Last week, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a while. We stopped on the street, spent all of 20 seconds talking, and then he ran off. “I’m buried at work!” he told me. “I need to schedule my days with a stopwatch.”
We reconnected today. Our conversation went like this:
Him: Sorry I rushed off like that…but I’ve been really, really busy. You know how it is.
Me: Sure. Hey, I’m glad that you’re focused on making progress. Where were you headed last week?
Him: Well…you know what? I actually can’t remember.
As we talked, he admitted something else: while he’s incredibly busy, he doesn’t feel like he’s really accomplishing anything. And that bothered him.
His story reminds me of the first car I bought. It was a real clunker; when I pushed down on the accelerator, the RPMs would increase faster than the speed of the car. So while the engine worked hard, it struggled to get anywhere.
After a while, the car quit.
When our speed in life exceeds our actual progress, aren’t we bound to quit as well?