In my life, I’ve come to realize that the failures I’ve faced have meant more to me than any achievement. I don’t come from a place of shortcuts or handouts. I come from a blue-collar community—built by cowboys whose motto was “it’s a long ways from your heart.” We show up early, stay late, and don’t complain. That mindset shaped who I am.
One of my biggest setbacks came after my first semester of college. I’d earned a scholarship to play softball at an NAIA school in Iowa, and my hometown rallied behind me. But what I thought would be a dream turned out to be my hardest year. The team culture was toxic. Despite my efforts to advocate for change, I broke my hand mid-season and was sidelined. I tried to stay positive, but eventually realized I was fighting a losing battle. The hardest part wasn’t leaving—it was thinking about how to explain to my coaches, teammates, and community that I had made the wrong choice. I felt like a failure.
But coming home changed my perspective. Someone once told me, “Don’t think you have everything figured out—because you don’t.” That stuck with me. I stopped focusing on short-term outcomes and got back to work. The next year, I walked on to a nationally ranked softball team. That failure didn’t define me—it redirected me.
Even then, the challenges didn’t stop. As a biomedical science major, my schedule is intense. At one point, I was taking 16 credits, practicing daily, lifting at 5:45 a.m., and working late shifts to pay for school. I hit another low when I failed a chemistry exam. But instead of quitting, I sought help. I went to tutoring, rearranged my schedule, and pushed through. I ended up passing the class, and more importantly, learned how to endure and adapt.
Jore Lund’s story speaks to me deeply. He believed in progress over perfection, in working hard even when the plan seemed flawed, and in putting people first. Like Jore, I believe in the power of purposeful work. I’m drawn to the kind of effort that leaves your hands dirty and your soul fulfilled. The kind of grind that doesn’t make headlines but changes lives.
My failures taught me resilience. They taught me to ask for help, to fight for what’s right, and to work even harder when things go wrong. As I pursue a future in science and healthcare, I want to serve my community in the same spirit—by showing up, staying strong, and making a difference where it’s needed most.
I don’t aspire to be perfect—I aspire to be dependable, selfless, and strong enough to carry the weight when others can’t. That’s the kind of legacy I want to leave. And I believe it’s one that Jore would’ve respected.