When young, I loved going on trail (小路) runs. It was my favorite way to escape stress. So, when I was back in my hometown after a tough first year of my Ph. D. program, I thought a trail run was just what I needed. But instead of helping me relax, the run did just the opposite.
After I moved to the city for college, where my runs were on flat concrete paths instead of winding dirt trails, I used a GPS watch. When I went on trail runs again in the country, it constantly reminded me of the fact that I wasn't keeping up with my usual pace. I turned my watch off, thinking that would allow me to enjoy my surroundings and find the peace I expected, but I worried I was underperforming. "Why can't I let go and just enjoy myself?" I wondered. But after some introspection (反省) , I realized why I was struggling—both on trail runs and in graduate school.
Going into my Ph. D. I had thought that my solid undergraduate track record would set me up for instant success. To my surprise, I was wrong. I lacked confidence in my research abilities which I thought stopped me performing well and I constantly felt my progress was too slow. Other students'self-confidence and their excellent results made me feel insecure. Finally, one day I broke down in tears in my adviser's office.
Then came my visit home: I was having trouble because I hadn't properly adjusted my expectations to the differences between an urban run and a trail run.
A Ph. D. is like a trail run: Sometimes you can run fast. Sometimes you might find yourself climbing up a steep, winding trail at a snail's pace. And that's OK. Barriers are unavoidable, and success looks and feels different on a challenging trail than it does on a smooth, flat path. Sometimes it's best to take a deep breath and do your best to meet the challenge.
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