What do marathons, rock climbing, and Ph.D. programs have in common? Obstacles. I was advised that a Ph.D. program can be compared to running a marathon. I have kept this advice in mind from before I began my Ph.D. to today, more than halfway into Year 3. Trying to remember that it is a long, tough road. That it is okay that it is a difficult process. While I am not a marathon runner, I have heard about “hitting the wall.” Hitting the marathon wall sounds awful. It often happens around 20 miles into the race, and a friend has said it can feel like running face-first into a brick wall. Or like your legs are simultaneously locked-up and melting. A different, yet I think similar, term in rock-climbing is the “crux” of a climb. The crux in rock climbing is the hardest part and most challenging section of a climb. Whether the marathon wall or rock-climbing crux, this is often where people find themselves stuck and sometimes eventually stopping. Lately, I have frequently questioned why I signed up for an academic marathon. Parts of experiments did not go according to plan, back-up plans required back-up plans, continued personal sacrifices, and translating the language of plants into our language is arduous. From what friends have shared about marathon walls, to my experience with rock-climbing cruxes, these difficult points are where self-doubt creeps in. I believe I have hit my Ph.D. marathon wall and crux. And to add another obstacle metaphor, today, there was literally a tree blocking the path forward to the native plant nursery. Friend and assistant, Giovanna, standing at the top of the downed tree that blocked our way this morning. While we waited for a friend to bring a chainsaw, a group of ~15 people coming for a huakaʻi (fieldtrip) to the property joined the sitting and waiting game. Once the chainsaw arrived, we began cutting the obstacle into smaller pieces, and all together, we quickly removed the obstacle. We decided to oli together there rather than further up the road because this was the spot where we came together and set a group intention. The huakaʻi alakaʻi shared this ʻōlelo noʻeau (Hawaiian proverb or poetic saying) with us: ʻAʻohe hana nui ke alu ʻia This ʻōlelo noʻeau means that no task is too big when the task is done together by all, that many hands make light work. Laulima also comes to mind as it means cooperation, joint action, a group of people working together, many hands. We cleared the road incredibly fast with everyone working together. To cope with my Ph.D. marathon wall and crux, I have remembered and recommitted to my Ph.D. goal. I have reached out for academic and emotional support. Finding and remembering many supporting hands. Even though it feels like the wall I am currently at will not budge, nor can I climb past the crux, I think I can see glimpses of light coming through the cracks in the wall. My advisors, mentors, committee, friends, and family help me see glimpses of light too. And with some recalibration, I think I can see a few creative moves that can help me climb past the crux. A critical part of my Ph.D. studies with ʻiliahi (Hawaiian sandalwood, Santalum paniculatum), the primary tree I study, is the development of specialized root organs where ʻiliahi connects its roots to the roots of other plants. The root organs did not develop when anticipated, which brought a few experiments to a screeching halt. It was a massive bummer of day. I was really upset, but I had good people around me. They helped me re-focus and finish the work we had that day, even though I didn’t want to. This led to a late night. A bonus though was seeing the milky way and a shooting star. Nothing like a cosmic perspective. Then today, we saw the benefits of time and the biggest haustorium, the specialized root organ, I have ever seen! A haustorium of an ʻiliahi seedling that is part of one of my Ph.D. experiments.
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AuthorI started this blog as part of my Botany In Action Fellowship through Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens Archives
June 2023
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