In order for this dream to become true, my parents were keys. Helle, my mum, and Flemming, my dad, were always there for guidance.
Despite being one of the best Danish handball players of his generation, my dad never pushed me.
He was more of a guide. Always there for advice, standing in the shadows, available, but never imposing himself.
And, of course, when you are 18 years old, to have someone who has been through all of the toughness before, it helps. If you had known my dad, you would know he was not into big speeches.
But the guidance – oh the guidance – there was plenty of it.
Coming back to dreams turning into reality, handball helped me growing my interest in arts.
In Denmark, we have plenty of great artists, a culture that dates back to the Vikings, and as a consequence, I have always been eager to discover more.
And when, economically, handball helped me being more an actor than a spectator in the arts department, my interest in them took a whole other turn.
It allowed me to go to exhibitions, sales and to come back from them, sometimes having bought a painting or a sculpture. I stopped looking at it as a passive fan, more like an active one.
And arts, I try hard to get interested in all of them, not just sticking to one area. Painting, architecture, sculpture; there is always something to learn or to marvel at.
And living in Paris, one of those cities where you are surrounded by exhibitions and galleries, just fuelled my interest even more. Here, even a lamppost can sometimes be a work of art. You go out in the street, open your eyes and see new things every day.
To me, it has always been important that we, handball players, are aware that there is much more to the world than just the ball. And when you can enjoy one of your passions thanks another one of your passions, it is incredibly fulfilling.
