They were some of the best years of my life, and I'm so thankful

The words of Kelley O’Hara, champion of the field and bearer of Olympic gold, carry a resonance far beyond the pitch: “They were some of the best years of my life, and I’m so thankful I was able to go to Stanford.” In this statement, there is more than nostalgia—there is reverence for a place and a season of life that shaped her mind, body, and spirit. To be thankful for such years is to recognize that not every blessing lies in victory itself, but in the soil where the seeds of greatness are planted.

For Stanford was not merely an institution of learning, but a crucible where talent was tested, friendships forged, and discipline refined. O’Hara speaks of her time there as “the best years,” not because they were free from hardship, but because they were alive with growth. It is in youth, in those years of striving toward education and mastery, that one discovers the strength within, often without even realizing it. Her gratitude, then, is not only for the name of Stanford, but for the journey it provided—the battles on the field, the rigor of the classroom, and the community that stood beside her.

The ancients too understood the sacred power of formative years. Aristotle once said, “Give me a child until he is seven, and I will show you the man.” For the years of learning, especially in early adulthood, lay the foundation for all that follows. Think of Alexander the Great, whose conquests were born first in the classrooms of his teacher, Aristotle, where his mind was trained before his sword was drawn. So too, Kelley O’Hara’s triumphs on the world stage were shaped first at Stanford, in those seasons that tempered her into the champion she would become.

Her words are also an act of humility. She does not claim greatness as her own invention, but acknowledges the role of the opportunities afforded her. To attend such a place, to be part of such a program, is not to be taken lightly. Many dream of such paths, yet few are granted them. Gratitude guards the soul from arrogance, reminding us that even our greatest achievements rest upon the gifts of education, mentorship, and community. O’Hara’s thankfulness is a lesson in remembering that no one ascends alone—the climb is always supported by the stones laid by others.

The phrase “some of the best years of my life” also speaks to the bittersweet truth that certain seasons cannot be repeated. There is a sacredness to memory, to recognizing that life moves in chapters, and that some chapters shine brighter because they are both fleeting and formative. To be thankful for them is to honor them, to carry their lessons forward rather than lament their passing. In this way, gratitude becomes not only remembrance, but fuel for the present.

The lesson here is profound: cherish the seasons of growth in your own life. Do not let them slip away unnoticed, nor remember them only with longing. Instead, recognize them as the foundations of your future, be thankful for them, and let them inspire you to greater deeds. For what O’Hara teaches us is that gratitude transforms memory into power. Her years at Stanford were not an end in themselves—they were the beginning of a journey that carried her to the pinnacle of world sport.

Therefore, let us act. Reflect upon your own life and identify the places, the people, and the seasons that shaped you. Speak gratitude for them, and carry their lessons into every battle you face. Do not despise the present season, for it too may one day be remembered as “the best years.” Live with awareness, live with gratitude, and let your roots become your strength. For the wisdom of Kelley O’Hara shows us that thankfulness for our foundations is not weakness, but greatness—for only those who honor their past are truly prepared to conquer their future.