TL;DR:
Took a Sunday stroll while the million-dollar homes napped and the construction crews (who can’t afford to live here) got the day off. Crossed paths with a woman and her free-range German shepherd, both vibing in their own lane. It hit me—we’re all running our own races, but too often I get yanked by someone else’s pace or path.
Truth is, not every flow is meant for me. Some folks are crawling, some sprinting, and a lot are just lost. I’m learning: pick your race and your pace, and if it sucks—exit stage left. Life’s too short to jog in circles for someone else’s finish line. Sometimes I move solo, and that’s when I really meet myself. But when I do sync up with others? Pure magic. 🪄
I just got back from an early morning walk through my neighborhood. It is Sunday, so the construction workers are not out framing and sawing together homes that they could never afford to live in (this fact still hurts me…). The sun was warm and the south-of-Atlanta humidity was confederating upon my skin. I passed one other human, a woman with a German shepherd, off leash, both courteous and at their own pace. Their own race, destination, heart beat, and deep breaths. For me to do anything but acknowledge their presence and journey would be illogical.
I continued at my pace down the hill, in the middle of a narrow street lined with shiny cars and golf carts, all sitting silently next to large million dollar homes. A father and his daughter worked on bike riding techniques, he was calm and collected, she might have been a bit scared still – no training wheels and a long hill. I walked on and reflected.
We all have different races going on in life and it is best that we move along at the paces that make the most sense for us as individuals. We can control our pace, but we cannot necessarily control the entire race. The race, at it’s core, is the act of being alive. Some tie the act of being alive to productivity, happiness, power grabbing, or even anxiety. Sometimes we don’t get to choose the race, but we do get to manage our own pace. Beyond a 5k or marathon, we have work races, marriage races, parenting kids races, dog ownership races, neighbor races, reading group races…there are so many races to choose from and pace ourselves in!
The dog, the lady, and I all had different races in mind for the morning stroll. While the doggo was following her pace on her race, I am sure pup made side adventures to trees and bushes to get a smell, water a plant. It was the puppo’s chosen pace to take side adventures within their collective race. I didn’t have to adhere to their race, their pace, or anything about their being. I could have asked, “may I walk with you?”, but I didn’t. I chose to remain steadfast in my race at my brisk walking pace. So what gives – why do we (I) frequently feel pushed, pulled, and pummeled by other people’s paces or lack-there-of? We submit to culture, we submit to flow, we submit to silencing our voices and needs.
In order for me to enjoy my life and build myself up, I cannot simply go with the flow that other people or even this culture move at. Oftentimes they are going in the wrong direction for me, sometimes their sloth pace is detrimental to my growth, and rarely – people and cultures are in a race and moving at a pace that suits me. These are diamonds in the rough, places where flow for me is truly amazing. I feel the need to share the burden of the pace because I believe in the race. I also need to get better at sitting back and letting the flow of the pace carry me – typically I feel the need to be a pace setter or keeper.
Choose your races—and everything that comes with them. Hills and valleys, hot or cold, richer or poorer, with fries or tots. Find your pace and be present within the race.
Not every race in life can be quit just because it’s too slow, too fast, too much, too toxic, pays too little—or pays too much (is that even a thing?). That’s when I have to speak up. I have to name the pace I’m observing, the one I’m expected to match, and be clear about the adjustments I need to thrive. I must be my own advocate—even when others mean well and try to speak on my behalf. I can’t keep up with an Olympic marathoner, nor do I want to crawl at toddler speed. Common race, my pace.
Solo pacing: I often run, walk, swim, skip, love, cry, dance, and sing alone. There’s deep solace in these solo strides—I learn who I am, what races are mine, and what pace feels right. It takes guts to go beyond being “in my head” and actually move solo through the world. And sometimes, I don’t need to invite anyone in.
But every now and then, I find people who match my pace. And when that happens? That’s magic. 🪄
Hello, I am Shelton. 