Still Learning, Still Failing, Still Showing Up

Being a Vulnerable Adult Learner in a world that rewards mastery

The Awkward Climb From Beginner to Capable

At some point, many of us stop learning things that make us feel foolish. We stick to what we know. We avoid the slow, awkward climb from beginner to capable. I get it—it’s safer that way. But I’ve realized lately that safety can be limiting. And I’m not done growing.

A few years ago, I started taking house dance classes. It’s an energetic, rhythmic style rooted in hip hop—fast footwork, acrobatic transitions, and non-stop motion. Most of my classmates were decades younger. I had some background in dance, so I could keep up with the music, feel the rhythm, hit the beats. But when it came to getting down to the floor into a half-split—or doing a cartwheel mid-sequence—I could only fake it so much. Still, I loved the movement just as much as the 20-something next to me who had just spun into a shoulder roll and popped back up like it was nothing.

Then one day, we had a substitute teacher—and the entire class was floorwork. Deep folds, rolls, transitions into shoulder stands, sweeping leg movements. Stuff that required a kind of flexibility and bounce I just didn’t have anymore (actually never had at all, if I’m being honest). I gave it a real shot. Then I tried to fake it. And then, about halfway through, I just… stopped.

(One man. One house dance class. A dozen effortlessly cool 20-somethings. Witness the struggle, me - valiantly trying to keep up)

There was this moment where I crouched at the edge of the studio, watching everyone else flow and spin like human rubber bands. I remember thinking, “WTF am I doing here?” It wasn’t insecurity—it was the honest realization that if I pushed through certain moves, I’d probably pop something that wouldn’t un-pop for a while.

What Age Teaches You (Besides Ice Packs)

That’s something you learn with age too—not just when to push, but when to hold back. When you’re younger, injury feels like a badge. When you’re older, it feels like a six-month rehab plan and a lot of ice packs. You start to see the difference between giving up and being strategic.

I’ve felt that same awkwardness in other places lately. Launching Ageless Athlete, building the podcast, trying to understand social media—all exciting, but often humbling. I didn’t grow up with TikTok. I’m not naturally drawn to algorithm tweaks and hashtag hacks. And sometimes, when I’m trying to make a reel or puzzling over trending keywords, it feels like I’m just flailing in another kind of dance class.

But here’s what keeps me showing up: I love music. I love movement. I love learning.
And I’ve stopped taking learning for granted.

Learning, Reframed

As a kid, I saw school as something you had to do. Now, I see learning as a privilege.
I choose it. I pay for it (not my parents). I carve out time for it in a packed week.
The chance to start something new? That’s a gift. I treat it as sacred.

I’ve spoken to others who feel the same. Like Lionel Conacher, who made history as the oldest rookie to surf Mavericks—a legendary big wave spot in California. He didn’t grow up chasing ocean swells. He started surfing seriously in his 50s. In fact, I learnt of the term ‘Vulnerable Adult Learner’ from Lionel. I love it.

Or Tara Tulley, who, at 47, decided to rewrite her story. She began running—slowly at first—then further and further… until one day she was toeing the line at a 140-mile ultramarathon. Not for accolades, but to prove to herself that transformation is always possible.

They’re not exceptions. They’re reminders.
There’s no expiration date on reinvention.

The Goal Isn’t Invincibility

So if you’re learning something new right now—something that humbles you—you’re not alone. I’m right there with you. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a dance move, a language, an app, or a career shift. What matters is the willingness to show up again tomorrow.

In the end, I don’t think the goal is to become invincible.
I think it’s to stay willing.
To be curious. To persist. To laugh at yourself when needed—and to keep going anyway.

Warmly,
Kush