Was life meant to be a race?

The nasty thing about aging. One begins to have self-doubts. About one’s physical capability. And mental acuity. Maybe it’s more imagined. Than real. But then I’ve been told. Numerous times. In numerous ways. That’s supposed to happen. One doesn’t speed up with age. But slows down. So maybe it’s more a matter of expecting the expected. A prophecy coming true. And that scares me. Just a little bit. But maybe all I have to do. Is adjust. Recognizing that I’m no longer the fast-moving hare. I’ve become the plodding turtle. Still capable of winning a race. Against faster competition. By moving with persistence. Steadily ahead. I begin to ponder, too. Whether life was meant to be a race. --Jim Broede