Down the Rabbit Hole

Training for a marathon for the first time is enough to make anyone feel a bit like Alice lost in Wonderland. It seems as if you are on a journey that you don't really understand, and the people who try to give you advice all seem to be speaking in riddles. This morning, that feeling was amplified when I saw not one or two, but six rabbits on my run. When I saw the first one, I thought, "Well, rabbit's feet are lucky, right?" By the time I saw the third or fourth one, I knew that was just a little too much luck for one day, and it seemed as if they were instead saying, "You're late! You're late!"


Then I saw a turtle. When I ran with my brother last week I saw a turtle as well, and the animal symbolism changed again. I figured out that the story I was actually in was really the fable of the tortoise and the hare.
And the moral of that story is slow and steady wins the race. I just kept repeating the new but old mantra. As the temperature rose, and I started getting tired, I realized that the old phrase was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I don't know where that tortoise and that hare were racing, but it surely wasn't Pennsylvania, Delaware, or Missouri because I've been to those races, and slow and steady does not win the race.

I ran on, irritated, and I was not enjoying myself at all. I was irritated that I didn't wake up earlier. I was irritated that I didn't bring water with me. I was irritated that I was passed by an old guy yesterday, and I was irritated that we go around teaching kids that slow and steady wins the race when that is absolutely not true. Boy, I was on a roll. Then I realized that I was almost done. That's when it dawned on me. Slow and steady finishes the race. And sometimes, that's all that matters.