The Reality of the NARP Transition

So… what does that actually look like? What does it look like to feel lost after something that defined you for so long is suddenly gone?

Lonely. Anxious. Dreadful. Those are some of the words that consumed me in the first few months. As I said in my last post, it’s not just about losing soccer—you’re losing a lifestyle, a purpose, a process, a sense of self. I figured if I could just replace that with something else that gave me those things, I’d be okay.

I wasn’t.

That shift—from athlete to “normal life,” or NARP (non-athletic regular person) life—sounds simple. Games to work. Athlete to employee. But there is so much more to it.

I started my full-time job. I started 75 Hard. I built a routine that, on paper, looked like I had everything together.

• 6am workout

• 8am–5pm work

• 5pm workout again

• eat, read, sleep, repeat

It looked disciplined. It looked productive. It looked like I had direction. But it didn’t feel like it.

Because it just didn’t mean what it did with soccer.

I’d come across old pictures and get that gut-wrenching, heart-dropping feeling knowing I will never have that again. Yes, I’ll have workouts, competition, and camaraderie in other things—but I will never get that back exactly how it was.

And that’s a really hard thing to come to terms with.

Most days felt like I was just trying to fill time. I wasn’t busy enough at work to feel productive, but I wasn’t doing nothing either. I was just floating in this in-between, feeling something completely unfamiliar to me—uselessness.

When you’re used to being part of something bigger, having a role, being needed… and then suddenly you’re not—that shift hits harder than I expected.

I’d finish my workday and sit there thinking, what now? And there wasn’t a real answer.

The question kept looming over me: Is this it? Is this what the rest of my life looks like? And the more it showed up, the heavier it got.

So, I gave myself something to follow.

75 Hard. Lifting challenges. Half marathon training. Anything that had a plan—a process—to follow, because it told me what to do when I didn’t know where else to go.

That checklist became huge for me. Something to complete. Something to check off. Something to point to at the end of the day and say, I did that.

It made the days easier to get through. But it still wasn’t answering the bigger question.

Because this is what the NARP transition looked like for me—doing all the “right” things and still feeling completely off.

Being in the same environment but living a completely different life only made it harder. The city I grew to love over five years started to feel like a trap I couldn’t wait to get out of.

All my friends were still living that “college” life—class, practice, games, going out…while I was sitting at a desk for nine hours a day.

By the time I was done for the day, even if I had the energy to do something, they were heading to practice.

There were (and still are) days I think about just packing up and going home. Staying there didn’t feel right anymore. It felt like I was trying to hold on to a life—and a version of myself—that doesn’t exist anymore.

And that’s a weird place to be…knowing you don’t want to be where you are but not knowing where you’re supposed to go instead.

That’s the weird part of this transition. The world doesn’t change—you do.

So, I kept the routine. Kept checking boxes. Kept showing up.

Not because it fixed anything—but because it gave my days some kind of structure when everything else felt off.

I wish I could say there was a moment where it all clicked and I suddenly felt like I was moving in a direction—let alone the right one. But there wasn’t.

It’s been more like slowly realizing what doesn’t feel right. Where I don’t want to be. What I don’t want to do.

And the biggest I’ve learned is THAT IS OKAY! Every decision is a piece of information—whether it goes the way you want it to or not, at least you learned something.

I’m not here to answer all the questions. I built this platform for you to see you aren’t the only one sitting in this feeling. There are people right there with you.

This is the reality behind becoming a narp—no clear path, no instant replacement, just a lot of in-between.

So, here are my parting words to you…

If nothing feels the same after you’re done playing, that’s because it isn’t. When something that meant that much ends, you don’t just move on—you have to relearn how to exist without it.

Finding new ways to push myself — my first half marathon!