There was never a perfect time to pursue my Doctorate in Athletic Training. Life was already full: full of patients, responsibilities, expectations, and most importantly, motherhood. Yet somewhere in the middle of packed schedules, hockey practice, and bedtime routines, a quiet realization kept resurfacing: growth rarely happens when life is convenient. Choosing the Doctor of Athletic Training (DAT) program at A.T. Still University (ATSU) was not about adding another credential to my name; it was about stepping into the clinician, leader, and person I knew I was capable of becoming.

Athletic training has always been more than a job for me; it is part of my identity. Practicing in a rural healthcare setting has further shaped that identity, where resources can be limited and access to specialized care is not always readily available. In these moments, I have felt both the privilege and responsibility of being a consistent healthcare provider for my patients, often serving as an advocate, educator, and problem-solver all at once. I have seen the impact of compassionate care, the power of relationships, and the difference that one dedicated provider can make in a patient’s recovery and confidence.

At the same time, working in this environment sparked a desire to deepen my knowledge and refine my clinical reasoning so I could provide the highest quality care possible. The DAT represented an opportunity to bridge that space between experience and expertise, between doing the work and shaping the future of the work for the patients and communities I serve.

Pursuing this path required grit in ways I had not fully anticipated. Balancing coursework with clinical practice and family life often felt messy and imperfect. There were late nights filled with readings after long days in the clinic, moments of self-doubt, and the constant negotiation between professional ambition and personal responsibilities. Yet these challenges became the very spaces where growth occurred. Grit was not about pushing through flawlessly; it was about showing up repeatedly, even when progress felt slow and the finish line felt distant.

Some of my greatest personal challenges occurred during this journey, including welcoming my third child while navigating the demands of doctoral coursework and clinical practice. That season was filled with both joy and uncertainty, and it tested my capacity to balance competing roles more than I had anticipated.

What stood out most, however, was the unwavering support from the faculty and program. Despite the distance and the reality that many of our interactions occurred through a screen, I felt genuinely seen and cared for as a person first and a student second. Small but meaningful gestures, grace with assignment timelines, words of encouragement, and the Monday morning motivation that consistently set the tone for my week all created a sense of connection and belonging. Their investment in my success reminded me that this program is more than coursework; it is a community of people who believe in your growth and walk alongside you as you pursue it. In many ways, that support became a quiet but powerful source of resilience throughout my DAT journey.

As the journey unfolded, I began to see that the DAT was shaping more than my clinical skill set. It was strengthening my confidence, expanding my perspective, and deepening my commitment to patient-centered care and professional advocacy. I found myself thinking more critically, communicating more intentionally, and embracing opportunities to lead and mentor. The process transformed my understanding of what it means to be an advanced practitioner, not simply someone with more knowledge, but someone willing to question, innovate, and elevate the standard of care.

In many ways, this journey mirrors the dual roles I hold in life: raising children while raising expectations for myself and my profession. Both require patience, resilience, and an unwavering belief in growth over perfection. Pursuing the DAT has not been about reaching an endpoint, but about embracing a process of becoming. It is a reminder that even in life’s busiest seasons, there is space to evolve, to lead, and to raise the bar—for our patients, our profession, and ourselves.