I was a promising athlete when I was younger. I could run faster and longer than most of the people I knew because of my work ethic. This was encouraged by my family and school teachers at a pretty young age. I began my physical-training sooner than most, because I was born with extremely flat feet. This forced me to go through many more discomforts than the average baby learning how to walk, much less learning to run. I learned how to walk with braces on my legs, and under the care of doctors and my mother. I come from a long line of athletes from football players, baseball players, cross country, martial artist, military, law enforcement, and laborers. Physical fitness is a priority to say the least in my family, and that comes with a pretty steep amount of criticism and high expectations for anyone from the San Miguel family tree. So as soon as I was able to put one foot in front of the other, I began my training and battle to overcome a deformity that would establish the foundation of my mental health going forward. I was confronted with ridicule, insecurity, disappointment, grief, pain, and sadness from the earliest memory I can recall. These emotions presented a daily personal struggle I would need to overcome in addition to my physical disability.