(Appeared first in this morning’s newsletter)
I played football in high school and each week, the same thought welcomed me as I stepped on the field: “I wish I could be on the sidelines.” Scared of commitment, failure, and responsibility, my base instinct wanted a hiding place where nothing would be lost (or won).
Eventually, the shelter of the sideline would prove too much to turn down. I warmed the bench for eight years (med school and residency), learning one thing: life is better when you’re in the game.
I understand now why it’s imperative I play the game: to know who I am (not for the press clippings).
Living on the sideline changed everything—food was bland, conversations lost meaning, and anything prompting confrontation with what I avoided, well, I avoided. Take Moana as an example, yes the Disney movie. It’s a tale as old as Odysseus, where a young, cartoon woman sacrifices everything to go after her calling, aided by tropical talking creatures. Fourth year of medical school I watched it, then undergoing a two-week, mid-life, not quite crisis but let’s say retreat, where I listened repeatedly to the movie’s theme How Far I’ll Go . Each time, I hoped enough courage would month to quit medical school and “go for it”.
Here’s a rule of thumb: if you have a mid-life crisis after watching Moana, it’s time to change something.
In yesterday’s Who Is This For? , I reviewed the game film one conversation, nine years ago, that haunted and ultimately defined the person I do this for now, through all the versions of myself that couldn’t “go for it” yet. Painful, sure, but writing that article was illuminating, and if anyone knows an Annie from Bozeman, tell her thank you.
Since last October, when I quit my job as a physician, the sideline’s alluring call hasn’t stopped. Don’t think it ever will, but damn it’s been fun trotting on the field again, regardless.
To building lives we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(P.S. Thank you for every email, social media exchange, and encouragement. Appreciate y’all.)
