It was officially post-season for wrestling, I took second in my regional after being tech-falled by a freshman and second again at sectionals, losing 8-2 in the finals. I lost to the same girl twice, but what were the chances I’d have to wrestle her again? Before the post-season, I had four long months of grueling practice. From the beginning of my third year wrestling, I knew my goal: to qualify for the state meet. I spent hours in the practice room from 3:15-5:30 with my team Monday through Friday, and then an extra 30 minutes after every practice with the coaches practicing my technique. After being one of the few girl wrestlers on my team for three consecutive years, I constantly compared myself to my male teammates, and I never felt that I was getting any better. Being beaten on by my male teammates, especially during live goes, was starting to make me believe I wouldn’t be able to meet my goal. As the season progressed, I took this thought as a way to drive me to work harder leading up to the postseason. My regional matches were normal, up until my semi-finals match. I was going up against a ranked girl. I was incredibly nervous because she was ranked. I started to doubt myself, leading me to lose 18-3 in the third period. I took second place, now I was worried about the next week at sectionals. If I lost to her once, what are the chances I’ll beat her? This question pushed me to drill even harder the next week. Sectionals came soon after, and I had to wrestle her once again in the semi-finals, mirroring what happened at regionals. I put my foot on the line, shook her hand, and wrestled hard for six minutes. Although I ended up losing again, 8-3, I became even hungrier. Both of us were now state qualifiers, but I’d be wrestling her soon again up at the Khol Center. Once I reached the blood rounds at the state meet, I knew I couldn’t lose again. This thought lit a fire under me. My first match on the back side of the bracket was a first-period pin. My coach hugged me, and then told me to look at the bracket. It was her again. My mind started to race, I thought I was done. I took a deep breath, put my AirPods in, and started to warm up for my next match. I’ve lost to her twice at this point, knowing this could be my last match in Madison, I wanted to leave everything out on the mat. My foot on the line for possibly the last time shook her hand, and began. The match was 1-1 across the board, we went into overtime, I saw how much this mentally broke her because she had already beaten me twice before. She took a lazy shot and I got the takedown. In a big upset, the 12th seed beat the sixth seed. Finally, a wave of relief hit me. I finally won. Not only did I make the podium, but I learned that every time I’d come so close, it would make the success feel even better. All the challenges I’d faced up until this point had prepared me to wrestle in one of the hardest matches I’d have all season. The constant unfair comparison of myself to my teammates was proven wrong. Looking back, I’d never bet money on winning that match, but I’ve learned sometimes it's better to bet on the underdog.

My first year of high school was a year of self-exploration. I just finished up my last Volleyball season after realizing how much I hated both school and club volleyball. I soon made plans to be a manager for my school’s wrestling team just for fun, but things didn’t turn out the way I initially planned it. My dad didn’t want me to be a manager, he wanted me to join the team. This wouldn’t be the first time I was a girl in a male-dominated sport. Throughout elementary school, I played football at recess with guys my age, later developing into joining flag football in middle school. Since COVID-19, I moved away and no longer had access to playing football. I missed being pushed to do better by my male teammates. My parents have always supported me in trying new things, but they were extra supportive of me joining wrestling. The first few practices were awkward. I had no clue what I was doing, and I felt that everyone else around me was so much better. This caused me to start staying after practice. First, it would be an extra five minutes, then 15, 20, and eventually, half an hour after every practice to practice my takedowns and shot defense. November and December flew by fast, only now was the hard part starting. January and February were grueling; drilling and going live, and people beginning to quit left and right. These months taught me how to fight on my own and push through pain I’ve never felt. I didn’t attend the state meet, but I wanted to return better. During my sophomore year, I took things seriously. This wasn’t a hobby for me, it became my new way of life. I started cross country that year to get conditioned before the rest of my teammates, and it worked. I learned that I enjoyed running as a hobby. Wrestling also made me realize I wanted to get stronger in the gym. Not only did wrestling teach me how to work hard, but it also made me realize I wanted to better myself and help others. One of my coaches realized this and started leadership lessons for me and a few teammates. Because of these lessons, I’ve learned to better speak up for myself and advocate for things I believe in. Since then I’ve led my teammates through practices, and almost become a mini coach, and it has helped me come out of my shell a lot more than I did my first year of wrestling. Overall, the lessons I’ve learned on and off the mat have proved that wrestling is a way of life. I’m stronger physically and emotionally than the little girl playing football for fun. I wish I had someone back then to look up to. If I did, I think I would have found myself and my confidence sooner. Although I didn’t meet my goal of making it to state, this made me realize that I have two more years to do what I truly signed myself up for; to inspire young girls and women to try the hard things. I want to make it up to the state meet to prove that with time, effort, challenge, and ambition anything can be done.