Student, comma, athlete. That’s our job description. 40% of Lincoln High School students participate in a sport. 150+ people (like me) participate in 3. What does it mean to be an athlete? What does it mean to be a student? And really… how can we be both?

Last October was the championship season of cross country. The team was running 35+ miles a week and attending hours of meetings. We hopped on spin bikes and talked about race strategies every afternoon when it was too smoky to run outside. The team was closer than ever after a travel meet in Oregon, and I loved spending time with the people who knew me best and who I felt connected to. Cross country is not for the weak. The community values on our team were rock solid: trust, respect, and hard work. I loved it all. The hours were fun but the days got long. The emotional and physical toll was catching up to me.

After I got home, I would have dinner, shower, then fall asleep right away. I always underestimated the reality of the physical tolls of this sport on my body. I didn’t realize how much I was doing. I didn’t have time to open my notebooks, let alone study for the mountain of tests and quizzes I had coming up.

I thought I could do it all. Maybe that was my mistake, and I know I’m not alone in making it. I felt like I could, for a while. Until the tests came back, the notes got longer, and teachers started reaching out. For the first time in my entire academic life my grades were slipping, and most infuriatingly, I wasn’t conceptually understanding the material in my classes. During the school day, I was thinking about cross country, and after school, I was doing it. The team had invitational meets every Saturday, boarding the bus at 6 am and not returning until after 10 pm. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being out there with my team, laughing on the bus, and running great races, but the toll of it all was affecting every other aspect in my life.

For those who haven’t been graced with Chemistry B, the Tylenol Test is a well-known exam at LHS with three heavily weighted learning targets, and it has a huge effect on your overall grade. To make matters worse, the test was the week before Metros. The varsity roster had yet to be decided, and I was seconds away from being a championship runner. My mind had combined being on the roster and seeing my name on the Metros Varsity screen, with some sort of overall self-worth. Like this one thing was all I had to do, to do it all.

What made my situation even more challenging was a complete lack of foundational science when I realized I had been misplaced in the class halfway through the first semester. I should have been put in Chemistry A. I thought everyone was struggling as much as I was, even with the first unit that was entirely review from Chemistry A. When I talked to my counselor, the reality of the situation hit me. It was too late to withdraw without serious consequences on my record. I was stuck in a class that I hadn’t taken the prerequisite for, and was actively struggling to understand the first, and easiest, unit of the class. What was I going to do?

When my teacher passed back the Tylenol Test, I was resting my head on the table. I remember thinking about my shins and ankles and running. When I looked up and saw the paper on my desk, the rest of the room faded away. Everything went quiet. I got three Level 1s on the test. That means I had failed every learning target that was assessed. I got an E.

I had never failed a test before, and now I was officially failing the class. Soon, the day was over and it was time for practice. I didn’t know much, but I knew I couldn’t do that. I mustered every ounce of courage I had, put my pride aside, and went into the chemistry room. I talked with my teacher for an hour about the test. We went through every problem, and with more time (and a lot of her help), I finally felt like I was at the starting line. Retakes were in a week and a half. I decided to commit.

The next day at school was hard. The team asked me where I had been because it was odd to miss a workout day, especially that week. The running community is tight-knit, and everyone was surprised I seemed to be taking a step back, at this point in the season. I was within seconds of three other girls all going for the same spot on varsity, and they all went and did the workout. Of course I was upset. Of course I was worried, but what could I do? I needed to study.

For the first time ever, I started going to BASH. When I walked in the library, full of peer tutors, and teachers, and no familiar faces, I felt out of place. As if this wasn’t for me. It was 4 o’clock on a Thursday, during the most important week of the fall athletic season. Everyone I knew was at practice.

For the next week every day, I sat down with a teacher and started working. We did practice problems, comprehension questions, I redid the problems on the exam over and over until I knew exactly where my mistakes were. Another missed practice. My coach reached out, asked if I was ok. I told her I was, that I just need to focus on other things, that I would be back when I could.

I arrived at 7:45 am in the morning before school and stayed as late as they’d let me in the afternoons. I got more sleep, my body felt better for the first time in months, but I was nervous about what I was missing. The next day I went to practice. The other girls in my group ran longer. Faster. Maybe it was in my head, but I knew I was falling behind.

The day of the retake, I put everything I had into the paper. I left the room feeling good – it was exactly like what I had practiced. My other classes were going well too, and my GPA was shooting back up. Things were finally going my way, but it wasn’t by magic or luck. It was from hard work and, obviously, sacrifice.

That day at practice, the coaches announced the varsity list. The 7 names went by and I didn’t hear mine. Until the eighth spot as the first alternate. So… that was it. I wasn’t running. The curtain had come came down. Now, I faced the reality that the goal I had worked for all season wasn’t going to happen.

The 7 girls before me were great. They had worked unbelievably hard. It was better for the team to have them on the roster. Obviously, I was disappointed. A fraction of my mind wished I had dug in and committed the same as my teammates.

But then, the next day in class, I got my test back. I got all Level 4s. I exceed standards on every topic of the test. My grade launched up. I was prouder than I had ever been before. Prouder than any race or run, or of any number I have ever produced. I did this with my mind, not my body. I had never felt that before.

The day of the race, I cheered as loud as I could. I was there and ready in case anyone couldn’t run, but they all did, and they did great.

Since then, I have really been a Student, comma, Athlete.