CRNA School: A Marathon, Not a Race

Photo by Abdulai Sayni on Unsplash

As all 28 of us sat in our seats, we were welcomed by the director to our nurse anesthesia program — often referred to as “CRNA school.” With our loved ones by our side, we each signed our handbooks, symbolizing and marking a pledge of commitment to the next three years of sacrifice, growth, and transformation. In that moment, I felt a rush of pride, excitement, and nervousness. For the first time, I could finally say: “I’m in.”

For years, I heard people talk about the intensity of CRNA school. Professors, coworkers, and mentors would all warn me about what they seemed to know without question: It’s difficult and it’ll test you. But hearing about it and living it are two completely different things. After three long years of applying to multiple programs, I was finally accepted. How ever, I quickly learned that acceptance was only the beginning of the battle.

At 31, unmarried and without children, some might assume the path would be easier. No diapers to change, no husband to cook dinner for, no playdates to juggle. But reality painted a much different picture. I moved away from family and friends for the very first time in my adult life, tried desperately to keep a long-distance relationship alive (which ended within 90 days), and traded my cozy, warm home for a dated apartment that felt dry, airy, and lifeless. It wasn’t glamorous to say the least, but it was what I could afford.

My first semester of CRNA school was marked by near-total isolation. Eight-hour study days, five days a week, ran into weekends filled with textbooks and lectures — like working a full-time job, except without a paycheck. Each exam hung over me and I felt like I was climbing a hill I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get over. I often found myself sitting in the middle of my apartment, staring at my notes, PowerPoint slides, and books, trying to blend it all together so that it made sense — whispering silent prayers: “Lord, please, just let me pass.”

Yes, I had classmates who understood the pressures of CRNA school, but everyone’s circumstances were uniquely different. Many were married, had children, and, most importantly, had strong support systems nearby. I didn’t. And to be honest, I felt profoundly alone. My old life, the one filled with late Miami nights, laughter, and the comfort of routine, looked nothing like the rigid, consuming life I was living now. The change was sudden, and I did not adjust well.

Most days, I second-guessed myself, asking, “What have I done and how am I going to survive this for three years?”

Social media only made matters worse. As I scrolled through my feed, I watched friends travel, celebrate milestones, and live freely. At the same time, CRNA students from other programs highlighted the “glory” of SRNA (student registered nurse anesthesia) life — matching scrubs, picture-perfect clinical days, and motivational posts. Meanwhile, I felt a heavy grey cloud lingered over me. It was the first time in my life I had worked so hard for something yet found myself constantly second-guessing it.

I leaned on my parents, calling them every night. Their voices soothed me often, but there was only so much they could offer. They loved me, yes, but they weren’t living it.

Eventually, I realized that to survive, I had to change. I began experimenting with different coping mechanisms that felt foreign at first but gradually became lifelines: listening to alpha waves while studying, walking by a sinkhole lake in a nearby park to clear my head, going to talk therapy, jotting motivational reminders on sticky notes to my wall, and staring at my vision board on the hardest days. Alongside healthier habits, though exercise and a balanced diet were difficult to maintain — all these strategies slowly carried me through.

And somehow, despite the tears, the doubt, and the isolation, I made it through the first semester of CRNA school.

As I reflect on my first semester, I realized that CRNA school doesn’t just test your knowledge, it tests every part of you. Life has a way of placing you in situations you’ve never faced before, and to survive, the only option is to adapt. That’s what real growth looks like: uncomfortable, rough, and far from the highlight reels you see online.

Sometimes we showcase the wins, but rarely the struggles. And the truth is, there are difficult — even ugly — parts of CRNA school that you cannot prepare for. The stress, the sacrifices, the loneliness, it’s real. But so is the resilience you discover within yourself when you push forward.

Every day, I remind myself of this one reality: I didn’t sign up for a sprint; I signed up for a marathon. And so… my marathon continues — one step at a time.

Note: The term “CRNA school” is commonly used to describe nurse anesthesia programs. The CRNA title is earned only after graduation and certification.