When a One-Minute Talk Feels Like a Marathon

I always notice how much I rehearse and ruminate before I speak publicly, especially when I’ve only got a minute to talk. I flit between confidence—“I can do this!”—and the panicked thought—“Oh gawd, what if I mess this up?” Why am I such a perfectionist? I literally only had to talk for one minute.

It’s funny. I always get jittery when I public speak, but usually, after a few minutes, I find my flow. The trouble with one-minute intros is that there’s no time to settle, no time to get into that rhythm where I feel authentic and grounded. Give me a flip chart and the ACT Matrix any day over a one-minute introduction to someone else’s talk. How strange is that?

The Vulnerability of Being Seen

Intellectually, I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. So many people struggle with the exposure that comes with public speaking. But here’s the kicker: I fear the vulnerability of being seen as vulnerable. A double whammy, right?

I rehearse to avoid wobbling, but there I was—voice shaking, face turning red, stumbling a little over my words. Honestly, I doubt anyone even noticed. But I noticed. And in that moment, I wanted to hide away, crawl back into the safety of invisibility.

Why I Keep Going

And yet, here’s the interesting thing: I wouldn’t not do it. I want to grow in this space. For me, these events aren’t just about public speaking—they’re about connection and bringing people together. I could back out, ask someone else to take the stage. But I won’t. I want to keep going, keep growing.

I know I can public speak. I know I can do it well. I’ve done it before, and I’ve felt that flow of ease and authenticity. But because it matters, it’s vulnerable. And that’s the price I pay for putting myself out there.

Am I Willing? Hell Yeah.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about being willing to show up, even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when my voice shakes and my face flushes. That’s the thing about growth—it asks us to step into the messy, awkward moments where our humanity is laid bare.

So, am I willing? Hell yeah, I’m willing. I’ll keep going, wobbling voice and all. Because every time I step into that space, I remind myself: I’m not doing this to be perfect. I’m doing this to connect, to grow, and to make something meaningful happen.

And that’s worth every shaky moment.