I am a Runner and a Shrink.
Running became a passion of mine sometime around the age of 13, when my middle school started a track & field program. I was immediately good at it, and it took on an importance in my life above most things. What made it so meaningful to me was that it was all mine. No one ever asked me to run, told me to run, or pushed me to run. Running was something that I intrinsically wanted to do because I loved doing it. By the time I finished high school, it had become a significant part of my identity. I was not just someone who ran, I was a Runner.
Psychology was an interest that I discovered in college when my roommate and very dear friend suggested that I take an intro class. The professor’s name was Dr. Larry Hamilton, and his enthusiasm for psychology was contagious. He talked about “symbolic survival,” and all of the things that people do to protect themselves from a “symbolic death.” I had never heard anything like it before and I was hooked. Larry became my faculty advisor and the first person who suggested that I go to graduate school. I won’t try to pretend that I knew exactly what I was doing when I came up with the idea of pursuing a career in sport psychology. I would call it a happy accident, but it seemed like a win-win situation to combine my passion with my interest.
I went to graduate school to be a psychologist who specializes in sport psychology. The transition was tough, and I largely gave up my running because I convinced myself that I didn’t have the time. After a year of high stress and low self-care, I decided that I missed running and I missed who I am when I am running. It brings out the best in me, and the worst in me if I am completely honest. Without it, I felt like I was a more subdued version of myself. I had a sense that I needed to be the person I am when I am running in order to succeed in graduate school. I needed to be passionate. I needed to be a fighter. I needed to believe in myself. So I ran again, and I became all of those things again. There’s something about the mindset of excellence . . . it cannot be compartmentalized to just one area of the self. It transcends and it inspires. My journey through graduate school was long and it was hard, but I made it happen – I became a Shrink.
I poured my heart and soul into running as fast as I could for as long as I could. Unlike practicing psychology, running fast has a short timeline and I vowed not to let it pass. While I made some money running, it wasn’t enough to live off of. So I also worked at a hospital as a therapist, where I developed my own intensive outpatient group treatment program. This was the first time that I practiced psychology without supervision, and the first time that I truly had the freedom to find myself as a professional. In a room filled with the ever-changing faces of my patients – looking to me for guidance, for perspective, for knowledge, for hope – I discovered my passion for the science and the art that is psychology. I discovered a sense of purpose that was about more than just myself.
A couple of years ago, running became hard. Of course running is always challenging, and running fast is sometimes blindingly painful. But this was different. What I was feeling was the drag of a body that could no longer handle the rigors of training, and the void left by a temporary break from my work in psychology. I had relocated to another state, and I allowed myself some time to focus solely on my running. I thought it would be an amazing experience to be a full time professional runner, if only for a little while. But I missed psychology and I missed who I am when I am practicing psychology. I realized that being a psychologist had become even more meaningful to me than being a runner. I never thought something like that would happen. I had often worried about how I would cope with retirement from competitive running, who I would be without it . . . well, I’m figuring it out. I have the support of my friends and family, I still run fast (sometimes), my career in psychology is entering a new chapter and I have the honor of working with clients who put a lot of trust in me. One might say I’m finding my way. I prefer to say I’m making my way.
[Before I go, I want to mention that I love to write. I actually majored in English as well as psychology. Anyone who has received an email from me knows I have a (long) way with words. While I have a lot to say, I generally avoid saying it in any sort of public forum. So why start a blog? Because I am at a place in my life where I want to share what I have to say with others. Truthfully though, I am a little afraid. What if I am terrible? What if people judge me? I used to have similar thoughts before I raced, until I made a conscious effort to change that about myself. Running has taught me many things that I have applied in other areas of my life . . . to move forward even with my fear . . . to accept uncertainty . . . to allow myself to try, to really try, without holding something back to protect myself . . . to risk failure when something means enough to me . . . and so I will write, and I will see what happens.]
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