In 2025: run, don’t walk!

What follows is the poem “The Race” written by Dr. D.H. “Dee” Groberg in 1986 which seems to rise up this time of year, most years, to remind me of the importance of rising when I fall. It is a motivational piece that illustrates the importance of perseverance, resilience, and never giving up, even in the face of repeated failures. The poem uses the metaphor of a boy’s race to convey broader life lessons about determination and the will to rise after every fall.

Now that the starting gun has sounded on 2025, I challenge you to run your own race, and when you fall, which you most certainly will, I hope you rise again to continue the drive towards your own success.

The Race

“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 Rejuvenates 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, or if not that,

At least to take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering on his son.

And each boy 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 and be the hero there

Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular

Whose Dad was in the crowd

Was running in the lead and thought:

“My Dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip,

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace,

And mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell 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 rose quickly, no damage done,

-Behind a bit, that’s all-

And 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 then he had quit before

With only one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now;

I shouldn’t try to race!”

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found in his father’s face;

That steady look which said 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.”

Exerting everything he had

He regained eight or ten,

But trying so hard to gain the lead

He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay 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 error prone;

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,” an 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 no more than this:

To rise each time you fall.”

So up he stood to run once more,

And with a new commit

He resolved that win or lose,

At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now,

-The most he’d ever been-

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;

Three times he rose again;

Too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner

As he crossed the line first place.

Head high, and proud and happy;

No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place,

The crowd gave him the greatest cheer,

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last

With head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he’d won the race

To listen to the crowd.

And to his Dad he sadly said,

“I didn’t do too well.”

“To me, you won,” his father said.

“You rose each time you fell”

III

And now when things seem dark and hard

And too difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race,

With its ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win

Is rise each time you fall.

“Quit!  Give up!  You’re beaten!”

They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

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So, as this new year has left the gate, let me summarize this great poem with one of my own:

May you rise each time you fall,

may you Find strength to stand once more.

For life’s great race is won by those

Who persevere, not score.

The boy who stumbled, fell, and rose,

Though last, inspired them all.

For victory’s found in courage shown

When you answer failure’s call.

So heed the voice that urges you,

“Get up and run your race!”

Each fall’s a chance to rise again

And meet life face to face.

Happy new year to you all.

Now RUN!!!

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Paul Kearley is a professional leadership, communications and sales coach for businesspeople who are taking command of their career and making an impact. He has worked as a business coach and trainer, Virtual Trainer, and speaker since 1985.

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