Olympic Swimming and Medical School, or How To Be a Champion

I am one week into my medical school journey. One short week. That’s it. But, in a way, my journey has been much longer. There was the grueling summer leading up to the MCAT; the long nights spent studying biochem; four years of slaving away at classes both relevant to my future profession and not-so-relevant. You see, medical school has been my goal for a long time, but it’s not my destination. I don’t get to rest on my laurels now that I’ve made it here. Quite the opposite, in fact- the road from here is even harder. I want to be a doctor, and in order to reach that destination, I’ve got four more years of tears, sweat, and blood (and other less savory body fluids) ahead of me.

I’ve been watching the Olympics this week- a lot. Every four years, the whole world recognizes its best and its brightest and holds them up for all to see. “Look,” we all say, “Look at this man or woman who represents the pinnacle of not only this sport, but humanity itself.” And it’s beautiful. It is. The Olympics are inspiring precisely because you and I will never find ourselves in that position. You and I will never become world record holders or run with the fastest people from around the world. It’s amazing to watch. But here’s the thing- we’re just watching the culmination of it all. We don’t get to see what got the competitors to this world stage in the first place.

I will admit that as a former swimmer, I am partial to Olympic swimming. I love watching the other sports, but I am invested in this one. This is a world that I came from, albeit far, far down the ladder. Swimming, like many other Olympic sports, never really gets much prime-time coverage outside of the Games. It is a largely thankless sport at its core. Once every four years, though, we look at Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte’s daily calorie intake of 10,000 and laugh incredulously. We see Katie Ledecky smashing her own world records and we cheer for her incredible feats. We see Simone Manuel become the first African-American woman to win an individual gold medal and we become inspired. We see Anthony Ervin win the 50 free sixteen years after he won it the first time and we can’t stop talking about how crazy that is.

We see all of those things, but what we don’t see says a lot more about these athletes. We don’t see the hours-long practices that require the astronomical amount of calories. We don’t experience the sore muscles that need a rest but don’t get one. We don’t feel the weight of expectation carried by all of them. We don’t see the rigid schedules that don’t factor in any free time. We don’t see the early mornings alone, or the races lost by hundredths of a second, or the vomit on the side of the pool. We forget that the best swimmer (and quite possibly the best athlete) of all time didn’t win any medals at his first Olympics.

All of these athletes had goals. They wanted to medal at their high school state meet. Then they wanted to swim in college. Then they wanted to get their Trials cuts. These were all their goals, but their destination was higher- they wanted to make it to the Olympics. For some, even making it to the Olympics wasn’t enough- medaling was the destination. For others, medaling once was only the first step on their journey. These athletes don’t know the meaning of complacency. They don’t hit a goal and say “good enough.” They keep fighting and keep pushing their bodies to the limit until they literally quit on them. They don’t rest on their laurels. They do the hard things because the hard things are worth it. And this- this is what truly makes them champions, not the hardware around their necks.

So as I strive on towards my destination, I am taking the Olympic message to heart. When I’m sitting in class and everything is going over my head, when I am on my 7^th straight hour of studying for the day, getting ready to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow, when I make that not-so-great grade, I’m going to think about the athletes I’ve had the privilege of watching on their biggest stage, and I am going to remember that the hard things are worth it in the end. I’m going to keep pushing and keep fighting until I reach my destination, and then I’ll keep pushing some more.

You and I may never be world record holders, but we can still be champions.