The path out of sport is not always clear for retired Paralympians

The path out of sport is not always clear for retired Paralympians

September 21, 2024

Athletes must juggle financial concerns, loss of identity and a world that is not always welcoming to workers with disabilities.

Paralympic medal

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Wheelchair racer and Paralympic bronze medallist Anjali Forber-Pratt suffered from severe lower back pain before the London 2012 Paralympic Games. She knew she needed lumbar fusion surgery, but she put it off until after the competition, opting instead for monthly injections as a temporary solution. Eleven days after the Games, she was in surgery.

She expected to recover and return to training for the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games. Instead, due to underlying complications that initially baffled her doctors, she was left a quadriplegic, meaning paralysis now affects all of her limbs. She had already lost the use of her legs to a virus called transverse myelitis as a child.

It took 11 months and several more surgeries to resolve the complications. Her main goal was to regain feeling in her arm to perform daily tasks; returning to her racing chair was out of the question in the near future. After a lifelong passion for movement and a five-year high-level athletic career, Forber-Pratt was in shock.

“It was a form of grief, having this sudden loss of this object that was so much a part of everything I did,” she tells SELF. Then there was what she describes as the “chaos” of managing her medical issues and the logistics of what came next: “There was a lot of worry, anxiety, and uncertainty.”

Her plans for the next four years evaporated, forcing her to scramble to find a source of income and health insurance. (Fortunately, she says, the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee allowed her to take a medical leave to keep her athlete insurance until she found a job with benefits.)

And as she dealt with all that stress, she was deprived of her primary coping mechanism. “Whenever things were going badly in my life, I always came back to exercise,” Forber-Pratt says. “But this time, it felt like the opposite… I just wanted to get away.”

Retirement is difficult for any athlete, but Paralympians face unique challenges.

As Paralympic sports have become more prominent and prestigious, it is sometimes possible for athletes to pursue them full-time, Sarah Reinertsen, a retired Ironman triathlete and Paralympic runner who works in sports marketing at Nike, tells SELF. But athletic careers typically don’t last a lifetime, which means that full- and part-time Paralympians will sooner or later face a major turning point: They’ll need to find something to replace competitive sports.

“We hear success stories of athletes who have made that transition and gone on to have great careers,” said Cheri Blauwet, MD, to reporters at a Nike event in Paris in September. She's one of them: Dr. Blauwet is a seven-time Paralympic medalist, went to medical school while competing, and is now a sports medicine specialist at Brigham and Women's Hospital. "But the reality is that the transition is difficult. We have good research and data that show that when athletes go through this transition, it can be quite a difficult time in life. The risk of mental health symptoms increases simply because athletes are asking themselves, “This was my identity, what is my identity now and what will it be in the future?”

For both Paralympians and Olympians, negative retirement experiences can harm well-being, according to a study published earlier this year in BMJ Open Sport & Exercise Medicine. This could mean significant mental health problems: 2020 study finds published in the journal Qualitative Research in Sport , between 18 % and 39 % of athletes experience symptoms of anxiety and depression during retirement. For many, it is temporary, but for one in five, the struggle to adjust persists for two years or more."You go from feeling like everyone is looking at you to not being the center of attention anymore," Aaron Scheidies tells SELF

, a retired Paralympic cyclist and triathlete. “Understanding and accepting that, I think, is the biggest challenge.” Any athlete can face this major change, but Paralympians also face unique challenges, as one of the fewstudies

to focus on their experiences. When they are competing, their expenses are high and their remuneration low , which can leave them struggling financially as they consider what's next. They may also worry about what might look like a new career, as research suggests: there are fewer opportunities in fields adjacent to sport (e.g. coaching, management or broadcasting) for Paralympians than for Olympians. (In fact, Paris has scored the first time that a Paralympian has joined NBC's broadcast team to personally host the Games.) Then there is the disconnect between how disability is viewed in parasport and ableism in the wider world. Paralympians are increasingly recognised, and rightly so, as elite athletes. Retirement means moving from that space to one that, unfortunately, often views disability as a medical condition, Amanda Leibovitz, PhD, tells SELF

, licensed therapist and certified mental performance consultant at Epic Wellness & Performancein Bellingham, Washington. Additionally, sports are often the main way they connect with other people with disabilities, so when it comes time to move on, they may feel isolated. Jamie Shapiro, PhD, tells SELF

, a professor of sport and performance psychology at the University of Denver who advises Paralympic athletes. That was the case for Forber-Pratt. For the first year after retiring, she stayed in Champaign, Illinois, where she lived while competing for the University of Illinois in its wheelchair track and field program and earning her doctorate in human resource development. But no longer having a connection to the sport required an adjustment. “It was really hard being in Champaign and not being on the wheelchair racing team,” she says, noting that while she doesn’t blame them, her former college teammates weren’t quite sure how to support her. Then she moved to Kansas for a job, which brought its own challenges. “It was also hard moving to a new state and not having that community at all.”Anjali Forber-Pratt after winning the 200m T53 final at the IPC Athletics Championships in New Zealand in 2011

Hannah Peters/Getty Images

There is also the unacceptable reality that outside of what some call the Paralympic “bubble”, misconceptions about the abilities of disabled people and lack of accessibility limit future opportunities. While it is illegal for employers to discriminate, government statistics show that unemployment rates are around twice as high for disabled people as for non-disabled people (7.2% vs 3.5% in 2023, according to theUnited States Bureau of Labor Statistics

). “There’s this idea of going back to a specific world, if you’re disabled, that doesn’t care about your disability, doesn’t make room for you, doesn’t see you as valuable, doesn’t see you making a contribution,” she tells SELF.Lacey Henderson, CPMC

, a former Paralympic long jumper and current professional in performance psychology, who earned his master's degree in sport and performance psychology while still competing. "I can understand why a lot of Paralympians stay as long as possible."When life after sport seems unclear, some Paralympians hesitate to make the decision to retire. [in sport] The wheelchair basketball player and alpine skier

Alana Nichols

, first American woman to win gold at the Summer Paralympics Andwinter, took several years to retire. A series of injuries, including a dramatic fall in the super-G in Sochi in 2014, the day after her silver medal in alpine skiing, led her to take a break from the slopes. She eventually made one last attempt at skiing to qualify for the 2018 Winter Games. Part of the reason she wanted to finish in better shape. But looking back, she realizes that her uncertainty about the future played a role: “I feel like my decision to come back was really based on the fact that I didn’t know what to do now without competing,” she tells SELF. Her journey to Pyeongchang 2018 came to an abrupt end when she crashed again two days before the final qualifying event, suffering a severe concussion. It was a sign to move on for good. “I remember knowing, even though it was still a difficult decision, that I wanted to start the next chapter of my life,” she says.

Alana Nichols competing in the sitdown at the Sochi 2014 Paralympic Games

Tom Pennington/Getty Images

It wasn’t clear what that would entail. She earned her bachelor’s and master’s degrees while playing wheelchair basketball in college, but didn’t feel like a corporate career was right for her. Nor was she interested in starting a nonprofit, a common path for Paralympians but one that essentially means running a small business. Her transition was “a really uncomfortable time” with a lot of unknowns: “It was a time where I was constantly reminding myself, ‘I’m ready. I want to move on,’” she says.The decision was just as long-winded for Henderson: the difficult feelings surrounding retirement began a few years before she finally retired. More than a decade of training and competition had left her tired, as well as frustrated by the sport’s shortcomings and bureaucracy, such as, as she describes it, suboptimal competition venues and unclear criteria for making national and Paralympic teams.

“I was done competing and I was sobbing,” Henderson said. “I could just feel my body saying, ‘I don’t want to do this.’” Missing the joy she once found in sports, she finally emailed US Paralympics Track & Field in January 2023 to inform them of her retirement.

Charting a course for the future involves forging a new identity and managing all the emotions that come with it.

Perhaps the biggest challenge for retired athletes is “untangling” who they are outside of their sport while retaining the things “you really admire about yourself,” as Henderson explains.

For Forber-Pratt, this reinvention has been tricky. Sports have allowed her to connect with others with disabilities, and she has honed her athletic identity from a young age. She grew up in Natick, Massachusetts, just steps from the Boston Marathon course. As a child, she watched wheelchair racing champions like

Jean Driscoll

and even dressed up as her for Halloween several years in a row. “Sport was a liberating thing, where I had control,” she says. “It was a part of who I was for so long. It was so strange that suddenly it wasn’t.” Although Forber-Pratt has enjoyed successful careers in academia, government and nonprofits, refining her path after her athletic career hasn’t been easy or quick. “There was a period where I was really depressed and struggling to cope,” she says. Two years after retiring, she felt emotional during the Sochi Winter Games. “I remember watching the opening ceremony and thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m never going to experience this again.’”

Getting through it through therapy is key, says Henderson, who has also found that the process of adjusting to a new normal is ongoing. For example, during the first week of the Paris Olympics, more than a year and a half after retiring from competitive sports, Henderson says she “cried a lot, for a lot of reasons.” Among them, she felt neglected and out of place, especially since the Paris Games seemed so much more celebrity-filled and buzzy than when she was an athlete.

Drawing on her background in sports psychology, she notes that retirement often brings to light a series of challenges that athletes have endured in their sport, such as abusive training or injuries, but also outside of it. An intense training and competition schedule means you may unwittingly push your emotions aside, but dealing with them later “is a tough calculus,” she says. That’s one reason why athletes are at increased risk for anxiety, depression and substance abuse during this time, according to one study published in the journal PLOS One .

For Nichols, the process of discovering her new identity involved internal work like meditation and journaling. As she discovered, it still involved movement, but not in the holistic way it had before.

After trying surfing in 2014, Nichols realized she was drawn to the water. She started competing, and now it’s just one part of her multifaceted life; she also helped start the movement to bring adaptive surfing to the Paralympics, served as president of the Women's Sports Foundationwent to Paris to be the host of the Team USA House at this year's Paralympics, and added the role of mom when she welcomed a son, Gunnar, in 2019.

Henderson has also learned to be open-minded and flexible when new opportunities arise outside of her sports psychology background. Although she had never considered broadcasting before, she jumped at the chance to become NBC’s first Paralympian to host the Paris Games in person. She wanted to tell the athletes’ stories, from the perspective of a person with a disability.

In fact, many retired athletes are drawn to staying involved in the Paralympic movement in some way. “You’ll hear some athletes say that sport saved their lives,” says Dr. Shapiro. “It had such a profound impact on their lives that they want to give back, they want to help other young people or athletes with disabilities feel that same sense of belonging and accomplishment.”

Lacey Henderson competing in the Women's Long Jump – T42 final at the Rio 2016 Paralympic GamesAlexandre Loureiro/Getty Images

Having support during the transition to retirement can be a big help, but preparing earlier is even better.

More and more organizations, and even businesses, have become aware of the need for programs to support Paralympians as they transition out of competitive sport. In conjunction with individual therapy, these programs can be helpful because they offer ways to help translate athletic skills into professional skills, as well as an opportunity to connect and build community. “You’re not going through this alone,” Forber-Pratt says.

In addition to undergoing therapy, Henderson also joined a USOPC program called Pivot. Retired or retired Olympic and Paralympic athletes first participated in a four-day retreat where they explored deep questions about identity and purpose and forged meaningful connections. Afterward, they had monthly Zoom calls for six months, then created a WhatsApp text group, which they still use to check in on each other. “When you leave sport, you’re afraid of being isolated and alone,” Henderson says. “But I think we all heal together.”

USOPC also offers one-on-one career coaching, financial coaching and mental health resources. Previously, some services were available only to competing athletes, and resources for Olympians and Paralympians were separate, Dr. Shapiro says. But now, any member of Team USA can access psychological services for up to two years and other career-related benefits for up to 10 years. years maximum after retirement.

Some companies are also tailoring their outreach efforts to retired Paralympians. During the Games, Nike announced that it had partnered with the USOPC to launch GameOn, a year-long career program at the company's headquarters in Beaverton, Oregon. While open to all, it emphasizes disability inclusion, and Paralympians are encouraged to to apply. In addition to traditional benefits, participants will receive education, mentorship, and professional development. “You need a bridge between being on the playing field in sports and being in the corporate world,” Vanessa Garcia-Brito, Nike’s chief impact officer, tells SELF. Applications opened September 12, and the first cohort will begin work on February 4, 2025.

Athletes and experts say targeted opportunities like these can be beneficial, as long as Paralympians are made aware of them. “Athletes need to be made aware of them earlier in their careers,” Forber-Pratt says. That way, they can have time to think about it and steer their lives in the direction they want to go, rather than feeling like they have to take the first job that comes their way.

Building a full, well-balanced life while still competing—that is, viewing sport as just one facet of their identity—can also prepare athletes for the next phase and make them happier and healthier in the meantime, Dr. Leibovitz says. This can take the form of making and spending time with friends outside of sport, staying connected to family, going to school, or finding ways to get involved in their community.

When Dr. Leibovitz begins working with an athlete on their mental performance, she asks them where they see themselves in 10 years and what possibilities they have envisioned once they achieve their athletic goals. It may not be the right time to pursue another career or start a family while competing, but it’s still helpful for athletes to know that they might want those things someday. “If anything, it motivates you to invest even more in what you’re doing right now,” she says.

If Forber-Pratt could go back in time, she would probably plan more, she admits. But if she had the chance to talk to her younger self during the toughest times, she would offer her reassuring words: “It may not go the way you think it will, but it will be okay.”

Henderson’s best advice to other retiring Paralympians is to know that the journey can be a roller coaster, but eventually, the bumpy parts will probably smooth out. “There’s no wrong way to feel,” Henderson says. “Feel the things you feel and don’t stay in a state of self-judgment. It’s going to be different for everyone, and it’s also a temporary part of your life until you settle into a new foundation. There’s no wrong way to do it.”

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