Hard things, Perspective, Resilience

The question Darren didn’t ask.

Picture of Sally Ann Kelso
Sally Ann Kelso

January 17, 2026

One of Darren’s most embarrassing moments happened over 50 years ago, and he still thinks about it. Seriously.

It was the End of the Year 6th Grade Field Day. A big deal.

Darren, being the “star” athlete that he was, was competing against the other 6th grade class’s candidate, a boy who Darren knew was “not good at sports.”  

It would be just the two of them in a 1,000-yard race around the playing field – five full laps in front of every 4th, 5th, and 6th grade class.

Three weeks before the event, Darren’s teacher suggested that he practice for the race.  He told Darren that this race was different from running on a football field or a basketball court. 

“Practice?? Have you seen who I’m racing? I don’t need to practice,” said 12-year-old Darren.

Well, the day of the big race arrived. 

Darren’s friends and his 6th grade girlfriend, Cheree, knew, of course, that Darren would win. And they told everyone. 

“Just you wait!” they yelled. “He’s going to blow him out of the water.”

As the race began, it looked like Darren would do just that.  

He had a huge lead over the other boy at the end of the first two laps. In fact, at that point, Darren could be seen waving to the crowd and fist-pumping like 1970s-era Bruce Jenner!

And then came lap three.

Darren began to slow down. The other boy did not. The other boy had been slower, yes. And also very, very consistent. 

By lap four, Darren was out of gas. His pace had slowed significantly. He looked down as he ran past his friends, his teacher, and crest-fallen Cheree. And he looked down as the other boy steadily passed him. 

When Darren finished the race, the other boy was already there.

Standing. Waiting.

Darren had no more cheering. No more fist pumps. No victory lap. He had just the reality of losing to a kid who had run all five laps the same way. Steady.

The sad part of this story is that Darren didn’t lose because he wasn’t athletic. He was, in fact, the most athletic kid in 6th grade. 

He lost because he ran the wrong race.

He treated it like a sprint when it was a distance event. He assumed his confidence could substitute for pacing.

Darren’s teacher had tried to tell him this race was different. Longer. Demanding in a new way. Darren heard the words and dismissed them. 

There is some simple physiology here. When we go out too fast, we burn through available energy systems quickly. Adrenaline helps us at the start of a race. But it rarely carries us to the end of it. 

Endurance asks us for some restraint early, it asks us to be realistic about capacity, and it asks us to have respect for the full distance.

At twelve, Darren thought being “good at sports” meant he didn’t need to prepare. 

That belief cost him the race.

Darren says that’s the part that still stings: not the loss, the misread.

For most of us, the “misread” happens early:

The time before we begin. 

The moment we assume. 

The second we fail to reassess.

So the question that might actually help us most is, “What kind of race is this, really?”

Think of a current challenge.

Is it something that needs your time? Your attention? Your restraint?

Would it be more effective to sprint? Or to slow it down?

Does it need something more? Something different?

I can’t wait to hear what comes up for you when you really take a look at the kind of race you’re running. And if you want help strategizing, I’m here.



PS Darren’s 6th grade teacher saw him one time when Darren was in high school – and sure enough, “Do you remember that race you lost?” was the only thing he said to him.

Yep, he remembers.

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PPS If you liked this post – or any others, I’d love you to pass me and my work on to a friend.  They can find out much more about me here if they’re interested!

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