By Adrea Propp
Recently I shared an update on social media about my running journey: It’s time for the next chapter after 10-plus years of high-performance running. I’m not calling it retirement, which I realize is questionable given my age (I’m 33). What I think most people — including myself — want to know is: What is this next chapter and what comes next?
The honest answer is I don’t know, yet. And that’s OK. Younger me thought this would be an identity crisis moment, but I’m pleased to say this feels more like a graduation chapter.
My competitive track career started in 2010 when I was a first-year student at the University of Regina. I ran with the Cougars for five years and was a multiple medalist at CanWest over middle distances. As a student athlete from Saskatchewan, it was difficult to envision how I could continue to be a high-performance athlete after university. But I got an invitation to move out to Victoria to help build what’s now known as the Athletics Canada West Hub. After training with the team for four years, I moved home and continued to train with my university coach while building my career as a writer and shining light on the successes of other Saskatchewan athletes through the SaskWatch Instagram account and podcast.
When I think about what’s next for me in running, I look at how other high-performance athletes navigate this transition. Many follow common themes including: pursuing schooling/education; working in mentoring/coaching or sport administration; motherhood/ parenthood; entrepreneurship; taking on other career paths; holding community champion roles; and, in some cases, taking up other sports. There are a few scenarios that bring athletes back to sport like competing in masters programs, tough mamas coming back after pregnancy and track athletes shifting their training to the roads — competing in marathons, Ironmans, cycling, and triathlons while they balance careers, life partners, families, etc.
Seeing this many pathways laid out provides comfort, but having too many choices can be frustrating if you haven’t chosen your path yet.
At its core, embarking on a next chapter means dealing with change, which is typically uncomfortable and often requires letting go of the old to make room for the new versions of who we are becoming. It can feel sad in the farewells to old versions, habits, or routines that made one to this point. Reluctance or bitterness may also surface if injury or someone else’s decision is prompting this fork in the road.
As I write this, I’m chuckling as I reflect on the career and life turbulence I’ve experienced in this change-chapter, knowing I need to take my own advice, and trust this short-term discomfort is part of the process.
Right now I’m in the limbo between high-performance running and the unknown of what is to come. It’s itchy, full of possibility, and — like a tag rubbing the collar of my shirt — irritating. I recognize I have a choice: I can get mad and spiral into the fear of the unknown, or I can daydream about the possibility of what-if.
I’m choosing to lean into the daydream of what could be and trusting what lies on the other side of the unknown. A next chapter doesn’t have to mean retirement.
A wise voice told me, you know when you’re ready to retire. I don’t have that knowing yet, there’s still something left I have to give to the sport. But I am also quietly observing it does feel good to be writing again.
For other high-performance athletes who are grappling with the where-do-I-go-next-in-sport question, my suggestion is to have patience, compassion and grace to let yourself figure it out.
The meets and running community are always there and — in my experience — it’s always sage advice to listen to your body and inner voice.
For now, if you see me and Abby (my goofy golden retriever) out on the trails or by the river, definitely wave and share a friendly hello!
Adrea Propp is University of Regina Cougar alumni, an Athletics Canada West Hub founding athlete, and a proud Saskatchewan athlete specializing in 400mH and 800m. She currently lives in Saskatoon.
