They called Security on me because of my behavior during the 1997 USA Track & Field Championships. It was the semifinal heat of the 110-meter high hurdle event to determine who would represent Team USA in the 1997 World Track & Field Championships in Athens, Greece.

Lane 4, my lane, was charged with the false start, and I was asked to “leave the track.” I refused. A second declaration was made to “leave the track,” with an additional warning, “or we must call Security” to help escort you off. I refused, yet again, and insisted they call Security.

How could I false start? It was the biggest stage of my life (at the time). I was ranked #10 in the World in the same hurdle event just a year prior. I trained even harder this year to prove my worth in representing my country. I was in the best shape of my life and was ready to show the World my performance level.

The crowd began to get restless. The “live” television feed was now off schedule. Security was snaking through the crowd, headed in my direction. I wanted to protest the call, but this wasn’t a human judgment that made the call. This was the computer.

In competition, electronic devices are connected to a competitor’s starting blocks to measure such things as reaction time to the starter’s gun. In this case, the computer (or research) concluded that I had false-started. The rule, you ask? The official told me, “(you) reacted quicker than what was humanly possible,” according to research. I was devasted.

My Olympic Coach at the time helped escort me off the track without the need for Security’s clutches. I broke down. The official rule ruined my life, so I thought. But the infraction didn’t ruin my life after all. Two years later, I would eventually compete in the World Championships in Seville, Spain, under the flag of my late father’s homeland of Trinidad & Tobago. I competed in the Olympic Games in Sydney, Australia, in 2000.

Several other failures and triumphs would occur in my life over the 25 years that followed that dreadful event. This “false start” was one lesson of many lessons I would learn over the years from competition that could be transferred to the classroom, to the boardroom, and to my relationships.

In life, we will have “false starts.” Learn from them, and add this experience to your repertoire and your skills toolkit to enhance your next “race” in life. Parents of student-athletes, use the “false starts” metaphor with your young people to teach them that this will not ruin your life but can be a building block to enhance your life. Learn from this opportunity now because the future awaits more exciting moments. Treasure in the fact that to “false start,” you had first to be willing to get into the race and compete! Remain steadfast in your desire to compete; you’ll overcome more in life than you realize.