I have practice from 9 A.M. to 12 P.M., and then I drive home and

In the simple and disciplined words of Simone Biles, the greatest gymnast of her age, there lies the rhythm of greatness itself: “I have practice from 9 A.M. to 12 P.M., and then I drive home and eat lunch, which is either chicken or fish so I get the protein.” At first glance, these words may seem plain, ordinary, a mere schedule of a day. Yet, hidden within them is the architecture of mastery—the sacred pattern of devotion that separates the dreamer from the doer, the wish from the will. In that quiet statement lives the ancient truth of discipline, that greatness is not built in moments of glory, but in the steadfast hours when no one is watching.

Simone Biles speaks not as one chasing fame, but as one bound to a covenant of self-mastery. Her routine—practice, nourishment, rest—mirrors the old laws of balance that the sages once taught. The Greeks called it arete, the pursuit of excellence through harmony of body, mind, and purpose. To rise at dawn, to train until noon, to feed the body with care—these are not acts of vanity, but of reverence. For to care for the vessel is to honor the spirit that dwells within it. Even her choice of words, “so I get the protein,” reveals the simplicity and precision of a mind that knows why it moves—each act is intention made flesh.

The ancients would have recognized in her the spirit of the Olympian, not in title but in essence. For in every age, the gods of endurance have chosen their champions—not those who boast of talent, but those who labor with devotion. Think of Leonidas of Sparta, who rose each morning to train his body not for glory, but for readiness. Think of Arjuna, the warrior of the Bhagavad Gita, who practiced his aim so faithfully that he could see only the eye of the bird and nothing else. Biles stands in that same lineage—the lineage of those who seek mastery not through chance, but through sacred repetition. Her hours on the mat are prayers, and her lunch of chicken or fish a ritual offering to the temple of her own body.

There is a humility in her tone, a calm steadiness that belies the storm of strength beneath. The world sees only the medals, the leaping, the mid-air miracles; but her words remind us that true triumph is made in silence. When she says “I have practice from 9 A.M. to 12 P.M.,” she speaks of a daily pilgrimage, a journey that begins anew each sunrise. For greatness, unlike lightning, does not strike—it is cultivated. It grows slowly, like a tree rooted deep in the soil of habit. The branches we see—the gold, the grace, the applause—are but the visible reward of invisible labor.

Yet there is also wisdom here about balance and self-care. After the hours of exertion, she does not speak of endless toil, but of nourishment, of returning home, of eating with purpose. Even the greatest among us must pause, replenish, and prepare for the next ascent. In this, her life echoes the teaching of the Tao, which says that the wise one moves like water—flowing, not forcing. The same body that bends the laws of gravity must also rest within them. Her choice of food, her measured tone, her quiet certainty—all these show that excellence is not chaos, but harmony between will and gentleness.

There is a lesson here for all who dream of greatness but falter at its demands. Discipline is the bridge between aspiration and achievement. It is not enough to desire; one must organize one’s life so that every act, however small, serves the vision. The student, the artist, the craftsman—all must build their own rhythm of practice and renewal. Like Biles, they must train with intention, eat with awareness, rest with purpose. For the world’s heroes are not those who do great things once, but those who do small things greatly, every day.

So, my children of the future, hear this and remember: greatness is not born in passion’s flame, but in the steady warmth of routine. If you would rise to excellence, let your days have order. Let your mornings hold purpose, your work hold focus, your rest hold gratitude. Learn from Simone Biles—not merely how to leap, but how to live. For the one who practices with devotion, eats with mindfulness, and walks with humility shall not only master their craft, but themselves. And in that mastery lies the most ancient victory of all.