Special Announcement: Wednesday 10AM

If you would like to know about what is happening next, log onto the site at Wednesday at 10am to view the new changes and exciting new projects to come!

We cannot wait to share more but its just something we can't release right now. We hope everyone has a fantastic day and is looking forward to the launch!

The Blind leading the blind...not such a bad thing

Music whispers quietly in the background of my local gym as I make my way out towards the parking lot. Its been a good, challenging session, a usual day, nothing to be overly excited about.

I look down at my feet as I stroll over the gym floor. My feet follow one another in a slow smooth rythym as my eyes gaze in a trans at the patterns on the floor. Past the tread mills, then the stationary bikes and the orbitrex machine, I walk, slowly, thinking about everything but nothing at the same time. My head hangs but I am not down, I came here for business and I don't want to disturb anyone getting their work done, I look at nobody. The clanging of weights and the squeaking of the circuit timer make me aware of where I am. Its a place to escape, to dream your dreams in the presence of other dreamers while sweat drips down your brow and pain enters every inch of your body.

I continue slowly until an arm reaches out from the direction of the abdominal section and blocks my path. I get caught thinking negatively and my face shows the dissatisfaction of being disturbed. "Are you the guy that cycled to Cape Town from Witbank," he asks.

My face should light up, my heart should ignite and my words should bubble over in excitement for the three epic journeys that have changed my life...but...they don't. I hate the attention! I want to hide behind my words written from behind a keyboard while lying in my tent as a storm rages outside. I want to hide behind a still photograph that shows a smile on my face while I pedal where no man should be riding. I fight my feelings and try to be the light in the darkness that shines to give others hope, but I struggle. Id prefer to be the faceless soldier, hiding behind a grid iron battle mask, that represents an ideal rather than just another man.

I stretch out my hand, smile shyly and admit that its me, while scrambling to put my phone and keys on the bench to shake his hand. After three years of cycling I am still unconvinced of my achievement as to whether it is something that should be admired by others or not. Its something that every single person is capable of. None the less I try my utmost best to look amazingly confident in my adventures.

We engage in a conversation and the man tells me his name while asking question after question about my trips. I attempt to answer in the the little amount of time I have been given but know, I can only express the tiniest of fraction of the true experience. After sharing my story in a pathetically short unimpressive summary. The man, a lean but strong African, approximately the same hight as me, who I have now come to know as Kenny, begins to engage me in a story about a fellow colleague of his.

His colleague is partially blind and each year his sight deteriorates drastically. As Kenny describes the troubles the man goes through on a daily basis walking to work, my mind takes me away as I try to imagine the difficulties of his condition. Its not long before my eyes begging to blink fastest and I feel tears building up in my eyes. Kenny has only been speaking for a minute but it feels as though I know his colleague well enough to sympathize with him. My emotion begins to show as he describes the mans two comrades marathon finishes only being able to see a few feet in front of him at a time. I cannot fathom the difficulty of his achievement and feel it only natural to feel overly sorry for the man.

Its then that Kenny says something extremely profound, "He can only see a little in front of him, if you call him from far, he has no idea who is calling him." The words echo in my mind as the sentence filters down to the deepest chambers of my heart. And then, it dawns on me. This "blind" individual is someone who we can learn a great deal from in our daily life. If we can only but look a couple of meters ahead of us at a time, we will perfect the small steps in between our goals. While staring at mountains we stumble on the pebbles at our feet. Though he cannot see far away, the man makes use of the vision he does have to examine that which is close much more intensely than an average man.

This man with little vision may perhaps have taught me to have more vision and has inspired me without even being present. This stranger, who I do not know, has become an inspiration to me. Never be so closed minded about your achievements that you cannot stop to draw a lesson from those which walk around us on a daily basis.

Keegan "Kunjani" Longueira

The reasons we love gym

I sit under the hood,which hides my identity from the world, and stare down at my swollen hands which rest on lap facing downwards. The smell of sweat, blood, broken dreams and hopes fill my nostrils...this is my battlefield.

My chest rhythmically balloons up and down as I try recover while my head falls back and rests just over the cold leather bench which supports my back. Im focused, my eyes are now closed as I see the music in my mind that blares into my ears. The muffled noise to those which pass is my inspiration. Behind the music I can faintly make out the sound of clanging iron and shouts of encouragement. The dark room lightens slightly as the clock hits 5am. My shoulders are paining, there is little that can compare to the numb bulging feeling I feel in my arms. "You will amount to nothing," "You are going nowhere", the words of critics fill my conscious mind as I reach down and clench my weights...the only thing that doesn't lie to me, my only true friend, my brother, my advisor...my iron. I heave each dumbbell onto my thighs one at a time while never loosing sight of the faded number tippexed on the face of the plates. I have nothing left inside my muscles and the only energy pushing me forward is that of the cruel words whispered at me behind my back..."failure" I whisper to myself as my right leg kicks to assist me bringing the weight up to my shoulder. My left leg now kicks as I shove the second dumbbell to my shoulder. My back feels as if its breaking under the pressure but the motivation inside of me balances my spine. 

I compose myself, the calm before the storm...I am ready. You see because its never been about the weights I fling around nor the man I see in the mirror. It has simply become a punishment, a self inflicted yet passionate pain that moulds my mind, my character and my entire being. I clench my teeth as I throw the iron heavenly, my head feels as if its about to explode. As I lower the weights and catapult these dreams upwards again my neck muscles and back clench tightly. By the third repetition my arms shake violently. This is where champions are made I say over and over in my head as the sound of my heart beat thuds in my ear. I feel the throb of my heart in my eyes and head as I complete the fourth repetition. By the fifth, my arms are failing. I call upon my heart once more as I shut the excuses in my mind up for the last time. The weights clang in unison with my shaking arms and as they reach the summit of my repetition they begin pressing downwards quickly. Gravity seems stronger as ever as I throw the dumbbells into a pile on the floor in front of me. I drop my head once more, not looking up, staring...staring at my broken dreams. I stare at the veins in my hands, my shoulders are tighter than ever as my chest begins to balloon one more. A drop of blood falls onto my sweaty gym track pants as I continue to stare at the weights on the floor. I will never give up. I will continue to pursue perfection in everything I do. I am a man, full of courage, ready to chase a path less travelled in order to obtain a prize no man can touch, taste or feel. This is my battlefield.