For a long time, I thought I would never get back on the mat and wrestle again. I started my 7th-grade year, and I wasn't the best, but I was a fast learner, and I spent most of my time in the summer at tournaments in Centralia.

Once 8th grade came around, I had an amazing football season, and wrestling started, and I was the best on the team. I worked hard to be the best. None of my siblings did sports growing up, and the same with my parents. Everyone had high expectations for me, and it was a lot of stress on my shoulders. I was always trying to work harder than I did the day before. I never had a sibling to compare myself to when it came to sports. I loved the feeling of getting on the mat. Every time I checked someone or won a close match, I felt like I was on top of the world. Meeting so many people in the sport and connecting with refs, coaches, and teammates helped me open my eyes to the way I viewed a lot of things, and it now makes me realize how meaningful those moments are.

One of my core memories is when we took a trip to Maupin in 98-degree weather, and we had a boxing ring the last night in the grass, and we had a barbecue on the lake. Sadly, coming into my freshman year, I decided to go to a few of the practices and see how I liked it. It didn't go the way I expected it to, and when the meets came around, I didn't feel comfortable participating, so I decided not to go to a meet, and I later on quit that year. I always carried a gut-wrenching feeling everywhere I went after I quit. I always thought about other people's opinions, and it messed with my head. I tried it again my sophomore year, and I didn’t end up finishing the year.

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