Falling Across the Finish

My senior year of college was more bittersweet than most. Typically, students in their last semester spend time reflecting on their experience and trying to make the most out of the brief stay that remains. By the end, most are feeling nostalgic and vary from terrified to go out into the "real world" to excited for the next step. But for me, that last semester went to hell in a handbasket.

For the past 3.5 years, I had been representing my school in cross country and track and field. It was an honor and a privilege to compete, and the lessons and experiences from that time of my life are still relevant and important to me today.

I had just completed my best winter of training ever, running 85- to 100-mile weeks, and my first race back at school, I qualified for the conference championships in the 5k. Others on the team were in great form as well, and it felt like we were ready to make a splash that semester.

Then, on Valentine's Day, the University announced that they would be shuttering the men's cross country and track and field programs at the end of the school year. We were in shock. Literally no one in the programs had been informed or consulted on the matter, and the end of the semester was only 2.5 months away.

Cue a months (years?)-long struggle between the team and the administration. As a senior, I was not going to be directly affected by the decision, but as a teammate, I was devastated. How could the University remove a program that contributed so much to the identity of the University, and cost such a relatively small amount? Our team touted (at that time) the only NCAA National Championship in the school's history, was one of the most diverse teams on campus, and was one of the most academically accomplished teams in the conference. It made no sense to cut a team like that for no reason other than to save a (very) few bucks.

Our fight to keep the teams gained national press attention, and resulted in myriad interviews and invitations to advocate for our cause. I and my coach were fortunate enough to be invited by Bob Costas to represent the team on his popular show on NBCSN, Costas Tonight, where I and other athletes and coaches from all over the US discussed current issues in collegiate athletics. The athletics community rallied around us, and we worked furiously to come up with alternatives and to fund-raise to help save the program.

Picture taken by a family member of my interview on Costas Tonight

We procured $300,000 to fund the program for three years, based on a rigorous review of the costs associated and what could be axed in order to pare them, all in about a month. But the administration was seemingly uninterested. They literally turned down the money and the help, presumably because it would make it look like they couldn't handle things themselves. The teams were disbanded as announced, and to this day, I am still baffled by the way the administration went about it all.

My statement at graduation. I later found out that I was personally deemed the "top security threat" to the proceedings.

Needless to say, what should have been a season of personal bests and celebrations became one of protests and indignation, and my performance languished because of it. I had recently been accepted to graduate school (one of the silver linings of that semester), and so prioritized my grades most. This led to my body breaking down, since I was working on the coordination of the effort to save the teams nonstop and only sleeping 2-4 hours a night. In the end, I met few of the goals I had made for that season.

Fast forward to this past week, and I'm still not over it. It's not just that the University cut the team in the way they did, but that they were never interested in working to save it - they just didn't care. So you can imagine my surprise and frustration when I saw my picture had been used as part of an advertisement for one of their yearly school-wide fundraisers.

The image used as a promotion for a fundraiser at my alma mater. This is actually a relatively good picture of me while running (the bar is low), so at least there's that?

Now, I signed all the agreements that all the athletes sign allowing my image to be used by the University. Honestly, I don't care that they used mine compared with anyone else's, albeit I admit that I never thought they would actually use any of mine since I wasn't the most photogenic while competing. But the audacity to use the image of an individual from a team that you cut with no warning - that no longer exists - to forward the University's agenda is just the same old lack of tact that I've come to expect from my alma mater.

It was certainly never the plan to become an administrator, but here I am. And I think, in part, my journey here has been influenced by the experience of the teams being cut. Of course, I hope to do my job better than the decision-makers at my college, but it is interesting to look back now and to put myself in their shoes a bit more. Financial decisions at Universities are always difficult because some population of students is left out. And this is especially relevant right now, as schools are having to address hurdles they never imagined. While I don't think they did a particularly good job with the situation, I am gaining perspective daily on the rigors of decision-making at the University level and trying to see it from their side.

I remain hurt and frustrated with the whole experience, but these types of things tend to be motivators that drive one to better oneself and one's community, and those are important pieces of my mission as an educator. I, for one, make it a point to put myself in the student's shoes more than those who cut our teams, and I'm always good for the mileage.