Greater Than a Legacy

Have you ever read a story about a tortoise that was faster than a hare? You couldn’t have because there has never been a tortoise that was faster than a hare. Though, a similar story you may recall is one about a tortoise that won a race due to a hare's arrogance.

My great, great grandfather is the famed tortoise from “The Tortoise and The Hare.” Since I was a hatchling, the tale of Grandpa Ivor’s victory has plagued me. A burden I wish wasn’t mine. There have been crushing expectations for me to not only live up to his legacy but revive it.

For generations, the same two families (mine and The Hare’s) have raced every twenty years. Not only to commemorate the original race but to establish which family is superior. The tortoise or the hare. 

Ever since Grandpa Ivor’s victory, the Hares have become wiser. They no longer underestimate an opponent. As a result, the Hares have won every year since. My grandfather lost and my mother lost.

From the time I was five years old, I was the fastest tortoise. Which was true, I outpaced all my relatives in every activity: walking, running, and even eating. But against any other creature, I was sluggish. I knew I was not going to win with my speed, so I searched for other options.

I asked my mother how she had attempted to win the race. She told me she had laid similar rocks and berries along the race path before the race. An attempt to convince the hare he was sprinting in circles. Mother said she hoped he would veer off the path, but instead, he held onto a berry. He discovered a near-identical one farther up the path. The hare had seen right through her deception. I then asked what my grandfather had tried, and she said nothing. He had assumed the hares were still as vain as when Grandpa Ivor had raced. 

To win my race, I knew I had to be more clever than my mother and more cautious than my grandfather. 

That was when my nickname would become reality. I would not be the fastest tortoise but the tortoise that was faster than the hare. 

For fifteen years I trained day and night. Running for hours a day. All for this race. 

***

It's a balmy summer day, the sun high in the sky as if to have a front-row seat to this historic moment. The beginning of the race is a stark line craved into the loose dirt. Towering trees define the track. The canopy of their leaves scattering rays of sunlight through the woods.

To not give away my secret, I amble to the starting line. As I do, I glance around at the other animals that have gathered around the starting line. It seems the entire forest has come to witness this race. 

Birds, deer, moose, squirrels, and chipmunks. Even raccoons that have come out in the middle of the day. All chirping and cheering in anticipation. A dark brown hare sits at the start. Their back turned to me. 

I finally reach the side of the hare, “Hello, I’m Leonard.”

The hare swivels her head to me and snorts. Swiftly returning her head, “The name’s Fiona.”

I gather it's in my best interest to not press her any further. Instead, I focus on the path in front of me. 

A squirrel comes bounding out from the crowd and stops in the race track. “Are you ready for the fourth race of The Tortoise and The Hare," he bellows. In unison, the crowd squeals and honks in affirmation.

The squirrel raises his voice, “Leonard and Fiona, get ready!”

I shuffle my feet into position. Beside me, Fiona leaps up and down until settling on all fours. She is in a pose that appears more like a stalking bobcat ready to pounce on its prey than an innocent hare.

“Ready,” my frayed nerves jitter. My heart thrashes in my chest, sending reverberations through my body.

“Set…,” I steal one last glance at my opponent. Her eyes fix on a point far ahead on the track, but my gaze far ahead of hers. Mine concentrates on triumph.

“GO!”

When I sprint, my feet seem to levitate from the dirt. I leave the starting line behind effortlessly. Before I grasp it, I'm past the hoard of animals. I turn back to find Fiona still at the start. A stunning expression plastered across her face. Her already large eyes bulging out of their sockets. She recovers and catches up to me.

We are nearly matched in agility. I knew I had become quicker, but I never fathomed I could match the pace of a hare. 

Panting, she yells to me, “How are you this fast!”

I flash a smug smile and quicken my step. Neck and neck we speed through the forest. Trees and brush blurring past in our wake. The cheers of the crowd have long since faded. 

I am pulling ahead of her when we get to a narrow bend in the path. As I turn, I avoid sliding on a pile of leaves. Once I regain my footing, I start to think. There aren’t supposed to be any obstructions in the path. All the paths were supposedly cleared before-hand. Additionally, it is odd the leaves were green. They should be on their branches thriving.

I glance back to find Fiona smirking. Then I understand the leaves. She put obstacles in the path before the race. Ingenious, but it means she will have to dodge them as well.

We sprint along a narrow stretch of forest. Dodging rocks throughout the path. Now she is almost right behind me. If she connects her foot with my leg, then she could take the lead.

I will my stubby feet to run faster. 

We come around another bend, and I see the finish. A similar, if not the same crowd has gathered along the edges. 

This is the final stretch. If I make it down this trail I will not merely full-fill Grandpa Ivor's legacy, but I will surpass it. I will not become a legacy, but a legend. The pounding of my blood drowns out every noise. The blaring animals, the rustle of leaves, the thudding of feet.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as I approach the finish line, my vision sharpens. The trees are no longer smears in my vision. I can see every detail, down to the minuscule veins of the leaves. The crowd is no longer just cheering splotches but separate animals. Individual feathers and strands of fur stand out on their bodies. The finish line is no longer just an indentation in the dirt. 

The finish line is my future. 

The crowd roars in excitement. Animals jump up and down, left and right. Birds somersault in the sky. Deer prance around. Foxes run and chuckle. My ears bask in their joyous acclamations. My whole body tingles with excitement.

But their cheers aren't for me. 

Ahead of me, dozens of animals are leaping and stomping in praise around one, chocolate brown hare. Fiona.

The excitement coursing through my veins dies. All four of my legs collapse beneath me. I lost. 

I can’t retreat into my shell fast enough. The familiarity of my warm, dark cave is a comfort amid my shame. I dedicated fifteen years of my life to this race, only to lose it by a fraction of a second. 

I want to stay in this shell for eternity. Brewing in self-loathing and anger. Never seen by the light of day again. My reverie is short-lived when something thumps the side of my shell. Reluctantly, I extended my head to determine what it was.

Fiona is sitting in front of me, staring at me with baby-blue eyes. “Good race Leo, I can call you that? I didn’t expect you to bolt off like that. How are you able to run so fast?”

I shrink back, waiting for an onslaught of insults and taunts, “You can call me that. I run so fast because I have been training for fifteen years.”

“Why did you decide to run," she asks. Her expression curious

I’m confounded by her sincerity, “I wanted to win the race properly. Not by relying on luck or parlor tricks to compensate for what I lacked. I wanted to transcend my family's legacy, not live up to it.”

Fiona grins, “Well you may not have won the race, but you are the tortoise who almost beat the hare.”

Her words send a shockwave down my spine.

That was all I desired, to prove to everyone that I could be more. I got validation of my life-long ambition and no less from the person whom I lost to.

All I can muster through my disbelief and bubbling happiness is a breathless, “Thank you.”