As I prepare to step into the University of Nebraska Athletics Hall of Fame on Friday, I’m full of all the feels. Reflection has hit me hard this week. The kind of reflection that stops you mid-day, mid-thought, mid-scroll and sends you straight back to who you were before you knew who you would become.

When I chose Nebraska, I thought I understood what I was getting. A great education. A chance to compete at a high level. A team that expected excellence. I knew I would grow as an athlete. I knew I would work hard. I knew we would win — because that was the culture here.

What I didn’t know was how much this place would teach me about who I was.

I didn’t know that the coaches here weren’t just building championship teams, they were building leaders.

I didn’t know that the routines, the discipline, the “show up early, stay late” mentality would become the foundation for how I live, coach, parent, and move in the world.

I didn’t know that through the personal tests. the moments of doubt, conflict, and challenge, I would learn the most important lesson of all:
who I am when things are hard.

And I certainly didn’t know that Nebraska was quietly laying the groundwork for me to become a coach myself. I didn’t see that then. I see it now. Every athlete I’ve worked with since and every young bowler I’ve guided carries pieces of what was poured into me here. Thanks to Coach Straub and Coach Klempa who coached me in a way that didn’t sugar coat anything. It was real and raw.

Nebraska also gave me my husband. Our first kiss in the Omaha airport is one of those small, ordinary moments that life builds entire timelines from. He transferred here soon after. And without that, there is no us.
No Madden.
No Jersey.
No version of my family or my life that looks like it does today.

There’s something about college bowling that teaches you in layers. You think you’re learning about release, angles, and lane play. But really, you’re learning about patience. Responsibility. Discipline. Identity.
You are learning yourself.

And those lessons followed me:

To the world stage.
To international championships.
To standing on TV lights.
To losing in ways that stung.
To winning in ways that changed everything.

The tools were built here.
I just didn’t know I was building them at the time.

So yes, the Hall of Fame is about accomplishments. But for me, this honor is about where things began. The foundation. The shaping. The forming of the person who walked into the world ready.

To the collegiate bowlers out there right now:

You get to choose your path.

No one decides your ceiling.
No program, no coach, no ranking tells you how far you can go.

If you want to be great:
Show up early.
Stay late.
Stay curious.
Stay open.
Let the hard days teach you instead of break you.

The work you’re doing now is building a version of you that your future self will thank you for.

Everything I’ve done beyond the lanes started right here.

Even with all of this reflection and gratitude, there’s still a small whisper of imposter syndrome.
Did I do enough to deserve this?
What about the other Husker greats — the teammates who challenged me, sharpened me, pushed me?

I think that whisper exists because I respect this moment.
And I respect them.
We rise because of the people we rise with.

Maybe groundedness looks like holding both:
Gratitude for the honor,
And gratitude for the people who helped shape you into someone worthy of it.

🎥 The moment it came full circle: Watch my Student Athlete of the Year Acceptance Speech.