"Pace After Success" -Porcupette
the year is long
I’ve never run a marathon—or a half-marathon for that matter.
If you’ve run either distance, I’d love to know: What’s it like in those moments right after the gun sounds and you’re off? While I’ve never experienced it firsthand, the marathon analogy captures my feelings a few weeks into 2025.
Remove the Blindfold
Last year, on a phone call, I vented to Drew about adulthood:.
Job.
House.
Relationships.
Kids.
401(k).
Dog.
Grill (and a spatula to go with it).
“It’s never enough,” I told him, unloading frustration over the endless cycle of striving for more. Then Drew asked me a question: “Willy, do you think you’re afraid of success?”
Afraid of success?
Fast forward to January 1, 2025, and something clicked. I described it to Lauren that morning:
It’s like I’ve been swinging at a piñata with a blindfold on for the past five years. Success is the piñata, and I’ve nicked it a few times—“I know it’s there; I’ve hit the foot!” But on January 1st, I felt like God removed the blindfold. For the first time, I could see the whole piñata.
At first, I panicked. “God, put the blindfold back on. That’s cheating!” But God nudged me: “You weren’t meant to nick the foot, Will. I want you to blast this thing into smithereens.”
My next thought was predictable: If I can see success, then I’m going to chase after it.
But then came another nudge: “Easy, Will. You don’t chase after success—you pace after it.”
Pace After Success
That realization hit me hard: You don’t chase success. You pace after it.
Jesus didn’t chase success. His life was marked by intentionality and purpose. As I approach my 33rd birthday—what some call their “Jesus Year”—this truth feels especially timely. For someone who’s never been big on “Word of the Year” resolutions, I suddenly knew mine: pace.
Inspired by Eugene Peterson’s A Long Obedience in the Same Direction and Terry Looper’s Sacred Pace, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to run the race of life well. Such wisdom reminds me that life isn’t about speed but about steady, intentional progress.
Pace or Distance?
I’ve often wondered why I can barely run farther than a 5K, whether on a treadmill or in my neighborhood. Around the 2- or 3-mile mark, my body—or more likely, my mind—shuts down.
Recently, I realized:
“There’s nothing wrong with a 12-minute pace.”
“But most people I know run a 7- or 8-minute pace.”
“That’s not where you are right now, and that’s OK.”
To obsess over a faster pace feels like It’s never enough. But to run at a steady, sustainable rhythm feels like a long obedience in the same direction.
The Joy of a Steady Pace
At a 12-minute pace, something beautiful happens: I can breathe. I can have conversations. I can encourage others and help them run their race.
Pacing isn’t settling for less—it’s finding a rhythm that allows you to endure, enjoy, and bring others along. This year, I’m choosing to stop chasing and start pacing. One step at a time.
Previous Porcupette: God of the Odd Ducks reflects on how the Church thrives when it embraces authenticity over “cool.” Inspired by personal experiences, I explored how God calls all of us—odd ducks included—into His mission.
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