A Has-Been Runner
2012 NCAA DII Midwest Regional Meet at Wisconsin-Parkside in Kenosha, Wisconsin
“A Has-Been”
A term used by the male athletes on my college cross country team once they had retired from running, or more commonly known as having completed their NCAA eligibility. A quick google search result from Oxford Languages and the first definition populates as “to be outmoded or no longer of any significance”.
We would throw this term around with sarcasm and lightheartedness, without recognizing the mental effect a has-been can have for years to come. Role confusion within the athletic identity are relatively newly researched topics on the effect both can have on retired athletes in their emotional, physical and mental well-being. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I experienced role confusion post-collegiality.
The purpose of writing about this topic was not for this to become a research review, but to set up an introduction and bring awareness to the reader. I highly recommend doing a search on this topic to understand the challenges college or pro-athletes have after retirement and you will be met with many articles, research papers and personal blogs. I wish a coach or mentor had told me it was normal, and that I will get through it.
Stride outs before Tommy Titan 5K at Cass Benton, Michigan in 2012
My third year on the cross country team was riddled with unhealthy team dynamics. I found myself dreading team practice. Tuesday workouts did not bring me that weekly euphoria. When I made the choice to not rejoin the team for my fourth and final year, I was excited at the prospects to strengthen my college resume in other ways. So, I stuck my nose into textbooks and focused my energy on completing my bachelor’s degree. In addition, I would be lying if I didn’t admit my excitement to give into some vices such as staying up late and sleeping in on typical race mornings.
I did not expect the identity confusion that was about to set in. Every person has an identity determined by their social environment. Typically, people have multiple identities such as being a co-worker, a father, a sister, a volleyball league team player, a best friend, etc. In college athletics, that role is hyper focused on athletics. There is no time for friendships outside of the team, for family birthday parties on the weekends, or for being a teenager experimenting with alcohol for the first time. Any event or occasion outside of the running and school schedule is easily frowned upon. Run, bike, lift, study, eat, sleep are five objectives that are hammered into our daily routine and form our social environment. When that routine is stripped away, when your running friends don’t have time for you, and when there is no regional or national goal to aim for - what are we left with? Who are we?
I quickly realized that I had turned my back on every identity I belonged to and now I had turned my back on my last identity. Without an association to a prestigious athletic team and a strict practice schedule, I was a nobody. Nobody cared whether I got my run in or whether I won my local 5K. How would I become my own hype person?
For almost a year, I didn’t touch my running shoes as I went through the typical stages of anger, sadness, denial, acceptance, and eventual happiness.
Incidentally, I was asked to assist with the girls cross country and track workouts at my high school. I saw a team working hard to achieve a common goal, a companionship and friendship met with smiles and high-fives after every hard workout. Helping at those workouts and watching the girls accomplish their individual goals brought me great fulfillment and joy for them! It opened my eyes to the realization that I was focusing on the wrong aspect of my training: the physical training. It was easy to train surrounded by a team but training solo for hundreds of miles was only made possible through strengthening my emotional well-being. In order to mitigate the feelings I was experiencing, I relied heavily on experts to guide my mental health. Some days that was 10 miles of running and other days it was zero minutes of physical activity. But with time, the seven a.m. workout began to look less daunting and instead more enticing.
A seven a.m. track workout with Nirala, pictured left, on Ferry Field in Ann Arbor, Michigan. A blurry, kodak moment whilst wearing masks during the 2020 pandemic.
It took a long time to heal myself. Every speedy run or deadman trot was a day to be thankful for. I leaned heavily on accepting praise from those that were closest to me: my husband, my friends, my family and my local running community. Those were the opinions that mattered and their encouragement pulled me along. Once I had fallen into the routine of consistent, daily training, there was something special about the daily grind that is indescribable to non-runners. Waking up for my daily workout while the world slept became a healthy addiction, again.