I knew taking a gap year for one more shot at elite gymnastics was a gamble.
While my friends were moving into dorms, I was back home in Pennsylvania, still chasing Olympic Trials. Then, at one of my very first meets of the year, I landed a skill, felt my ankle roll, and watched it swell like a balloon.
That was not part of the plan.
I could’ve taken it as a sign I’d made the wrong decision. Instead, I threw myself into rehab. Three weeks later, I was in Germany with Team USA competing on a sore ankle, helping our team win, and remembering why I’d stayed elite. On the flight home, I told myself: no matter what happens, this year was worth it. I’d rather bet on myself than live with “what if?”
That mindset has carried me to Oklahoma. The gap year showed me my grit and reminded me why I love this sport, but now I get to do it all in crimson and cream. Competing for OU, becoming a national champion, and living the college experience is something I dreamed about as a kid in my parents’ gym.
Growing Up in Prestige
My story starts on a balance beam. My parents own Prestige Gymnastics in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and I was in the gym at 2 days old. It was my playground, my second home, and eventually the place I’d learn to coach.
I grew up watching the “big girls” train at a high level before leaving for college; from as early as I can remember, that’s what I wanted for myself.
Outside the gym, life was just as busy. I have three brothers who all swam, and we lived on a small farm that grew from one goat into a whole collection of animals. My childhood was a mix of chalk dust, swim meets, and backyard football games where my brothers never took it easy on me.
Having parents who were both my coaches and my mom and dad could have been tricky, but they handled it well. In the gym, I was their athlete. At home, I was their daughter. That separation kept the sport healthy and fun.
And while I never had a sister, I had Trinity Thomas. We trained together, and she became my biggest role model. Trinity felt like someone who understood the grind and always knew what to say when I was struggling. She felt like family and watching her made my own dreams feel possible.
Living the Elite Dream
After Level 8, my parents asked if I wanted to try Hopes. I didn’t fully grasp the scale of that step, but I said “sure” and jumped right in.
From the moment I started elite, I loved it. Perfection is part of the culture, but my parents kept it fun. Elite can be lonely because your “teammates” are often your competitors, but I loved the challenge and the travel.
The turning point came at the 2021 U.S. Championships. My goal was to make Olympic Trials, and I knew I had to hit my routines to have a chance. When I saw my name on the scoreboard, the emotions hit all at once: shock, joy, relief. For the first time, I told myself: I belong here.
It was absolutely surreal to compete at the U.S. Olympic Team Trials surrounded by gymnasts I’d watched on TV. It confirmed that elite wasn’t just something I did, it was part of who I was.
When the next Olympic cycle arrived, I knew I’d regret not giving it one last shot. That’s why I deferred college, reworked my training, pushed through an ankle injury, and gave elite everything I had one more time.
Finding Home at Oklahoma
Even deep in the elite world, college gymnastics was the ultimate dream.
In eighth grade, I received early scholarship offers, including from Oklahoma, but when recruiting rules changed, I decided to wait. I wanted the full visit experience to see where I fit best.
When recruiting opened back up, I took five official visits.
But, honestly, I knew as soon as I stepped onto campus in Norman.
K.J. Kindler was my first phone call when it was legal for coaches to reach out, and she was in my gym the second she was allowed. From day one, the staff made me feel like my value was way beyond a set of scores. They made me feel wanted as a person.
When the top program in the country believes in you that much, it’s hard to ignore.
By the time I reached OU, I had been many versions of myself: the kid watching from the sidelines, the elite athlete at Trials, and the gymnast rehabbing an injury. College was a new chapter.
The biggest change was the team aspect. After years of traveling with just my parents, I suddenly had a group of women who had my back in everything.
The hardest adjustment was the schedule. In elite, you compete a few times a year, but in college, it’s every weekend.
Last season, I was grateful to contribute in every lineup and be part of our national championship run. Earning All-America honors as a freshman was just the cherry on top.
The meet that sticks with me most is regionals, which was two days, eight routines, and some of my best gymnastics all season.
By postseason, I’d proven I could thrive at this level.
Looking Ahead and Giving Back
I’m currently a communications major with a marketing minor, and my long-term goal is to own Prestige Gymnastics one day.
I love this sport too much to ever step away. I’ve already coached kids back home and I love seeing the sport through their eyes. Things like how big a first meet feels or how proud they are of a new skill.
My parents built something special and I want to carry that forward.
When younger gymnasts ask for advice, I tell them: trust your instincts and bet on yourself. You’ll never know unless you try.
One of my favorite reminders is, “Don’t trip over something that’s behind you.” This sport is full of falls and injuries. You learn from them, but you don’t let them define you.
As I look ahead to the rest of my OU career, I’m excited to step into a leadership role and help the freshmen find their rhythm.
College only lasts a few years, and elite doesn’t last forever. But the person gymnastics has helped me become—the grit, the joy, and the love for the people in it—is something I’ll carry with me long after my last salute.
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