I bent over to give my shoestrings one last tug. This was it. My final college race before I entered medical school. After all these years my nerves were still palpable in the air around me. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds. The yells of spectators faded into the background, and I heard my coach going through the course layout with a couple of my teammates. Somewhere near, another team was being led in a group prayer. My eyes popped open and I took my final stride out before returning to the starting line. For the next 30 seconds time stood still, until the “bang” of the starter pistol pierced the air around me. I was off.
When I entered medical school, I had numerous preconceived notions. It would be the hardest four years of my life. I would constantly feel bogged down by the course load and never find time to leave the library or hospital. The expectations others had of me as a medical student were only surpassed by the expectations I had of myself. Yet, I couldn’t leave behind an activity that had helped shape me into who I was. A couple months into my first year of medical school, I sought permission to join my college’s track and field team. The coach had held a roster spot for me, and after passing my first course the medical school administration granted my request. By the next semester, I was back racing again. New teammates and a new uniform, but the same feeling of camaraderie.
At the time, the decision to compete in college athletics while in medical school was made with little conviction. By continuing to run I was doing what I loved, but I didn’t love how I felt about it. A shadow of doubt hung over me as I drove the 30 minutes to my college’s main campus for track practice, and again as I drove back to the medical school for cadaver lab and lecture. I was walking a tightrope, attempting to meet the expectations of both a medical student and a college athlete.
Mandatory 8 a.m. lectures often meant starting my workouts before the rest of the team. It also meant forgoing weightlifting sessions and recovery exercises with our athletic training staff. On the other hand, training as a college athlete meant skipping optional lectures or only halfheartedly engaging with my professors. Waking up at 5 a.m. to run and then showing up to a lecture sleep-deprived wasn’t conducive to my academic success. During one away competition, I remember feeling foolish as I listened to a mandatory career advising meeting as my younger teammates spent time exploring the city and college campus surrounding the hotel. Through it all, I kept thinking: Should I even be here right now?
It's easy to become one dimensional in medical school. Medicine isn’t just our program; for many of us medicine becomes our identity. Old friends fade into the background and leisure activities become a luxury that can no longer be afforded. Free time is monopolized by research, studying, and “mandatory” community service projects. In many schools, wellness is even interwoven into the curriculum, blurring the lines between personal and professional life.
Medical school is behind me now, and in its place, I look ahead to four years in a residency program. I made it through and didn’t lose myself. I realize now that I was wrong to have ever doubted the decision I made. Running in medical school may have prevented me from achieving my full academic potential, but it kept me myself. It helped shape me into the physician I am today, and I wouldn’t want to change that.
Balancing professional responsibilities with personal life can be challenging in medicine, but it’s vital for long-term fulfillment. I know it can be done too, at least while in medical school. It means learning how to manage time, and it also means learning to say no to some professional responsibilities. It means accepting that you may not have the highest grade in the class, nor the most publications by graduation date. At the end of the day though, you have to make time for you. If you don’t, you may end up leaving yourself behind while on this journey.
How do you find balance? Share in the comments.
Lachlan is a new intern attending the USF Morsani College of Medicine. His interests include neurological research, medical humanities, and running. He has been a Doximity Op-Med Fellow since 2022.
Illustration by Jennifer Bogartz
