Message for the Highly Motivated

Once a candle’s wick is ignited, its flame can burn endlessly for hours, illuminating the surrounding space and filling its air with intoxicating aromas of vanilla or cinnamon or mint.

But as the ember calmly rages on, the wax inside the candle slowly withers away, the flame dimming with each passing hour. If no outside forces artificially extinguish it, the flame eventually burns itself out, leaving behind a decayed wick and hints of the smell that once was, and can no longer be.

Our older peers will often credit us for our abilities to inject new fires into seemingly lifeless people and/or situations. We can do this, of course, because we enter the next phase of our lives extremely confident and motivated to make an immediate impact. After all, we’ve dreamt about this moment for years now -- the days of independence and self-sufficiency.

So naturally, once we hear the gunfire signal the start of the race, we hit the ground running -- literally. We zoom past the competition, mocking them as we go by, wondering why they aren’t pushing themselves harder. We know in the moment we’re suffering, but we visualize the finish line and know that if we just stay the course, we’ll find ourselves dashing through the white tape in no time.

Instead, we run so fast and so early that we cannot possibly maintain this pace. After spending a few miles ahead of the pack, we eventually keel over to catch our breath, completely unaware until then of how lousy we feel. In almost the blink of an eye, our adrenal glands fail and the runners we thought were light years behind us come gliding by, smiling blissfully as they pace themselves upon reaching their final destination.

Candles are not meant to burn until they extinguish themselves. We want to preserve the candle’s scent, so we must blow it out once it has served its purpose for the day. And not even the best distance runners in the world expend 100 percent of their energy from the get-go because they know how crucial it is to reserve some fuel for later.

The next time you feel like you can’t run anymore, please stop running. Blow out the candle. Admitting defeat is a sign of strength, not weakness.

As they say, it’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Troy Farkas is an aspiring writer. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram @tfark04.