this: in times of trial, do not surrender to fear’s grim mask. Instead, meet it with a smile, even if it trembles. Laugh when your heart shakes, for laughter is a sword against despair. When others see you smile in the face of struggle, they too will find strength. And when you smile for yourself, you remind your own soul that the storm is not greater than your spirit.

So let us pass this wisdom on: when nervousness rises, when the future is uncertain, do as Paula Radcliffe does—clothe your anxiety in smile and laughter. For these are not masks of weakness, but banners of courage. They proclaim to the world and to yourself: “Though I am afraid, I still choose joy. Though I tremble, I still move forward.” And in that choice lies the victory that carries you through every race, every trial, and every dawn.