It still hurts to hear other people cry for you, especially when you don’t know why. My parents’ tears came after a string of small things I hadn’t thought much of: drinking an entire bottle of water on the ski lift and then stopping to use the bathroom every time we reached the bottom. Those odd routines led to blood tests, and one diagnosis changed everything: Type 1 Diabetes. For a nine-year-old, the diagnosis felt like an invisible rulebook added to my life. It wasn’t only the finger pricks or counting carbs; it was the quiet worry that followed my parents everywhere. I remember the detailed guides given to all my teachers, directors, and coaches. Their fear made me afraid, both for them and for myself. My mom later shared with me that she had started crying because she thought I wouldn’t be able to continue doing everything I thoroughly enjoyed. The multiple sports I played were a major part of this. Without any hesitation or signs of slowing down, I continued, balancing baseball, soccer, track, and basketball throughout middle school. When my parents hesitated about letting me fast for Ramadan given my medical condition and involvement in sports, I argued that doing so would allow me to prove to myself my strength and determination in both athletics and overcoming challenges. Fasting would have been a small, consistent action towards my control over diabetes, so I pursued it, and I was successful. I had my fair share of setbacks, but I was determined to keep the ball rolling. Overcoming the frustration in the day-to-day challenges, I continued to grow alongside my teammates and make memories, especially after I discovered my passion for running late in middle school. Running is my escapism. I’m the vocalist of my cross-country team, but that role extends beyond captaincy and announcing workouts. Singing on the runs, hitting high notes in Firework, alphabetically greeting the passersby, having lively conversations, and all in matching pickle shorts. With a smile on everyone’s face, the unity makes the miles count. Waking up on a Saturday morning can be difficult for me, but if it’s a long-run day, and the speaker is coming, I fly out of bed. The music blasts for the next ten miles, and so do our voices. Usually, there will be food or donuts afterward! With endless miles every week, my friends and I even found a way to put a creative twist on the laps: glasses of chocolate milk every lap, a brutal but thoroughly enjoyable weekend challenge. I can’t break the marathon world record alone, but with a team of seven, why not? Together, we taped a watch to a baton, and every lap, a new person sprinted. We beat the record by over two minutes, but it’s the 117 minutes we spent doing it that I’ll never forget. From my days collecting shoe keychains for the elementary school fun runs to the dense forest trails, running has provided me with a source of both tranquility and excitement. Despite facing adversity at times along the way, I continue to grow as an athlete and an individual with my dedication to both cross country and track and field. Moving forward, through both digital media and involvement in community athletic events, I hope to set the same example for the next generation of athletes, showing them that with sufficient drive and discipline, any amount of obstacles can be overcome. Regardless of our background or experience, we can still lead happy and healthy lives through athletics and contribute to our community in recreational, competitive, and community environments.