Ryk and Me

Once upon a time Ryk digged my girlfriend. I remember he dropped her off one night - she'd been out late and caught a ride with him - and I naturally suspected there had been a grab in the car. She assured me there hadn't been, and I believed her -mostly because I believe Ryk is a stand up guy.

At the time she was Miss Eunice, and everyone had a crush on her. She'd dated the Vice head boy of Grey (Volsteedt's son), the Water Polo coach was gunning for her, basically the whole of Grey and Saint Andrews Bloem had pictures of her in their homework books. Whole crowds of excited schoolboys would pitch up at our house to visit. One bunch would leave, then another would stream in. I'd often drive her and her brother and sister to school, and often drop her off at the boyfriend-of-the-hour.
I was at varsity then, see, having recently climbed Kili and was one of the countries top triathletes in my age group. After a long wooing period, we finally hooked up. As I say, I was a different creature then: a triathlete at the top of my game, and in a very high league of form and fitness. I was also into crazy stuff like doing medical trials for pocket money, swimming with wild dolphins, and being paid to pose for art atudents at the local Technikon. And I got into a crazy relationship with her.

We ended up spending a year in the UK together, and that was that (obviously there's a lot more to the story he he).

It's curious to me now to look back and see how things have changed. This chick that had made virtually everyone - including me - go ga ga, came back from England, and by the time she was 22 was married to a short, geeky smoker: the guy gave her a BMW early on in their courtship (it's been rumored from ill-gotten gains) and from there it was just sheer living pleasure in his lap of luxury. This oke - his name is Vernon - was about as far from cool and the likes of Ryk Neethling as you could get. But he had the bling that's what counted; she lived happily ever after.

And so the tide turned. I went bald, grew a boep. Found myself in South Korea for a spell. Ryk became a South African superhero and World Record Holder in swimming, and pretty soon I was schmaaking his (then) girlfriend, Amanda Beard (so was everybody else). The tide shifted again as I partially resurrected myself - I won a standard triathlon in South Korea, came home to finish an Ironman - Ryk moved back to South Africa and became the country's biggest celebrity. I also moved back to South Africa and became one of the country's biggest disappointments. I say this with tongue partially in cheek.

Recently I met a mother and daughter - the mom and old friend I once swam with regularly - and was impressed that even in her late fourties, she was in excellent shape (she's swimming 10km a day), her body is stronger than when she was in her
20's.

The point is, it is never too late to find the Ryk Neethling in yourself - the best that you can be. It requires huge amounts of dedication, motivation and energy. But isn't it worth being your SuperSelf for as much of your life as you can muster? It means not only do you feel great about yourself, and living in this world, but the world loves having you in it. Isn't that a life worth going for? It is for me.