When I was younger my friends and I loved imagination games. Our favorite game was to build a pretend life. I always chose to become a girl named “Lilly,” a version of myself that I believed everyone admired. She was blonde, popular, talented, and always kind. As I grew older, I did not realize how much I still carried Lilly with me. I changed how I acted depending on who I was with, and over time I lost sight of who I really was. High school finally gave me the experiences that helped me let go of Lilly and become confident in being simply Salay. I attend the Christian Educational Consortium where I balance academics with activities that challenge me. I race motocross and show horses, which taught me discipline and courage. I also compete in pageants, which helped me grow as a speaker and leader. These activities shaped my interests and guided me toward community involvement. I began pageants at fourteen through small county fairs. I loved the stage and the confidence each event demanded. When I discovered Miss Kentucky’s Teen, I thought it would be an easy way to earn a title and scholarship money. I quickly learned how unprepared I was. I had never completed a formal interview, walked a fitness routine, or developed a personal platform. Instead of embracing what made me unique, I tried to act like the contestants I admired. At the state competition, I walked into my interview pretending to be someone else. I did not advance, but I left determined to return with a better approach. That fall I competed in five preliminary pageants and still tried to become a version of someone else. I lost each time and stepped away from the Miss America Organization. I did not expect to return until I watched Miss America 2023 perform a “HER story” monologue about her Air Force experience. Her honesty inspired me. For the first time, I wanted to share my own story instead of copying someone else’s approach. I wrote a monologue about my motocross background and entered another preliminary with no expectations. I spoke honestly in my interview and carried myself as my true self. That night I won my first crown. As a titleholder I created Play Like a Girl: Racing Toward a Change. It empowers girls who want to pursue male-dominated sports, especially motorsports. I visited schools, organized community events, and encouraged young girls to try new things. Building this program helped me grow as a leader and allowed me to serve my community in a meaningful way. After high school I plan to attend college and study communications, business, or marketing. My goal is to continue helping young women build confidence. If I could start my own charity, I would expand Play Like a Girl into a full nonprofit. It would serve girls ages six to eighteen. Volunteers would lead workshops, assist at practices or competitions, and help provide access to equipment. The mission would be to give girls the belief that they belong in every space. Through my experiences I learned that authenticity is my greatest strength. I no longer want to be the pretend version of myself. I want to be simply Salay.

Motocross has never pretended to be safe. The crashes and constant risk are enough to chase most people away, but not me. The danger never felt real until the statistics I ignored became my reality. Most racers pay a steep price for this sport, and I was no exception. I have suffered permanent damage to my back, a lacerated liver, and more concussions than I can count. I could tell the story of how I pushed through each injury and how every setback taught me perseverance. But this is not that story. This is the story of one person and how our shared love for motocross changed my life forever. I met Aidan Zingg in 2023. His talent was impossible to ignore, but unlike most skilled riders, he never acted superior. He made everyone feel important, including me. I’m not naturally gifted at motocross and usually stayed near the back of the pack, but Aidan celebrated small improvements, offered encouragement, and made the sport welcoming no matter your skill. One of my first memories of our friendship was when the damage to my back was becoming unbearable. I called him, and the first thing he did was offer tips to adjust my bike so riding would hurt less. The rest of the call he spent cracking jokes to make me smile. Aidan could light up a room. He could take a moment of fear and pain and turn it into a memory I still laugh about. That ability to lift others, even while focusing on his own goals, made him rare We also loved to play Roblox together. It is a childish game, but we were nearly unbeatable at one mode called Dress to Impress. We always laughed at one simple pose in the game called pose 28. In November 2024, I finally met Aidan in person. I was walking with my mom through the pits at the Mini Olympics motocross race when I saw him. I called his name. He turned, walked over, and we started talking. I will never forget the smile on his face. My mom wanted a picture, so I told him, “Do pose 28.” The photo shows both of us smiling and perfectly captures the joy of finally meeting him. I did not know it then, but that simple moment would matter more than I ever imagined. June 28, 2025, is a day I will never forget. After fifteen straight hours working at the go-kart track, I was exhausted and uneasy. I assumed it was just the stress of a double shift. During my break, I received a text from a friend. Aidan Zingg had just passed away while racing in California. A cloud of devastation hung over the motocross community that day. I could not believe it. The person who had taught me so much about joy, friendship, and sportsmanship was gone. Aidan’s light was noticed when he was here, but it shone even brighter after his passing. He lived a life far too short, but I find peace knowing he left doing what he loved. Knowing him, he would not have wanted it any other way. He taught me the importance of making everyone feel valued no matter who they are. This lesson has changed my life forever. Now racing has a new meaning. I am not just racing for myself. I am racing for Aidan. Every time I ride, I remember him. Every race becomes a chance to honor the way he lived and the way he made a difference. His impact will stay with me for the rest of my life.