It’s pitch black out, it’s 4: 55 a.m. in the dead of winter. The turf is wet, the lights are flickering due to the wind and cold and the last thing I want to do is go through the pain. It’s 5 a.m. the trainer screams go, so I take off. The plates on the ground, my hands are on top of it pushing with everything I have, my butt is in the air and my feet are driving each and every step. 25 yards down, 775 more to go, yet I can’t even stand. I hit the 50 yard line, after snaking my way from the back of the end zone. Out of breath, my knees are bleeding and my vision is shaky. Yet I will not stop, there is a timer going, I have to have the fastest time. That’s how I am, all or nothing, never taking a second off. Being relentless in your pursuit to perfection is essential. Now I am at the 75-yard line I sit in third place, that’s not acceptable. I decide to sprint because why not. Pain is going to be here either way, so I might as well make it excruciating. The last 50 yards of the whole work out, still in third, the guys in front of me have already finished. The guys behind me were so far behind I could have had a cup of tea, yet I decide to go even harder. To reach the point of exhaustion in my legs, in my whole entire body.

The mindset in which athletes work out differs from person to person, from team to team and from division to division. There is an unspoken mentality that sits within elite athletes. The way they look, the way they train and the way they think about their sport is vastly different than an average athlete. Division 1 collegiate athletes embody this more than anyone else out there. What separates us from everybody else the way in which we train. There is one way to describe the way we attack every workout, every practice and every drill. Scary is the first word that comes to my mind. The intensity, aggression and resilience to never quit is unmatched by any other divisioned collegiate sport.

We train out of fear, there is an underlying fear that haunts all division 1 athletes. It keeps us up at night, it creeps into our dreams, and it wakes up at 5 am for morning workouts. The fear of losing drives us to accomplish unrealistic goals. It allows us not to be average. Being average is scary for elite athletes it’s the last thing we want to be.

There is timer always ticking, I have an expiration date. They only give me four years, that’s it. Four years to be above average. The come down will be difficult, it’s expected. There will be a void in my life and how I fill that will be up for question. I am not searching for a solution just yet. That thought scares me; not being able to wake up and row, not being able to train for a championship and not being able to commit myself to group of people out of pure love for a common interest. It will be hard to handle but I believe that all true athletes come to this struggle after they hang up their cleats or climb out of the boat for the last time. Being lost will be an understatement. Within that sense of uncertainty will come a path. A journey that will guide me to the next chapter in my life.

My life is a book, filled with many chapters that comes with no index or reference section. This is just one chapter, it comes with great sadness that it will not be the entire book. That would just be a dream, though, and I am at a point in my life where I think I should start planning for my future. Except that concept of having a plan does not align with who I am. The free spirit that drives my actions to be independent and an individual is who I am. So no matter where life takes me, I’m always going to keep a bookmark in the chapter of sports. I will forever be grateful for all the opportunities that I was presented with as being a D1 athlete. I think all athletes are grateful for what their sport gave to them. The joy and happiness, the frustration and anger and the gratification of the endless pursuit of perfection.