Bill Ferguson says he’s learned from his close call. Now comes the hard part.

Bill Ferguson, having just declared victory over his primary opponent, stood on stage before a crowd of supporters Tuesday night and offered a moment of introspection: This campaign humbled him.

During the legislative session, it became clear that a race that could have been a cakewalk was actually a 15-point dogfight. Bobby LaPin may be an amateur politician with an Instagram following, but he spent months effectively exploiting what some saw as Ferguson’s biggest weakness: The Senate president, a 16-year incumbent, had lost touch with his district.

“There were moments when I realized that people felt further away than I ever knew,” Ferguson said on election night. His campaign declined to make him available for an interview for this story.

The race showcased Ferguson’s shortcomings, and perhaps a better-equipped opposition candidate could have beaten him.

But Ferguson threw himself into his campaign, working nonstop to reconnect with voters and recommit himself to the version of himself that first took the 46th District 16 years ago. Now, he seems poised to return to Annapolis more focused and responsive to his district than before.

“I hope it makes me better,” Ferguson said of the race against LaPin.

For years Ferguson frustrated constituents, especially progressives, with what some perceived as a lack of responsiveness. His staff in Annapolis may be hard to reach or, occasionally, difficult to deal with, constituents said. Key legislation on immigration, the environment and juvenile justice would pass the Maryland House only to languish in a Senate desk drawer.

The tension was especially acute this legislative session, as President Donald Trump attacked Maryland’s institutions, immigrant communities and federal workers, the cost of living soared, and Ferguson clashed with Gov. Wes Moore over mid-cycle congressional redistricting.

As if that weren’t enough, Ferguson essentially had to learn how to campaign again. LaPin was his first opponent in 12 years, and his most competitive since he knocked off George Della Jr. in 2010.

“Having to fight for his life a little bit with Bobby LaPin is going to reignite the fire he had in his belly in 2010,” said Alexandra Hughes, a lobbyist who served as chief of staff to former Maryland House Speaker Michael Busch.

Hughes, who campaigned for Della, said Ferguson used to be more likely to lean in on key issues and fight it out on the Senate floor for what he believed in. As president of the chamber, he has taken a softer approach than his predecessor, Mike Miller, who was in the role longer than anyone in the state’s history (at one point, Miller was the longest-serving state senate president in the country) and ran the chamber like a quasi-emperor.

But Ferguson has put too much emphasis on the chamber’s work as opposed to his own record. Normally a senator would go home from Annapolis and talk about all the things they’d done. But if Ferguson lists his accomplishments, he runs the risk of upsetting his fellow senators.

“They might be annoyed and wonder why he got all of that stuff and they didn’t,” Hughes said.

That’s a fine way to govern a chamber, but it hurts when you want to give people a reason to vote for you, something Ferguson acknowledged.

“Too few people knew what we had gotten done on their behalf,” he said.

Ferguson had an outreach problem as well. His office was traditionally more easily reachable by lobbyists and professional advocates, but less so by everyday voters, said Kim Coble, executive director of the League of Conservation Voters.

During his campaign, Ferguson knocked on thousands of doors across the 46th Legislative District, from Cherry Hill to Highlandtown. Those conversations offered him a direct line to the people he had not engaged with enough, and Coble thinks Ferguson took them to heart.

“He learned a lot. He connected with people,” she said.

During an election-night news conference, Ferguson said he was “certain” this campaign would result in his being “better engaged” and “communicating as effectively as possible.”

“This is what democracy does,” he said. “It pushes elected officials to make sure that they are representing your constituency as effectively as possible.”

There will be people watching to make sure he does just that.

Kelly Quinn, an organizer in the Riverside neighborhood, is among those who’d been frustrated with Ferguson over the last few years. She said in a previous interview that his staff had left her feeling “disappointed and alienated.” In mid-May, she hosted a gathering of fellow progressives at her home, where they could meet Ferguson and question him about his record.

At that meeting, Quinn said, Ferguson committed to supporting further reforms over the next two years regarding the prosecution of children as adults.

“I expect him to follow through,” she said.

Quinn was in the room on election night when Ferguson said he had been humbled, and she thought he was sincere. But another of his remarks stood out to her as evidence that he would be different going forward.

Ferguson quoted former U.S. Sen. Barbara Mikulski, whose congressional district when she was in the House of Representatives included much of Ferguson’s present-day district.

“Barbara told me once that this is not a high-tech district, but a high-touch district,” Ferguson said. “She was right then, and is even more right today.”