The Tortoise Or The Hare?

The Tortoise or the Hare?

I run with purpose in every step.

1 Corinthians 9:26

On the third Monday of every April since 1897, the world’s oldest annual marathon takes place in Boston, Massachusetts. That day an average of twenty thousand registered participants wind through the 26.2 miles of streets to the finish line at Copley Square. And it’s there that you’ll find, year round, a bronze statue of two animals: a tortoise and a hare.

Of course, they are there to remind everyone of the legendary fable attributed to Aesop. One day a hare saw a tortoise walking slowly along and began to laugh and mock him. The tortoise challenged the hare to a race, and the hare accepted. They agreed on a route and started the race. The hare shot ahead and ran briskly for some time. Then, seeing that he was far ahead of the tortoise, he decided he’d sit under a tree and relax before continuing the race. The hare soon fell asleep. When he awoke, however, he found that his competitor, crawling slowly but steadily, had already won the race.

The moral of the story? It depends on who you identify with most. If it’s the tortoise, you’ll say, “Slow and steady wins the race.” But if it’s the hare, you’ll counter, “You snooze, you lose.”

We stood in Copley Square together recently and thought about the fable and who we both identified with. For Les, it was the rabbit. For Leslie, it was the tortoise. Does it make a difference in our relationship? You bet. The difference in our personal pace can work either against us or for us. And to fall into the latter category, it takes mutual attention and compromise.

Which one are you? The tortoise or the hare? Do you approach your day like a long marathon, slow and steady? Or do you jump into the rat race of your day like it’s a sprint to the finish? How about your spouse? And how do the combinations of your styles shape your relationship?

Love seems the swiftest but is the slowest of all growths. No man and woman really know what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.

—Mark Twain