Good Luck, Bad Luck, Who Knows? What an Ancient Parable Teaches Us About Setbacks in Competition

There is a parable that has been passed down for over two thousand years. It has survived dynasties, wars, and centuries of change — not because it is clever, but because the wisdom in it never gets old.

It is the story of a farmer who refuses to judge his circumstances.

His horse runs away. Bad luck, say the neighbors. The horse returns with a herd of wild horses. Good luck, they say. His son breaks his leg trying to tame one. Bad luck again. The army comes through conscripting young men for war — and passes his son by because of the broken leg. The greatest luck of all.

At every turn, the farmer simply says: "Good luck, bad luck. Who knows?"

I have been thinking about this parable a lot lately — because I have lived it. And, while you may not be able to see the full picture yet, I suspect you have too.

THE SETBACK YOU COULDN'T MAKE SENSE OF

Here is the thing about setbacks in competition — and in life. In the moment, they feel final. A bad season, an injury, a disappointing result at the event you had circled on your calendar for months. The ego steps in immediately and slaps a label on it: this is bad. This is a failure. This is proof that it is not going to work out the way I hoped.

And that label is the problem.

Because the mental game for competitors is not just about what happens in the arena. It is about what happens in your mind when things do not go the way you planned — and whether you can hold your circumstances loosely enough to trust that the story is not over yet.

The farmer did not celebrate when the horse ran away. He did not despair when his son broke his leg. He simply refused to decide what any of it meant before the story was finished.

That is an advanced mental skill. And it is one that most of us have never been taught.

WHAT THE EGO NEEDS

In my work as a mental performance coach, I talk a lot about the ego — not in the way we typically think of it (arrogance or pride), but as the part of us that needs to control, judge, compare, and label. The ego cannot tolerate uncertainty. It needs to know if something is good or bad, a win or a loss, progress or failure.

And when you are standing in the middle of a hard season — a horse with health issues, a slump you cannot seem to shake, a result that does not reflect how hard you have worked — the ego is working overtime to make sense of it all.

The farmer's quiet wisdom is the antithesis of the ego. He holds each outcome loosely. He trusts that he cannot see the whole picture from where he is standing. And that trust gives him a peace that none of his neighbors have.

The farmer trusted something bigger than his own judgment. We are invited to do the same.

WHAT THIS LOOKS LIKE IN THE ARENA

Let me make this practical for you — because this is not just philosophy. Overcoming setbacks in competition requires a specific mental shift, and the farmer parable gives us the framework for it.

When you have a bad run, your ego immediately begins its analysis. It replays the mistake. It assigns meaning. It decides what this result says about you, your ability, your future. And before you have even unsaddled, you are already carrying the weight of a story your ego wrote in thirty seconds.

Here is what I want you to try instead.

The next time something does not go the way you planned — a missed shot, a tipped barrel, a run that was not what you trained for — pause before you label it. Acknowledge what happened. Feel whatever you feel. And then, instead of deciding what it means, simply say: good luck, bad luck, who knows?

Not indifference. Not giving up. Just a refusal to close the book before the story is finished.

Because here is what I know from both research and lived experience: the mental game for competitors who perform consistently under pressure is not built on things always going right. It is built on the ability to stay present, release judgment, and trust the process — even when the process looks like a setback.

That is competing from love instead of fear. That is the next play mentality in its deepest form.

THE PART OF MY STORY I DO NOT SHARE OFTEN ENOUGH

I had a horse years ago with mysterious soundness issues that the vets could never fully resolve. I poured every spare dollar I had into his care. I had such high hopes for him.

Then I was passed over for a job I was certain was mine. Then that horse had to be put down. Then my next horse, Tyke, was diagnosed with severe arthritis at nine years old and I was told I might get two more years of competition out of him at best.

I remember asking God why — again — He would let this happen.

But losing out on that job gave me a better paying one that allowed me to buy Tyke, and giving up barrel racing to protect his joints turned me fully toward team roping. And with all of our efforts focused in one direction, we eventually won the highest prize for a handicapped roper: the #7 Yeti World Series of Team Roping Championship.

That win — and the platform it gave me — led me to become a certified mental performance coach and start Mental Game 101. It was the answer to years of prayers to find work that made a difference.

I could not see any of that from the middle of the hard seasons. I could only see the loss, the disappointment, the closed doors.

Good luck. Bad luck. Who knows?

On this side of it, I can see clearly how every single setback was quietly redirecting me toward something I could not yet imagine. None of it was wasted. Not one hard season.

YOUR STORY IS NOT OVER

If you are in a hard season right now — a horse with health issues, a slump that has gone on longer than you can explain, a result that does not reflect how hard you have worked — I want you to hear this.

You cannot see the whole picture from where you are standing. But that does not mean there is not one.

The mental game for competitors is not about having everything go right. It is about trusting the process deeply enough to keep showing up, keep working, and keep believing — even when the results have not caught up yet.

Good luck, bad luck, who knows?

Trust the bigger picture. Keep the faith.

If this resonated with you, this week's Cowgirl Up podcast episodes go even deeper — five timeless stories, five powerful mindset lessons, Monday through Friday. You can find them wherever you get your podcasts.

And if you are ready to stop leaving your mental game to chance, I would love to have a conversation. Book your free discovery call at the link below — let's talk about what is possible when your mental preparation finally catches up with your physical preparation.

You have done the physical work. Let's do the mental work too.

AUTHOR BIO:

Laurie Blickenstaff is a Certified Mental Performance Coach and the founder of Mental Game 101. She is the host of Cowgirl Up, a daily mindset elevation podcast for competitors in western horse sports. A competitive team roper and winner of the #7 Yeti World Series of Team Roping Championship, Laurie combines her lived experience as a competitor with research-backed mental performance strategies to help passionate athletes build the confidence, consistency, and mental tools to perform their best when it matters most.

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