Some of the most powerful truths come from unexpected places — like a 13-year-old boy reminding us that wishes don’t win races.
There’s a quote I first heard from my son when he was only thirteen, standing proudly at a school swimming gala as captain — a child-sized leader with more courage than biceps. He cleared his throat, looked out at a crowd of teenagers who only cared about snacks, and delivered a line I’ve repeated ever since:
“Working will win when wishing won’t.”
Not bad for someone whose biggest responsibility at the time was keeping track of his goggles.
I’m still not sure who originally said it, but it pairs beautifully with Gary Player’s classic:
“The harder I train, the luckier I get.”
Two quotes. Same truth.
Dreams are free. Results are not.
We all have dreams — the home we imagine, the business we want to grow, the lifestyle that plays in our mind like a movie trailer. Some people reach those dreams. Others don’t. Some call it luck. Others call it privilege. And yes, luck and privilege exist. But most of the time? The difference isn’t luck. It’s discipline. It’s the daily, often boring, sometimes inconvenient choices that no one claps for.
And here’s the part people forget: it doesn’t matter what the dream is.
Your goals don’t need to impress anyone. They don’t have to compete with your neighbour, your colleague, your cousin, or Mrs Jones — who, by the way, is probably miserable trying to maintain the façade that she has it all together. Let her run her race. You focus on yours.
Your goal might be running a marathon, writing a book, saving for a deposit, building a business, drinking more water, or simply getting through a week without wanting to hide under your desk. All valid. All yours.
But owning the dream means owning the discipline that builds it.
Two people can have the same goal, the same challenge, the same 24 hours… yet end up in completely different places. One wakes up early because they promised themselves they would. The other hits snooze because “sleep is also self-care.” One chooses a healthy meal. The other chooses the chocolate because “life is short.” One studies. The other scrolls. One trains in the cold. The other waits for “motivation,” which is usually late, unreliable, and impossible to contact.
The difference isn’t dramatic. It’s subtle.
Tiny choices, repeated consistently, stack up like compound interest.
We all get the same 525,600 minutes a year. Some invest them. Some spend them carelessly. Some lose them like loose change. And some complain they never have enough time — usually right after a three-hour TikTok spiral.
It’s easy to blame external factors. The economy. South Africa. Your competition. Loadshedding. The price of petrol. The fact that Mercury might be in retrograde (again). Excuses are endless and incredibly comforting. But excuses don’t move us forward. They just make us feel better about staying still.
At some point, we all need to hold up the mirror — the honest one, not the Instagram filter. Because if we aren’t where we want to be, the world may not be the villain we think it is. Sometimes the biggest obstacle is the person in the mirror who keeps postponing their own potential.
The good news?
If part of the problem is us, then the power to change the outcome is also us.
The path is simple — not easy, but simple:
Decide what you want.
Make a plan.
Do the work, especially on the days when you’d rather run away to a small island with good Wi-Fi and no responsibilities.
Adjust when needed.
Repeat far more times than feels fair.
And please, stop comparing your progress to Mrs Jones. She doesn’t have your goals, your responsibilities, your strengths, your challenges or your life. Half the time she doesn’t even want the life she’s pretending to have.
Working will win when wishing won’t — not because wishing is wrong, but because wishing is passive and working is powerful. The dream matters. But the discipline?
That’s the difference.
If it is to be, it is truly up to me.
We all get 525,600 minutes a year. What we do with them separates achievement from excuses.
Coffee, Culture and Curveballs 