Marathon Goals

I remember the conversation I had with my best friend that sealed my desire to become a doctor. We were in our relatively new apartment, in the living room that was an extension of the kitchen. The city sun of Washington, DC filtered in the large windows and onto the bedraggled plants we had lined along the window sills. I’d been contemplating the idea of entering medicine for months. The thought came to me shortly after I started working in health communications. What I liked most about health communications was the medical research, knowledge of life, and opportunities to interact with people. I wanted to find a way to fill my days with those things rather than dabble in them. My friend worked in a primary care office, on the administrative side. She encouraged me as I talked about possibly switching careers. “You’d be a good doctor,” she said. Thus, began my marathon goal to become a doctor, a process I call “the doctorhood quest.”

That conversation was 5 years ago. Recently, what started as a thought became a real possibility. I’ve been accepted to medical school. There’s still the question of financing and survival, but with an acceptance to school, there is hope that the rest of the journey will fall into place. I will be a doctor.

Marathon goals. I’ve always been a planner and as a runner I prefer long distance. But, there is something uniquely challenging about making goals that will take over a decade to accomplish. There is no way to know the future, and absolutely no way to predict a future as distant as 10 years from now. But, somehow, the uncertainty and hidden challenges that the doctorhood quest presents have not deterred me. I reflected on the prospect of doctorhood during my years of Peace Corps service and, once back in the States, I started jumping through the hoops of medical school applications (I had no science background when I began). The long wait to medical school acceptance has only made me more excited to start my studies. The doctorhood quest isn’t even half over—medical school, residency, and board exams will be the longer leg of the journey. Yet, as I sit on an acceptance letter and wait to hear back from more schools, it’s thrilling that I’ve come this far.

People around me, to me or to others, often comment on how intelligent one must be to get into medical school. I usually remain silent, but smirk inwardly. I believe “smart” comes in many forms and not all are suited to medicine. I’m disinclined to suggest one person is smarter than another because life has shown me that humans have different gifts and society needs all of them to function. But, more specifically, my journey has shown me that medical school admittance has less to do with how smart someone is and more to do with how resilient they are. The doctorhood quest requires you to be gritty and determined. It demands that you jump up and try again each time you fall while tackling the perils of the road.

If resiliency and grit is the secret to pursuing marathon goals without losing hope, how does one get those? Experience and inward reflection are my guesses. We learn by doing and we expand our scope of understanding the more different experiences we have. Nothing proved this more to me than my years in Paraguay. I am not the same person I was when I first stepped off the plane in that hot, humid country. The people there showed me how they found happiness; they defined respect and God and love in ways completely different from any definition I’d ever encountered for those things; and, above all, they exposed me to foods, ways of life, and shared moments I could never have imagined.

Experience is the foundation for growth, but to truly grow one must reflect on those experiences. Paraguay, once again, taught me reflection. It is impossible to describe just how lonely and hard it can be to be the only one from your culture in a foreign place unless you’ve experienced it. Your world is turned upside-down and every definition and rule you ever thought was a given is no longer in play. Your default becomes mild confusion and curiosity about the new culture in which you have fallen. Most importantly, you are forced to examine how your culture does things and why. Once you start picking apart your host and native cultures, it’s an easy, logical jump to start evaluating and thinking about different aspects of your personal life—like your interactions, feelings, and activity choices. Once you build in time to reflect on experience you can start to shape your path more purposefully.

The secret to marathon goals is accepting you can’t know the future, but you can influence the present. The secret is celebrating small victories, making educated guesses about the best course of action today, and seeking out the people, places, and experiences that rejuvenate you when your hope falters. We do not achieve marathon goals alone (it takes many helpers) but it is only from within ourselves that we find the strength to withstand what’s hidden behind each bend in the road.

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Raising the Boiling Point

When I tell my grandmother all the things I’m doing she usually says something like, “Just hearing about your activities makes me tired.” This comment always makes me wonder why we all have different thresholds of activity before we become overwhelmed or burnt out and disinterested.

Hypothesis

Interest is to productivity like salt is to water.

Water on its own boils at a certain temperature, but after dissolving salt in water the temperature at which it boils is higher. This is because the intermolecular forces between the molecules are stronger when salt and water are mixed than between water molecules alone. In other words, it requires more energy to boil a pot of salt water than it does a pot of fresh water because the little bits that make up salt water are more strongly pulled toward each other than the tiny bits that make up water are pulled together.

I believe interest acts like the salt when the water is productivity. If you dump some interest into your productivity pool, you’ll achieve a higher production rate than you would if you just do things without figuring out how they are interesting. I define interesting as something that is thought-provoking, relevant to my interaction with people, useful in the activities I do, and/or helpful in reaching my goals.

So what?

Productivity is not set in time nor does each person have their own unique productivity rate. We each have varying productivity depending on zillions of factors like time of day, enjoyableness of what we’re doing, and how many things we have on our mind. But, what I’ve found as I take each step on the doctorhood quest is that if I can convince myself (or already am) interested in something I can focus on it a lot longer and accomplish a lot more in less time than I can if I’m apathetic about it. I can cut the time it takes to do something sometimes by half if I can think of a way to find it interesting.

That’s what I did with first semester physics, specifically kinetics. At the time, I’d been battling squirrels. Squirrel rapscallions were decimating my garden, and though I truly hated those rascals, there was nothing I could or would do about it. I wasn’t going to kill them–I didn’t have the heart. However, kinetics equations such as those used to describe projectile motion gave me a tidy solution. Kinetics can be used to describe how far, fast, and high you throw something. I imagined (even though I’d never, ever actually throw a squirrel) that all my projectile equations related to chucking squirrels. The metaphorical “strike back” was enough to ease my anger over my garden crops being stolen by squirrel thieves and gave me the source of interest I needed to learn and excel in physics.

Side note: Once I got started, I didn’t need the squirrel metaphor…physics is actually pretty cool all on its own.

Test

I think it’s a powerful observation and a testament to the power of the mind that you can trick yourself into being interested in something and by doing so improve your ability to learn about that thing. If you can dig deep and find a fragment of something that sparks your imagination and curiosity even the hardest and most tedious of tasks goes more smoothly. Don’t be believe me? Next time you’re doing something that absolutely must be done even though you hate it, try to find something about the task that is interesting and worthwhile. Focus on that as you do the task. My guess is that you’ll find the whole process slightly more bearable and that you’ll also finish sooner than you normally would have. Challenge: Prove me wrong.

Springtime Rambling

My goodness how quickly time passes. It’s hard to believe that the last time I wrote was in the dead of a cold, dark winter—the hallmark of New England. I won’t bore you with the reasons why there was no time to write for so long, except to say that I know a great deal more about equilibrium, acid-base reactions, electromagnetism, circuits, batteries, optics, quantum mechanics, and special relativity than I did in February. Science.

Spring arrived in Vermont with the timidity of a mouse crossing a barren stretch—one step forward, three steps back. But, the soft, new leaves are starting to unroll; the grass needs to be cut, the flower gardens need weeding, and the fruit trees fill the air with soft scents. It’s the lilacs more than the tulips and daffodils that make me think the warm weather will stay a while.

The winter was long and cold. I dared not count the gray days that melted into rainy days between frost and flowers. It goes without saying that spring is a time of new beginnings and the return of the sun.

How I missed the sun! When I went on a walk today rays of golden light danced on the path between the yellow-new, pink fresh leaves. The spirals of young ferns lined the walkway and the damp mix of old leaves and new growth saturated the air. I paused on a bridge over where the river meets the lake. There in the flooded marsh lands a fish swam almost lazily in circles. It was over a foot long. A fin lined its back waving back and forth like a ruffle along its spine as it waved its tail. What a bold fish to be out in the open in eagle, kingfisher, and heron territory!

I’m sure you guessed, but the sun makes me think of Paraguay. I completed my one-year anniversary of my return to the States in April. This is my first full spring in Vermont in many years. And the humming of the frogs, bugs, and birds make me think that this coming year will not only be as productive as the last, but more hopeful.

It is a new beginning because I’m taking my learning out of the classroom. Not so long ago I started running as an EMT. I’m still quite a newbie, but I’ve learned that every patient is a puzzle, and that solving each puzzle is more thrilling than anything else I’ve yet encountered. To realize what I can do to help someone by looking at a few measures—for example breathing, pulse, and blood pressure—is far more interesting than piecing together the clues of a physics exam question.

I’ve been thinking these days about how much I’ve learned since last spring. This time last year, I could not have told you what a healthy blood pressure was or if 5 was basic or acidic on the pH scale. Today I know those things and a great deal more. But, for some reason, Plato’s Socrates and his comment about what makes one wise has been on my mind as I take my spring walks, a translation of which reads:

“I am wiser than this man, for neither of us appears to know anything great and good; but he fancies he knows something, although he knows nothing; whereas I, as I do not know anything, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I appear to be wiser than he, because I do not fancy I know what I do not know.”

The more I learn about the human body and illness the more I realize how much I don’t know. And what I’ve come to see, now that the frost has cleared, is that the doctorhood quest will not end when I pass my last board exam. It’s a quest for knowledge and better understanding that will only end when I stop practicing medicine. And despite the weight of learning so much for so long, the length and breadth of my journey does not seem daunting. I know that even if there are stretches like a Vermont winter as I make my way, they will always be followed by spring. After spring comes summer. And summer is full of life.

Photo Credit: my father

 

The Doctorhood Quest

It seems timely to quote Carrie Fisher, who said:

Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.

That’s a decent summary of how I try to live. Going to Paraguay was a leap, but a longer jump is starting my quest to be a doctor. Becoming a doctor is a 7-year commitment at its least, and it’s looking more like 10 years for me. What a trip to start in my late 20s, don’t you think?

Can you imagine striving for 10 years even though there is a real possibility of losing your way at each turn?

I’m not sure if I can picture it. I’m not certain the path is clear to me, but I’m going for it anyway…because my end goal and vision are vivid. Fear and confidence. They go hand-in-hand. They balance each other. When one is strong, it is wise to foster the other.

I wonder every day if dedicating myself to becoming a doctor is what I should be doing right now. It’s not exactly doubt that makes me wonder, but more of a need for reflection. Ten years is a long time. It’s a little more than a third of my life so far. It might drive some people crazy constantly questioning themselves, but I’m comfortable with the uncertainty. You see, I’ve learned that doing things that initially make me uneasy usually yields the best outcomes.

It is easy to fall into a routine and a pattern. The path of least resistance is to continue along whatever path you’re on—Newton: an object in motion stays in motion along a straight line unless a force acts upon it. It is hard to stop and go and change direction. But, I like challenge. Sometimes I rest, but most often I act as my own force and alter my own direction.

I started the doctorhood quest back in May 2016. That’s when I took my first “real” science classes. But, I’ve known since 2014 that I’d be a doctor someday. Why such a delay? Life. The doctorhood quest is not about speed. It’s about endurance. I know I’ll reach the grail. I know that when I do, I will be happy to dedicate myself to medicine and improving the world in my small way. But the word for the doctorhood quest is “patience.” There are plenty of people who need healing today and there will be plenty tomorrow and the next day. Right now, I’m learning and doing the small things I can. When it’s my turn to heal, I’ll be ready.