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A catalyst is an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action. Catalysts come in many forms. It can be an event, an idea, or a new opportunity that changes the way you see the world or redirects the course of your future. For MSU junior, Eric Jorgenson, it was a person. Today's post is Eric's catalyst story in his own words.

We are looking for more stories from students, alumni, or faculty. If you have a story about a catalyst that has imacted  your life, and you would like to share with other students, email msuCatalyst@gmail.com.

Rowing practice in front of the Detroit Boat Club.

“Jorgenson, your times suck.”  This phrase has resonated in my mind since the moment I heard it. In that moment, I was surrounded by my team, my best friends, and the boatmates that depended on me to be at my best. 

I used to suck.  I used to be terrible, and unlike most terrible people, I was told so.  I fervently believe that more people should be told that they are terrible. This was one of the most fortunate things to ever happen to me, and it came from a man I have been most fortunate to know.  He was unforgiving, uncompromising—even cruel—but he fostered in me many of the traits that will prove to be the most important. 

Dr. BellThe only goal of the man who created this environment was to develop championship rowers—and he was good at what he did.  Dr. Richard Bell is a former microbiology professor who has dedicated his life to the sport. Rowing himself since he was a young man (and still to this day), he began coaching in his spare time. Over the course of his accomplished career, he has coached countless high school students to high-end college teams, many national champions, and a few world champions. 

 Yet, while his medal count is prodigious; the number of men he has transformed is greater. Whether or not he crafted each rower into a champion oarsman, he had the side effect of turning sniveling, whiny teenagers into strong, capable, and resilient men. 

I don’t know how this happened or when, but I know that I started rowing my freshman year as a fat, whiny, undisciplined little boy, and graduated four years later, a tall, strong, capable, and self-sufficient man with more knowledge of myself than anyone else I knew my age. 

I went through ridiculously intense workouts, sweated out 15+ pounds of weight in under an hour, rowed shirtless in the snow, had heat stroke and hypothermia, passed out and thrown up.  I had traveled all across the country (and Canada), raced rowers from dozens of countries over multiple continents, won and lost, celebrated and grieved.  I had overseen hundreds of thousands of dollars in equipment, managed dozens of kids on trips all across the US, had lives and livelihoods in my hands, and handled it.  Always eager, but often surprised to find myself shouldering the burden of a much more seasoned man, I now look back in amazement at what I had accomplished. 

Our All-American, national Championship 4 paddling the course in at the Head of the Schulykil, Philidelphia.At 16, after years of training—often up to 5 hours a day—I was rowing in the national championships.  This pressure was a part of the experience, and I wanted all of it.  I was not satisfied with sitting in classrooms like everyone else, playing for a high school football or basketball team, competing with the six schools surrounding us for a few weeks of the year.  I now recognize my desire to take on more challenges, more burden than I thought I could bear.  At 16, captain of my crew, I was leading a team of hungry boys into the fierce competition we had dedicated our lives to; competing in the highest levels of rowing that America offers.  I did not feel 16, I have never felt 16.  I’m pretty sure I went straight from 14 to 30. 

This sounds odd, but it is honestly how I feel about my aging. It’s as if I went into a tunnel and came out a different person, with firmly grounded roots that determine how I will handle myself in situations I will face for the rest of my life. I suppose that somewhere in that tunnel was a tipping point where the change occurred. I have no idea where or when; but somewhere in those years, I developed and solidified many of the personality traits that make me who I am today.

I seem to have unwittingly built up a composure that insulates me from pressure and stress.  I find it very probable that I will never be more pressed upon, pushed or exhausted than I was then.  After being at the far extremes of performance, I know I can handle high levels of mental and physical duress.  So, fast-forward two years to finals week sophomore year. I had five exams in three days, accounting for a cumulative 40% of my semester grades. I needed to average 3.75 on finals to get into the Business College, to get the degree that will determine much of my future—the academic incarnation of Custer’s last stand. I knew at this point exactly where my threshold of sleep necessity was, where my mind ceased to be functional, and how much sleep I needed when I finally did crash. My whole experience at rowing, surrounded by unforgiving drive and determination, forced me to determine exactly where I could perform best. Knowing limits of cognizance and coherence proved to be valuable information—I earned a 3.75 average over finals and made it into the Business College.

4 racing at The Head of the Charles, Boston Mass-largest fall regatta in the world.This is the experience I reflect upon when considering why I have chosen the entrepreneurial path.  It is the greatest of career challenges, the least pursued, and even less often successful.  The journey itself, more so than the rewards, can be extraordinary.  With your own venture, every day you hold your own fate in your hands, every day is a battle to earn the chance to fight again the next day.

I have walked difficult roads, and succeeded, thriving on the challenge of a new and exciting adventure, inspired by the chance to overcome probable failure and defeat.  The bigger the mountain is, the more I want to stand on top of it, and the harder I will fight to get there. 

Rowing taught me that I have the capability to do far, far more than I could ever conceive. I learned that through hard work and determination, by refusing to quit, and working as intensely as possible on small steps, you will someday look back and be stunned at the ground you have covered. 

That is my catalyst.  The experience of doing what was initially inconceivable.  That is what spurs me on: the knowledge that I can do more than I think I can. 

Eric Jorgenson is currently a junior at Michigan State University, double-majoring in Economics and Business, with specializations in Entrepreneurship and Connected Learning.  He is an intern at East Lansing’s Technology Innovation Center, and co-director of the upcoming student business incubator, The Hatch.  He also owns his own company supplying renewable, eco-friendly clothing, GoBoo clothing. 

As a rower, Eric was an All-American, winning the unofficial fall National Championships, and earning silver in the official spring National Championships, as a member of a 4+.  He was invited to row at the Junior Olympics and recruited by the Brown University and MIT crew teams.