Like most kids, I wanted a role model: someone to look up to. Initially, I wanted to be Hannah Montana, something I’m sure many girls my age could relate to. However, as my sister Keely quickly pointed out, I could not sing. Shortly after this, I dreamed to be Gabriella from High School Musical and aspired to be a movie star. Yet again, my sister brought me crashing back down to reality when she told me that not only was I an awful singer, but my acting abilities were also subpar.

Heart broken, my relentless search for a person to inspire my life continued. One night, my dad and I decided to go through an old photo album. When I asked about a photo of my mom, he began telling me about her impressive running career. I always knew she was a runner, but I never understood just how fast she was. It was then I decided that I was going to follow in my mom’s foot steps. In fourth grade, I joined Girls On the Run, and by 7th grade, I was on the cross country team.

The first day of cross country I arrived prepared to blow the coaches away. Sadly, I grossly underestimated how much running hurts. Apparently, I was not blessed with the genes to run and for two seasons I struggled to keep up. My mom frequently told me about how her hard high school practices and I thought if I worked as hard, I would become an amazing runner. This was not the case, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get faster. I definitely didn’t live up to my mom’s times. I tried everything from watching YouTube videos and wearing superstitious lucky socks. I emulated my mother's lucky braid and listened to her motivational talks recalling her best races.

When I eventually started high school, I was fed up with not being as fast as my mom. Even though I aspired to her accomplishments, I didn’t succeed. One night, after running an awful race I sat wallowing in sorrow. I could only think about what my mom would have done differently. All of the sudden I had a revelation, I am not my mom. I will never be a national level collegiate runner. I am never going to win states, but I was not going to let that deter me. I might not be amazing, but I not a bad runner. If I stopped comparing myself to my mom, I can become my own runner. I understood that I enjoy running not because my mom did, but because it is fun. I still look up to her and hope that one day I will be just as successful but intend to do this in my own way. I now know that in order to be happy, you have to be yourself and can’t live in someone else’s shadow.