Last week WatchParty competed in Distilled Intelligence 1.0, a major new event showcasing startups in the DC area. For me, this was a major event because the organizers at Fortify.vc were actually giving away cash to the winners, and I like cash. A lot.

I was the very first person to apply to be one of the presenting companies. Weeks before I had been told whether WatchParty was accepted, I began asking everyone I knew what I should include and exclude from my pitches. As soon as I knew the format, I began developing a 60-second elevator pitch and a three-minute presentation.

I practiced my presentations in front a a half dozen people, getting feedback and revising my pitches until they were as good as I could get them. Then I practiced, practiced, practiced. I was in it to win it.

On the big day I felt good, kept practicing, and was ready to go. When my time came, I grabbed that mike and launched into my minute-long pitch like I'd been doing it my whole life. I was nailing it.

And then I choked.

My mind went blank. I couldn't think of what I was supposed to say, why I was there, what I needed to do.

I stuttered and stammered, and watched the seconds tick away until the moderator called "time" and and crawled back to my seat.

All I could think about was how I'd blown my big chance. I felt lower than I've ever felt – I let myself down, let me team down, and let the event organizers down. I humiliated myself in front of some of the most important investors in the DC area.

As I left the room, everyone told me how it was going to be all right, how I'd done great, and that I shouldn't worry about it. I went to the parking garage and contemplated shutting WatchParty down and just giving up. I was literally on the verge of tears, hating myself and feeling stupid for every having thought I could succeed. Pulling ut my hair, tearing my clothes, and general self-flagellation.

Then, suddenly, I stopped.

One thought crystalized in my head, and everything became perfectly clear – what I'd done, why I'd done it, and why I was going to keep on doing it. That thought was, to be very blunt,

"Fuck it."

There is no way in hell I am going to let 18 months of my life and everything I have accomplished be defined by one 60-second pitch. Like my friend Pat said, "This is a story you get to tell when you're rich and famous." Hell yes.

So, even though I choked, I win. I came out of it better and stronger, and fully committed to what I'm doing.

After this revelation, I went back upstairs and thoroughly enjoyed myself for the rest of the day. And I haven't stopped smiling since.