When We Began Racing Time

By Scott Reddoch

“I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!”

You know those words. They’ve been stuck in our heads for over 150 years. But here’s something that might surprise you: Lewis Carroll didn’t just create a memorable children’s character when he wrote about the White Rabbit in 1865.

He accidentally predicted our entire relationship with time.

I know what you’re thinking. A rabbit in a waistcoat created our obsession with being busy? Stay with me on this one.

The rabbit wasn’t just a symbol of anxiety, he was born of culture’s focus on deadlines and productivity.

When the World Went Mad

The year 1865 wasn’t just when Alice tumbled down that rabbit hole. It was the exact moment humanity started racing against time instead of living with it.

The American Civil War had just ended. Lincoln was assassinated. The 13th Amendment abolished slavery. But the real change happening was quieter and more permanent. Railroads were exploding across continents, demanding precise schedules for the first time in human history. The Industrial Revolution was hitting full stride, forcing people to punch time clocks and live by factory whistles.

Before 1865, most folks lived by the sun. You woke up when it rose, worked until it set, ate when you were hungry. Time wasn’t this frantic master breathing down your neck.

But suddenly, everything had to be precisely timed. Trains couldn’t just “show up eventually.” Workers couldn’t stroll in “sometime around morning.” Telegraph lines were connecting distant cities in real time. The world was becoming a giant, mechanical pocket watch, and everyone had to dance to its ticking.

Right in the middle of this chaos, Carroll publishes a story about a rabbit frantically checking his pocket watch, muttering about being late for some mysterious important appointment.

That’s not coincidence. That’s prophecy.

The Birth of Our Anxiety

I spent two decades as a project manager. Trust me, I’ve sat in conference rooms full of White Rabbits wearing three-piece suits instead of waistcoats.

Carroll’s rabbit wasn’t just late. He was anxiously late. Constantly stressed. Always rushing toward the next obligation without ever stopping to notice the wonder around him.

Think about the White Rabbit’s behavior for a minute. He’s got his schedule, his pocket watch, his very important appointments. He’s serving the Queen of Hearts, living in constant fear of disappointing authority. He’s so focused on being somewhere else that he completely misses the magical world he’s actually living in.

The guy literally lives in Wonderland and never stops to appreciate it.

If that’s not the perfect description of modern life, I don’t know what is.

Being the Rabbit

Before my strokes changed everything, I was the poster child for White Rabbit syndrome.

I’d check my phone every thirty seconds. My calendar was packed tighter than a sardine can. I measured success by how busy I was, how many projects I juggled, how much money I made. I was always ten minutes ahead of where I actually was.

I remember missing conversations with my parents because my mind was already racing to the next deadline. I was sprinting through my own Wonderland, pocket watch in hand, completely blind to what was right in front of me.

Here’s the thing about being a White Rabbit: you think you’re important. You think all that rushing means something. You believe the myth that busy equals valuable.

But when you’re lying in a hospital bed with a 10% chance of survival, you realize something sobering. Most of those “very important dates” weren’t important at all.

The White Rabbit spent the entire story running toward something that was never clearly defined. Carroll did that on purpose. Most of our urgent appointments are just as vague when we really think about them.

Modern Rabbits in Digital Waistcoats

Fast forward to today, and we’ve turned Carroll’s warning into a lifestyle manual.

We carry pocket watches that never stop buzzing. We call them smartphones, but they’re really anxiety machines designed to make us feel perpetually behind.

We schedule our children’s lives like military operations. Soccer practice at 4:30, piano lessons at 6:00, homework from 7:00 to 8:30. We’re teaching them to be White Rabbits before they even understand what childhood wonder looks like.

Our work emails demand immediate responses. Our social media feeds never stop updating. We’re living in a constant state of digital lateness, always trying to catch up with information that’s moving faster than we are.

I watch people now from my wheelchair, and it’s fascinating. Everyone’s rushing somewhere, staring at their phones, looking stressed about time. They’re walking through their own personal Wonderlands and missing all of it because they’re late for something that probably isn’t as important as they think.

What the Rabbit Missed

The White Rabbit spent the entire story missing the point.

He rushed past Alice when she was falling down the rabbit hole. He ignored the Mad Hatter’s tea party. He was too busy to notice the Cheshire Cat’s wisdom or the Queen’s obvious insanity.

He lived in a world full of magic and saw none of it because he was too focused on his schedule.

Here’s what my condition taught me: the magic isn’t in the destination. It’s in noticing what’s happening right now.

Since I’ve had to move away, my girlfriend and I communicate through email. Really talking. Not planning the next thing or worrying about tomorrow’s schedule. Just being present with each other. Those conversations have become more valuable to me than any project deadline I ever hit.

I notice things now that I never saw before. The way afternoon light hits the wall. How my parents’ faces change when they laugh. The sound of rain on the roof.

These aren’t profound revelations. They’re just life happening at the speed of life instead of at the speed of anxiety.

Breaking the Rabbit Cycle

You don’t need a medical crisis to stop being the White Rabbit.

Start small. Put your phone in another room for an hour. Eat a meal without checking the time. Have a conversation without planning your response while the other person is talking.

Notice when you’re rushing and ask yourself: what am I actually late for? Is it really that important? What am I missing by running toward it?

The White Rabbit’s anxiety was contagious. Everyone in Wonderland caught it. The Mad Hatter was stuck in perpetual tea time because time itself had stopped working properly. The Queen of Hearts was always screaming about execution. Even the playing cards were constantly rushing around painting roses.

But Alice? Alice stayed curious. She noticed everything, questioned everything, experienced everything.

The Choice Carroll Gave Us

Carroll gave us two characters to choose from: Alice and the White Rabbit.

Alice was present. Open to whatever happened next. She had no schedule, no pocket watch, no very important appointments. And because of that, she saw Wonderland for what it really was.

The White Rabbit was anxious. Distracted. Closed off to anything that wasn’t on his schedule. He experienced nothing because he was too busy getting somewhere else.

Alice was fully present in her moments while the rabbit sped by his. They were both in Wonderland, but only one noticed.

You’re living in Wonderland right now. Every day is full of magic that most of us are too busy to notice. The question is: are you Alice or the White Rabbit?

The Day We Can Stop Racing

1865 was the year we began racing time. But it doesn’t have to be the year that defines us forever.

Your pocket watch is buzzing. Your calendar is calling. The Queen of Hearts is demanding your attention.

But right here, right now, there’s magic happening that you’ll miss if you keep running toward that very important date.

The White Rabbit spent 150 years teaching us to be late for our own lives. Maybe it’s time to put down the pocket watch and start paying attention to what’s actually here.

After all, tomorrow is just a rumor. Today is the only appointment that really matters.