How a medical crisis spurred me to become an academic entrepreneur

From ScienceMag:

I lay in the emergency department, suddenly blind. As a motor-learning scientist, I knew it was not a good sign. In that hospital bed holding my newborn daughter in my arms, I learned I had multiple sclerosis (MS). My vision came back, but the timeline of my disease was sobering: My odds were good until age 55, but after that no one could say. Suddenly, just 4 years in to leading my academic research group, I faced the prospect of losing not just the intellectual reward of working as a senior academic, but also many of my top earning years. I knew there and then that to support my family through my inevitable decline, I would need to reconsider my long-held beliefs about academia’s financial trade-offs.

As immigrants raising a family without a safety net, my wife and I were no strangers to money pressures. But working in academia felt like a calling to me, even when the financial math did not add up. I was convinced if I paid my dues as a cog in the academic machine and focused every bit of energy on the next grant or promotion application, I would eventually be rewarded with financial breathing room. In the meantime, I tried to squeeze every cent out of my contract, even opting out of life and disability insurance to increase my take-home pay. It was a risk, but I was doubling down on my academic future.

When my diagnosis came, I literally couldn’t afford to keep going as I had; I needed to maximize my earnings now so my family would have a cushion when I could no longer work. Even before my diagnosis, financial pressures had led me to explore a possible exit from academia, but the prospects were demoralizing. Recruiters and head hunters told me my skill set was far too narrow for industry. And ultimately, I didn’t want to leave. I still had a passion for pursuing new discoveries.

As I pondered my options, I realized maybe the answer lay in something that set me apart as a sports scientist compared with my colleagues in other disciplines. They were invited to academic conferences; I spoke at coaching events and delivered custom education to help coaches design better practice sessions. I enjoyed these opportunities and knew there could be money in them, but I had worried about “selling out” and compromising my academic integrity. Maybe it was time to revise that mindset.

After a few months to wrap my head around my diagnosis, I was ready. With the blessing of my department chair, I began to offer paid services to teams, embedding myself in the coaching staff as a consultant, while continuing with my academic responsibilities. The increased income provided the financial boost my family so desperately needed. And at a time when I could not trust my own body and mind, it was exhilarating that these high performers looked to me for guidance, and rewarding to see my academic work make an immediate impact.

As the work gradually picked up, I began to consider the next step: founding a company. With a condition where fatigue hits fast and hard, I questioned whether I could excel in the dual roles of academic and entrepreneur. But the fear of my own decline overcame those hesitations. With the continued support of my department chair and the help of a lawyer, I set up a company I could run legally and ethically, as long as I kept it separate from my academic work.

Now, nearly 6 years out from my diagnosis, the MS is stable, and the forced shift has transformed my life. My family is financially secure at last and my sports consulting has changed my approach to my academic work for the better. The compulsive chase of the next publication or grant has been replaced with a clear understanding of what athletes and other end users of my research actually need. The integrity of my academic work isn’t at risk; rather, it has been sharpened.

I spent years waiting for permission to be more than a cog in the machine, only to find the machine had no safety net for me. Now, I know there’s no shame in diversifying my value.

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