What I live for

My day has gone a little something like this: I woke up at 7 a.m., after sleeping like a restless child the night before a Disneyland vacation. I put my compression stocking on my right leg to protect it from blood clots at high altitudes. I packed my morning luggage. Stacy and I got into the car and headed to Phoenix, but not without stopping at Starbucks before making it onto I-10. The drive-through was four cars deep. Since we had both received the e-mail from grandma saying that it's faster to go in if the line has more than three cars, we decided it would be best to park and walk the 15 feet inside the Starbucks at Wilmont and Speedway. I thought I'd be risky and not order my usual peppermint or raspberry mocha and try a chi latte instead. It was horrible. Thanks Starbucks girl. But nothing could ruin my day today.

We headed to Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. For two hours we listened to a local radio station bust teenage kids doing crazy things on spring break with their parents secretly listening. This is pure and genuine entertainment. At last, we arrive at "The friendliest airport in America." Sure enough I set off the metal detectors with my new hip. My belongings were carried over to me at the body scan machine that I was now standing in. Yep. This sophisticated piece of machinery had picked up on the metal in the upper portion of my right leg. They pat me down and after 15 minutes and deciding I wasn't packing any heat, they allowed me to walk to my departing gate. Still, nothing could ruin my day.

With permission from my doctor and physical therapist, I'm on a plane to my favorite thing in the entire whole wide world -- the NCAA Division 1 College wrestling championships in St. Louis, Mo. Saturday morning I received a phone call from a dear friend and fellow Mizzou wrestling manager saying she had an extra pass to work the tournament this year. I had already told my boyfriend, Daniel, that I was hi-jacking his satellite TV all day Saturday to watch the medal rounds on ESPN for the first time ever. I didn't care if he was home or not. I was camping out in my Mizzou wrestling gear, crying and watching the boys on TV all day. Until now.

Back in November I gave up my plane seat from Phoenix to Tucson in exchange for a free roundtrip ticket to any of the 48 continental states. (My best friends Monica and Joe drove to Phoenix to pick me up. Thanks guys!) I am using that free ticket right now.

This will be my sixth NCAA Nationals wrestling trip in a row now. My first experience being a mere coincidence while being in St. Louis six years ago for a student council convention. Mr. Norton dropped me off at the Scottrade Center to meet up with Nevada wrestlers Zach Walrod and Tommy Werner. (Mr. Norton had my parents' permission of course.)

On this trip I saw my first homeless person, bought my finals ticket from a scalper, and experienced the most outstanding and spectacular event of my life. I'll never forget that day.

Most of you know how important wrestling is to me. I'll never be able to explain it. It's just in my genes. The first time my mom felt me kick inside her belly was at the Belton wrestling tournament when my dad was coaching the high school team. I vividly remember my mom sitting next to Joy Hawks in the Neosho gymnasium and I got to color in David's Ninja Turtles coloring book. I remember Kermit Pritchett, Chip Balk, and Monte Padgett carrying me around in the middle school gym before a match. I remember watching Randy Pennington wrestling at the state tournament in Hearnes Arena, my very first state high school wrestling tournament. The following year I became a part of the Nevada High School wrestling team. In those four years I found another family. I "hands down" had the greatest memories with these people. I made it to Mizzou without second-guessing that I would do anything to be a part of Brian Smith's wrestling program. I still can't believe I was a part of that fantasy world that I thought only existed in my dreams.

I also can't believe I moved away from it all when I came to Tucson. I knew it would be hard. This is the longest I have ever gone in my entire life without seeing a wrestling match. Two weeks ago I watched Marcus Hoehn's Big 12 match online. I was bawling. I couldn't believe I wasn't there. I had somehow forgotten what it was like to feel the atmosphere of a live college wrestling match. The excitement. The testosterone. The public drunkenness. I missed it. (Marcus won his match to earn a Big 12 Championship title.)

I can't wait to see the Missouri wrestling family, the coaches' wives and kids. I'm so excited to see the other managers that have experienced all of the same crazy adventures I have with these same crazy people. I'll get to see friend and former Olympian Randy Lewis. I will be responsible for getting bout cards to the table and walking out a weight class of men who have just received All American status in the grand march. I will be inches away from Dan Gable and Cael Sanderson. I can't wait to be surrounded by wrestling mats and people who know wrestling. These are my people! It's who I am! This is what I live for!

I'll never forget my freshmen year civics course with Coach Pendrak. The only thing I really remember from that class is one of the most important things anyone has ever told me. He told us that if we truly love something we should learn everything about it and what it's all about. The who, what, when, where, and how. Everything. We should do anything we can to learn about our passion. And if it really is a huge part of our life like we say it is, it will show. From that day forward I learned everything I could about Missouri High School wrestling. I later transferred that into Division 1 college wrestling. Thanks Coach.

I had some struggles in getting to the tournament this year, but I'm almost there now. There isn't anything that could stop my passion for this sport: not a boy, not money, not even surgery. It's not about the boys or the vacation. It's about the greatest sport in the world.