When my younger brother and I were kids, our father would often enlist us in his work crew of one. We cleared brush in the woods around the house, raked leaves, mucked out stables in the barn, and helped him build decorative rock walls, which he constructed on every property he ever owned.
Frequently, Dad would pause in these chores, look at us, and comment: “Pace yourself, boys. You’re going to wear out.”
This same counsel is embedded in the adage “Life’s a marathon, not a sprint.” As the narrator of Robert Frost’s “
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” tells us, we have miles to go before we sleep.
Nevertheless, the pace of the race we’re in is uneven. Sometimes, circumstances demand a gallop rather than a trot, or even a charge at breakneck speed. Our supervisor tells us he needs a crucial report right away, as in yesterday, and jogging isn’t an option. Conversely, the rabbits who are always hurtling ahead, treating every task as if it, too, had to be done yesterday, are likely to overlook details and offend by their brusqueness their co-workers, friends, and family.
Here are four strategies that will help us complete these races while boosting our chances of happiness and success.
Matching the pace to the race. That task assigned to us by the supervisor demands a mad dash. Other parts of our lives, such as marriage or raising children, are long-distance runs. Sometimes, our progress slows to a plodding walk-a-thon, and we wonder whether we’re ever going to reach the finish line. When we adjust our frame of mind to the pace, the race becomes easier and even enjoyable.
Knowing our limits. President Theodore Roosevelt was a sprinter. He darted from project to project, overcoming obstacles, always moving ahead, and rarely slowing his pace. In 1914, the 55-year-old Roosevelt undertook an exploration of the
Amazon River. Insects, rain, illness, and lack of proper food and medical attention took their toll. He never recovered from this ordeal, and by age 60, he was dead.
In the film “Magnum Force,” Dirty Harry (Clint Eastwood)
says, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” That’s a big part of staying in the race.
Taking the long view. A mother of three small children can find every day a sprint, dressing and feeding the little ones, changing diapers, settling arguments. It’s easy to lose sight of the finish line, which is to raise three human beings to become responsible and moral adults. Whether we’re running a 100-meter dash or an ultramarathon, we can benefit by pausing from time to time to visualize the finishing tape, our goal, rather than focusing solely on the race itself.
Finding joy along the way. Life can unleash its cruel afflictions on each of us: financial ruin, the loss of a job, physical infirmity, the death of a beloved. Often we have little or no control over the damage done by these catastrophes. But where we do have some jurisdiction, our day-to-day lives, these wounds become self-inflicted if we center too much energy on the race and ignore joy, love, and beauty. By closing our eyes to these things, we risk becoming zombies, blind to the wonders around us, the real reasons why we’re running in the first place.
“Cool runnings” is a Jamaican expression that can mean “Peace for the journey.” We run all sorts of races before breaking the final tape of life. We may win some medals and applause from the crowd, but when we run with grace, always mindful of the essentials of a life well-lived—love, happiness, friendship—an interior peace will be one of our greatest rewards.
