Drive to Compete
Excellence in Athletics
Athletics have been a defining part of my life, fueling my competitive spirit and shaping my character. Whether on the golf course or in the equestrian ring, I strive for excellence—not just in performance, but in preparation, mindset, and sportsmanship.
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Whether I'm walking the golf course or entering the show ring, I approach each challenge with determination and a drive to improve—lessons that carry into every area of my life.
Read below to see how these experiences continue to inspire me to lead with confidence.
Golf
I was four years old when my grandfather put a club in my hand. While it started as a casual interest, it quickly became something much deeper. It's something that shaped the way I view life, competition, and myself. Since then I've played sixe years of competitive golf with tournaments as a member of my high school golf team.
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Golf is a game of inches, patience, and paradox. You can be two feet from the hole and still miss, or sixty yards out and sink it in two. I learned this the hard way during my early years of playing, when frustration often got the best of me. I’d watch my shots veer off course, sometimes by my own error, other times by a gust of wind that seemed to appear just to humble me. But over time, I began to understand: every hole is an opportunity to start anew. One bad shot doesn't define a round, just like one tough moment doesn't define your life.
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Through hard work and quiet dedication, I began to find my rhythm. Early morning practices, buckets of balls hit in the summer heat, and rounds played in rain or shine, all taught me persistence. The game rewarded consistency and punished shortcuts. There was no cheating the course, and that’s where I learned the true meaning of integrity and sportsmanship..
Golf is a solitary sport in many ways; no referees, no teammates to mask your mistakes. You call penalties on yourself. You play it as it lies. And in that honesty, I found strength.
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There were moments of frustration, moments when I tossed a club or wanted to walk off the course. But those were the moments that taught me the most. Golf is a metaphor for life: unpredictable, challenging and certainly humbling. But also filled with unexpected joys. A birdie after a string of bogeys. A perfect drive after a day of slices. A quiet morning with dew still clinging to the grass, when the world falls away and there’s only the ball, the course, and the calm.​
Equestrian
​Somewhere along the way, I found my peace out there. The golf course became my sanctuary. It was a place where I could reset, refocus, and reconnect. Competition still drives me, but I’ve learned to embrace it with grace. I play to win, but more importantly, I play to grow.
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Every round ends, just like every challenge in life. But with each new tee box, you get another chance.
Another lesson. Another story. And I’m still writing mine, one shot at a time.
The first time I rode a horse, I was five years old. My mom told the riding instructor I had just turned six—the minimum age required for a lesson. Technically, she lied, but it felt a bit like rising up on your tiptoes to meet the height requirement for a big roller coaster. To be fair, the horse chosen for me was 28 years old—practically a senior citizen by equine standards—and blind in one eye. That day sparked a genuine and lasting affection for horses.
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As I grew older, more accessible and less costly sports—especially those that emphasized teamwork—took priority. I spent years playing soccer, basketball, and baseball, developing balance, coordination, and the ability to work with others. But during COVID, organized team sports disappeared, and close contact was too risky. A few activities remained possible because of their naturally distanced nature—golf and riding. And so, I found myself back on a horse.
​Many people think riding is simple, that you just sit on top while the horse does the work. In truth, riding is far more complex. It requires countless micro-adjustments, balance, and a skill set developed over time. Surprisingly, much of what makes a rider proficient happens not in the saddle but on the ground: building trust, establishing communication, and developing a partnership through patience and consistency.
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Horses are prey animals. They rely on flight to survive and protect themselves with powerful kicks and bites. Understanding what triggers their fear and learning how to create a sense of safety is the foundation of every ride. A rider learns as much through the care, feeding, and management of a horse as in the arena. It takes passion, commitment, and an endless willingness to do hard, dirty, often thankless work. The reward, however, is immeasurable.
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Through this work, I’ve learned to observe closely, to listen deeply, and to prioritize another being’s well-being over my own agenda or timeline. A meaningful bond with a horse is never achieved through force or shortcuts—it takes time, patience, and respect. Only when that foundation is built do you earn the privilege of extending that bond into the saddle.
​​It takes grit, persistence, and courage to become a skilled rider—to trust your safety to a 1,500‑pound partner and to feel, at last, that moment of fluid motion between two sentient beings. The path is physically demanding, expensive, and often grueling in harsh weather, but it is also profoundly rewarding.
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I have been forever shaped by my experiences within the horse community—cultivating strong equine partnerships and learning to navigate both success and disappointment in competition. These lessons in trust, communication, patience, and resilience are ones I carry with me beyond the barn. They have given me invaluable insight into navigating human relationships and inspired me to approach challenges with the same perseverance and empathy I’ve developed as an equestrian.
