THE RACE

I noticed this morning that I have 99 blog posts archived. So, I wanted to make number 100 special. I have just read this poem and was moved to tears by it. There is so much I would like to say about the meaning but the poem is long so I will just leave my comments to this brief introduction. If there is somewhere you have to be in two minutes, just wait and come back later. You will need a few minutes to process the meaning for your life.

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THE RACE

by DEE GROBERG

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"QUIT! GIVE UP YOU'RE BEATEN!"

THEY SHOUT AT ME AND PLEAD.

"THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH AGAINST YOU NOW.

THIS TIME YOU CAN'T SUCCEED."

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AND AS I START TO HANG MY HEAD

IN FRONT OF FAILURE'S FACE,

MY DOWNWARD FALL IS BROKEN BY

THE MEMORY OF A RACE.

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AND HOPE REFILLS MY WEAKENED WILL

AS I RECALL THAT SCENE;

FOR JUST THE THOUGHT OF THAT SHORT RACE

REJUVENATES MY BEING.

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A CHILDREN'S RACE--YOUNG BOYS, YOUNG MEN--

HOW I REMEMBER WELL.

EXCITEMENT, SURE! BUT ALSO FEAR;

IT WASN'T HARD TO TELL.

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THEY ALL LINED UP SO FULL OF HOPE;

EACH THOUGHT TO WIN THAT RACE.

OR TIE FOR FIRST, OR IF NOT THAT,

AT LEAST TAKE SECOND PLACE.

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AND FATHERS WATCHED FROM OFF THE SIDE

EACH CHEERING FOR HIS SON.

AND EACH BOY HOPED TO SHOW HIS DAD

THAT HE WOULD BE THE ONE.

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THE WHISTLE BLEW AND OFF THEY WENT,

YOUNG HEARTS AND HOPES AFIRE.

TO WIN AND BE THE HERO THERE

WAS EACH YOUNG BOY'S DESIRE.

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AND ONE BOY IN PARTICULAR,

WHOSE DAD WAS IN THE CROWD,

WAS RUNNING NEAR THE LEAD AND THOUGHT:

"MY DAD WILL BE SO PROUD!"

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BUT AS THEY SPED DOWN THE FIELD

ACROSS A SHALLOW DIP,

THE LITTLE BOY WHO THOUGHT TO WIN

LOST HIS STEP AND SLIPPED.

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TRYING HARD TO CATCH HIMSELF,

HIS HANDS FLEW OUT TO BRACE,

BUT MID THE LAUGHTER OF THE CROWD

HE FELL FLAT ON HIS FACE.

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SO DOWN HE FELL AND WITH HIM HOPE

HE COULDN'T WIN IT NOW--

EMBARRASSED, SAD, HE ONLY WISHED

TO DISAPPER SOMEHOW.

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BUT AS HE FELL HIS DAD STOOD UP,

AND SHOWED HIS ANXIOUS FACE,

WHICH TO THE BOY SO CLEARLY SAID,

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

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HE QUICKLY ROSE, NO DAMAGE DONE,

BEHIND A BIT, THAT'S ALL--

AND RAN WITH ALL HIS MIND AND MIGHT

TO MAKE UP FOR HIS FALL.

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SO ANXIOUS TO RESTORE HIMSELF

TO CATCH UP AND TO WIN--

HIS MIND WENT FASTER THAN HIS LEGS;

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

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HE WISHED THEN HE HAD QUIT BEFORE,

WITH ONLY ONE DISGRACE.

"I'M HOPELESS AS A RUNNER NOW;

I SHOULDN'T TRY TO RACE."

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BUT IN THE LAUGHING CROWD HE SEARCHED

AND FOUND HIS FATHER'S FACE;

THAT STEADY LOOK WHICH SAID AGAIN:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

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SO UP HE JUMPED TO TRY AGAIN

TEN YARDS BEHIND THE LAST--

"IF I'M TO GAIN THOSE YARDS," HE THOUGHT,

"I'VE GOT TO MOVE REAL FAST."

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EXERTING EVERYTHING HE HAD

HE REGAINED EIGHT OR TEN,

BUT TRYING SO HARD TO CATCH THE LEAD

HE SLIPPED AND FELL AGAIN!

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DEFEAT! HE LAY THERE SILENTLY

A TEAR DROPPED FROM HIS EYE--

"THERE'S NO SENSE RUNNING ANYMORE;

THREE STRIKES: I'M OUT! WHY TRY!"

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THE WILL TO RISE HAD DISAPPEARED;

ALL HOPE HAD FLED AWAY;

SO FAR BEHIND, SO ERROR PRONE;

A LOSER ALL THE WAY.

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"I'VE LOST, SO WHAT'S THE USE," HE THOUGHT.

"I'LL LIVE WITH MY DISGRACE."

BUT THEN HE THOUGHT ABOUT HIS DAD

WHO SOON HE'D HAVE TO FACE.

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"GET UP," AN ECHO SOUNDED LOW.

"GET UP AND TAKE YOUR PLACE;

YOU WERE NOT MEANT FOR FAILURE HERE.

GET UP AND WIN THE RACE."

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"WITH BORROWED WILL GET UP," IT SAID,

"YOU HAVEN'T LOST AT ALL.

FOR WINNING IS NO MORE THAN THIS:

TO RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL."

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SO UP HE ROSE TO RUN ONCE MORE,

AND WITH A NEW COMMIT

HE RESOLVED THAT WIN OR LOSE

AT LEAST HE WOULDN'T QUIT.

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SO FAR BEHIND THE OTHERS NOW,

THE MOST HE'D EVER BEEN--

STILL HE GAVE IT ALL HE HAD

AND RAN AS THOUGH TO WIN.

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THREE TIMES HE'D FALLEN, STUMBLING;

THREE TIMES HE ROSE AGAIN;

TOO FAR BEHIND TO HOPE TO WIN

HE STILL RAN TO THE END.

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THEY CHEERED THE WINNING RUNNER,

AS HE CROSSED THE LINE FIRST PLACE.

HEAD HIGH, AND PROUD, AND HAPPY;

NO FALLING, NO DISGRACE.

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BUT WHEN THE FALLEN YOUNGSTER

CROSSED THE LINE LAST PLACE,

THE CROWD GAVE HIM THE GREATER CHEER,

FOR FINISHING THE RACE.

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AND EVEN THOUGH HE CAME IN LAST,

WITH HEAD BOWED LOW, UNPROUD,

YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT HE'D WON THE RACE

TO LISTEN TO THE CROWD.

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AND TO HIS DAD HE SADLY SAID,

"I DIDN'T DO TOO WELL."

"TO ME, YOU WON," HIS FATHER SAID.

"YOU ROSE EACH TIME YOU FELL."

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AND NOW WHEN THINGS SEEM DARK AND HARD

AND DIFFICULT TO FACE,

THE MEMORY OF THAT LITTLE BOY

HELPS ME IN MY RACE.

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FOR ALL OF LIFE IS LIKE THAT RACE,

WITH UPS AND DOWNS AND ALL.

AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN,

IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL.