One of the most meaningful challenges I faced as an athlete was deciding where to continue my wrestling career at the collegiate level. For years, I trained under my club wrestling coach, Shane, at the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown. Shane had invested countless hours into my development, and the thought of telling him I chose to continue my athletic career at a different school, Washington & Jefferson, was intimidating. When I finally had the conversation with him, I expected disappointment or pressure to stay. Instead, Shane responded in a way that changed how I view leadership and success. He told me he was proud of me for choosing what was best for my future rather than what felt safe. He explained that real growth comes from stepping outside of comfort zones, even when it is difficult. In that moment, Shane showed me that a great coach values the person before the athlete. Shane went on to tell me that I would positively impact any team simply through my attitude, and that athletes who bring consistent energy, accountability, and selflessness are rare. That statement meant more to me than any compliment about my performance on the mat. It reinforced the idea that character, not talent alone, is what leaves a lasting impact. Before ending our conversation, Shane told me that I would always have a home at UPJ if anything ever changed. His support made it clear that his belief in me extended far beyond wrestling. This experience taught me that leadership is rooted in integrity, empathy, and long-term vision—traits that David valued deeply. Like David, Shane emphasized doing what is right rather than what is easy. He modeled selflessness by putting my future ahead of his own program and demonstrated the importance of supporting others without expecting anything in return. His example challenged me to hold myself to the same standard. I strive to exemplify these traits every day as an athlete and teammate. I bring a positive, disciplined mindset into every practice, knowing that my energy influences those around me. I hold myself accountable during difficult moments, whether that means pushing through physical fatigue or maintaining composure when results do not go my way. Most importantly, I prioritize being someone my teammates can rely on, understanding that success is built through trust and shared effort. Shane’s guidance helped me realize that while athletic careers may be temporary, the values developed through sport last a lifetime. His belief in me during a pivotal moment shaped the way I approach challenges, relationships, and leadership. Because of him, I understand that the person you become matters far more than the athlete you are—and that lesson will continue to guide me well beyond the wrestling mat.

When someone asks me, “What sport do you play?” I automatically say wrestling—ignoring the fact that I also golf and play softball. It doesn’t even cross my mind that I leave out the sports I grew up playing, because the conversation always ends up being about wrestling. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t playing a sport, usually more than one at a time. Staying busy has always felt natural to me. My dad is the reason I started wrestling, and now that I have experience in the same sport, I understand a deeper part of who he is. He grew up wrestling—something I would trade the world for. I started my freshman year, and seeing little girls competing at the same tournaments as me makes me incredibly happy. Wrestling means pushing your body further than your mind believes is possible and realizing that no standard is ever high enough. It means giving everything you have so that one day you can look back on your life with pride. This sport can break you, or it can make you feel like you’re on top of the world. You decide which side of that scale you land on. This isn’t true for all wrestlers—not for those who give half effort or don’t care about their results. I’m speaking for the athletes who chose wrestling because the other sports were too easy. The ones who spend their Friday nights in a wrestling room, drilling the same technique a hundred times, instead of being at parties with their friends. Wrestling means building character and creating connections. The energy you bring into the room affects the team more than your performance ever will. Not everyone agrees with this until I explain why it matters. Wrestling can be mentally exhausting—this is a well-known part of the sport. How you handle that struggle is one thing, but once you bring negative energy into the room, everything goes downhill. Your teammates feed off your drive and your intent to succeed. You should strive to be the person everyone looks to when they want to leave practice early—the one they know would never want to miss a minute of learning. Whether you’re cutting weight, tired, unmotivated, burned out, annoyed, or sore, wrestling teaches you how to refill your own cup without tearing others down. One win means nothing compared to a motivated, high-energy team. To me, wrestling isn’t just a sport. It’s a reflection of who I am, how I was raised, and who I strive to become. Wrestling means discipline, resilience, and accountability—not only to myself, but to the people beside me. It is the sport I claim first because it has shaped me more than any other, and it will always be a part of who I am.

On November 22, 2020, my grandfather unexpectedly passed away while my grandmother was out shopping. In an instant, she went from sharing her life with him, to living alone. Watching her face that loss deeply affected me, and I felt a responsibility to be there for her during the most difficult time of her life. I spent countless nights at her house because the thought of her sleeping alone and waking up to an empty home was unbearable to me. The period that stands out most was the summer before my seventh-grade year. It was a time when many of my classmates were forming friend groups, socializing outside of school, and preparing to enter a new building where popularity suddenly felt important. While others were focused on building their social circles, I chose to spend my time with my grandmother or at practice. At one point, my mother insisted I come home because I had been away for over a month. For a twelve-year-old, that was a significant sacrifice, but I never regretted it. Being present helped my grandmother regain her sense of joy and independence, and it taught me the importance of showing up for the people you love, even when it requires personal sacrifice. That lesson has stayed with me, and I continue to prioritize my relationship with her, understanding that time is something we never get back. Persistence and perseverance have also played a defining role in my life, particularly through athletics. I am often told by coaches, parents, and mentors that these traits define me as an athlete. I believe perseverance is not something that can be taught—it must be built through experience and commitment. I began wrestling my freshman year of high school with no prior experience, and I am now a senior. In just four years, I have become the most decorated female wrestler to come out of my high school. Wrestling is one of the most physically and mentally demanding sports, and success does not come without resilience. I entered the sport knowing nothing and was initially pushed into it by my father. Despite discomfort and uncertainty, I never complained and committed fully. As one of the few girls in the room, I faced judgment, doubt, and stereotypes claiming the sport “wasn’t for girls.” I endured difficult weight cuts, grueling workouts, long drives—sometimes two hours each way—for quality practice partners, and moments when teammates lacked motivation. I learned that a bad practice is still better than not showing up at all. The medals I have earned matter far less to me than the growth I experienced along the way. Wrestling taught me that perseverance means holding yourself to high standards, even when no one else does, and continuing to push forward when the path is uncomfortable. Whether supporting my grandmother during her time of loss or committing myself fully to a demanding sport, I have learned that success is built through consistency, sacrifice, and the willingness to persevere when it matters most.