Two years ago if you were to come up and tell me that “You’ll be showing cattle and competing in huge classes”, I would’ve laughed and walked away. I always thought that they were hard work, too much commitment, and their nothing like horses so I wouldn’t like them. Now on a gloomy cold morning, I was on my way to MSU to show my steer Ike.
I could see my breath as I hopped out of the truck, cold sleet and snow hit my face. The sounds of cattle mooing and blowers whirling filled my eardrums and the thought of showing filled my brain. “Get ‘em out of there!”, my dad bellowed out of the truck shattering my thoughts.
  “What would I do without him?” I thought, he’s my number one supporter, and my number one fan, I wouldn’t be anywhere, or anyone without him in my life.
I scuffed my feet along the frozen ground to try to calm my nerves down that were slowly becoming worse, knowing that the clock was counting down to when I’d be showing.
As I got closer to the back of the trailer Ike started getting antsy, knowing that I was about to let him out of the trailer which seemed like a prison to him. I slid open the small side door and squeezed into it making sure that Ike didn’t try to blot his way out.
  “Easy boy”, I whispered to him as I slipped the twisted rope halter over his abnormally large ears, and under his chilly chin. I let the rope dangle while I undid the latch from the inside that would allow Ike and I to get out of the trailer. With a swift jump we exited the trailer and the cold air hit our faces. From behind us I could hear the wheels grinding on the snow as my dad followed me with the blower, tack cart, and the metal chute. 
With a warm burst of air we entered the MSU pavilion, and the biggest cattle show in Michigan. We were surrounded by twenty thousand dollar show steers when Ike, was only one thousand dollars. Nerves started flaring up as I realized how hard my competition was going to be, and realized that I was going to have to focus on making my steer the best it could be.
  I walked Ike to his small stall dodging all of the clippers that were aiming to make the fur stand just right on the cattle. Gazing around me, I realized how much of a newbie I looked like against all of the people who have been doing this for years.
   “Com’on girl, It’s time to get this show on the road, Help me set up this chute,” my dad said trying to impersonate a cowboy accent to ease my nerves. I stifled a giggle and walked over to help my dad.
With three swift movements, the tall, cold, aluminum chute was set up and I finally felt like I was at a place where I fit in. I didn’t have to worry if I had dirt or mud all over me, if I smelt like hay or a barn, this is the place that I fit in and this place is where I can be myself and in the long run thats all that matters. Now I had to worry about was getting my cow, clipped and looking all “fluffy” before entering the arena, and I had about three hours to make sure that was done.
  I pulled Ike over to the chute and walked him in making sure his neck was in between the two bars before tieing his head high so I could clip him correctly. To block out the sounds of annoying people (my dad), blowers, cattle mooing, and to get myself in the zone I plugged in my headphones and turned my music all the way up. I reached up and turned on my high velocity blower and started to blow my steers’ hair towards his head, making sure that his hair was sticking up so I would be able to clip it all to make it look even. In that moment I get lost in my work, I forget about the bullying at school, the pressure of the outside world and the pressure my parents put on my to get the best grades. If someone were to ask me where my happy place is, this would be it. I'm surrounded by things I love and I'm in a sport that I’m passionate about. 
  I feel something tapping my shoulder and feel my earbuds getting pulled out from my ear. “ Twenty minute warning.” ,my dad says anxiously.
“Wonderful” I mutter.I glance outside and see that the sun has set making it pitch black out, the only thing you can see is the snowflakes blowing sideways in the lights of the building.  I go back to clipping furiously making sure that there are no stray hairs sicking up funny and making sure that everything looks uniform. For my first time ever clipping by myself he looks perfect. I reach into my tack box searching around for the cold can of adhesive to “glue” his hair in position. I shake the cold can and start furiously spraying his legs, back, neck, then his whole body. 
“FIVE MINUTES TILL CLASS 378!”, a voice boomed over the speakers. I glance up and see that my class is starting to walk into the warm up rink. I slip Ikes head out of his scrappy rope halter and slip a dark brown leather halter of his ears then connect the chain under his chin and connect it to the part where I lead him.
We make our way to the arena and our feet sink into the soft dirt and the dust swirls around us. The judge makes his move and calls us into the arena.  Ten people in my class, ten amazing steers. In the back of my head all I'm thinking about is my dream of winning a class was fading away, that my homegrown calf wasn't any competition to the steers that are worth at least $15,000, bought from a professional breeder.
  The group circles sound the steer walking at a slow motion pace to make sure that the steers movement are as clear as day. The judges face isn't giving away any hints on who may be walking away with a banner and a check. We circle around him two more times then he starts pointing at the steers and holding up a number on his fingers signaling which place you get. He points at the steer behind me holding up a “10” “Well at least we're not last buddy.” I mutter in my head, trying to boost my spirits about this class. After what feels like forever,  Ike and one more steer are left to be placed. Never did I think I would be either winning Reserve, or Grand Champion of my class. The judge signals us to stop and square up our animal. He takes one more look at the other steer and Ike then makes his way over to me. “Reserve Grand Champion, not too shabby.”, I whisper to Ike. The judge stands in front of Ike and I and then yells to the crowd, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you this years Grand Champion Heavy Weight Steer!”, I was in complete awe as he came over and shook my hand. Happy tears sprang to my eyes and I had to do everything to make sure they didn’t fall as the judge handed me my banner and check.
In this moment I realized that all of the money spent, blood shed, sweat, tears, calloused hands, and rope burns that my hard work paid off. I didn't have to go spend $20,000 to win a class. I just had to commit myself to the sport and put my best foot forward. I had to smile through the pain of losses and the bruised hands I had after Ike would slam them into the chute. I had to keep all of the thoughts that I was going to lose in the back of my mind and go into the ring with my game face on ready to act like I was going to win. When the check was handed to me I realized I wasn’t doing this to prove to my parents that I spend all of my money on a useless sport, I spent all of my money on something that I'm passionate about and on something that I love. Showing cattle has shown me that I’m strong enough physically to pull a 1,200 pound animal around, but also mentally because I’m able to raise an animal from when it was only a couple months old to be used for meat. It has also given me the confidence to be able to stand in front of a bunch of judgemental eyes and show off my animal, but it’s not just that, it’s given me the confidence to stand up in front of people and present a project, stand up to bullies, and to also be able to go up to new people and start a conversation with them.