A man once came upon a lad about midday skipping stones across
a pond. "Hello, young man," he said, approaching. "What brings you
here on a school day?"
"I wrote a poem yesterday which was the best in class, and the
teacher said I could play today while the other children wrote
more poems."
"Well, then, you are to be congratulated. Yours is certainly a
deed of distinction. And as a reward," he added, settling himself
on a tree stump, "let me tell you a story about two horses."
"Oh, yes, do," the youth said eagerly, sitting down at the
man's feet.
"The first horse lived in Arabia, and he was beautiful and
strong. He had never lost a race. And he was shrewd. He would
run just hard enough to pull away from the other horses in the race,
and then he would let up and trot, or even walk, across the finish
line, to the great embarrassment and humiliation of all the
other horses."
"He was clearly a superior animal," the young poet interjected.
"Yes, he was," agreed the man. "Now the other horse lived in
Macedonia, and he, too, was strong and noble. He had, however, lost
one race, the first race of his life; and some say he always
remembered that when he ran."
"How grating to the heart it must be to lose so early and have
a blight on one's reputation," mused the young man.
"But this horse always won every other race. And unlike our
first horse, when this Macedonian horse ran and knew he had beaten
the other horses, instead of letting up he redoubled his efforts and
ran even harder--as hard as he could--for he now ran not against the
fortuitous competitors with whom he began the race, but against his
own heart: against all horses past and all horses future, against
every horse in Macedonia and every one in Arabia, and also against
the ideal horse with a pace so frighteningly fast that few can
conceive its possibility. And even more than this, he ran toward
the perfection of excellence itself. And when he crossed the
finish line, as happy as he was to win, he secretly lamented that
his opponents had not been fast enough to threaten him and push
him onward."
"Even though he lost once," the lad remarked after a short
silence, "perhaps this horse was as good as the Arabian."
"Perhaps so, my child," said the man, with a smile. "Perhaps so."