The Tortoise and the Hare.

Over the last couple years of really being intentional with my learning, writing, speaking and creating, there is no piece of advice that has surprised me more than the Tortoise and the Hare. It’s one of Aesop’s Fables, definitely the less gruesome of stories, that is fun to listen to as a kid, but holds deep truths when applied to life. And this one can be applied everywhere.

But does it win every race? I guess it depends on which race you’re running. 

I’ve found advice from budgeting and finance books that directly reference the Tortoise and the Hare. Something so simple applied to something so fundamental in our lives. 

It’s not always mentioned as the Tortoise and the Hare, but the principle is the same. If you want to win, slow and stead wins the race. 

But does it win every race? I guess it depends on which race you’re running. 

If we’re running the 100 meters, I’m pretty sure the story would have ended differently. So it must not mean the short races, it must mean the long race, maybe more applied to the race we’re in called life.

Life isn’t a series of sprints. It’s a marathon—maybe even an ultramarathon.

There was one time I was at a birthday party with my kids for someone in their school. At this age, parents can sometimes tend to stick around throughout the party. To be honest, I’m not sure why, we all deal with the awkward conversations like, “So our kids are in the same class…” 

I’ve learned that in order to have a conversation with someone, and make it enjoyable, it’s easier to be the one asking all the questions. John Maxwell said once that if you’re the one asking the questions, you’re the one leading the conversation. And I didn’t want to talk, but I sure can ask a lot of questions.

Poor guy. He probably didn’t want to talk much either, but I just kept asking questions.

Life isn’t a series of sprints. It’s a marathon—maybe even an ultramarathon.

I discovered he is an ultramarathon runner. I’m a runner. I run on average 12 miles a week, and my average length per run is anywhere between 3-4 miles. His average is 26 per week. He runs races that are 50 plus miles long. They certainly are a different breed, but I was going to get my money’s worth for hanging out at this party.

I learned all about the community of ultramarthoners, how he got into it, his average mile time, shoes, supplements. Anything I could think of, I learned. Everything was fascinating, but I was most surprised by the way the races go. Now, granted, he’s not a pro-ultramarathoner, so this might not apply to all ultramarathoners, but I learned that he doesn’t actually run the whole time, nor is a continuous race. It does mean that there’s a beginning and an end, but it doesn’t mean you are always running. Sometimes you’re walking, sometimes you’re at the shack eating food around a campfire before heading out again.

It’s more of an experience than it is a race. At least for him. And I thought, oh, that makes so much more sense. If I spent 12 hours of my day running, walking, hanging out with my friends, I, too, could become an ultramarathoner. 

It didn’t lower my fascination and wonder at how the human body can run such lengths, what it did do was remind me that getting to the finish line isn’t always the goal of races. These people truly just have a great time. It’s not always about the fastest, it’s about seeing it through—getting it done is the natural process of putting one foot in front of another.

And learning is no different.

Learning is the process of creating new pathways, reinforced overtime, stored in the hippocampus, and then prioritizing the new information over the old. It’s letting yourself be immersed in the information in front of you long enough to create the new neurons you need, not just strengthening synapses. When we strengthen the synapses, that’s like cramming for a test, but building new neurons, which takes a lot of time, makes us the master of what we’re learning.

Like Norman Doidge, M.D. said, “Understanding this tortoise-and-hare effect can help us understand what we must do to truly master new skills.”

You want to master something new this year? The trick is not to go as fast as you can as quickly as you can, it’s to pace yourself. If Malcolm Gladwell’s assertion of 10,000 hours is correct, it will take some time for you to be a master in the thing you’re doing.

Good news is found in how a runner finishes their ultramarathon—one step at a time.


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