Liam Lynch, M2, Class of 2026
“Going to track practice every day was my escape from the monotony of medical school.
Going to track practice was their escape from things much worse.”
If you’ve met me, you know that running has been and will always be one of the most
pivotal parts of my life. It’s the reason I went to college, the reason for my drive and fortitude in
life, and an integral part of my daily routine. My yearly vacations center around where I’ll be
racing next and even my med school research revolves around running. In short, running is
intimate and intertwined with who I am.
Thus to me, nothing would be more worthwhile than giving back to the sport that has
gotten me to where I am today: Track & Field. We’ve all heard that volunteering in medical
school is one of the most crucial extracurriculars. Residencies will want to see a physician who
cares about their community and someone who gives without expecting anything in return. The
conclusion seemed natural; I was going to volunteer as an assistant track coach somewhere.
I reached out to many nearby Kansas City high schools: Shawnee Mission East, North,
and Bishop Meige. Bluntly put, these were the rich schools; they had the infrastructure and
funding to allow me to volunteer on a come-and-go basis. They didn’t need me at these rich
suburban schools but would take me and let me pad my resume.
Wyandotte was different though. Despite the strong, caring, and capable leaders I
encountered, decades of gentrification, rezoning, and defunding had led to its steady decline.
According to U.S. News & World Report, Wyandotte High School consistently ranks in the
bottom 20th percentile in all metrics for Kansas, ranking in the 2%, 3%, and 7% in math,
reading, and science proficiency, respectively. Freshmen make up 42% of their enrollment while
graduating seniors make up only 15%. The total minority enrollment is 98%, and 90% of
students are economically disadvantaged. Suffice to say, this school was very different from the
ones I grew up with and the other schools I was looking to volunteer at.
Wyandotte’s process was different, too. Head Coach Richie Bryant invited me for an
interview, which was something none of the other schools asked for. I figured that being an ex-
collegiate athlete turned medical student was qualification enough to volunteer—all the other
schools thought so too—but I agreed to an interview nonetheless. At the very least, it would
make my decision of where to volunteer easier.
I arrived at Wyandotte, passing the police officers and metal detectors stationed at the
entrance; it was already a stark difference from my own high school days. We went through
hallways displaying the trophies and banners of the school’s glory days that only those old
historic schools have. Then, after meeting Coach Keegan and Mr. Black, we sat down in the
bleachers of their basketball gym.
He first asked me why I wanted to volunteer at Wyandotte, and I gave him the typical
answer about how I love this sport and want to give back to my community, etc. In response, he
said something I’ll never forget.
“Liam, we don’t take volunteers here. Here, they don’t stay. This track team needs
coaches who will be there, and the only way we keep them is if we incentivize them to be here.
We don’t do none of that ‘part-time volunteer’ stuff that you’re looking for because we’re not
looking for part-time. We do full time coaches because we need full time coaches.”
He offered me a paid coaching job, 5 days a week from roughly 3-6, including the
administrative end, training plans, and track meets. An extra 25 hours a week would be a serious
commitment alone. Doing it on top of my medical school? That was unheard of.
I thought about it for all of 30 seconds and told him I would do it. There was a different
atmosphere here, a different sense of need—a place I could actually make a difference. I told
Coach Bryant that in my hierarchy of responsibilities, my schooling came first, but after that, I
would drop anything and everything to maintain my commitment as a coach.
Not too long after, I began attending pre-season conditioning sessions with the kids once
a week for a couple hours, but my involvement truly arose once track season started in late
February. All in all, the kids and coaches comprised a group of about 45. In this group, I noticed
something that I had never been able to notice before; for the first time in my life, I was the only
white person in a group of about 45 people, and I truly felt exposed.
My excitement to coach also came with the anxiety of being a coach for kids when I was
in their shoes all of 8 months prior. However, I found a friend and a resource in Coach Keegan,
who helped coach distance with me. Before the season, Coach Bryant had warned me that
Wyandotte had never been a distance school and I would have my work cut out for me if I
wanted to have a good distance team. On our first day of practice, I had zero expectations.
A group of 14 or so kids assembled, over half of them immigrants. We started with a
simple workout: 4×400 with 3 minutes rest (I’d have them run around the track once, take a
break for 3 minutes, and then run around the track again–4 times). I won’t sugarcoat it; they were
bad. One kid, however, an immigrant from Eritrea, was flying. He was a natural runner; you
could tell it in his form and how he approached the workout. It was a starting point, to say the
least, but I was overjoyed with the opportunity to be a coach and create something great.
Soon after, we hosted our first track meet, the Wyandotte Relays. While not full of top-
end talent, every team from the Meadowlark League (our school conference) shows up, giving us
the opportunity to start the team off on a good foot for the rest of the season. So, Coach Keegan
and I strategize, intently putting our girls and boys in certain events to get every point we can.
Even through the freezing rain, the kids came through. With their efforts, the boys team won the
4×800 relay, with individual wins in the 400, 800, mile, and two-mile as well. The whole team,
boys and girls, sprints and throws too, carried their weight, and Wyandotte ended up winning the
meet. The energy was electric, with the entire team ecstatic at what the season would bring.
The next Monday at practice, I also pulled aside two senior boys, both who had won
individual races at the Wyandotte Relays, and asked them if they had ever thought about running in college. One, Matt*, had thought about it and even wanted to, while the other, Luke, hadn’t thought about it all—never even raced in a track meet until that night. In his broken English, he
told me he had just immigrated a few years ago and didn’t even know that running in college was
an option for him. I told them they both had what it takes; if they keep improving, schools will
start calling.
Over the next few weeks, the team got closer and closer. We would have practices where
we went off campus and ran hills at a local park, and maybe we’d spoil the kids with ice cream
afterward. We did typical things that I used to do with my distance team in high school that I
now realize I took for granted. I often thought about the things I had always had that these kids
didn’t do at practice. On one of the first days of practice, I saw many of the kids in old, worn-
down shoes. Some wore crocs, Jordans passed down by their older brothers, or indoor soccer
shoes three years old and a size too small. I asked Coach Bryant if it would be right for me to ask
some of my old running friends for their running shoes to donate to the team.
See, I had ran collegiate cross-country and track. I knew that college runners retire their
shoes well before the shoes actually become unusable. We stop running in a pair of shoes after
500 miles or so, but the shoes still have durability far beyond that. We’re just more likely to get
injured in old shoes at the sheer volume we’re running. Most college runners have a few old
running shoes that are still pretty good for running in, shoes that often go unworn for many years
before eventually getting tossed out, even if they’re not running in them anymore. So, I called up
my good friend Jack, who runs for Rockhurst University to ask him if Rockhurst would be
interested in having a shoe drive for the kids at Wyandotte.
Two days later, I was driving back home with a box full of good old running shoes that
I’d be handing out to the kids at practice the next day. I remember handing a kid a pair of shoes
in exchange for his old indoor soccer flats. After a lap around the track, in a thick Ugandan
accent, he said just one word: “fast.” I remember pulling another boy aside and getting him a pair
of shoes. He had been wearing his brother’s hand-me-down Jordans since the first day of
practice. So, we got him new shoes and at the end of the day, he took them off, gave them back
to me, and said, “Thanks for letting me borrow these, Coach.” I had to laugh a little bit. I said,
“No, man, those are yours.”
Finally, it was time for the next track meet, and the day before the meet, I got a phone
call from Coach Keegan. She earnestly explained that we didn’t have sports physicals for some
of the kids, and without them, they wouldn’t be able to run at the meet—but these kids had to
run.
I told Coach Keegan that I would ask one of my doctor friends if they could come
urgently within a few hours and do sports physicals for the kids that still needed it. So, I called
up Dr. Mike, a now-retired family medicine doctor, and a dear friend of mine. It was difficult
asking a favor for a man who had already done so much for me, especially on such short notice,
but Dr. Mike willingly served. It was a whirlwind of an afternoon, with Dr. Mike and I seeing
athletes simultaneously. As a majority Hispanic school, a few girls only spoke Spanish and I was even able to take sports physicals in their language. In this endeavor, my medical skills were able to make a real, tangible difference in the world.
As I got to know the team, a few trends appeared. The distance team was, all in all, just a
great bunch of kids. Sometimes, we had attitude issues or language barriers (that allowed me to
practice my Spanish), but for the most part, the team was everything I could have asked for.
Matt became a legend at the 400/800. He was getting faster and faster at the 400 each
meet; I told him my high school personal best was 53.03, and I’d get him a present if he’d ever
beat it. Luke quickly learned the ropes of distance running despite starting just a month ago. He
raced like a seasoned veteran, running smooth and controlled. He always knew when to kick and
was one of the most electric runners I’d ever seen. He was also quickly approaching my high
school best in the mile of 4:39. At this point in the season, he had just run 4:49. Will showed
more heart than anyone I had ever met and always asked to run more. As a coach, Will was the
best kind of athlete to have. I’d often have to tell Will to stop running because I feared he’d hurt
himself running so much. It wasn’t until after the season that I found out he started having his
brother take his backpack to and from school so he could run to and from school each day for
more practice.
Thomas was a jokester and an old soul. He was only on the team because Matt was his
best friend. Thomas was going to college to play football for a junior college, but since he was
doing track to be with Matt, he was part of our distance crew. He was great to have, and we had
many inside jokes. Ben, Andrew, and Sean were some soccer goofballs, but they were funny and
great for morale. Cole and Jake were troublemakers, but they were very sweet deep down. You
just had to know them. Elizabeth, Luz, and Bradley were entertaining and on track for the social
aspect. We’d have them do a 20-minute run, and they would walk for half of it, but we loved
their presence. Mia was a freshman stud, but she quit for soccer mid-season. That is
understandable, too. She was the best player on the girls soccer team.
As the season progressed, the team continued to get closer and closer, and the kids were
getting faster and faster. At our meets, I’m bringing my gloves, rollers, shoes, and spikes to
practice for the kids to use when they need them. I still remember Will’s overuse injuries and
hear him asking me for my roller. At this point in the season, Matt was starting to pick up
interest from other colleges and had gone on official visits to a few places. He really liked St.
Mary’s. I also seriously sat down with Luke and asked if he would want to run in college. At
first, Luke didn’t even think he could go to college. He didn’t know if he was smart enough or
fast enough, but now he had passion and wanted to keep running; Luke even changed his phone
lockscreen to a picture of our track. I told him that he is the kind of athlete every school wants:
someone with untapped potential and the drive to keep running. Colleges would love him. He
was also anxious about his grades, so we looked. In his first years in the US, he struggled in his
classes, but as he got the hang of English, classes started improving.
Further, the junior colleges we were recommending had many resources for their student-
athletes, and many schools specifically recruit out-of-the-country athletes and provide services
for bilingual students. He’d be taken good care of. I had made a list of all the surrounding junior colleges with teams that Luke would do well at, and we sent out emails. After a few days, there were already a dozen or so schools interested; we were getting phone calls, and suddenly, Luke
had a lot to think about.
Soon, Coach Keegan and I started to look towards the end of the season, the Meadowlark
League Track & Field Meet. We used a website with a list of the predicted scores of our
conference meet based on the current personal records of the athletes of each team. Our boys’
team was projected to win, however, our girls’ team was projected to lose to Sumner—the 6 year
reigning meet champions—by more than 40 points. That’s a huge difference in track, and we had
our work cut out for ourselves. Immediately, we start strategizing. The boys were pretty easy:
throw them in their events and let them have fun. The girls’ team, however, had to be perfect. No
matter which order we used, there was no way our girls could win—unless we had Mia, the
freshman soccer player.
After practice, I go over to the soccer coach and ask if we could have Mia for the track
meet. He responds that if Mia is okay with it, then he’s okay with it. I find Mia and say, “We
need you for conference. We need you. We know you’re a fighter, and you will help our girls’
team win.” She was in, all she had to do was tell Coach Bryant she was in. Like most head
coaches, Coach Bryant was intimidating. Mia looked back at me and said, “I don’t have the
courage.” I told her, “Mia, we think you have a good chance of scoring, and we need you, but
you won’t be able to race if you don’t tell Coach Bryant you’re racing.” She asked if I could tell
Coach Bryant for her. To this, I said sure, but she would have to come with me. So we walked
over to Coach Bryant, Mia much more nervous than I was. I say, “Coach Bryant, Mia has
something to ask you.” Mia gave me a face and then went, “Coach Bryant, can I run at league?” I
still feel a little bad for throwing her under the bus like that, but it’s what any good coach would
do. I was smiling so much, so proud that she had asked all on her own.
In a flash, it was time for the Meadowlark League Meet (that also doubled as senior
night). At the start of the meet, Matt asked if Coach Keegan and I would walk with him for
senior night if his parents didn’t show up. Without hesitation, I said yes. After Matt ran, and won
the 400, it was time to recognize the seniors. I stood with him as they announced Matt would be
running for the University of St. Mary, my face beaming with pride. As we stood there, for the
first time all season, Matt’s parents showed up, and he got so excited, shouting “My pops
showed up, coach!” Coach Keegan and I cried together, watching him run up into the stands to
hug his parents.
Then, the running resumed. As predicted, the boys showed up and showed out, with
winners in the 400, 4×400, mile, and two-mile. The best part of the two-mile, however, wasn’t
Luke winning it. All season, Will had been progressively getting faster and faster. He wasn’t the
type of athlete with a fast kick though; he was slow and steady, a consistently consistent kind of
racer. However, Will was seeded sixth and would have to take a chance if he wanted to medal. It
all came down to a kick, and no one had ever seen Will kick so hard. Somehow, out of the
scuffle, Will had come in third, and the whole team was rallying behind Will, creating a
cacophony of cheers.
The girls, however, were far more dramatic. Our best girl runner, Luz, had to leave for a choir concert after racing the 4×800, despite being put in the two-mile. She planned on returning from the concert, hoping there would be enough time for her to sing, then come back and race.
In the meantime, it was Mia’s time to shine. We had put her in the 800, where Sumner was set to have three girls get first, second, and third. She would be our best chance at messing up some of their major point-scorers. As the race started, the pack of Sumner girls immediately separated themselves from Mia. She was already 30 meters back a quarter into the race, 50 meters back halfway through. On the second lap, Mia starts to pick it up, but with 200 meters to go, she is so far back that it seems hopeless. “Get on their *ss Mia!” an explicative that is reserved only for the most dire of times. I only said this because I know that this phrase specifically fires her up, and I watch as Mia makes perhaps the greatest comeback I have ever seen in the history of track and field. She covered the gap in the last quarter of the race and took down all three Sumner girls. I remember running down the backstretch, cheering, and going insane as Mia closed the gap. As she crosses the finish line, the whole team erupts in cheers. I run over to hug Mia, and she just says, “Did I do good, Coach?” Obviously, she had.
As the meet is trending towards the end, the girls are neck and neck with Sumner. Unfortunately, there is still the two-mile, where Sumner projected to get first, second, and third again. More so, Luz hadn’t returned from her choir concert; she called Coach K saying she didn’t have a ride back to the track meet. Coach K, known for working miracles, asked Luz, “If someone were to pick you up, would you ride back and race?” She said she would and proceeded to send the assistant principal, Mr. Black, who had been our administrative warrior all track season, to pick her up.
Eventually, it’s the first-call for the two-mile, and Luz isn’t back yet. Then, second-call, and Luz isn’t back yet. I’m progressively freaking out because Luz getting even one point would make a world of difference for us, but if she’s not even there, she can’t score. Eventually, the official lined up the two-mile, asking if Luz was there, and I ran up. I told him that Luz is about two minutes away. Give me two minutes. Two minutes came and went, and he asked if Luz was still coming, and I said, yes, give us just one more minute. To this, he says you have one minute. And again, one minute came and went. The official starts lining up the kids for the race, and in a perfectly timed moment, Luz comes running down the bleachers, a Wyandotte Cinderella, still putting on her uniform top. I yell, “Luz is here!” Another 15 seconds go by, and Luz is off, ultimately taking a minute off her personal record and placing third.
Eventually, the Meadowlark meet finalizes. We knew the boys won, and finally, the girls’ scores were published. Instead of losing by 40 points as predicted, our girls had won by just 2 points. In the midst of the chaotic celebration, I asked Luz if she knew the girls had won the league meet? She said yes. Then I asked her if she knew it was because of her? And Luz goes, “Me?” and smiles so wide as if she didn’t know that the girls wouldn’t have won without her.
The rest of the season wasn’t as dramatic, but Matt and Luke both ended up beating my old high school 400 meter and mile record times, respectively. Somewhere along the way, Luke committed on a full-ride to Iowa Western Community College, joining Matt as a collegiate runner. As a parting gift, Coach K and I piled money together for each to have a new pair of
spikes to take off to college. I remember Luke telling me, “Two months ago, I never thought I
would be so good at running that I would get to go to college for it.” He sincerely thanked me for
coaching him, but I told him it was his legs that really did the work.
While my time at Wyandotte was a consuming endeavor, school had never stopped. With
med school on top of it all, the season flew by so fast that I never had a minute to even appreciate
how my heart was pouring into my current lifestyle. It was a time of my life that defined my
discipline, and I fell in love with the process. We were in the thick of our gastrointestinal and
renal block, with exams every other week, anatomy lab, and every other required thing on
campus. I would spend most days at school, with my only break being going to track practice.
My commitment forced me to be a disciplined student and carve out time in my life where I
never thought I would have it.
I never lost sight of medical school as my primary focus, but I found myself looking
forward to track practice every day. Each practice imparted me with newfound motivation to
continue my studies. I suddenly wasn’t just studying for my future patients, but to be fully
present at practice and with my track family. My philosophy was that if I was going to be
somewhere, I was going to be fully present, so even if a class was running late, I was going to be
entirely a medical student until 3 pm and then drive over as fast as possible to be a track coach at
3:15. Then I would be a track coach until the late bus picked up the student-athletes who didn’t
have a ride back home around 6. On exam days, I would wear my coaching attire to class, and
then take the test as soon as possible to make it to a meet typically lasting from 2pm to 11pm.
Until now, I haven’t discussed the bad parts of working at Wyandotte. I won’t get into
too much detail, but I also fear I’ve been describing my time there with rose-colored glasses. It
wasn’t glamorous. The truth is that Wyandotte High School is a typical inner-city high school
that consistently ranks among the lowest in every metric in the country. I saw kids drop out of
school in the middle of the season. I saw kids miss practice because they had to work at their
parents’ restaurant every other day. I had to break up fights at track meets. I once found bullet
shells in the stadium before practice. Our 16-year-old team manager had a 3-year-old child.
When I asked one of my athletes why they were so sleepy, I wasn’t prepared for him to open up
to me about how his family is part of a gang. I wasn’t prepared for our star jumper to quit the
team because his girlfriend had just given birth, and he was now a father. I wasn’t prepared for
one of the teachers in the school being shot dead when their home was broken into. Wyandotte
was rough, and no matter what I was told by my school, friends, or family, I wasn’t prepared for
the mission I would be on once I got to work there.
I also had to witness the worst mistake in healthcare I had ever personally seen to date.
We had a girl with obvious iron-deficiency anemia. She had pathognomonic symptoms, so I sent
her to a local free clinic for what I was hoping would be a quick-fix, as all that is needed for a
diagnosis is a complete blood count, and then a simple provision of some iron tablets. You know
what she got? A pregnancy test and a BMP—not even a CBC. There was no consideration for what her coaches (and herself) thought evident—just maltreatment rooted in biased assumptions about a young Hispanic Wyandotte County girl.
A 15-year-old girl was automatically assumed to be so pregnant that she didn’t even need
a CBC. They poked her anyway for the BMP, so what was stopping them from the CBC? It was
just the worst instance of mistreatment I had ever seen in my life, and I was embarrassed that I
had even sent her there. This moment, among others in my time there, made the health inequity
and socioeconomic divide in this country blatant. I have never felt so much disappointment in
our healthcare system, yet have never been more driven to change it. I have been emboldened to
give my whole heart to those who need it, medicine or not.
Going to track practice every day was my escape from the monotony of medical school. Going to track practice was their escape from things much worse. For me, track is one of the few
things in this life that I am passionate about, and Wyandotte was the first place in my life where
my purpose was overwhelmingly evident. Being a full-time medical student on top of my life as
a track coach was the hardest thing I had ever done. I’ve said I would do it again in a heartbeat,
and I’m grateful that I will have the opportunity to return in the spring as their head distance
coach. I firmly believe that our mission in life should be to integrate our passions with our
ultimate purpose, and I look forward to continually pursuing this mission. I know I have more
ahead in my life at the intersection of running and medicine, and it has been beautiful to see what
can already be done here.
*Disclaimer: None of the names presented in this writing are the actual names of the kids I coached.
Med Intima 