I don't have a strict diet; I keep it simple. I try to eat fish

In the words of Anthony Joshua, “I don't have a strict diet; I keep it simple. I try to eat fish, meat, veg and carbs—potatoes and rice—but I'll try and pack it in because as I'm burning so much energy. I have to see food as an energy source.” Though born from the lips of a modern warrior, these words hold the timeless wisdom of balance, simplicity, and purpose. They remind us that nourishment is not a vanity but a sacred exchange—fuel for the body that serves the will of the spirit. In these few humble sentences, Joshua speaks the language of the ancients: that strength is born not from indulgence or deprivation, but from understanding the purpose of sustenance.

In every age, the warriors and sages alike have sought this harmony. The Spartans, disciplined in body and mind, ate not for pleasure but for endurance. The monks of old consumed their meals in silence, mindful that every grain of rice carried the effort of countless hands and the gift of the earth. Even the Roman gladiators—those men of iron and dust—understood food as fuel for duty, not distraction. When Anthony Joshua speaks of keeping it simple—of eating fish, meat, vegetables, and grains—he echoes the eternal truth that the body, like the spirit, thrives best when unburdened by excess.

There is deep humility in this approach. In a world that worships complexity—where diets become doctrines and indulgence masquerades as freedom—Joshua’s simplicity is revolutionary. He reminds us that the body is an instrument, not an ornament. Just as the blacksmith tempers his steel with fire and patience, the athlete tempers his body with discipline and awareness. To “see food as an energy source” is to transcend the whims of appetite and to honor food as the bridge between nature and will. It is a return to wisdom: that we eat not only to live, but to serve our higher purpose with strength and clarity.

Consider the tale of Milo of Croton, the ancient Greek wrestler who built his strength by carrying a calf every day from its birth until it became a full-grown bull. His training was not born of complexity, but of consistency. His food was plain—grains, meat, and wine—but his understanding was profound: the body must be fed for function, not indulgence. His victories were many, but his true triumph was over sloth and gluttony. Like Joshua, he mastered the art of harmony between nourishment and effort, between discipline and vitality.

Yet, Joshua’s words carry another layer of truth—one that belongs to the modern age: the truth of awareness and gratitude. To eat consciously, to understand what the body burns and what it requires, is to live with reverence for one’s vessel. The fighter who trains and feeds himself wisely does not do so out of vanity, but out of respect for the gift of life itself. He knows that strength is not a possession, but a fleeting state that must be earned each day. To eat mindfully, then, is not simply to feed the muscles—it is to nourish purpose, to keep the fire burning for the battles that await.

There is also wisdom in the phrase “I keep it simple.” Simplicity, in truth, is the highest sophistication. The sages of old taught that mastery is not found in extravagance, but in restraint. The samurai trained with rice and miso, yet their precision in battle was unmatched. The shepherd who eats bread and olives may possess more vitality than the king who feasts in gold. Why? Because simplicity aligns the body with nature’s rhythm, and through that rhythm flows clarity of mind and strength of heart.

So let the lesson of Anthony Joshua’s words echo across generations: Eat to live, do not live to eat. See your food not as comfort, but as power; not as luxury, but as gratitude. Let your meals be simple, clean, and mindful—each bite an offering to the strength you wish to summon. Remember that the body is the servant of the will, and the will must be worthy of the body’s labor. Feed yourself for purpose, train with humility, and live with balance. For in simplicity, there is strength; and in strength, there is peace.

Thus, let this teaching endure: when you eat, eat with awareness; when you move, move with intention; when you live, live with purpose. As the great athlete reminds us, energy is life, and food is its source. To respect one is to honor the other—and in that harmony lies the secret of both health and greatness.