Pan American Championships
Easy like a Sunday morning
The morning after the U.S. Open, I got a phone call from Terry. He asked if I wanted to represent the United States at the Pan-American Championships at 72 kilos. In that moment, I physically felt a shift in my energy.
The night before, I had lost in the finals. I hadn't felt the sting of battling against myself after a loss in a long time. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve lost before. That’s a part of the strength of my story; I’ve consistently placed second and third, often watching the people I lost to go on to take the top spot. But after a two-year hiatus, this was my first tournament back. I had forgotten what it felt like to pour everything you have into something and still fall short.
Throughout that night, I was searching for the meaning behind the pain. I was navigating conversations, trying to process my emotions without taking anything away from my opponent—a woman who truly embodies resilience. I had to sift through my own feelings and separate the lies from the truth. The lie told me I wasn't good enough. The truth? I simply lost a chess match. I didn't have the answers for those positions, and that is something I can fix.
My body felt like it had been hit by a bus, and I hadn’t slept a wink. But when I got that call, it was like a sudden, lifting wave of reassurance. I knew this was my chance to prove to myself that I am the person I know I can be. Despite any hesitation, I said yes. I immediately started figuring out the logistics. Travis came over, and we mapped out the game plan for Abrams.
Suddenly, I was prepping for the Pan-American Championships with only 11 days to pull it all together—fitting in recovery, balancing my days off, and hammering out practices. I felt in my spirit that God was placing me in this position to teach me something. At the U.S. Open, I kept telling myself that the nerves would get better, but as I won more matches and the stakes got higher, the doubt only got louder. I needed to face that head-on, and having the Pan-Ams right around the corner was exactly what I needed to prepare for the World Team Trials.
The morning of the competition, I remember feeling immense joy while waking Abrams up to drive down to Iowa. We were in our little family bubble; Easy by The Commodores came on:
"Easy like a Sunday morning... I wanna be high, so high."
As Abrams started to dance, everything shifted. Watching him smile gave me a total change in perspective. It became my anchor for the entire weekend. I realized that life is so much bigger than the mat, and that perspective—that joy—was the fuel I needed.
Once we arrived in Iowa, I kissed my family goodbye as they headed to stay with relatives, and I locked in to cut that extra weight. Over those next couple of days, I focused on telling myself that what I was feeling wasn't just "nerves"—it was discomfort, and I had to lean into that discomfort to step into my calling. Through it all, my goal was simply to have fun.
It turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life. I told myself I was just going to "party hard"—laughing with my teammates and genuinely enjoying the process. And that day, I came out on top with a gold medal. I couldn't be more excited; that win built the perfect foundation for the World Team Trials just six days later.