I'm an Olympic athlete heading to Paris this summer, but I'm also a medical student. Here's how I pursue both dreams.

• Kat Holmes is a professional fencer headed to the Olympics in Paris this summer. 
• The 30-year-old is also in medical school in New York City to become a doctor.
• Her hectic schedule includes workouts, hours of practice, and lots of studying. 

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Olympic fencer Kat Holmes. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a fencer and a doctor.

Now, I'm 30, and I've fenced on a world championship-winning team and been to the Olympics twice. I'm currently preparing for the Paris Olympics in July. Two weeks after I return, I plan to continue my studies at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York City.

People often ask me how I have time for both. The answer is: I don't really know, but I live it every day.

I'm drawn to two dreams

I played many sports as a kid — soccer, basketball, swimming, tennis. You name it, I tried it.

I am also a nerd. I love reading books about medieval times and sword fighting. When I was 9, I read "Song of the Lioness Quartet" by Tamora Pierce, in which a girl becomes a knight. That sounded really cool to me, so I decided I wanted to try sword fighting.

It wasn't like I was particularly good at fencing initially, but I just loved it. I did it more and more — just for the sake of doing it.

In the 1981 movie "Chariots of Fire," Eric Liddel is a runner competing in the Olympic Games. At one point, he says, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure."

That's how I feel when I fence. I was doing what I was made to be doing, and my 9-year-old self sensed that. I just kept doing it, and now here I am.

My parents were really supportive and found me affordable classes, but after a few years, they said, "Well, you're never going to play sports in college because it will detract from your studies."

But based on my national ranking and my performances, it became clear that going to the Olympics was a real goal of mine. So, my parents eventually said, "Of course, you're going to take time off to try to go to the Olympics."

I've also known since I was 13 that I wanted to be a doctor. I had sprained my ankle, and I had a friend of mine whose dad was an orthopedic surgeon. We went to see him, and I asked all sorts of questions, so he let me shadow him for many summers — starting when I was 15.

The very first day I was in the operating room seeing a scoliosis correction surgery, I was like, "Oh my God, this is what I want to do." And so, I've always been on that path toward medicine since.

My hectic schedule takes some strategic planning

I started medical school three days after returning from the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo. I completed my first two years while training and competing, and then this year, I took what is called a "research year" to give myself some more time to train and compete for the Olympics.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I go to Princeton to train with my fencing coach. I get up pretty early because it takes me two and a half hours to get there. The lessons are normally between an hour and two hours. After that, I lift for an hour and then return to the city to spar with other fencers. When I'm on the train, I'm constantly focused on schoolwork.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I get up and go to the gym in NYC and work closely with my Future coach. We do a bit more intense conditioning workouts for about an hour. I then do schoolwork and focus on that for a big chunk of the day. I then spar with other people at night for two to three hours.

On Saturdays, I always try doing fun cross-training like pickleball, rock climbing, or running. On Sundays, I take off; I need one day just to recover.

During competitions, like the Olympics, I'd study in between matches. I always had to get my own room because I'd be up super late studying. I had to take exams on the road.

I guess all of this isn't impossible because I'm doing it — even though it sometimes feels impossible.