In May 1998, freight train conductor Robert Mohr and engineer Rodney Lindley were chugging along the Indiana rails when they saw what appeared to be a puppy on the tracks. On blowing the whistle, the men were stunned to realize that it was in fact a child who had wandered onto the railway line. Nineteen-month-old Emily Marshall had wandered away from her mother, who was gardening in the front yard, and was now sitting on the railroad tracks 50 meters (160 ft) behind her home, with a 6,200-ton train barreling toward her, completely unaware of the danger.

“That’s a baby!” yelled Mohr, and engineer Lindley pulled the brake, slowing the train from 39 kilometers (24 mi) to 16 kilometers (10 mi) per hour. But that wasn’t enough—they wouldn’t be able to stop in time. Mohr ran out onto a catwalk next to the engine and down onto the front grille, ready to try and grab the child. Thankfully, Emily crawled off the rails at the last moment, but she was still too close. In desperation, father of four and Vietnam veteran Mohr swung out his leg and kicked Emily down an embankment. He leaped off after her and held her until paramedics arrived. Thanks to the quick thinking and heroic actions of the two men, little Emily only had a chipped tooth and required stitches to her forehead.

Fear is a natural, healthy response to a threat. Fear is a good emotion. It warns us of danger and enables us to protect ourselves more effectively. Courage and fear can exist simultaneously. The most important battleground is in the hero's heart and mind. Fear urges the feet to flee while courage appeals to standing firm. It is within us that courage is won or lost.

A three-year-old who wakes up in the middle of the night in the dark with her heart racing and then manages to calm her fears and returns to sleep demonstrates heroism. In doing so, she shares the same fundamental element of courage demonstrated by the firefighters and police officers who climbed up the steps of the World Trade Center on 9-11 while thousands of citizens passed them on their way down to safety. What they have in common is the management of fear.

There is a battlefield saying that the only difference between a hero and a fool is fear. The hero feels fear, and acts anyway. The fool simply acts. A heroic act is one taken in spite of fear, not in ignorance of it.

Now how does this apply to my life? Well, I get it from my role model. My mother. My mother is the most amazing woman I have ever met in my entire life, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone. She has given me strength that I never thought I would achieve. Through all the years I’ve known her, I’ve witnessed all that she is willing to do for people. In fact, she helps people for a living. As a massage therapist, she physically helps people get through physical and/or emotional pain.

I’ve also learned how to be a loving person through her. She constantly tells her loved ones how much she loves them and if there’s anything she could be willing to do for them. These traits and these qualities have signified how simple it is to be a great person. Not that people who aren’t willing to help are bad people, they just may have a different view on heroism. I respect different views like that. Someone may not want to give money to a homeless man or woman because they may be a fraud and dressing up as a homeless person to get money or food. But I’m willing to take that risk. And maybe said person is that desperate for money and food that they do need to dress as a homeless person. You simply never know.

The struggle between doing what is right and taking flight is one that every person faces early in life. Once a person gives into fear and chooses the cowardly act to avoid risk, then that same choice is likely to be repeated the next time danger approaches. Choices based on fear can create a momentum that continues to build until a person wakes up one morning to discover that fear rules his or her life. I think of myself as a animal. I have the heart of a lion. the spirit of a fox. The sight of an eagle. The bravery and loyalty of a dog. I act upon myself to achieve greatness.