The Race
The Race, by D. H. Groelberg
I
“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!:
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.
And hope refills my weakened will,
. As I recall that scene,
For just the thought of that short race,
. Brings courage to my being.
II
A children’s race, young boys, young men,
. How I remember well.
Excitement, sure! But also fear,
. It wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up, so full of hope,
. Each thought to win that race,
Or tie for first and if not that,
. At least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side,
. Each cheering for his son.
Each boy so hoped to show his dad
. That he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they went,
. Young hearts and hopes afire;
To win the race and be the one
. Was each young boy’s desire,
One boy that day indeed stood out,
. His Dad was in the crowd,
He was running near the lead:
. “My dad will be so proud!”
Bit as they sprinted down the field,
. Across a shallow dip,
The speeding boy who thought to win
. Soon stumbled and then slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself
. His hands flew out to brace.
Now hearing laughter from the crowd,
. He fell flat on his face.
So down he went, and with him, hope,
. He couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
. To disappear somehow.
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!”
He quickly rose – no damage done,
. Behind a bit, that’s all.
He ran with all his mind and might
. To make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself,
. To catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs,
He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before
With only one disgrace,
“I’m worthless as a runner now,
I shouldn’t try to race.”
But in the laughing crowd he searched
And found his father’s face,
That steady look said once again,
“Get up and win the race!”
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!”
Now giving everything he had,
He regained eight or ten,
But trying hard to catch the lead
He slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He laid there silently.
A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore,
Three strikes, I’m out, why try?”
The will to rise had disappeared,
All hope had fled away
So far behind, so down and out,
A loser all the way.
“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.
“Get up!” The echo sounded low,
“Get up and take your place!”
“You were not meant for failure here!
Get up and win the race!”
With borrowed will, “Get up!” it said,
“You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is much more than this —
To rise each time you fall!”
So up he rose to run again,
With faith he did commit
To run, to try, to win or lose,
At least he would not quit.
So far behind the others now,
The most he’d ever been,
But still he gave it all he had,
He ran as though to win!
The crowd cheered for another boy
Who crossed the line – first place!
His head was high and oh so proud,
No failing, no disgrace.
But when the falling, stumbling boy
Crossed o’er the line, last place,
The crowd gave him the loudest cheer
For finishing the race!
And even though he came in last
With head hung low, unproud,
You would have thought he’d won the race
To listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said,
“I did not do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said,
“You rose each time you fell!”
And so when things get dark and hard
And difficult to face,
The memory of that brave young boy
Helps me as now I race.
With ups and downs and all that’s hard,
All I must do to win
Is rise each time I trip and fall,
Get up and don’t give in.
“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten now!”
They shout into my face.
Another voice within me says,
“Get up and win the race!”
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