At 54, Cathy Gilmore has decided—quite casually, it seems—to ignore the conventional menu of midlife activities (gardening, maybe yoga, a firm commitment to saying “no” to things) and instead order the academic and athletic equivalent of everything, everywhere, all at once. She is earning a PhD. She is playing collegiate water polo. These are each, individually, full-time personality traits. She is doing both. Concurrently. On purpose.

“I may be 54,” she said, “but I’ll be 54 with a PhD and I’ll be 54 and doing something that I really love and I’ll be swimming again.” 

This is not theoretical. This is happening. By day, Gilmore is a third-year doctoral student in American history at the University of Utah, preparing for comprehensive exams—an academic ritual designed to gently introduce scholars to the concept of existential dread. By night, she is in a pool, competing in collegiate water polo against opponents who, statistically speaking, could have been toddlers when she last considered doing this. And yet there she is, not as a mascot, not as a novelty, but as a rostered player, swimming, defending and generally refusing to behave in an age-appropriate manner.

Gilmore did not arrive at this moment in a straight line. There was no master plan that included footnotes, chlorine and a sudden reentry into collegiate athletics. There was, instead, a life—one that looked, for a long time, fairly recognizable. She graduated in the 1990s, got married, raised four daughters and did what many people do: she adjusted.

Along the way, she developed an interest that sounds, at first, like the kind of thing you casually mention at a dinner party and then immediately pivot away from: genealogy. Family history. Old records. Except in her case, it didn’t stay casual.

“I became really interested in family history and genealogy,” she said. “I really wanted to learn more about the historical context of where my ancestors were living and what their lives are like.”

A hobby became a project. A project became a profession. And somewhere in that progression, a question began to form: What if I went back?

So in 2020, she did. Master’s degree first. Then, because moderation is not her brand, a PhD.

Now she studies American history with a focus on families, women and the everyday lives that rarely make it into textbooks.

“My approach to history is not necessarily like the big names and dates,” she said. “But how everyday people kind of lived out their lives.”

Meanwhile—water polo.

Gilmore had played in high school, coached for a time, and then stepped away for about 25 years. Most people would call that a completed chapter. One of her daughters had a different idea.

“She’s like, ‘Mom, you should really come and play,’” Gilmore said.

Gilmore’s first instinct was hesitation.

“I thought, what am I doing?” she said. “I didn’t want to be a liability….I didn’t want to be like a novelty on the team.”

She showed up anyway. 

The early practices were not easy. Nor was putting on a swimsuit which is cut far more different than in the 1990s.

“The first week I think I cramped up… I got a Charley horse in my calf at every practice,” she said.

There are easier ways to rediscover yourself than repeatedly negotiating with your own hamstrings. She chose not to pursue them.

Instead, she kept going. Which is how she found herself on a collegiate roster, in a sport that is not especially known for its gentleness, surrounded by teammates who could plausibly be her students.

This raises an obvious question: How did that go?

“They’ve been so amazing and really kind and supportive,” she said. “They just treat me like… everyone else.”

“They don’t cut me any slack,” she added.

What she lacks in speed, she offsets with experience.

“I’m a little bit smarter…a little bit more patient,” she said.

None of this is happening in isolation. Gilmore is also working about 20 hours a week as part of her doctoral funding, teaching, researching and grading. She is reading—constantly. At one point, she notes she has roughly 150 books to get through, which is either an exaggeration or a cry for help. 

“In my spare hours I’m just always reading or grading papers,” she said.

Her days are tightly structured: school, work, family, practice. Somewhere in there, rest.

“Between like 4 and 7… I just focus on my family,” she said.

Her family has adapted with her—watching games online, showing up when they can, adjusting to a household where “mom” is also a student-athlete.

“It’s been really hard,” she said. “But I don’t have any regrets.”

Returning to school later in life has changed how she sees both her work and herself.

“I think finding your identity is a lifelong endeavor,” she said. “We change over time…it’s important to listen to what we want, not just when we’re 22, but when we’re 52.”

Her time in the pool may not last long.

“This might be my only season,” she said.

But the experience has already shifted something.

“It has opened the door for me to know that I can do these kinds of things,” she said.

There is no formula here, no neat takeaway. Just a set of choices, repeated daily.

“It’s so hard,” she said. “You definitely have to make some choices… but I’m glad that I did it.”

Eventually, this chapter will end for Gilmore. She literally has other chapters to write (her articles have appeared in the Utah Historical Quarterly) in her quest to become a full-fledged professor of history.