By Jason Lookabaugh
Most of us understand failure perfectly well in the gym. We chase it there. We load the bar heavier. We push until the rep slows down, our form starts to break down, and our muscles burn. We fight for one more repetition, knowing full well we may not get it. Then we rack the weight, exhausted, and call it progress. Because in that environment, failure is not viewed as weakness. It is evidence that growth is taking place. However, outside the gym, many leaders treat failure very differently.
Professionally, we avoid it, we hide from it, we internalize it, and we see setbacks as permanent character judgments instead of temporary moments in development. Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that failure in leadership means we are no longer credible, trustworthy, or capable. After 17 years in the Air Force, I have learned the opposite is often true. Some of the strongest leaders I know are not the ones who have never failed. They are the ones who failed honestly, learned deliberately, rebuilt consistently, and kept showing up afterward. That lesson became very personal for me over the last two years.
I recently entered another stage of recovery following my fourth surgery in two years: knee surgery, shoulder surgery, and two separate spine surgeries. Recovery has been humbling in ways I did not expect. Exercises that once felt routine suddenly became difficult again. The weight I used to move confidently felt unfamiliar. Progress had become slower, less visible, and far more frustrating. There were days when even simple movements reminded me how far I had fallen from where I used to be physically. But the gym also reinforced something important for me as a leader.
Growth still requires discomfort.
Recovery still requires discipline.
And failure still has value.
Some days, “success” looked nothing like achievement. It looked like struggling through a workout, reducing the weight, or realizing my body simply could not do what it once did. However, instead of seeing those moments as proof that I was broken, I began viewing them as necessary repetitions in rebuilding myself. One reason I was able to continue pushing forward was that I did not do it alone; I had a good training partner…a spotter.
Anyone who has trained seriously understands the role of a spotter. They do not remove the weight; they do not perform the repetition for you; they simply create an environment where it is safe to push beyond your comfort zone. They help ensure that one failed rep does not become catastrophic. That concept applies directly to leadership.
The best leaders I have worked for did not eliminate adversity from my career. They challenged me, corrected me, and held me accountable. However, they also created an environment where I could learn, recover, and continue growing after my mistakes. Unfortunately, not every leader operates that way.
Four years ago, shortly after being selected for promotion to Master Sergeant and while waiting to sew on the stripe, I found myself in one of the lowest professional moments of my career. I had been selected only a month before leaving for deployment, and what should have been one of the proudest periods of my career quickly became one of the most difficult. I trusted a troop who ultimately placed me in a very questionable position professionally. As leaders, we are accountable for the actions of the people we supervise, and I accepted that responsibility fully. What made the situation more difficult was the response from leadership around me. Rather than mentorship or guidance, I largely felt abandoned. I became the easiest person to blame. Years of work spent building credibility, trust, and a reputation as a strong performer felt like they disappeared almost overnight. I questioned my judgment, my leadership ability, and whether I truly belonged in senior leadership at all. Looking back now, I realize I had reached failure in my professional “reps,” but I did not have a spotter.
That experience taught me something many NCOs quietly struggle with…but accountability and isolation are not the same thing. Holding someone accountable is part of leadership, but publicly discarding people in the face of failure is not. There is a difference between correction and abandonment. In our profession, we often speak about developing Airmen, but development becomes meaningless if we support people only when they are succeeding. Anybody can encourage high performers when everything is going well. Real leadership reveals itself when someone stumbles, makes a mistake, or loses confidence in themselves.
At that point, leaders make a choice. They can either help someone rebuild or treat failure as final. I could have quit mentally during that chapter of my career. Many people do. Not always physically by separating from service, but emotionally and professionally. They stop volunteering, stop leading boldly, stop trusting others, and stop believing they have anything left to offer. Instead, I decided to rebuild.
Day by day.
Rep by rep.
I accepted responsibility where it belonged, took the consequences that came with it, and focused on becoming better rather than bitter. That process was neither quick nor easy. Rebuilding trust in yourself rarely is, but then another major moment arrived.
When I returned home from deployment, I learned there were discussions about making an example of me professionally and potentially taking the stripe I had worked my entire career to earn. For any SNCO or aspiring SNCO, that possibility cuts deep. Years of sacrifice, discipline, and commitment suddenly feel fragile. However, this time there was a difference: I had a spotter.
My commander chose to learn who I was as a leader holistically, rather than define me solely by a difficult moment. She asked questions and assessed my character, performance history, and response to adversity. Most importantly, she demonstrated something many leaders underestimate the value of…discernment. She held me accountable while still recognizing my potential. Ultimately, she gave me another opportunity to lead. That decision changed more than just my career trajectory; it changed how I view my leadership responsibilities as a Senior NCO.
Her trust renewed my confidence and reminded me of how powerful leadership support can be during someone’s hardest moments. One leader’s willingness to see possibilities instead of permanent failure can completely alter the direction of another person’s career and life. That experience fundamentally shaped the way I approach mentorship today.
As NCOs and SNCOs, we are responsible for more than enforcing standards; we are responsible for creating environments where growth can actually occur. Growth rarely happens without discomfort, mistakes, setbacks, or failure at some point in the process. If Airmen believe every mistake will permanently define them, they will eventually stop taking initiative, avoid difficult opportunities, and prioritize self-protection over growth. They will play it safe professionally while quietly disengaging personally.
We see this every day without always recognizing it. Airmen hesitate to pursue leadership opportunities because they fear public failure; NCOs avoid difficult conversations because they fear conflict; and experienced leaders remain within their comfort zones because they are afraid of losing the image of competence they spent years building. Yet ironically, we willingly embrace discomfort in physical training because we understand the principle behind it. No one builds strength by avoiding resistance, and leadership works the same way. Professional growth requires friction, personal growth requires humility, and resilience requires recovery after setbacks, not avoidance of them altogether.
That does not mean failure should be celebrated recklessly or used as an excuse for poor performance. Accountability still matters, standards still matter, and discipline still matters. However, leaders must learn the difference between a person who refuses to learn and a person who is actively rebuilding.
One deserves correction.
The other deserves investment.
As leaders, we also need to normalize asking for support. Many NCOs carry the belief that leadership means always appearing strong. They isolate themselves during stress because they think vulnerability weakens credibility, but isolation often creates far greater problems. Some of the most damaging leadership decisions occur when pride prevents people from seeking guidance early. There is strength in saying, “I need help”; there is maturity in seeking mentorship; and there is wisdom in recognizing that even strong leaders sometimes require spotters. The truth is, nobody reaches their fullest potential alone.
Not in fitness.
Not in recovery.
Not in leadership.
Throughout my career, the leaders who impacted me most were not the loudest, harshest, or most intimidating. They were the ones who understood how to balance accountability with investment. They pushed people beyond comfort while still ensuring failure was survivable. That balance matters because eventually every Airman, NCO, and SNCO will hit a point where the weight feels heavier than expected. A personal crisis, a failed decision, a disciplinary issue, a professional setback, or a moment where confidence cracks and doubt creeps in. When that moment comes, leadership presence matters.
Sometimes the greatest thing we can do for someone is remind them that one failed rep does not define their entire future. I still believe strongly in standards, discipline, and accountability. However, I also believe in rebuilding people, in allowing adversity to become a teacher rather than a permanent label, and that some of the strongest leaders are created through recovery, not avoidance.
My surgeries taught me that, physically, my career reinforced it professionally, and leadership continues to prove it every day. Failure is not the end, setbacks are not the end, needing support is not a weakness.
Quitting is.
As NCOs, we must develop teams that are disciplined enough to pursue excellence, resilient enough to endure setbacks, and connected enough to support one another through the rebuilding process. Because leadership is not about pretending to never struggle. It is about continuing to rise after struggle and helping others do the same.
NCO Leadership Primer 
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