Because I am a senior in high school, I was required to complete a capstone research project. At the time, I had no clear idea what I wanted to study, and I spent much of the summer feeling stuck. I knew I was interested in science, but I had never experienced what real research looked like outside of a classroom. Eventually, I thought of my friend’s neighbor (someone I knew through running) who worked in a biology lab at the University of Memphis. I reached out and asked if he would be willing to let me work on a project with him. Honestly, I did not care what the project was; I just wanted the chance to learn. He introduced me to a project focused on the molecular determination of nestling (baby bird) sex, and that opportunity completely changed how I viewed STEM. In the lab, I learned to use PCR and gel electrophoresis to analyze DNA samples, eventually sexing more than 400 nestling specimens. The process required patience, precision, resilience, and a lot of pipetting. Procedures did not always work the first time, and I had to learn how to troubleshoot mistakes rather than get discouraged by them. For the first time, science felt active and investigative instead of completely theoretical. As I gained experience, I began to understand how individual data points contribute to larger scientific questions. My work now aims to transform genetic data into meaningful evolutionary applications, helping researchers better understand population dynamics and development within species. Seeing how careful laboratory work can lead to broader ecological insight showed me the real impact of scientific research. This experience solidified my interest in STEM by showing me that discovery often begins with curiosity and the willingness to try something unfamiliar. After graduating, I hope to pursue a career in medicine where I can apply scientific thinking to real-world problems and serve my community through evidence-based, compassionate care. I want to continue asking questions, seeking understanding, and using science as a tool to improve lives.

Running has always been more than a sport for me, it’s where I push myself, clear my head, and see what I’m capable of. But during my junior year of cross country, I learned the hard way that running is as much mental as it is physical. I DNF’d (Did Not Finish) three out of nine races, and each one felt like a punch to the gut. It started with the first race of the season. I had run a 5k at the end of summer that felt effortless, and I was excited to carry that momentum into the season. But as soon as the gun went off, I felt off. My first mile was slower than it had been just weeks before, and my mind immediately spiraled. “Why am I running so slow? I should be in better shape. Maybe I’m not good enough.” By the second mile, I was exhausted physically, and even more mentally. Every step felt impossible, and every thought convinced me that I might as well quit. I stepped off the course in tears, feeling like I had failed not just myself, but my team. The next two races played out the same way. My body could have kept going, but my mind refused. I realized that my own thoughts were the biggest obstacle, and that my DNF’ing wasn’t about a lack of effort or fitness—it was about fear, doubt, and anxiety overpowering me at exactly the wrong moment. It was humbling, and it forced me to confront what resilience really meant. With the guidance of my coach, I set a simple goal: finish. I left my watch behind, removed the pressure of pacing, and focused on effort instead of numbers. The next race wasn’t easy, the second mile still sucked, but this time I didn’t step off. Crossing the finish line, my time wasn’t a personal record, but the pride and relief I felt far outweighed any number. From then on, I stopped DNF’ing. I learned that resilience isn’t about avoiding struggle but rather is about choosing to move forward even when your mind and body are screaming at you to quit. These experiences shaped not only how I approach running, but also my academic curiosity and my interest in sports medicine. My AP Research project explores how high school female distance runners can tailor their training to their menstrual cycles. I studied how hormonal fluctuations affect training performance, recovery, and injury risk, and how small adjustments in intensity and recovery can optimize performance. Conducting interviews with adolescent female runners and analyzing their experiences reinforced my fascination with how science can guide safer, more effective athletic training. Both my personal experiences and my research have convinced me that I want to pursue a career in sports medicine. I hope to help athletes navigate both the physical and mental challenges of competition, optimize performance through evidence-based strategies, and design training programs that account for the unique needs of each athlete. My goal is to make sports a space where athletes are supported, empowered, and encouraged to reach their potential, even when the journey is hard. By combining the lessons I learned from my DNFs with the insights from my research, I hope to help shape the future of running where athletes can train smarter, perform stronger, and recover safely.