Laps on a track can be tedious for a runner, especially when you can almost sense the nearby beach and mountain trails wondering why you are running in circles instead of enjoying their spectacular views. So maybe I was just bored and looking for entertainment when I noticed the snail there on the track with me. Now I’m not known to be fast, and I don’t want to brag, and pardon me for being crass, but I was absolutely kicking that snail’s ass—if snails have asses. Again, not to brag, but in the time it took me to run twelve laps — three miles! — the snail had only made it across two or three lanes. Regrettably, I don’t think the snail even knew that you are supposed to run on a track in a circular fashion, so its lack of progress was sort of embarrassing. I just couldn’t break the news, but I kept watching on each lap, and that silly snail kept right on going.
I myself was on the track because I am a fifty-three-year-old man whose decades of poor posture produced a year of terrible lower back pain. The pain was so intense that I thought running was over for me entirely. Done. Kaput. Sayonara. But, surprisingly, I have been inching back toward where I would like to be as a runner. Inching, well, I guess, yes, now that I say it out loud, at a snail’s pace. I was specifically on the track that day to take it slow and easy so that I could continue for the long haul.
Huh. Interesting.
Maybe the snail and I have a lot in common after all, beyond our striking features. Stubbornness, for starters. Or, to place it in a more positive frame, perseverance. Confucius reportedly said, “It does not matter how slow you go so long as you do not stop.” I’m not 100% positive that Confucius spoke English, but I’m trusting this is somewhere in the neighborhood.
My primary physical talent is that I do not like to stop. That can often be a negative characteristic in multiple life areas, which is worth considering on another day, but today I celebrate the good in that part of my constitution. I may not be the smartest or fastest or strongest or funniest or best-looking or mechanically-inclined or able to leap even small buildings in a single bound – okay, a bit depressing to go on recognizing all the things I am not – but I have always been able to keep on moving, even when it hurts, and even when it is slow going. Sometimes, maybe that’s a pretty great thing.
I guess a snail running track can be quite inspiring when looked at from the right angle. When we gauge ourselves not by flashy victories but the ability to persist toward a destination, maybe we can be pretty inspiring, too.
It just occurred to me that the snail may have been crossing the track the entire time I was there simply to line up for the mile run. I wouldn’t be surprised, and if so, you go get ‘em my new snail friend.
A recent morning run triggered memories of high school track meets in the 1980s. I ran the distance races for the mighty Falcons, and we barely had time to get off the bus in those days before the 3200 meters race began. Nothing like racing eight laps around the track to get your afternoon going.
Starting to Look Up 