Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 119, June 2019 | Page 62

But this is not a sad piece that I am bringing to you. No this is an attempt to bring
light into the darkness. It was running that saved me and gave me a way out, but
it was trail running and communing with the mountains that changed my life and
gave me purpose.
First Steps
Trail is Life
For most of my life I could see Table Mountain in the distance
from our kitchen window, or while we were playing cowboys
and Indians in the yard. But when the mountain is so far
away from you, as it was from our house on the Cape Flats, it
is not a real part of your life.
T
he mountain meant nothing to you while you were standing on the corner
smoking a joint or drinking a case of beer with your friends. It meant nothing
to you when the gangsters were chasing you with knives and pangas. It
meant nothing when you had to dive behind a vibracrete wall as the gunshots rang
out from drive-bys and gun battles.
It remained stoic and silent in the distance. Patiently waiting for you to come to
your senses and visit its ancient slopes, ledges, caves and ridges. It watched
from afar as you buried friends and family who died too soon. It stood watch over
generation after generation who forgot their roots and their origins. It could not
remind you that your roots run deep under its surface, and that your ancestors
lived on its slopes before the ships landed in the bay.
As I said before, during most of my life this was the reality. I could only see the life
in front of me, the scenes around me. The violence, the drugs, the alcohol abuse,
the fragility of life and the inhumanity of poverty, as humans fight daily for survival.
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ISSUE 119 JUNE 2019 / www.modernathlete.co.za
Over the last four years I have made the trails my home. I spend more time on the
mountain than on the road. Every time I climb to the top of any of its peaks, I feel a
sense of wonder and achievement. I feel like I can change the world, and I use this
feeling to go back to my old neighbourhood and speak to the ones still stuck in the
old way of life. I speak to the kids, I encourage them to break the anchors that are
holding them back. I implore them to go to the mountain and feel as rejuvenated in
body and soul as I do. I think that somebody actually said the other day that I nag.
Well, if nagging is what it is going to take to change their futures, then nagging is
what I will do.
In the last few weeks, the shootings in Bonteheuwel have once again escalated,
and you can’t even walk to the shop in the day without being scared that instead
of getting change from the house shop, you may get a bullet from a trigger-happy
thug. According to the stats, we have already lost 36 people this year, many of
them innocent people caught in the crossfire. The only way to effectively change
this situation is to create a different narrative for those stuck on the Cape Flats.
Make them see that their lives should not end on those dusty streets, but that they
should reconnect with their lost origins and bring peace to their souls by getting
out onto the trails and exploring the mountain regularly.
A New Life
To some of you, going on hikes and running on trails are sport, or a fun activity, but
I am proof that to some it can be a life-altering experience. It can give hope to the
hopeless and strength to the weak. It can soften the heart of the hardest man, and
bring a tear to a cynical eye. It may not solve all our issues, but it may just help turn
the tide and reignite a passionate love of life, and a mission to live a life of purpose.
Trail is life, and there is life on the trails.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: PJ is a former Cape Flats gangster who took up
running, and writing about it, when he turned his back on that dangerous
lifestyle in order to set a better example for his two sons. Today he is an
accomplished runner, from short distances to ultra-marathons, recently began
working in running retail, and his exceptional writing talent has opened still
more doors in his new life.
PJ’S PIECE
By PJ Moses
I remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. The first time I put my feet on the
“mountain in the sea,” I felt like I was home. I felt like my ancient ancestors were
dancing in the great hereafter because one of their lost children had made his
way back to where it all began. It was an emotional moment for me, and quite a
surprising one, because I did not go to the mountain to find myself or to find peace.
But this is exactly what the ancient sentinel gave me. A sense of belonging that I
had never felt before.