A personal finance lesson I find important is to save enough money where an unexpected $3,000 expense would not be devastating. This is important because life happens and if you are not prepared it will lead to unnecessary stress. You never know when you are going to have an emergency occur and have to make a trip to the emergency room or you pop a tire driving down the highway. Being prepared for these unexpected situations is necessary for financial freedom.

I stood in the parking lot, eyes stinging with tears, determined not to cry. My track career was over. I always knew the path I would take, I would run in college and become a collegiate track coach. Staying after practice to put in extra work was normal for me, but constant criticism and sneaky degrading comments had finally broken me. The season started much differently. I had just completed a grueling winter training cycle with my club team inspiration and determination fueled my workouts. My track program would embark on the third season with a new coach. I would once again adjust to a new training and coaching style. On the first bitterly cold day of practice, the new coach strutted in and proudly notified me “I am here so when you win races, I can gloat to my coach friends. Don't embarrass me.” These words crushed me. I would win races that year because of the days I trained in the freezing cold when nobody else did, when the frigid air made my lungs feel like they were going to crack, not because of this coach. As the weeks progressed most practices ended with the coach barking degrading words over the team. He made statements like, “Y'all don’t know what it is to work hard because every single one of you goes home to a three-car garage.” I attempted to avoid any interaction with the coach. My Dad confronted him. Everything worsened. While lifting, the coach would stroll over to me and remind me “If you want to be a valuable athlete, must deadlift 300 pounds and weigh under 110 pounds. Do you weigh under 110? Don't be the fat kid?” Collapsing into my car after practice each day I felt discouraged and defeated. I dreaded practice, and it showed. One day the coach pulled me aside. For 20 minutes he roared criticism towards me. He talked about everything. He talked about nothing. I didn't hear a word. I burned with anger and frustration. I was done enduring this abuse. I felt lost. The thing that once got me through the day I now dreaded the most. With my parents, I carefully constructed an email to the athletic director outlining the daily verbal assaults I had endured. Nothing changed. The words spoken over me overflowed into every aspect of my life. Thoughts of doubt and worthlessness filled my mind as I sat in class or interacted with peers. A few weeks later COVID hit and my school shifted to online. Hearing the news my heart instantly filled with a sense of relief. I started running with my club team and began loving track again. I anticipated the day school track would resume training with dread and fear. Taking a step of faith, I expressed to my parents that I wanted to go to public school. They supported my decision, and I left behind friends and familiarity. This experience shaped me in two significant ways. First, I want to leave a positive legacy. I want to be known for how I treated strangers and how I truly cared about the impact my words have on others. Secondly, I am going to work hard in school and my career. I no longer want to be a collegiate track coach exclusively because it is my dream job. I want to coach track collegiately so I can reach girls who were devalued by someone and tell them they are valuable. I want to express to girls that they must pursue their passions because their thoughts and ideas are needed in this world.

I stood in the parking lot, eyes stinging with tears, determined not to cry. My track career was over. I always knew the path I would take, I would run in college and become a collegiate track coach. Staying after practice to put in extra work was normal for me, but constant criticism and sneaky degrading comments had finally broken me. The season started much differently. I had just completed a grueling winter training cycle with my club team inspiration and determination fueled my workouts. My track program would embark on the third season with a new coach. I would once again adjust to a new training and coaching style. On the first bitterly cold day of practice, the new coach strutted in and proudly notified me “I am here so when you win races, I can gloat to my coach friends. Don't embarrass me.” These words crushed me. I would win races that year because of the days I trained in the freezing cold when nobody else did, when the frigid air made my lungs feel like they were going to crack, not because of this coach. As the weeks progressed most practices ended with the coach barking degrading words over the team. He made statements like, “Y'all don’t know what it is to work hard because every single one of you goes home to a three-car garage.” I attempted to avoid any interaction with the coach. My Dad confronted him. Everything worsened. While lifting, the coach would stroll over to me and remind me “If you want to be a valuable athlete, must deadlift 300 pounds and weigh under 110 pounds. Do you weigh under 110? Don't be the fat kid?” Collapsing into my car after practice each day I felt discouraged and defeated. I dreaded practice, and it showed. One day the coach pulled me aside. For 20 minutes he roared criticism towards me. He talked about everything. He talked about nothing. I didn't hear a word. I burned with anger and frustration. I was done enduring this abuse. I felt lost. The thing that once got me through the day I now dreaded the most. With my parents, I carefully constructed an email to the athletic director outlining the daily verbal assaults I had endured. Nothing changed. The words spoken over me overflowed into every aspect of my life. Thoughts of doubt and worthlessness filled my mind as I sat in class or interacted with peers. A few weeks later COVID hit and my school shifted to online. Hearing the news my heart instantly filled with a sense of relief. I started running with my club team and began loving track again. I anticipated the day school track would resume training with dread and fear. Taking a step of faith, I expressed to my parents that I wanted to go to public school. They supported my decision, and I left behind friends and familiarity. This experience shaped me in two significant ways. First, I want to leave a positive legacy. I want to be known for how I treated strangers and how I truly cared about the impact my words have on others. Secondly, I am going to work hard in school and my career. I no longer want to be a collegiate track coach exclusively because it is my dream job. I want to coach track collegiately so I can reach girls who were devalued by someone and tell them they are valuable. I want to express to girls that they must pursue their passions because their thoughts and ideas are needed in this world.

I stood in the parking lot, eyes stinging with tears, determined not to cry. My track career was over. I always knew the path I would take, I would run in college and become a collegiate track coach. Staying after practice to put in extra work was normal for me, but constant criticism and sneaky degrading comments had finally broken me. The season started much differently. I had just completed a grueling winter training cycle with my club team inspiration and determination fueled my workouts. My track program would embark on the third season with a new coach. I would once again adjust to a new training and coaching style. On the first bitterly cold day of practice, the new coach strutted in and proudly notified me “I am here so when you win races, I can gloat to my coach friends. Don't embarrass me.” These words crushed me. I would win races that year because of the days I trained in the freezing cold when nobody else did, when the frigid air made my lungs feel like they were going to crack, not because of this coach. As the weeks progressed most practices ended with the coach barking degrading words over the team. He made statements like, “Y'all don’t know what it is to work hard because every single one of you goes home to a three-car garage.” I attempted to avoid any interaction with the coach. My Dad confronted him. Everything worsened. While lifting, the coach would stroll over to me and remind me “If you want to be a valuable athlete, must deadlift 300 pounds and weigh under 110 pounds. Do you weigh under 110? Don't be the fat kid?” Collapsing into my car after practice each day I felt discouraged and defeated. I dreaded practice, and it showed. One day the coach pulled me aside. For 20 minutes he roared criticism towards me. He talked about everything. He talked about nothing. I didn't hear a word. I burned with anger and frustration. I was done enduring this abuse. I felt lost. The thing that once got me through the day I now dreaded the most. With my parents, I carefully constructed an email to the athletic director outlining the daily verbal assaults I had endured. Nothing changed. The words spoken over me overflowed into every aspect of my life. Thoughts of doubt and worthlessness filled my mind as I sat in class or interacted with peers. A few weeks later COVID hit and my school shifted to online. Hearing the news my heart instantly filled with a sense of relief. I started running with my club team and began loving track again. I anticipated the day school track would resume training with dread and fear. Taking a step of faith, I expressed to my parents that I wanted to go to public school. They supported my decision, and I left behind friends and familiarity. This experience shaped me in two significant ways. First, I want to leave a positive legacy. I want to be known for how I treated strangers and how I truly cared about the impact my words have on others. Secondly, I am going to work hard in school and my career. I no longer want to be a collegiate track coach exclusively because it is my dream job. I want to coach track collegiately so I can reach girls who were devalued by someone and tell them they are valuable. I want to express to girls that they must pursue their passions because their thoughts and ideas are needed in this world.

I believe the most simple things can change someone's day. One way in which I try to have a positive impact on the world is by showing unmatchable kindness to strangers. I want to be the person whose smile changes someone's day, or my compliment puts a smile on a stranger's face. I know it is simple, and it is not going to solve world hunger or climate change, but if I can make someone smile or feel loved I call that a win. I walk around with the perspective of not knowing what others are going through. The rude cashiers could be a single mother trying to scrape by. The person who cut me off on the highway could have just gotten the news that their father had a heart attack. I do not know what others are going through, so I want to do everything I can to make their day just a little better.

Through my mentorship of others, I hope to encourage young girls. The world constantly tells young girls they are not enough. There are always commercials on TV telling girls they need makeup or perfume or new clothes or to work out more to be pretty and strong and valuable. On social media models portray the world's idea of the ideal woman but, in reality, those models are a nearly unattainable standard to meet. Encouragement is what young girls need. I want to be the person who tells them their value comes from who they are. They are valuable because they have the ability to make someone's day better. They are valuable because their ideas are unique to themselves. They are valuable because they made it through every one of their worst days. I want to encourage them that they do not need the praise of the world to feel valuable. Young girls are strong, and I want to be the voice in their head that constantly reminds them they can do it.