Falling Behind

I am sure I am not alone when I say I have more than one awkward memory from gym class. The worst, however, always involved running. I couldn’t run. I had terrible asthma that was always awful in the fall—the very time my gym teacher scheduled us to run the mile. And though I had a doctor’s note to get me out of it, she insisted that I try. So I’d line up with my classmates on the track, our teacher would say, “Go,” and in the middle of the pack, I would start jogging.

But as we began to hit the first turn, those around me would begin to thin. We’d hit the first straightaway and I’d sadly tell my friends to go ahead without me. By this point, I was breathing hard and had a cramp in my side. I tried to find my pace while breathing in as much fresh air as my broken lungs would allow. Then, as I told myself I could at least make the first lap, the fastest kids in my class began to pass me.

They were already a lap ahead of me.

My mental resolve dissolved. I walked/ran to the end of my first lap, and showed my teacher how impossible it was for me to breath. She nodded, and I sat down on the bleachers for the rest of class.

Isn’t it awful to feel behind? To feel like you can’t keep up athletically, academically, socially—or in life in general? For some of us this feeling starts early, like in gym class. Or when you realize all your friends except you, are “going out” with someone. But as much as it hurts in middle school or high school, it always seems worse when you are an adult.

We don’t talk about it much. We often hold it in for months before finally breaking down and admitting to a close friend that we’re struggling. But the problem is not that we’re “behind,” it is that we think we are.

Somewhere along the line, our culture handed us a timeline—an invisible yard stick for life. It gave us an approximate idea of what should happen in our lives and when. It looks something like this:

“Go to college, buy a car, get a job, fall in love, get married, buy a house, have kids, plan for retirement…”

It’s the American dream fleshed out. It’s our heart’s desires and dreams put in little boxes all organized neatly in a row. We all know people who fit into this timeline. The problem is, for enough of us, life isn’t that neat. Not only that, who says it’s supposed to be?

Robert Frost wrote about taking the road less traveled, but what if some of us took it without even realizing it? We followed our dream career, yet didn’t meet the spouse we thought we would. Or we fell in love young, but never followed our childhood dream. Or, we were on “the path,” following the timeline, when our lives suddenly took an unplanned turn.

Does that mean we’re behind?

Those days on the track in gym, watching my classmates lap me, stressed me out. It made my already struggling lungs tighten up, and me feel like a failure. Since then, I have had the same feeling: watching friends get married when I was still single, going to baby showers when all I could think about was my job, and after getting married, watching others buy houses and have second and third children.

But I have found that many times I struggle—not because others are getting what I want—but more often because the timeline works for them. Like we are playing a grown up version of Candy Land, and I keep getting the cards that move me backwards, while they keep getting cards that move them forward. What I have to remind myself is:

There is No Timeline.

We are not playing a game or even back on the track in high school. Rather we are all on a million different paths—each with its own triumphs, heartbreaks, and timing. We were never meant to measure our lives by the same yardstick. If we were, God wouldn’t have given us so many opportunities and options as to who we can become.

When I stop looking at my life as a timeline, I am able to slow down and not feel as rushed to make things happen. I am able to appreciate it for what it is, not try and make it what it is not.