I've had bad jobs. Now I have a good one. I'm thankful.

Hear the words of Maurice Greene, champion of the track, who once confessed with a simplicity that pierces deeper than ornament: “I’ve had bad jobs. Now I have a good one. I’m thankful.” Though the words are short, they carry the weight of a life lived through struggle, hardship, and triumph. For in this utterance we hear not just the story of labor, but the ancient rhythm of rising from dust to glory. It is the eternal tale of the human being who endures the valley so that the summit may be cherished.

The ancients knew that no crown is holy unless it is forged in trial. Hercules, before his apotheosis, endured twelve impossible labors, each more crushing than the last. The bad jobs of Greene’s past echo these labors—tasks without joy, burdens carried without applause, duties done only to survive. Yet such toil was not wasted, for it carved humility into his spirit. It is by contrast that the soul learns to value the good; without the bitterness of the past, the sweetness of the present would lose its taste.

Consider the tale of Abraham Lincoln, who split rails and worked as a shopkeeper before rising to the highest office of his nation. He too had known bad jobs, tasks of sweat and hardship, before destiny placed him in a position of honor. Yet Lincoln never despised his beginnings. Instead, they gave him perspective, grounding him in humility even as he carried the weight of a nation. Maurice Greene’s words reflect this same truth: that gratitude for the good must be rooted in the memory of the bad, or else it becomes hollow.

There is a heroic tenderness in the phrase, “I’m thankful.” Many who rise to greatness forget the dust from which they came. They curse their low beginnings and pretend their ascent was without struggle. But Greene declares openly that he has known both, and in that honesty lies his strength. He does not speak only as an athlete, but as a man who understands that dignity is not found in the nature of the job itself, but in the heart that remembers with gratitude.

The origin of his words lies in the eternal pattern of toil and reward. Life, like the fields of the farmer, requires seasons of sowing in hardship before the harvest of joy. The bad jobs were his sowing—long, grueling, uncelebrated. The good job is his harvest, abundant and sweet. And through it all, his thankfulness is the rain that nourishes both, transforming struggle into wisdom and success into humility.

The lesson is this: do not despise the low places of your life. For they are the foundation upon which your high places are built. If you endure bad jobs, know that they are your training ground, shaping the strength you will need when the good comes. And when blessings arrive, do not let pride blind you—be thankful, for gratitude is the crown that makes victory noble.

Practical wisdom calls you to action: when you face tasks that seem beneath you, work with honor, for they will sharpen your spirit. When fortune lifts you into better places, remember the past, and let humility guard your heart. Speak your thankfulness aloud, as Greene did, for gratitude not only honors your journey but strengthens those who hear it. In this way, every labor, whether bitter or sweet, becomes part of the great story of your life.

Thus, from Maurice Greene’s words, let us carry this teaching: the value of the good is revealed by the memory of the bad; the beauty of success is magnified by the shadow of struggle; and the heart that is thankful will never lose its way. To despise the valley is to lose sight of the mountain, but to honor both is to live wisely, humbly, and fully.