The Leap of Faith
Making history stride for stride
I was still a campus student when Eliud Kipchoge broke the sub-2-hour marathon time.
Moments before he actually broke this record, the campus became a single organism, cheering in unison. If ever there were aliens observing in the distance, this must have been a puzzling time for them.
Safaricom, the leading service provider in the country, had given us a bundle package for easy streaming of the marathon. That morning, everybody witnessed history.
Yesterday, I asked myself why I was keen on Faith Kipyegon’s attempt at breaking the 4-minute-mile. I could only think of that day, inside my hostel cubicle, behind my desk, the halls chanting, all windows open, everybody outside running into a frenzy. The energy was infectious.
I imagined it would be no different from what we expected from Faith.
In the Olympics, the 100 and 200-meter races have unmatched anticipation. The former ends in less than 10 seconds and the latter in around 20. Yet, the whole world never misses out, for both male and female categories. The wave of energy lasts longer than mere seconds. Seeing how Bolt and Tebogo claimed their titles was no different from how Eliud raced to the final line.
A day before this bold feat, the country was united with rage. Twenty-four hours later, it was hanging onto hope. If there was anyone who could do it, it would be her.
I couldn’t wait to see Faith shattering the mountain of a barrier for the whole world to see. In the background, Madonna and Justin Timberlake were singing:
Time is waiting
We only got four minutes to save the world
No hesitating
Grab a boy, then grab a girl
Time is waiting
We only got four minutes to save the world
No hesitating
We only got four minutes, heh, a-four minutes
Watching Kipyegon
I was from work, having discharged all the stable patients from the HDU to the ward.
Two of them had come from the ventilator and were holding on well. One of them was due for dialysis, which I was sure would improve his breathing.
Another, a thirteen-year-old fighter, with more lives than a cat’s and whose birthday we had recently celebrated, was holding on strong, awaiting an imminent surgical procedure.
It was a good day.
While figuring out what to write for the day, I saw the images on the internet. Faith Kipyegon was going against time to set the record straight for all the women in the world.
Time flies when you don’t watch the boiling pot, so much that when I was leaving work for home, I had switched to the live transmission straight from Paris, through YouTube.
Since I’m not a fan of AirPods, earphones, or headphones, I cranked up the volume and listened to the commentators as they continued to pile the pressure for our Kenyan champion.
On WhatsApp, one of the senior sports medicine doctors gave us a summary of the team behind Faith’s preparation. She had some of the world’s best.
Then, as soon as one of the reporters said it, the insight hit me. A brief interview with Kipchoge also reaffirmed the comment: you cannot break records alone. You need others. More importantly, you need a supportive team.
The pacers were both male and female. As the fastest female mile runner, she needed all the help, which would include males if needed. It only made sense. Extraordinary feats require extraordinary demands.
Before she was called to the track, we were all on the edge of our seats. I was nursing a week-long neck and upper back pain, but for those few minutes, I had all but forgotten about it.
As she lightly jogged, you could tell that those lower limbs were ready. It must have taken all the willpower to focus on the event, cancel the crowd’s supportive chants, and streamline the mind to the challenge that lay ahead. Track lights on her left would help her keep her stride and within reach of the record.
Another comment triggered my imagination. This is a moment where, if Faith had crossed that finish line a second before, she would forever be engraved in history. On the other hand, if she failed to break it by a second, she would always be haunted with questions — what did I do wrong? What were my mistakes? And as one-off events tend to go, we lack the answers.
Like science, the most empirical way to get the answers was to conduct the experiment. Run the race. The answers will come later.
Before the gun was fired, what came to mind was a dog called Faith.
The leap of Faith
Are you ready to go?
Are you ready to go?— Madonna
She was adopted by a family when they crossed paths, almost smothered, and unable to move.
In the wild, offspring with congenital anomalies are often abandoned or killed. Just as well, in human history, children with defects have been called monsters. This pup was likely faced with a similar fate.
Its forelimbs were severely deformed. As he continued to grow, it became clear that he would not be like the other canines.
The new owners decided to try something new — to encourage her to move using her hind legs. They didn’t use carrots. They used peanut butter.
She leapt up and licked it off the spoon. At that point, it became clear that they did not have an ordinary dog. They called her Faith.
Faith became the first recordable dog to walk on two legs, like humans. I’d want you to take time and realize how extraordinary that is.
No other dog known in human history has ever made such a leap. There were no dogs around her to tell her she could do it. Only humans. She had a supportive team, a family that never gave up on her. It was her against a barrier never broken before.
Faith, the two-legged dog. Source — YouTube
Faith Kipyegon was racing not with herself, but with time. She was willing to break the barrier. She even had a team of not just female pacers, but male ones. She had the best sports medicine team. She had the whole world rooting for her.
Therein lies the power of a story. A dream and its chasing. I call it the dream-reality balance.
It was all hanging in the balance. But besides all the support and team effort, the most powerful weapon anyone can hold is a story.
Throwing facts at us doesn’t inspire us. As truthful as they may be, they are not inspirational. Facts contain.
A story, on the other hand, switches the mindset. Stories uncuff. Why do you think the biggest-grossing movies have had such big successes? It’s the story.
One of the best-selling books, The Lord of the Rings, is a story. The biggest Marvel movie, The Avengers franchise, is a story. My first big-screen movie, whose events I can never forget, had Peter Pan urging us to believe in fairies; it was a story. The Bible is powerful because it’s a book with many stories. The Game of Thrones entranced us because it’s a story. The best documentary I have ever watched, The Last Dance, is a story. The Legend of Aang: The Last Airbender, the animated version, shook the world because it’s a story. Arcane, the League of Legends series, received astronomically high ratings because it’s a story. J.K. Rowling became a billionaire because she sold stories. The Kendrick and Lil Wayne song about Mona Lisa took us by storm because it was a story. It’s right there at the beginning of the song:
I’ve got a story to tell, you know that I cherish thee
A story can convert a commoner into a hero, even if for a moment. That’s all it needs, a moment. Nobody wants to attempt the impossible and have it not be recorded or narrated in the future.
Heroes are not hidden behind heaps of facts. They rise above them and are shared through powerful stories.
You can dream and dare to dream. You can have faith and make the leap. You can hope and, like Nike, just do it. But the greatest mover is a story.
What story do you wish to tell others? What story do you want to write? What story would you want to remain when the credits start to roll?
Faith Kipyegon uses her body and will, but in reality, she holds a pen. Despite not breaking that barrier yesterday, I believe she still wields the pen.
Pens are touted to be mightier than swords. Swords win on the battlefield. Pens write about it. As long as Faith holds that pen, I believe she still controls how the sharp tip moves. The story is not over.
What I’m trying to say is…
Faith Kipyegon dared to dream. She can confidently sing the lines by Justin Timberlake:
But if I die tonight, at least I can say I did what I wanted to do
Tell me, how ‘bout you?
We are at that point in the hero’s journey when it’s the hardest.
Even Eliud didn’t break the sub-2-hour marathon at his first attempt. But he tried again.
I’m a big proponent of trying something at least twice. Once is not enough. The first time is a single probability event, which can rightfully be challenged by trying a second time.
The second time is rich with experience from the first. It informs the joints and pushes the mind to prepare for a second shot. It prepares everyone for the leap of faith.
Notice that I used the word ‘We’. This is not just Faith’s story. It’s ours. She writes it, and we get to tell it. Stories cohere and bind as much as they challenge and inspire.
We were part of Eliud’s. It was so powerful as to push for another one, a four-minute one. The story is not yet over for Faith Kipyegon. I believe she will break the 4-minute mile.
In her own words:
It’s not if, it’s when.
We just have to live long enough to witness her write it.
And live longer for us to tell it.
This song inspired some of the lines used in this article. Source — YouTube