Meet the 2024 Scholars

"Describe a defining moment in your journey with CF that sparked personal growth or resilience. How did this experience affect you and what did you learn from this moment?"

I was not built to be a runner. My towering height of 5’2” does nothing for my stride, and my short Achilles tendons makes it hard to generate force. My diabetes also requires careful monitoring of my blood sugar and is not conducive to prolonged exercise. Yet those challenges pale in comparison to becoming a runner with cystic fibrosis (CF). As a child, I never really thought about becoming an athlete. My struggles with CF made the prospect seem like little more than a dream. I spent too many days sick with lung infections, battling severe weight loss, and dealing with chronic fatigue to imagine a more active lifestyle. As I grew older, however, I realized that I wanted to do some type of sport in high school. So, even though I had never done it previously and hated to run, I decided to join the cross country team. It seemed like the kind of sport that I could participate in without prior experience. As I started to train, I quickly discovered that running for extended periods of time with a lung disease was no easy feat. I frequently had to take breaks to catch my breath or cough up mucus. That first year, I remained steadily in the back half of the junior varsity team at every race. Yet, despite all of that, I built up a desire to compete. The following summer, I began running and strength training alongside my parents, as well as attending summer running with my teammates. There were plenty of tears when my lungs did not want to cooperate, when I choked on mucus, or when my blood glucose levels developed a mind of their own. As I continued training, though, I found that I was able to stay with the varsity runners longer and longer. That year, I ran on the varsity team. Near the end of the season, I got a lung infection and running races became much tougher. While riding to a championship meet, my mom sent me a quote she had seen that morning: “I run because I can. When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run. What they would give to have this simple gift… and for them I run harder.” As the race progressed, my breathing became more labored. I struggled to get enough oxygen and began losing feeling in my legs. I repeated the quote in my head to distract myself from the pain and discomfort of the race. With about a mile left in the race, my mindset shifted from feeling sorry for myself to gratitude for what my body was capable of doing. As I crossed the finish line with a new personal best time, I began sobbing. CF did not win that race. I was stronger than my disease, if only for 22 minutes. As I looked ahead, I knew that I could continue to create moments like that—moments where I could assert myself as more than my disease.