Pain is a Biased Teacher: Why Learning the Hard Way Isn’t Always the Right Way

Most people flinch at discomfort. The great ones lean in. Pain isn’t a stop sign, it’s proof you’re getting somewhere. Excellence isn’t talent; it’s tolerance. If you can crave what others avoid, you gain an edge no algorithm can replicate.

Nobody likes being wrong, but error is a faster path to growth than perfection. We say “failure teaches,” but don’t act like it. We avoid it, rationalize it, try to outsource it. Here’s the truth: if you’re not failing, you’re not trying hard enough. The key is learning from it faster than others.

Some lessons hurt more than others. I broke my body chasing performance, literally. My immune system went into overdrive. My takeaway? “Moderation or die.” It felt wise. It helped me heal. But four years later, that same mindset held me back. I passed up chances I should’ve taken. Pain taught me, but it also lied.

That’s the problem with deep scars, they leave permanent edits on your map. As a coach, I wanted to spare others that pain and I try to teach them lessons on a “smaller scale”. For example if they forgot to fuel a long workout correctly in the winter that’s cool and they have enough time to fix that and learn how to do it right, till the big races in the summer come around.  That worked until it didn’t. Some never learned to course correct on their own.

At some point, you realize: you can’t walk the path for someone else. Even if you see the wall coming, they need to crash into it. It’s how humans grow. Parents know this. Lovers, too. Wisdom doesn’t transfer easily. Only pain does.

But here’s the fun part: when we finally do learn, we often overcorrect. We mistake the intensity of the last failure for a universal truth. We build rules that hold us down. “Never push that hard again.” “Always play it safe.” And suddenly, the lesson that was supposed to make us better becomes a prison.

So how do we get better at failing? Iterate. Bounce off the edges of your box. Test the walls of your physical, mental, and social limits. But also update your map. Apply Bayesian thinking: use new data, revise old conclusions. Don’t just protect the wound. Ask if it still needs protecting.

Learn from others when you can. It takes guts and some of your own pain to be able to listen to other’s wisdom. Read biographies. Study people you admire and those you can’t stand. They show you the range of human possibility. But in the end, the version of truth that matters is the one you earn.

Just don’t forget: pain is a powerful teacher, but it’s also a biased one. The lesson might not be universal. It might not even still be true. Your job is to keep learning and not let the scar rewrite your future.

Flo