I lost my race for US Senate last November in North Carolina, but I have no regrets about running. It was one of the best experiences of my life and continues to motivate me to be engaged locally and throughout the State. In the aftermath of my defeat, I've come to appreciate that you do not have to win to make a difference. Of course, winning is better. But losing and leveraging that experience can propel you to new heights while inspiring others to the same. I am convinced that my dark-horse candidacy helped pave the way for women and members of underserved communities to seek political office.

Just yesterday, I ran into a young woman named Rosie at a local restaurant who recognized me and told me how my campaign changed her view of her place in the political arena. This happens to me every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I have had it happen in the bathroom at Bojangles. The consequence of being on television for a year in political ads, yes. But, also the result of a positive vision and message that resonated with women and young people over the din of political ads. Rosie had heard me speak at her school.

After we met, Rosie sent an email. “Growing up in a small town, I always thought that one day I’d like to serve on a school board or city council…. But your campaign made me aim for Senator, too. You said once that you hoped to have inspired one or two people along the way. I promise you have – I’m one of them.”

When I decided to run, no one who knows North Carolina politics thought I had a real chance. This was not an open seat. I took on a two-term incumbent who has been in Congress for more than 20 years. I still remember visiting a donor who thanked me for running, asked me what I planned to do after I lost, and then wrote me a check. Many more people did not return my early phone calls. And yet I persisted.

Nearly every day for more than a year, I woke up every morning knowing that I would make about 100 phone calls, travel somewhere from the mountains to the coast or throughout the country, speak to people I did not know, and slough off negative attacks against me and my family. The negatives were more than offset by the people I met -- the window into the critical need we have for a direct connection with the people who represent us. One of the first times I gave a speech, there was a young girl who attended with her grandmother. Afterward, she came up and asked for an autograph. She touched me that day in a way I still carry with me.

For a few weeks in September and October, I closed the polling gap. People from all over the country were sending money to the campaign in the hopes of picking up a US Senate seat. In the end, I pulled in an impressive $15 million to make us competitive and force the opposing party to spend resources in a campaign they'd previously assumed was theirs. My campaign staffers, who believed in me from the beginning, were seeing their hard work pay off and smelling an upset victory. The day of the election, my communications director was so certain we'd pull it off that he did not want me to practice my concession speech. Somehow, I knew I needed to be prepared, just in case. Rosie’s words to me about inspiring one or two people came from that speech.