Belief is one of the most difficult commodities to come by let alone retain. Deemed necessary by passion to go in search of this commodity, I began my pursuit of the Iron Man dream. Distant as it seemed then, even more distant as it seems now, I continue to hang on to the shreds that resemble hope and perhaps forms the strands linking to faith. Faith in a dream that seems impossible at this stage. Faith in a dream that has a price to pay, a price too dear to be paid yet all the more dear to forgo. Faith that the sponsor will come back with positive news and possible wings to fly through the triathlon.
Not knowing what lies ahead is possibly one of man’s greatest challenges, while in the same breath makes for an exciting journey, one filled with expectation. For what is hope when the future is forever certain based on the present? What is faith then, if all the ingredients are present in the hands of a master chef? With very limited time to make the cut for the Iron Man 4 Kidz cut, the flame of hope refuses to be doused, and the stream of faith continues to labour to flow.
Has my sinking body miraculously transformed into a floatation device? NO! Has my cycling improved much since January. A little...Has my running become any more polished, I have pain in the Gluteus Maximus since the Cape Peninsula Marathon but I remain the prisoner of hope, a captive of faith, that come the 6th of April, I will be taking part in the Iron Man, for the children to whom hope is a distant stranger and faith is a concept unheard of.