I remember the Annual Sports Meet in 3rd grade like it happened yesterday.
All around me, my classmates were laughing, racing, and playing. I, on the other hand, sat on the sidelines — not because I wanted to, but because I hadn’t qualified for a single event. I was painfully skinny and utterly uncoordinated. I didn’t fit into the world of sports, and I knew it.
Embarrassed, I quietly moved away from the school ground and found a lonely hilly spot where I could hide from the crowd. But even there, a senior student spotted me and called me out. I still remember the fear, the shame, and the silence in my throat when he did.
That feeling never really left me. Throughout school, sports haunted me.
Whenever we played cricket or football, captains picked their teams one by one — and I always prayed not to be the last one. But almost every time, I was. I started believing I was just “not good at sports.” That became my identity.
And when something becomes your identity, you stop trying to change it.
In college, when my friends played tennis ball cricket — a phenomenon in the IITK hostels — I never played a single match. I didn’t even watch much sports. Why would I? That wasn’t “me.”
My identity became a prison — and I didn’t even realize I was locked inside.
But everything changed when I was selected to join the Indian Police Service (IPS).
IPS training is grueling. It pushes you past your limits — physically, mentally, emotionally. I was terrified. I had never run more than a few hundred meters in my life — how would I survive 16 km cross-country runs? Would I make a fool of myself?
But something unexpected happened.
The very first day at the National Police Academy, we started with a one-mile warm-up run. And to my surprise, I finished it quite easily. In fact, I started enjoying the physical training. I discovered I had decent endurance.
When the first 16 km run came around, I finished 5th out of 129 trainees.
Let that sink in. The boy who used to hide during Sports Day… the guy who was always picked last… just ran 16 km and finished near the top.
That experience shattered my old self-image. I was no longer “bad at sports.” I had become someone who loved running. I had found a new identity.
Even today — decades later — I run 10 to 12 kilometers a few times a week. Not because I have to, but because I want to.
And here’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned: Our identity is not fixed. It evolves. And action is what transforms it.
What held me back for years wasn’t lack of ability. It was the label I had accepted about myself.
We all do this. We tell ourselves:
“I’m not good with people.”
“I’m not a creative person.”
“I’m terrible at coding.”
“I don’t have discipline.”
Even if those things feel true, they don’t have to stay true.
When we act in ways that contradict our old identity, the identity begins to shift. But the hardest part is getting started — because the old identity resists change. That’s the trap. You don’t take action because you believe you’re not “that kind of person.” And by not acting, you confirm the belief. A self-fulfilling prophecy.
For me, IPS training forced the change. But not everyone needs a jolt from outside. You can choose to break free.
That’s why I’m writing this — to remind you that you are not trapped by who you think you are. You’re not stuck being who you’ve been.
Yes, our core values may stay the same. But everything else — our skills, habits, interests, and mindset — can change.
Ask yourself:
What part of your identity is holding you back?
What belief about yourself is stopping you from living the life you want?
Then challenge it.
Start small.
Run 500 meters.
Write one paragraph.
Speak up once in a meeting.
Take one step outside the boundary you’ve drawn around yourself.
Every small action reinforces a new identity.
Every workout makes you more of a “fitness person.”
Every time you debug a program, you become more of a “tech person.”
Every time you lead, you become more of a “leader.”
You are the captain of your ship. Chart your course. Don’t let old beliefs steer your life.
We can indeed become who we want to be.
Enough introspection — now it’s time for action.
Let’s go.
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