Why do we accept racing as a metaphor for living? We are conditioned to always be moving forward, advancing to the next step, reaching the next benchmark. We live with the next thing in mind – always. Consequently, slowing down is not something we do well. 

At first thought – going fast does make sense. Speed is exciting. Being first is rewarded. Being last doesn’t feel good unless you are the last to have to do something bad like see the dentist, but even then going first would have meant getting it over with quicker. And there we are again racing – even when it means the finish line is something we do not want.

Aside from the experience of literally running in a race – I am at a loss to identify an experience where going fast produces better results. Becoming an expert takes lots of time. Solving complex problems requires deliberate thought. Understanding a difficult concept or mastering a difficult skill cannot be rushed. How many times – having made a mistake – have we heard the advice to “take your time” or “slow down.” The pinnacle of accomplishments are awarded to the tortoise, not the hare. Racing – outside of running – seems done out of an effort to erase the experience from our present. We get through school. We look forward to the week-end. We look to finish as much as we can from our “to do” list.

In my thirties, a friend – the fastest person I have ever run with – taught me to run slowly. I had always tried to run as fast as possible. Running was exhausting, stressful, something to get over with as soon as possible – always sprinting at the end to be done. Learning to run slow was hard work. It took mental effort. It took discipline. It called for patience. I had to unlearn the habit of racing. The results: I became faster than I had ever imagined possible. Running slowly taught me to run well. I became an expert.

The older I get, the more I observe that things done well are done slowly over time – not quickly within time. Over time with deliberate and consistent effort we move slowly to cure illnesses, to negotiate lasting peace, to evolve. How different would life be if racing was not idolized beyond the track? Just the simpler pleasure of reading a good book if we were able to ignore the temptation to finish. What if we were raised to slow down so we could extend the finish line? What if we gave ourselves permission – or even more challenged ourselves – to reread passages misunderstood, revisit the examination of problems before moving to solutions, or stop and let an inching caterpillar cross our path? How different living might feel if racing was not applied to our living.

Racing feels like an empty sales pitch, a marketing scheme that celebrates quantity over quality. A call to take the short cut, to do more than we can do well, to buy more than we can afford. Good for the economy, but not so good for our quality of life. Racing can be exhilarating to do and exciting to watch, but beyond the track it seems like a losing strategy. 

Peace,
Chris