To say that diabetes has no effect on my life would be a simple fallacy. Of course, daily life looks far different for me than it does for someone with a working pancreas. However, I am still the same person under the insulin pump, Dexcom sensor, lancets, and the endless stream of supplies. I am still the same person pursuing an exercise science degree. For me, living with type one diabetes is not going to hinder my future endeavors, but it will only aid in my compassion and dedication to my strength and conditioning clients or to my prosthetics patients. Living with a chronic illness has made me aware of the many minute details in everyone's life, the things that every person has to overcome just to make it through the day. My mother often tells my sister and me, “You can do hard things.” And since the moment she first uttered those words to us girls, it has stuck. It is stuck in my mind and ingrained into my being. Whether I have a hard night of high or low blood sugar, or I am about to do something that is physically demanding, I remember my mother’s words. I believe this phrase has and can guide me through so many challenges because it does not say you will do something, but instead, you can. The hand of free will nudges me forward into the realm of uncertainty. That phrase gives you the option to back down or push forward. It is within that choice that strength emerges. Those words mean that I am more than capable of pushing myself to do the hard thing. Five words spoken by a mother can give her daughters the strength to keep their heads up, to succeed, and manage diabetes every day. No matter how discouraged I feel, I know that I “can do hard things”. Fitness has always been a passion of mine, and now I am lucky enough to turn my passion into a career. As a diabetic, I also know the importance of regular exercise in maintaining a healthy glucose level. A meaningful contribution I hope to make may start as a small drop in a vast pond, but over time, it can ripple to the shoreline. I hope to inspire those in the diabetic community that they are capable of pushing their bodies to the very limits, without being stopped by a chronic illness. Our bodies are well-suited for survival, but it’s our responsibility to maintain their health. Diabetes may demand more attention, more discipline, and more resilience, but it has never demanded that I shirk my goals. If anything, it has expanded them. I want to show others that strength is not the absence of struggle, but it is the decision to do the hard thing anyway. Diabetes may be a part of my story, but it will never be the end of it.

My mother often tells my sister and me, “You can do hard things.” And since the moment she first uttered those words to us girls, it has stuck. It is stuck in my mind and ingrained into my being. Whether I have a hard night of high or low blood sugar, or I am about to do something that is physically demanding, I remember my mother’s words. I believe this phrase has and can guide me through so many challenges because it does not say you will do something, but instead, you can. The hand of free will nudges me forward into the realm of uncertainty. That phrase gives you the option between backing down and pushing forward. It is within that choice that strength emerges. Those words mean that I am more than capable of pushing myself to do the hard thing. Five words spoken by a mother can give her daughters the strength to keep their heads up, to succeed, and manage diabetes every day. No matter how discouraged I feel, I know that I “can do hard things”. Although I never knew Carolyn, hearing her story makes me wish I had the chance. Her memory, one filled with kindness above all, serves as the most powerful reminder to not only type one diabetics, but for everyone. The deeper I read into Carolyn’s story, the more I saw pieces of myself reflected in Carolyn. Maybe the most minor detail, we both shared a love for exercise. Though it may not seem like the most extraordinary trait, it reveals a deeper level of dedication. As a diabetic, I also know the importance of regular exercise in maintaining a healthy glucose level. If only thirty minutes to an hour makes a year's worth of difference, I will choose that commitment every time. Living with Type one diabetes has required a level of discipline and resilience that many people do not see. At the same time, I believe diabetes has deepened my kindness. It has made me aware that everyone is carrying something unseen. Because of this, I understand the silent battle, the misconceptions, and how a simple helping hand can make a difficult day just a little bit better. Carolyn lived as if she believed the same five words as I do: you can do hard things. She did them daily, balancing school, work, athletics, advocacy, and health. Her story reinforces what my mother has always told me. Hard things are not boundaries; they are invitations. Invitations to grow, to lead, and to become stronger than we thought possible.

I never could have imagined that a small yellow ball and a racquet could teach me so much. What began in first grade as a simple summertime activity has grown into years of competition with Prowler Tennis. Tennis has always been an important aspect of who I am, and recently it has become clear that it has taught me some of the most valuable lessons. My freshman year tennis experience did not turn out how I had pictured. The beginning of the season brought two-a-day practices, with the second session consisting of challenge matches against our teammates. Though these are friendly competitions, they determined how the rest of the season would unfold. That year, I had played multiple competitive matches with some wins and losses. The first match of the season came, and I did not receive a varsity spot. The rest of my ninth-grade season, I played JV. Even though I wasn’t playing in the position I originally hoped for, I realized that I was able to enjoy time with my friends, and I still had the chance to play tennis. My next lesson came in my junior year, when I couldn’t play due to an ACL injury from basketball. That season of tennis was spent on the sidelines, watching and recording scores. By the time October came, the ache to return to the court was so strong that even watching my teammates' matches became difficult. That season reminded me how fragile our abilities can be and how important it is to cherish every chance to play, because the moments we take for granted can disappear without warning. This year, during my senior season, I experienced these lessons full circle. I began preparing in December, traveling an hour for private lessons at an indoor facility. Those days were the highlight of my week as I laced up my shoes and hit again for the first time in months. It felt like starting over, yet I was right where I left off. Week after week, my abilities and ambition for the season grew. However, when March came and track season began, it brought another round of injuries; I developed shin splints that eventually turned into stress fractures. In June, I was told I couldn’t run and I had to stop all weight-bearing activities, which meant I could not participate in summer tennis. By mid-August, my shins felt as good as they could, and two-a-day practice was underway. As I watched my teammates play, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was always one step behind, a feeling that lingered throughout the season. Still, every bit of work I put into improving my shots, communication, and endurance paid off during the Section Tournament. After three grueling matches, our team came home with a blue medal and a trophy. Two weeks later, we headed to the State Tournament. Despite losing in the first round, we came back strong in the consolation bracket and finished in fifth place. My tennis career may have ended perfectly, but it wouldn’t have without the lessons I learned along the way. It wasn’t until I had to sit on the sidelines that I truly understood how lucky I am to play tennis. Through every obstacle I’ve faced on the path to becoming a Consolation Champion, I’ve learned that the most important thing is never giving up. These lessons extend far beyond the court. They’ve taught me that success is not linear, and it comes with patience and perseverance, qualities that I will carry with me into each new chapter of my life.