During a normal, routine race something felt off. Normally, I’m hyper-focused on finishing strong, leaving nothing on the course. But today, I found myself looking back, a sign that I was struggling. Rounding the last turn with about 100 meters to go, my legs gave out. My body collapsed and I fell to the ground. I tried getting up but fell two more times. By the third fall, I couldn’t see clearly; I was dizzy and disoriented. My dad and coach rushed onto the course and supported me by carrying me across the finish line. I passed out shortly after. The next thing I remember is being submerged in an ice bath. When I got out, dizziness struck and 911 was called. My dad helped me sit down as EMS arrived. I was scared and confused. I felt disconnected from my body as if watching myself in a movie. Time seemed to move in slow motion and my mind seemed like it was a couple of seconds behind. When EMS arrived, they loaded me onto a stretcher, where they monitored my heart and administered an IV. After spending an hour in an ambulance, my heart and mind came back to normal. Despite this near-death experience, I had just faced I had two realizations at that moment. First I was incredibly thankful to be alive and for the people that ultimately saved my life. These people carried me across the finish line, provided care, and spoke words of encouragement. I realized that I wanted to be involved in something similar. This traumatic experience helped me realize that I want to help others in the same way; it sparked a sense of empathy in me. Second, I learned that athletic ability or any other thing we do should not define us because it can be taken away in an instant. Heat strokes and other injuries happen. When the things we love are gone, who are we? Identity should not be tied to a sport, person, or anything temporary. It must be grounded in something greater than ourselves, shaped by purpose and truth that lasts. When I collapsed on the course, I had nothing left and needed help. The people who came to support me showed up when I needed them most. When I lost the ability to physically function as I desired I felt hopeless. Thus, through this experience, I realized that I wanted to become a physical therapist and strive to be a beacon of support and hope in others' lives. Next year I plan to attend a university and study kinesiology. I enjoy school and I thrive in learning environments. After I graduate, I plan to attend a graduate school for physical therapy. Once I get my degree, I hope to open my private practice. I want to specifically focus on treating athletes. I also want to incorporate mental training to help people move past the injuries and trauma they may have experienced. My Mom is a counselor so I understand the importance of emotional well-being. Thus, I hope to innovate an environment that prioritizes overall physical and mental well-being to help as many people as possible.

During a normal, routine race something felt off. Normally, I’m hyper-focused on finishing strong, leaving nothing on the course. But today, I found myself looking back, a sign that I was struggling. Rounding the last turn with about 100 meters to go, my legs gave out. My body collapsed and I fell on the ground. I tried getting up but fell two more times. By the third fall, I couldn’t see clearly; I was dizzy and disoriented. My dad and coach rushed onto the course, and supported me by carrying me across the finish line. I passed out shortly after. The next thing I remember is being submerged in an ice bath. When I got out, dizziness struck and 911 was called. My dad helped me sit down as EMS arrived. I was scared and confused. I felt disconnected from my body, as if watching myself in a movie. Time seemed to move in slow motion and my mind seemed like it was a couple seconds behind. When EMS arrived, they loaded me onto a stretcher, where they monitored my heart and administered an IV. After spending an hour in an ambulance, my heart and mind came back to normal. Despite this near-death experience I had just faced I had two realizations in that moment. First I was incredibly thankful to be alive and for the people that ultimately saved my life. These people carried me across the finish line, provided care, and spoke words of encouragement. I learned that athletic ability or any other thing we do should not define us because it can be taken away in an instant. Heat strokes and other injuries happen. When the things we love are gone, who are we? Identity should not be tied to a sport, person, or anything that is temporary. It must be grounded in something greater than ourselves, shaped by purpose and truth that lasts. When I collapsed on the course, I had nothing left and needed help. The people who came to support me showed up when I needed them most. When I lost the ability to physically function as I desired I felt hopeless. Thus, through this experience, I realized that I wanted to become a physical therapist and strive to be a beacon of support and hope in others lives. Next year I plan to attend a university and study kinesiology. I enjoy school and I thrive in learning environments. This will help me learn and retain information. After I graduate, I plan to attend a graduate school for physical therapy. Once I get my degree, I hope to open my own private practice. I want to specifically focus on treating athletes. I also want to incorporate mental training in order to help people move past their injuries and trauma they may have experienced. My Mom is a counselor so I understand the importance of emotional well-being. Thus, I hope to innovate an environment that prioritizes overall physical and mental well-being.

Much of my life has been centered around sports teams. One defining moment that has completely changed my perspective on life came in an unexpected way. It was an early morning, even by my standards. We woke up at 3am to travel for an 8am race. We arrived and began the usual preparations: warming up, lining up, and starting. This race felt no different from the others I’ve run over the past four years. I entered the 2-mile mark with a 5:20 split, knowing I’d push in the last mile. By the final half mile, I had moved from 14th to 6th place. Then something felt off. Normally, I’m hyper-focused on finishing strong, leaving nothing on the course. But today, I found myself looking back, a sign that I was struggling. Rounding the last turn with about 100 meters to go, my legs gave out. My body collapsed and I fell on the ground. I tried getting up but fell two more times. By the third fall, I couldn’t see clearly; I was dizzy and disoriented. My dad and coach rushed onto the course, and supported me by carrying me across the finish line. I passed out shortly after. The next thing I remember is being submerged in an ice bath. When I got out, dizziness struck and 911 was called. My dad helped me sit down as EMS arrived. I was scared and confused. I felt disconnected from my body, as if watching myself in a movie. Time seemed to move in slow motion and my mind seemed like it was a couple seconds behind. When EMS arrived, they loaded me onto a stretcher, where they monitored my heart and administered an IV. After spending an hour in an ambulance, my heart and mind came back to normal. Despite this near-death experience I had just faced I had two realizations in that moment. First I was incredibly thankful to be alive and for the people that ultimately saved my life. These people carried me across the finish line, provided care, and spoke words of encouragement. Secondly, I thought about the prayer with my team at the start line: “Help us to know that one race does not define us.” So often I placed my identity in athletic performance. I have learned that athletic ability or any other thing we do should not define us because it can be taken away in an instant. When I collapsed on the course, I had nothing left and needed help. The people who came to support me showed up when I needed them most. Sports and being part of a team have taught me to show up, to let go of pride, and to be resilient. Even though I fell 100 meters from the finish line, I gave it my all. Just as my dad and coach did for me, I hope to have the courage to help others reach their finish lines and to come alongside people when they fall. Life can be unpredictable, but with a solid identity, and the lessons I’ve learned, I’m prepared to persevere. I learned that my identity cannot be wrapped in temporary things; I must have an identity that is unchanging. I learned that I am a person who values empathy and resilience. Through this experience I realized I wanted to become a physical therapist and help support people who go through dark moments in their lives. I hope to be a beacon of light in people’s lives and to help people recover from injury and come back to whatever they do stronger than ever.

I have been actively involved in sports throughout my high school career. I have played soccer and run cross country all 4 years. However the most defining moment of my sports career was very unexpected. It was an early morning, even by my standards. We woke up at 3am to travel for an 8am race. We arrived and began the usual preparations: warming up, lining up, and starting. This race felt no different from the others I’ve run over the past four years. The first mile was strong, a 4:58 split; slightly faster than my coach would have liked but nothing unusual. Then something felt off. Normally, I’m hyper-focused on finishing strong, leaving nothing on the course. But today, I found myself looking back, a sign that I was struggling. Rounding the last turn with about 100 meters to go, my legs gave out. My body collapsed and I fell on the ground. I tried getting up but fell two more times. By the third fall, I couldn’t see clearly; I was dizzy and disoriented. My dad and coach rushed onto the course, and supported me by carrying me across the finish line. I passed out shortly after. The next thing I remember is being submerged in an ice bath. When I got out, dizziness struck and 911 was called. My dad helped me sit down as EMS arrived. I was scared and confused. I felt disconnected from my body, as if watching myself in a movie. Time seemed to move in slow motion and my mind seemed like it was a couple seconds behind. When EMS arrived, they loaded me onto a stretcher, where they monitored my heart and administered an IV. After spending an hour in an ambulance, my heart and mind came back to normal. Despite this near-death experience I had just faced I had two realizations in that moment. First I was incredibly thankful to be alive and for the people that ultimately saved my life. These people carried me across the finish line, provided care, and spoke words of encouragement. Secondly, I thought about the prayer with my team at the start line: “Help us to know that one race does not define us.” So often I placed my identity in athletic performance. I have learned that athletic ability or any other thing we do should not define us because it can be taken away in an instant. Heat strokes and other injuries happen. When the things we love are gone, who are we? Identity should not be tied to a sport, person, or anything temporary. It must be grounded in something greater than ourselves, shaped by purpose and truth that lasts. When I collapsed on the course, I had nothing left and needed help. The people who came to support me showed up when I needed them most. Sports and being part of a team have taught me to show up, to let go of pride, and to be resilient. Even though I fell 100 meters from the finish line, I gave it my all. I learned the value of helping others. Just as my dad and coach did for me, I hope to have the courage to help others reach their finish lines and to come alongside people when they fall. Life can be unpredictable, but with a solid identity, and the lessons I’ve learned, I’m prepared to persevere. I now know I am so much more than my sports accomplishments. I am an emphatic man who cares about others and I hope to incorporate this passion by becoming a physical therapist.

During my Junior year, I tore my hamstring during a cross country race. I was devastated. I did not know if I would be healthy before the end of the season. I went to physical therapy and a chiropractor. I was immediately intrigued by the treatment options they had to offer: cupping, electrotherapy, needling, hot-cold therapy, and strengthening exercise. However, what intrigued me even more was the demeanor and principles of the healthcare workers. They embodied a positive sense of hope and encouragement. Through their continued support, I was hopeful that these exercises and my continued treatment would lead to a fast recovery so I could return to play. However this did not happen, and I was forced to sit out the rest of the season. While I was incredibly sad, I continued rehab and made it back for soccer season. While not directly in the spotlight, physical therapists work behind the scenes to help people recover and be at their best. As I've learned, injury can put people in a dark place both emotionally and physically. Similar to the physical therapists that helped me in my journey to recovery, I would strive to be a beacon of hope in people's lives. When a friend of mine broke his tibia, I was the first person to show up and support him after surgery. He was bed ridden and in low spirits. He told me that the simple act of me showing up, talking, and encouraging him helped him to remain hopeful. After his own recovery, we were both able to play soccer together for his senior year. Sports have taught me to show up for others. Playing sports you cannot be selfish; you must think about how your actions impact the team and others. I had a soccer teammate who did not play during games at all. He could have mentally checked out and not given any effort in practice. Instead he committed himself to helping better the team. He worked hard during practice and always picked up equipment after practice. He was a model of selfless service. Even though he did not play, he still had value to our team. Sports have taught me the value of encouragement. This year during my senior year of Cross Country, I had a friend that encouraged me a lot. After I suffered a heat stroke, I contemplated quitting. However I stuck with it, and was able to qualify for the state meet. Even though he did not qualify, he still showed up for me, supported me, and encouraged me throughout my journey. I am incredibly thankful for his encouragement and sports have helped me understand that lifting others up is much more powerful than tearing them down.

During my Junior year, I tore my hamstring during a cross country race. I was devastated. I did not know if I would be healthy before the end of the season. I went to physical therapy and a chiropractor. I was immediately intrigued by the treatment options they had to offer: cupping, electrotherapy, needling, hot-cold therapy, and strengthening exercise. However, what intrigued me even more was the demeanor and principles of the healthcare workers. They embodied a positive sense of hope and encouragement. Through their continued support, I was hopeful that these exercises and my continued treatment would lead to a fast recovery so I could return to play. However this did not happen, and I was forced to sit out the rest of the season. While I was incredibly sad, I continued rehab and made it back for soccer season. While not directly in the spotlight, physical therapists work behind the scenes to help people recover and be at their best. As I've learned, injury can put people in a dark place both emotionally and physically. Similar to the physical therapists that helped me in my journey to recovery, I would strive to be a beacon of hope in people's lives. When a friend of mine broke his tibia, I was the first person to show up and support him after surgery. He was bed ridden and in low spirits. He told me that the simple act of me showing up, talking, and encouraging him helped him to remain hopeful. After his own recovery, we were both able to play soccer together for his senior year. As a Kinesiology major working toward becoming a physical therapist, I want to continue to live out this principle of compassion and be a beacon of light wherever I go.