Jason Choi Memorial Scholarship

Fitness has become one of my greatest passions because it has taught me how to trust my body again, even after my health made me feel like I could not. As a four-year varsity track and field athlete and varsity cheerleader at Mary Star of the Sea High School, athletics have shaped my discipline, confidence, and resilience. But fitness became even more meaningful to me after I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease during my sophomore year of high school. Before my diagnosis, I was used to pushing myself in the classroom, on the track, and during cheer practice. I loved competing, improving, and setting goals for myself. Then, after months of chronic and unexplained pain, I was told I had Crohn’s disease. Hearing that there was “no cure” at fourteen years old was devastating. I went through denial because I did not want to accept that this illness would always be part of my life. Suddenly, simple tasks became difficult. Pain and physical discomfort followed me into classrooms where I had once thrived, and practices that used to excite me became exhausting. Sports were no longer just about beating my opponents. They became about battling my own body. There was a time when I wanted to give up. The flare-ups, fatigue, and discomfort felt too heavy to carry while trying to keep up with school, leadership, community service, track, and cheer. My turning point came at a track meet when my coach replaced me in the 4x1 relay. I sat on the bleachers and watched my team compete without me. In that moment, I realized I was not willing to let Crohn’s take away the things I loved. I did not want my illness to decide my limits for me. Fitness helped me rebuild my mindset. Training through pain was not easy, but it gave me a sense of control when my body felt unpredictable. With monthly infusions, support from my doctors, and encouragement from my mom, I slowly found my passion again. My natural competitiveness pushed me to return stronger, but this time, my confidence came from something deeper than winning. I was proving to myself that I could rise above pain and still pursue the life I wanted. Through track, I learned that growth takes patience. Breaking my school’s 100-meter record and becoming a CIF Champion did not happen overnight. Those accomplishments came from years of showing up, even when I felt tired, discouraged, or unsure of myself. Cheerleading also strengthened me in a different way. As cheer captain, I learned that fitness is not only physical. It is also about teamwork, trust, leadership, and encouraging others when they are struggling. Fitness has bettered my life because it has given me mental strength, not just physical strength. It helped me understand that my body may have challenges, but it is still capable. It taught me discipline that carries into my academics, where I have maintained a 3.86 GPA, and into my service work, where I have completed over 420 hours helping others. It has also influenced my future goal of attending UCLA to study Physiological Science and eventually becoming a mental health nurse practitioner. For me, fitness is more than exercise. It is healing, confidence, purpose, and resilience. Crohn’s disease changed my life, but athletics helped me take back what it tried to steal from me. Fitness taught me that I am not defined by my illness, but by my strength to keep moving forward.

Fitness has always been part of my life, but it took on a completely different meaning after an accident in junior high that changed everything. Before the accident, I was active in multiple sports and loved the fast pace and physicality of games like soccer and volleyball. Being part of a team, competing, and pushing myself physically gave me a deep sense of joy and confidence. I never questioned my ability to move, improve, and compete. That changed the day a semi-truck slammed into the minivan I was riding in. What followed was a long and difficult recovery — physically, emotionally, and mentally. Even after months of rehabilitation, I had to come to terms with the reality that my body could no longer handle the same level of impact required for the sports I loved. Letting go of soccer and volleyball wasn't just disappointing — it felt like losing a part of who I was. For a time, I didn't know what came next. But fitness gave me a way forward. I found it in the water. Water polo became more than just a sport — it became the place where I rebuilt myself. I still remember the first practice where something clicked: exhausted, lungs burning, I realized I was pushing myself harder than I had since before the accident. In the pool, the limitations that had followed me out of rehabilitation seemed to disappear. More importantly, so did the doubt. Starting over wasn't easy. Learning new skills, building strength in unfamiliar ways, and trusting a body I had lost confidence in — all of it required a consistency I had to consciously choose every single day. There were practices where progress felt invisible. But I kept showing up, and slowly, the effort compounded. Through that journey, I didn't just recover — I grew stronger. Fitness helped me heal physically, but it played an even greater role in my mental recovery. It gave me structure when everything felt uncertain, purpose when I felt lost, and a sense of control when so much had been taken out of my hands. Every practice, every small improvement, reminded me that I was still capable of growth. The accident took certain things away, but it also gave me something unexpected: resilience. It forced me to adapt, to find a new path, and to redefine what strength meant to me. That mindset translated into back-to-back MVP seasons and two consecutive years as the leading scorer in varsity women's water polo — achievements that meant more to me because of everything it took to get there. Today, I approach fitness with a completely different mindset. It's no longer just about performance — it's about perseverance, discipline, and gratitude. I understand what it means to have something taken away, and I don't take for granted the ability to train, compete, and push myself. As I prepare to compete at the collegiate level at Saint Mary's College, I carry with me the resilience, discipline, and perspective that fitness has built in me. Fitness didn't just help me recover from my accident — it helped me rebuild my identity. That foundation will carry me not only in the pool, but in every challenge I face beyond it.

Since I was little, I've felt completely out of control of my life. I faced abuse from people in my life whom I was meant to trust most. When I turned 8, I learned a coping mechanism and a way to control something; I restricted my food. At first, although mentally unhealthy, I faced no physical health consequences. My sister passed away, and then shortly after, COVID started. As life moved online, my eating disorder did too, and I became active in pro-anorexia spaces. I lost more and more weight, and by the time I was 13, I was facing serious health problems. I developed osteoporosis from vitamin deficiencies, chronic low blood sugar, low blood pressure, and excessively fast heart rate. Most days, getting out of bed, physically, was too challenging for me. Eventually, I was forced into a program, but was forced out once I was “acceptable healthy” due to covid restrictions. At this point in my life, I never considered movement as anything but punishment. When covid restrictions loosened, I began to do yoga at the advice of my mom. After yoga, I felt incredible. I began to show up for myself in yoga, and I felt, for the first time, like being myself could possibly be a good thing. I made friends in yoga, and they told me how much they loved running. These girls inspired me. I tried running, but it made me dizzy and sick, and I couldn't manage it for more than a minute. I looked into how to move into running online, and I saw people saying that starting on the stair machine was a great way to build up the cardio for running. I got myself a gym membership and slowly built my cardio. At first, I could only do it at a slow speed for 5 minutes, but then it became 10, and I became faster, and I kept progressing. Eventually, I was able to run a mile, then 2, then 3, and I even ran a 5K. Since then, I started to lift weights, run more competitively, and even do kickboxing. Now I lift at least 5 times a week, run at least 3 times, and came in the 90th percentile in a 5K with over 1000 people. Lifting weights, running, and high-impact activities have measurably improved my bone health. Running and building cardio improved my overly high heart rate, and my blood pressure has improved greatly. I have never felt happier, healthier, and more in control of my life and future than I do when I do athletics.

Fitness was my light when I lost everything. In the summer of 2024, I ended up breaking my metacarpal bone, in a way where the bone was completely separated and misplaced. I spent that whole summer in a cast. I could see, and feel all the muscle in my upper body on my right side, slowly slipping away. There was nothing I could do, but wait patiently, to use my right hand once again. In August of 2024, 3 months after I had broken my hand, I had gotten my cast off and was ready to start my junior year of high school, the most important year of my life. Next thing I know, 2 weeks after I had gotten my cast off, I had learned that we would be getting evicted from our apartment. At the time, I had lived in a family of 7, so this was a major shock to us all. My parents decided to bring us to a close family friend's house to live in their garage. This is where everything took a turn for the worse. Chaos everyday. Roaches, spiders, and rats everywhere. having to use a sink to wash myself. One day, in the summer of 2025, I took a look in the mirror. I had seen that one side of my body was thicker, and bigger than the other. I was ashamed of myself and hated the way I looked. I didn't want to do weightlifting, because I had tried it before and never seen any results. That's when I discovered Calisthenics. I'd seen videos of people all across the world controlling their body weight and doing tricks that only superheros could do. I had decided that I wanted to become one of them. So, as soon as I finished my junior year, I got to work. Every single day, I spent working. Push-ups, pull-ups, hanging leg raises. I wouldn't stop until I had reached my goal everyday. It wasn't easy. At first, I was so weak that I'd jump and use that momentum to pull myself over the bar. Realizing how weak I was, there were thoughts that entered my head telling me that I'd never change and become who I aimed to be. That my body would be disfigured forever, and there'd be nothing I can do to change it. I was so frustrated with myself that these thoughts started to overtake me, and I almost quit everything. I was still living in the garage at that time, and nothing seemed like it would ever change. It felt like prison and hell everyday. Even though I was struggling, working out was a pleasure. At the time, it was the only stable thing in my life, and provided comfort. It was at this point where I had decided to push even further. I pushed and worked so hard that it felt weird if I didn't work out that day, the type of obsession and determination that I believe only the greats have. Now, I will soon be reaching a year in doing Calisthenics. I have learned several skills, but the ones I hold close is the Dragon Flag, and Muscle-Ups. These skills have taken others years to master, while it has only taken me 11 months. I feel faster, stronger, and more confident in who I am. Calisthenics has done more than positively affect my body. It has helped me develop a mentality that supports me through even the hardest of times. No matter what I go through, I know that Push-ups and Pull-ups will always be there for me.