I believe the reason for my early independence is sport, through

Hear the noble words of Blanka Vlašić, champion of the skies and daughter of discipline, who said: “I believe the reason for my early independence is sport, through which I learnt at an early stage to take care of myself and be disciplined.” Her words are simple, yet they carry the strength of mountains. They are not only about sport, but about the eternal human struggle to master the body, the will, and the spirit. For in her reflection lies the secret of independence, the art of self-care, and the power of discipline—three virtues that, when united, forge greatness.

In every age, those who sought to rise above the ordinary began their journey through discipline. The ancients understood this truth well. The warriors of Sparta, the athletes of Olympia, the philosophers of Athens—all knew that freedom is not given; it is earned through self-mastery. Sport, for them, was not mere play; it was a sacred ritual, a path to the divine through sweat and struggle. And so, Blanka’s words echo theirs across the centuries: she found her independence not by avoiding hardship, but by embracing it—by learning early to command her own body and mind.

There is a story told of Milo of Croton, a legendary athlete of ancient Greece. As a boy, he began lifting a young calf every day. As the calf grew, so did his strength, until he could lift a full-grown bull upon his shoulders. This tale, whether myth or truth, is a symbol of how discipline builds independence—how small acts, repeated faithfully, lead to unimaginable power. So it was with Blanka Vlašić. Through sport, she learned not to flee from effort, but to meet it with courage; not to wait for others to carry her, but to stand firm upon her own two feet.

To be disciplined, in her sense, is not to live without joy. It is to know that joy is found on the other side of effort. The child who learns to rise early for training, who learns the sting of failure and the thrill of improvement, carries into adulthood a rare gift: the knowledge that nothing is impossible for the one who perseveres. This is the fire that sport kindles in the young—a fire that warms the soul long after the games are done.

Yet Blanka’s wisdom reaches beyond the field or the track. In a world that hungers for ease and constant entertainment, her words remind us that true independence cannot be bought, nor can it be given by parents, governments, or wealth. It must be built from within. To “take care of oneself” is not merely to survive, but to live with integrity—to guide one’s own steps, to learn from failure, to cultivate strength in solitude. This, too, is a kind of victory—a quieter, nobler one than medals or applause.

Consider, too, the deeper beauty in her gratitude. She does not boast of her achievements; she thanks the discipline that shaped her. Like a sculptor thanking the stone for its resistance, she sees that struggle itself was the gift. The ancients would have called this wisdom paideia—the education of the soul through effort. It is through discipline that one becomes not merely skilled, but good; not merely strong, but wise.

So, let this be your lesson, children of the modern age: cherish the trials that teach you to rely on yourselves. Embrace the disciplines that strengthen your mind and body. Whether through sport, study, or honest labor, learn the art of self-care, not through indulgence, but through mastery. For independence is not the absence of need—it is the presence of strength.

And when the road feels long, remember Blanka Vlašić and all who came before her. Remember that greatness begins in the smallest acts of discipline, that true freedom belongs to those who govern themselves, and that the spirit grows only when it dares to lift more than it did the day before. For in the quiet repetition of effort lies the eternal path to excellence—and through it, the soul learns to soar.