“Run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!” Of course, we all know he was eaten by the fox. I am not an aggressive driver, but neither am I the obnoxiously slow left-lane driver, moving at a snail’s pace and oblivious to the death stares from the passersby. I found myself in the middle lane of the interstate recently in what seemed like a race between wannabe NASCAR drivers with a death wish. I remember thinking, “Why do we chase seconds, only to waste years?”
I used to think the fable of the tortoise and the hare was ridiculous.
The tortoise would never stand a chance in real life, right? Consider the beginning of the story.
“A Hare was making fun of the Tortoise one day for being so slow.”
“Do you ever get anywhere?” he asked with a mocking laugh.
“Yes,” replied the Tortoise, “and I get there sooner than you think. I’ll run you a race and prove it.”
Having reached middle age (when did that happen?), I now believe the Tortoise not only has a fighting chance but should be considered the heavy favorite in the race of life.
The tortoise was right all along.
Why? Because we tend to burn out…at everything. Parenting. Work. Health. Fitness. Faith. Marriage. Friendships. Volunteering. It’s hard to keep going. It’s hard to persevere. Life is short, but it feels long. It will always be hard to continue doing the things that count. One of the primary reasons we quit on good things prematurely is because we feel let down by them. All we want is constant comfort, convenience, consumption, and contentment. Is that too much to ask? Ha! Our expectations and demands of this life are absurd. No wonder stress levels, depression, and disappointment are chronically high.
We have made gods of happiness and pleasure.
When did the refrain of parents, “I just want my kids to be happy,” begin? What did we expect would happen? At the risk of revealing too much of my faith and offending a few (is it even possible to make it through a day without offending anyone?), I want my kids to be holy, not happy. I want them to pursue holiness, not happiness.
It is the fruit of a life well lived.
It is unexpected. It surprises us. It is a gift given at the unlikeliest of times, in the unlikeliest of places, often from the unlikeliest of people. The harvest of happiness is sown in a garden of struggle, submission, service, and perseverance. We don’t deserve it if we give up.
Fred Lopez, a colleague of mine, shared with me early in my career that “this business is a marathon, not a sprint.” I have cherished this wisdom. It is true in all things. Don’t be in a rush to retire prematurely. Figure out how to enjoy work. Date your spouse again before you consider divorce. Trade sweet drinks for water before reaching pre-diabetes. Don’t be a workaholic. You’ll lose your family in the process. Even worse, your kids and grandkids might follow in your footsteps. Before you retire from something, make sure you retire to something!
Life is a marathon, not a sprint.
I set my 5k PR on a muggy, early summer morning recently with only the moon to witness it. (Thanks, Jon! If you need a local running coach, I will connect you.) I wasn’t looking for happiness, but it revealed itself unexpectedly as I let out a holler of satisfaction. I’m learning to love running even though I didn’t grow up running, because I see my fitness level as a litmus test for the adventures that await.
What are you retiring to?
I want my 20 grandchildren (yes, I realize they haven’t been born yet!) to love spending time with me, because I can do things with them that I’m supposed to be too old to do. Thank you, Granddad, for carrying canoes in Canada with me in your 80s and giving me a taste of what is possible—I miss you. And I will one day tell grandkids of my own that the reason I can still carry a canoe with them in my 90s, God willing, is because my Granddad showed me how to keep going, how to persevere.
Like the Tortoise, I will get there sooner than the Hare thinks. Let’s leave the hares behind. Don’t quit. Don’t burn out. Keep going. Happiness awaits.
September 2025
