My lungs feel like they're on fire as I collapse onto the page-white sand, each breath a desperate gasp that tastes of salt and exhaustion.

The Indian Ocean stretches before me, a vast blue expanse that seems to mock my spent body, while the merciless sun beats down above.

It's 2012, and I've just completed another gruelling run-swim-run as a surf life saving cadet.

As a year 10 student, I'm part of a group of fifty cadets who've chosen surf life saving as our extra-curricular activity. Every Friday afternoon, we face the same challenge: an 800-meter sand run, followed by a 500-meter swim, and another 400-meter sand run to finish.

For most of my peers, this is just another chore on top of schoolwork and sports. With weekly fixtures looming the next day, many are keen to conserve energy. This results in a wide spectrum of effort during our activities, including the run-swim-run.

For the past five Fridays, I've finished first in every run-swim-run, including today's. As I catch my breath, the sound of heavy panting and shuffling feet fills the air around me.

We're now walking towards the bus, the cool interior a welcome respite from the relentless heat. I fall into step beside one of my classmates, a person I've always admired for their athletic prowess. Their natural swimming talent, in particular, far surpasses my own.

"That was intense," I say, still slightly out of breath.

They shrug, their voice casual as they reply, "I don't really try during these sessions."

Their undertone suggests that if they tried, they believed they would win the run-swim-run.

Their words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication.

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Oh, why don't you try then?"

Their response is dismissive, wrapped in an air of indifference. "I don't care enough to bother."

In this moment, I realised something fundamental about human nature.

It’s easy to hide behind a lack of effort. We can attribute others’ success to luck or us simply not trying.

When we put ourselves on the line with hard work and don’t succeed, it’s hard for our ego’s to bare. We become vulnerable to judgement - both from others and ourselves.

This fear of failure is rooted in an external frame of reference. We become overly concerned with what others might say if we try our hardest and still fall short. But this perspective is so frighteningly wrong.

The greatest shame isn't in trying and failing; it's in reaching the end of our lives knowing we didn't leave everything on the field. Imagine being 90 years old, looking back, and realizing you could have pushed harder, been bolder, asked for more.

One of the saddest sights in the world is latent human potential left untapped.

Wouldn't you want to say to yourself that you left everything on the field? That you finished with zero in the tank?

How you do anything is how you do everything, and the deepest regret is knowing you could’ve done more.