You cant control the wind. Adjust the sails.
Lent season. Tokyo marathon 2020 cancelled. Corona virus (COVID – 19). Two Oceans ultra marathon distance extended by 2kms. 56kms to 58kms. The winds blow, the sailors must change course to complete the voyage.
As a young girl, I grew up riding at the back of my old man’s buckie, sandwiched between my two brothers. Partly to separate them from fighting and as my wind breakers keeping me away from the wrath of the wind. This was after I once got my hair fringe frozen at the middle of my forehead. I looked like a mouse bird (they love paw paws. I dont), a laughing stalk of girls and well no boys winked, even with my “tiered pink race dress”. Learnt my lessons: cut my hair and decided to have tiny “frozen hair knots” for a look. Hiding my then “plenty” rear with tiered clothes stopped. And so did eating anything “tiered”. I was a teen. There were no cushions at the back of the pick up. The body adapts. Today. I run. I plank. I squat. I lunge. Parts fairly solid and tight. If only I can quit the cocoa product. That love, addictive craving. Tough winds.
We always faced back and knew we had arrived our destination alerted by the smell of burning rubber – the brakes. Or from the ridicule of our neighbourhood kids yelling “roll down the windows”. From embarrassment, my brothers would crawl out, dangerously jump out leaving me struggling to alight and my dad annoyed with wrath. The screeching of that pick up. A grey Peugeot 504. With headlights the size of a comet. Surely, the wise men would have boarded it, and headed to Jerusalem in search of the child Jesus instead of following a star. It’s lent not christmas.
The last couple of days have reminded me, why it’s important to focus on your destination. Unlike the ride on that Peugeot, when my gaze focused on where I came from not where I was headed – my destination.
You train hard. A pandemic. Race is cancelled. Tokyo. Your heart rate drops. The tempo reduces. But you must keep going. You must not let the smell of burning rubber stop you. You have a finish line to get to. Change course, remember your destination. Your finish line. Your goal. You must finish what you started even if it means re-defining a new finish line. Because sometimes we must learn to follow the trade winds. The master of the wind knows best and the heavens and earth belong to Him. We must bow.
The lent season calls us to change course. To seek the cross. We err. Often. We must never give up to do good. A journey of 40 days to calvary. Let’s stay on course. Salvation awaits us. Winds blow you off course, adjust, replan. Quick. Tick tock.
The “winds” shall often blow our way in life.Coronavirus disease (COVID – 19). Some winds will freeze your “hair fringe” some shall force you to look back at where you came from, some you will need “wind breakers”. In all cases, you will have to make a choice to change course, obey the wind and focus on your destination or to just get stuck. It’s
hard. The hissing sound from the wind warns you. What if the course is longer, 2kms more. 58kms not 56kms. The Cape’s shoreline winds are calming. You can do this. You know deep down you shall do this. Not by your might. You must get to cavalry. The man hanging at the middle is the master of the wind. He will deliver us. He will strengthen us. Keep the course, train hard. Hard work is never out of fashion, working smart the trend. Be race ready. Have fun. Enjoy the journey. Dig deep. Be the best you can be. Let go of your fears. Feel that sweet spot where everything comes to life. Where your power lies. Fold up. You’re unstoppable. Your peak. The surge to the finish reveals an unimaginable splash of beauty. The destination. The smell of rubber. The brakes. Stop. You’ve arrived. The finish line. Calvarly. 58kms. Your goal.
Persevere like a bird in the wind. A mouse bird.
