I had ridiculous amounts of energy. Mom's like, you're driving me

There is a bright and innocent vitality in the words of Alicia Sacramone, who said, “I had ridiculous amounts of energy. Mom’s like, you’re driving me crazy – do you want to try gymnastics? From the moment I started it, I loved it and it kind of was like storybook from there.” Beneath her lighthearted tone lies a profound lesson about destiny, discipline, and the sacred meeting between natural energy and purposeful direction. It is the story of how untamed motion became artistry, how chaos found form, and how the exuberance of childhood transformed into the elegance of mastery.

The origin of this quote rests in Sacramone’s own journey — the path of a young girl whose restless spirit found meaning through movement. Her “ridiculous amounts of energy” could have become trouble, distraction, or waste. But through her mother’s guidance, that energy was given shape. When she stepped into the gym for the first time, she discovered not merely a sport, but a calling. Her words remind us that the seeds of greatness are often sown in the wild soil of childhood passion. What seems chaotic at first — the endless curiosity, the boundless energy — is not something to be suppressed, but something to be channeled.

This idea, though wrapped in simplicity, is as old as civilization itself. The ancient Greeks spoke of arete, the pursuit of excellence through the harmonious balance of body, mind, and spirit. They understood that raw energy, like an uncut stone, contains the potential for beauty, but must be shaped by training and purpose. The young Sacramone, guided by her mother’s wisdom, embodies this timeless truth — that discipline does not extinguish passion; it refines it. From her first leap, she began the sacred dance between freedom and focus, between play and precision.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great, who, as a child, could not be tamed — until his father brought him a wild horse, Bucephalus, that no one could ride. While others saw danger, the young prince saw understanding. He realized the horse was not unruly, only misunderstood. By channeling his courage and calm, he mastered the beast and rode it into legend. So too did Sacramone take her boundless energy — her Bucephalus — and learn to guide it with grace. It was through this balance of passion and control that she became a champion, not only in sport but in spirit.

The “storybook” quality she speaks of does not mean her path was without hardship. Every athlete’s journey is filled with falls, failures, and fatigue. But the heart that begins in joy has a way of enduring storms. For when one’s passion is pure, discipline becomes devotion, and perseverance becomes love. The child who once drove her mother crazy became a symbol of strength and poise, teaching the world that greatness begins not in perfection, but in play.

Her story also reveals the quiet power of parental guidance — the wisdom to see potential in chaos. Her mother, instead of silencing her daughter’s energy, offered it a stage. This act of understanding echoes through generations: when elders see not what is troublesome in youth, but what is promising, they awaken destinies. It is a reminder that guidance, when given with patience and vision, can turn a restless child into a masterpiece of motion.

The lesson, my children, is this: do not fear your energy, your passion, or your restlessness. These are not flaws, but forces — sparks waiting to be shaped into fire. Channel them. Let your enthusiasm find discipline, and your discipline find joy. For when movement meets meaning, life itself becomes art. The restless soul that once wandered without aim may one day look back, as Alicia Sacramone did, and say, “It was like storybook from there.”

So remember this truth, passed down through time: every gift begins as disorder. The storm within you can destroy or it can create. The choice is yours. Let your passion be guided by purpose, and your energy by excellence, and one day, like the gymnast who found her calling in a single leap, you too will soar — not because you were tamed, but because you learned how to fly.