I ran track, and my pet event was the 400 meters, and I wanted

Hear, O seekers of strength, the words of Patty Mills, who declared with reverence: “I ran track, and my pet event was the 400 meters, and I wanted to be like Cathy Freeman.” At first, the words may seem like the simple memory of a young athlete, yet within them resounds a profound truth: the power of role models, the shaping of identity through struggle, and the eternal flame of inspiration passed from one generation to the next.

The ancients always taught that greatness is not born in isolation. Heroes emerge because others have walked before them, clearing the way, bearing the weight, proving that the impossible can indeed be done. For Mills, the 400 meters was not merely a race; it was a test of endurance, a crucible of both speed and stamina, and above all, a stage where he could embody the spirit of Cathy Freeman—the woman who carried not only her own hopes, but the pride and pain of her people upon her shoulders.

Consider the story of Cathy Freeman herself. At the Sydney Olympics in the year 2000, she stepped onto the track cloaked in the weight of history. As an Aboriginal Australian, she ran not only for gold but for recognition, dignity, and unity. When she crossed the finish line, victorious in the 400 meters, the stadium roared, but the meaning went deeper than medals. It was the triumph of endurance, of identity, of a people long overlooked, now standing tall upon the world stage. For a young Patty Mills, to dream of being like Freeman was to dream of embodying that same spirit of hope and pride.

The pet event, as Mills calls it, reveals more than preference; it reveals intimacy. To run a race until it feels like one’s own, to test the body against distance and time until the track feels like home—that is to find passion. And when passion is fueled by the vision of a hero, it becomes something greater: it becomes purpose. Mills’ words remind us that each of us carries within us a “pet event,” a unique calling that becomes the channel through which our spirit flows.

Yet Mills’ reflection also shows the chain of legacy. Just as he was inspired by Cathy Freeman, so too has he himself become a beacon for others. As a proud Indigenous Australian and a champion in basketball, he has carried forward the flame, showing the young that identity is not a burden but a strength, that discipline and pride can lift them beyond barriers. Here we see the eternal cycle: the hero inspires the child, the child grows into a hero, and in turn inspires another.

The lesson, therefore, is this: seek out those who embody the virtues you long to cultivate. Let their example shape your own journey, not by imitation alone, but by awakening the courage already sleeping within you. And once you find your path, live in such a way that others may look to you, just as you looked to them. For in this way, the chain of inspiration never breaks, and each generation rises higher than the last.

Practically, this means honoring your heroes not only with admiration but with action. If Cathy Freeman ran with dignity, run your race with dignity. If Patty Mills fought with resilience, fight your battles with resilience. Choose a “pet event” in life—whether in sport, in art, in work, or in service—and devote yourself to it with both passion and discipline. Let it be the arena where your spirit proves itself.

So let these words be remembered: Heroes are torches, and we are the runners who carry their flame. Patty Mills looked to Cathy Freeman and found strength; others will look to him and find their own. And so the fire of greatness is passed on, from hand to hand, from race to race, until all the world is lit by its enduring light.