I was able to get a civil engineering degree and travel around

Joey Chestnut, known to many as the champion of the eating contests that blend spectacle with endurance, once spoke with disarming simplicity: “I was able to get a civil engineering degree and travel around the world and eat.” At first, these words sound almost playful, even lighthearted. Yet within them rests the story of opportunity, discipline, and the strange ways life can grant both sustenance and adventure. His reflection reminds us that joy can be found not only in lofty pursuits but in the unexpected paths by which we are carried forward.

The first wisdom lies in his mention of the civil engineering degree. This is no small feat. It speaks of study, perseverance, and the building of foundations—not only in stone, but in life. To earn such a degree is to master the language of structures, of roads, of bridges—those things that bind society together. It is the rooted side of Chestnut’s life, the part shaped by discipline and preparation. Yet he does not stop there; he joins this solid foundation to the whimsical, to the unexpected, showing that the serious and the playful can dwell together in one soul.

The second truth lies in travel. His life as a competitive eater has taken him across the world, and he recognizes this as a gift. To travel is to encounter new cultures, to step beyond the narrow horizons of one’s own land, to witness the endless diversity of human life. Chestnut does not speak of conquest, wealth, or fame as his reward. He speaks of travel, of movement, of seeing the world. This teaches us that sometimes the path we least expect—yes, even eating contests—can open the doors to wonder and global encounter.

And then he speaks of eating. The simplest of acts, the oldest of needs, the one thing all humanity shares. Yet in his story, eating becomes something more: a bridge across cultures, a craft that carries him into fellowship with others. Here is an ancient truth: the meal has always been sacred. From the banquets of kings to the breaking of bread in humble homes, food unites what might otherwise remain divided. Chestnut, in his own strange arena, honors this truth by turning eating into a vocation that connects him with the world.

History echoes this pattern of unexpected callings leading to greatness. Think of Diogenes the Cynic, who made simplicity itself into a philosophy, finding wisdom in acts the world considered lowly. Or recall the medieval jesters, who through humor and seeming folly, often spoke truths kings dared not say. Like them, Chestnut transforms something ordinary into something extraordinary, showing that life’s meaning is not always found in grand beginnings but in what we make of what is given.

The emotional power of his reflection lies in its humility. He does not boast of championships or records, though he has many. He speaks instead of the blessings of education, of travel, of food—the things that sustain body and soul. This is wisdom: to see the greatness of life not in accolades, but in simple gifts that many overlook. Gratitude is the secret here, and gratitude is the root of joy.

The lesson, then, is clear: honor the opportunities you are given, whether they are humble or grand. What may seem small—a degree, a chance to travel, a meal—can become the very fabric of a meaningful life. The path to joy is not always through what the world calls noble, but through what you embrace fully, with gratitude and courage. Even the simplest acts can carry you far, if you walk them with an open heart.

Practical counsel follows: cherish your education, whatever form it takes, for it builds your foundation. Embrace travel as a chance to grow, to see, to learn. And never despise the ordinary, even something as simple as eating, for within it lies connection, joy, and meaning. For as Joey Chestnut reminds us, sometimes the greatest blessings are found not in chasing glory, but in savoring the simple gifts that carry us across the world and through life itself.