Who am I?

I grew up in the city of Chicago, spending my teen years sleeping on trains during my commute to high school in the heart of the city.

But I didn’t always spend all my time in the city. My cousins lived out in the burbs—and not just any burbs. Wheaton, a suburb of Chicago, has the most churches per capita in the United States, and I enjoyed many visits there growing up.

What did I get up to there? I can’t recall all the specifics. I know for sure that I ran around their neighborhood, fell in love with microwave instant scrambled eggs in their kitchen, rejected most of their snacks because I was a picky eater, failed at pogo-sticking in their driveway, and stared at my cousins’ shark tooth collection in both horror and awe. In the middle of all those random experiences, one memory stands out.

We were in a field. I had a frisbee in hand and a dream. I launched it into the air. Wow. It went pretty far. I scurried to mark where it landed, then ran back to my competitors.

Finally, the last kid stepped up to the plate—aka the grassy patch of the field where we had all lined up with frisbees in hand—and, of course, their throw didn’t land nearly as far as mine.

Before I could even process what was happening, I heard the magical words, “Molly won the Frisbee competition!” I couldn’t believe it. My athletic prowess had finally paid off, earning me high distinction among the local Wheaton kids. It was a big deal, a moment I’ll never forget.

Before winning the Cannes Future Lions Grand Prix this past year, this was the only competition I had ever won in my life. This one taught me to always take a chance and throw my frisbee in the ring. Fortunately, now I can say I have two big wins under my belt.