Cassidy Krug boasts an impressive athletic resume that includes two NCAA titles as a senior at Stanford en route to be named NCAA Diver of the Year, 10 USA Diving National Titles, three Pennsylvania high school titles, and ultimately an appearance in the 2012 Olympics where she finished 7th on 3m. While the Olympics were the final chapter in her athletic career, the transition to life after diving led her to her current chapter as author of Resurface: A guide to navigating life’s biggest transitions. Krug shared her thoughts with the US PDCA about the book, the motivation for writing it, and what she hopes it can do for others.
Can you give us a quick summary of what readers can expect from Resurface?
Resurface is a guide to navigating big life transitions, grounded in my own biggest transition: retiring and moving on from diving after the 2012 Olympics.
Each chapter explores a different theme (e.g. honoring grief, embracing the murk, connecting your dots) and includes intimate conversations with people about their biggest turning points. People who have moved into and out of prison and the military, people who have quit marriages, religions, careers, sports, and alcohol, people putting the pieces back together after deaths and diagnoses. I hope my book will be a companion for anyone facing life’s big transitions.
What inspired you to write Resurface, and how did your own post-Olympic experience fuel its creation?
The 2012 Olympics was the best competition of my life. It was also my last. The day after my final, at 27 years old, I retired. Even though I’d been planning for it, that moment rocked me. For many years, I had organized my life around diving. Diving guided my habits, my choices, my goals, my dreams, my identity. Suddenly, it was gone, and I had no idea who I was or what to do. Eventually I found my way to New York City and a career in advertising, but even years after I “moved on” I was still thinking about diving and missing the pride and focus and certainty I’d felt during that time in my life.
I started reaching out to other Olympians to see what retirement had been like for them. Then I expanded to other people who were navigating big changes: people retiring from jobs, facing diagnoses, adapting to parenthood. I was really inspired by how unique and beautiful each story was, and also by the ways all these stories connected with one another.
You come from a diving background – how does that world shape the lens through which you explore life transitions in this book?
Every chapter is grounded in my own story, so diving plays a huge role in this book. For example, to kick off the chapter about honoring grief, I share the things I miss most about my diving life and my uncertainty about whether “grief” was something I was allowed to feel for a sport I’d chosen to leave. The chapter, “Connecting Your Dots” starts with a lesson I learned through diving–how to cope with performance anxiety–and how I applied that lesson in my new career. “Redefine Success” is about learning to celebrate wins that don’t involve a medal, podium, or external marker of achievement. Every chapter is shaped by my time as a diver.
As someone who reached the highest level in diving, how did your transition out of competition challenge your identity as an athlete?
My identity as an athlete has evolved several times since I retired. At first, I really wanted to move on as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to be known as an athlete or as a diver or as an Olympian. I wanted to prove I could succeed at something totally different. But the truth was… being an athlete had made me who I was. And I couldn’t just replace that with something else on cue.
Today, 13 years after I retired, I feel like everything fits together a lot better. I’m proud to consider myself an athlete. I teach and practice flying trapeze, and I feel like that pursuit is part of me. I’m also a brand strategist. A mom. An author. An Olympian. I’ve figured out how to identify as an athlete, without that being the central thing in my life.
What emotional or psychological aspects of an athlete’s journey do you explore in the book that coaches and teammates might not always see on the pool deck?
There’s always so much more going on than what we see on the pool deck! My coach, Rick Schavone, is a recurring character throughout the book, and I write a lot about our partnership: how his degree in sports psychology came through in his coaching; what we talked about at the Olympics; how he demonstrated that a life should have more than one passion (i.e. not just diving).
I go into detail about the physical and mental training it took to be great. Looking back, I’m just as proud of learning to wrangle my “fight, flee or freeze” competition nerves as I am of my inward two-and-one-half pike.
And of course, I write about “what happens next.” We pay a lot of attention to an athlete’s journey to the top: how they’re growing, what they’re learning, what obstacles are in the way of their success. But for nearly every athlete, moving on is also part of that journey. It requires just as much learning and growth, but it’s not nearly as visible, and there are far fewer resources.
What are some of the core themes or philosophies that surface again and again throughout the book?
Something that came up in nearly every interview: change is inevitable, and the more we try to fight it (e.g. get angry with ourselves or the world, feel ashamed that we aren’t exactly who we used to be, feel frustrated that life isn’t as it “should” be), the more pain we cause ourselves. The book is full of tools to embrace change, to neutralize the negatives, to honor (without clinging to) things we’ve left behind, and to welcome and appreciate uncertainty.
I also keep coming back to the role of storytelling, and of interpreting our own stories. Anthropologist William Bridges says change is something that happens to you, and transition is how you react to that change. I believe there’s a third step: Interpretation. The stories you tell yourself about your own transitions matter, whether it’s a transition you are anticipating on the horizon, something you’re in the middle of, or something that occurred years ago.
Take, for example, my 2012 Olympic final. I did my first four dives the best I’d ever done them. After decades of performance anxiety, I was genuinely loving the competition. And on my last dive, I made an uncharacteristic mistake and dropped out of medal contention. When I tell that story in my head, it’s mine to interpret: is it a story about me choking? Or is it a story about me overcoming my nerves and appreciating being on the Olympic stage? The latter gives me more confidence in myself and my ability to grow and learn and persevere.
For divers and coaches who live in a world of precision and control, how does Resurface help address the uncertainty and messiness of life beyond sport?
This was the biggest thing I struggled with in my transition to the working world. The rules of sports–and of diving, in particular–are so precise. You’re working toward a perfect 10, and you know what that looks like, and what you need to do to get there. But out in the real world, in most careers, there’s no such thing as a perfect 10. I tried to apply the same work ethic I had for diving to everything: perfect every email, every presentation, every creative brief. At the same time, I didn’t really know what “perfect” looked like. That led to a lot of overwork and second guessing and choice paralysis and ultimately, burnout.
I needed to learn to make decisions without a “perfect 10” level of clarity. I also needed to prioritize where to apply my perfectionist work ethic, and where not to. And to do both of those things, I needed to reframe and deemphasize failure. Mistakes are inevitable, and mean you’re learning. If you’re really living and growing, you’re probably making a lot of them… and that’s so much better than the alternative, which is failing to act because you’re afraid to fail.
Did writing Resurface feel like reliving your athletic past, or did it help you see it through a new lens?
I actually think that writing Resurface (and reliving my athletic past) helped me see the present-day version of myself in a new lens.
To write this book, I thought, deeply and purposefully, about diving: the memories that still shine clearly after more than a decade, and the ways that diving shaped me and influenced who I became. This gave me a new perspective on what I love today and why; the habits and self-doubts that bring me down and how to overcome them; my weird quirks and where they came from. Reliving the past has helped me to know myself better in the present.
If you had this book when you were transitioning out of competitive diving, what kind of impact do you think it would’ve had on you?
I think I would have felt less alone. On the surface, it always seems like people are navigating their lives with such ease. This book illustrates that everyone’s facing something, and everyone feels scared, sad, ashamed, etc. Everyone faces setbacks.
I also think it would have inspired me to put myself out there more, with a more positive attitude. I spent a lot of time afraid to write, afraid to reach out to people for help, afraid to try new things. Later, in the early days of my job, I was afraid to speak up and afraid to share ideas. This book could have showed me that uncertainty is normal, that asking questions doesn’t diminish you, that in order to grow, we kind of have to be vulnerable. And that life can be so much more fun if I let go of the need to be Olympic-level-perfect all the time.
What do you hope readers will take away from Resurface, especially those in the thick of a difficult change?
First: you are not alone. Everyone around you has experienced moments of grief, uncertainty and loss of purpose. And though their stories may be really different than yours, you’ll be able to relate to them and learn from them in ways you can’t always anticipate. Confide in people you trust, and reach out to others who you’d like to connect with. And if the people around you don’t get it… don’t be afraid to tell them how to help you (e.g. I need you to listen without trying to solve this; I need you to help me brainstorm; I need you to give me a hug).
Second, give yourself time and grace to figure it all out. Going through change means making mistakes. Changing our minds. Feeling uncertain. If you’re overwhelmed by the big picture, then start with something small. Commit to one small step each day, and eventually, the big picture will become clearer.
Do you think this book could be a useful resource in athlete wellness programs or team discussions about mental health and identity?
I sure do! I think the book in its entirety would pair well with team conversations about identity beyond sport (e.g. “who am I when I’m not competing?”). The variety of voices and stories in the book could provide athletes with new perspective to see their own challenges and opportunities differently. Having athletes read the book and then asking them, “Whose story do you relate most to and why?” could be a great way to open a conversation about mental health.
Furthermore, every chapter of the book contains a section of exercises that anyone can use as they’re facing change. Reading a book is one thing, but these tools can help athletes or coaches really put the principles into practice, and apply them to their own journeys.
What has the response been so far – particularly from former athletes, coaches, or readers going through transitions?
In the sports world, retirement is not a topic we focus on… and when we do tell those stories, we focus on the extremes: either people successfully apply all their athletic skills and lessons to thriving in their next phase of life, or they face serious depression and really struggle to adapt. I think most of us fall somewhere in the middle, and I wanted to share my story and others that show how complex the journey really is.
One of the best parts about launch has been getting messages from strangers around the world who have connected with my book. I’ve had some great conversations with retired athletes who said the book helped them feel less alone and more positive about the murk of “what do I do next?”. But the response has been a lot broader than that. A woman reached out on LinkedIn to share that it had helped her cope with her grief after losing a family member. Another stranger shared that he’d had a devastating injury a few years ago and really related. It makes me so happy that my book is making an impact.
Are there any upcoming events, talks, or workshops tied to the book’s release — especially for athletes or people navigating big life changes?
I’d love to partner with the PDCA or local clubs on future talks or workshops! Some of my favorite topics for athletes and coaches include: coping with fear, looking at diving as part of a broader life, redefining success (and making friends with failure), and navigating transitions (e.g. into or out of the season, injuries, college, retirement, etc).
How can readers get Resurface, connect with you, share feedback, or recommend it to others?
Resurface is available anywhere you buy books (many major booksellers are listed here) and if you’re an audiobook fan, I recorded mine myself. If you read it, I’d be so grateful if you left a review (Goodreads, Amazon, etc). For the latest, follow me on Instagram @cassidykrug or visit my website at cassidykrug.com.