Find a Way to Fly: Lessons from London, Lisboa and Lecturing

This student blog offers a journey through doctoral challenges and personal growth. Kumar Jayantilal reveals how life's unexpected turns, a marathon, travel, and job pursuit, reignited his academic drive, showing how persistence and faith ultimately lead to triumph.

It dawned upon me this afternoon: I am almost four years into a Professional Doctorate in Education (EdD) – a course that I enrolled upon to assuage my existential angst when I turned twenty-six years old, at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic.

As a determined, developing academic, I was committed that, by now, I would have completed almost everything, adding the final touches to my findings, with one eye on the Viva Voce. My supervisors, despite some inevitable friction, would have been delighted with my efforts. And I would have had a couple of article publications – maybe even a book chapter – to bookend my academic industry.

Meanwhile, in my personal life, I would have achieved a new personal best as a ten-kilometre long-distance runner, had plenty of stamps placed on my passport, and would have found a fiancée who I could learn, love and laugh with. What I did not – or more aptly, refused to – foresee was that during the pursuit of any professional qualification, life invariably intervenes and can influence a student’s academic development. Many students, for example, can see their doctoral progress altered by securing a new job, starting a family or purchasing a house. Others, in contrast, can encounter a change in their health, a family bereavement or struggle to meet the excessive yearly fees when self-funding.

Irrespective of the nature of life’s intervention, however, when it occurs it often feels disorientating, as though the ‘golden thread’ that holds the doctorate together has been gnawed at, leaving an undercooked thesis dangling precariously on a cliff’s edge. For some, the doctorate plummets helplessly into the murky waters of incomplete, yet promising theses. However, for others, it is akin to a divine intervention. Rather than depriving them of valuable intellectual energy, the uncertainty stirs something spiritual, something deeper within.

And that, precisely, is the impetus for this written blog: to explore how three of life’s interventions (a marathon run, a trip to Lisboa, and my endless efforts to secure a full-time lecturing position), resuscitated my dwindling doctoral thinking after I had wanted to quit. To explore how, in short, I found a way to fly.

London
On Sunday, April 27th, 2025, I undertook the London Marathon. Having ‘hit the wall’ in Manchester, my first attempt at running twenty-six point two miles, I was determined to run the whole distance in the capital city, seamlessly. Recognising that running a marathon, not least in London, is an enviable feat, there can be a lot of commotion before, during and after the event. In normal circumstances, I would take what I need and be on my way. However, recognising the gravitas of the London Marathon, and having never completed a marathon without ‘hitting the wall’, I bit everything I could. Rather than doing the things I had control over, such as training diligently, eating nutritiously, sleeping peacefully and thinking positively, I had become almost hypnotised by the noise around me.

The London Marathon Running Show is an apt example. What should have been an entertaining day, purchasing running paraphernalia and being inspired by previous runners, became almost a nightmare. First, the need for competition – which was inane and futile given I had never competed at marathon distance – superseded any camaraderie. Rather than being empowered, I felt (perhaps self-inflicted) like an imposter in a sea full of cadaverous runners. Second, my dilapidated trainers, that were more black than white, which had accumulated hundreds of miles, were no longer my friends, more my foes. So, in a world where everybody is concerned with taking your money, mused the adjacent passenger on my coach journey to the capital, I felt obliged to reinvent myself. Third, despite the commendable strive to raise money for a given charity, something I fully engaged with, the Running Show (and marathon, generally) felt more like an entertainment event. The supposedly electric atmosphere siphoned the endurance from my legs towards the superficial sights, raucous crowd and ever-present television coverage.

I had, put simply, become fixated by the ‘physical’, jettisoning any spiritual progress and replacing it with worry and fear – a fear that my fiancée would fail to be at the finishing line as I floundered towards it (a feat captured by television broadcasters). However, against all odds – dehydration from the unrelenting heat, an unspeakable hunger from a lack of sustenance, and an exhaustion from being overzealous in the opening miles – I finished. In three hours, forty-three minutes, I found solace in knowing that through persistence, or by simply putting one foot in front of another, the Lord’s promise was waiting, both in flesh and glory. My fiancée, her family; the adulation of fellow runners, foundering on the stairways of the tube; an auriferous medal, heavy enough to yield neck pain.

The same persistence, I believe, is required in successful pursuit of the professional doctorate degree. During the (at times) toilsome writing process, we must unflinchingly commit ourselves to putting pen to paper, sentence after sentence, word after word. Whilst the words do not necessarily need to be perfect, so often the cause for procrastination amongst students, they must be present. In other words, get it written, not right. Persistence is also required to maintain momentum over the years, not least when developing your research idea(s). Given that doctoral progress is iterative, a research idea is rarely discoverable. Rather, it is refined through grappling and debating. Once you have discovered your idea, however, you have got to roll with it. By persevering with your research idea, the easier it is to recover from research setbacks. The doctorate, itself, too, is a game of stickability – at countless times I have wanted to quit. However, as this written blog eventually explores, it slowly starts to pay off, just like my trip to Lisboa.

Lisboa
I visited Lisboa – perhaps my thirteenth trip in total – for my thirty-first birthday. The trip, serendipitously, coincided with my feeling at dissonance with myself and life, a spiralling process of losing faith. Infallibly, I felt as though everything (and everyone) was against me. That, having entered an age when most footballers pass their peak, I had nothing tangible to show for my ever-increasing years of existence, in comparison to the manifold of ‘successful’ people on social media and those around me. No money, no property, no stable job, I felt like a bad person.

To compensate for what I believed was a lack of beauty that made me worthy of existence, I strived to achieve the evanescent approval of others through performance. An egomaniac, I wanted to be in unequivocal control of everything, in a quixotic pursuit of perfection. Going it alone, I was exhausted. In cinematic terms, I was putting on an act of desperation on screen, yet deploring myself behind the scenes for the man I had become. My personality, therefore, was one of weakness, rather than strength.

To rediscover my spirit, and to apprehend that I was already whole, I – He – decided to bring me closer to Him through Lisboa. Despite its increasing homogenisation due to touristification, two places were sacrosanct in the Portuguese capital: the Igreja de São Roque and the beach. Kneeling before an impeccable statue of Jesus Christ, I realised that contrary to my own indulgence, the only form of protection, and purest example of flawlessness, is the Lord. Relinquishing my need for control and perfection to Him, He proceeded to bring me everlasting peace, acceptance and patience. More specifically, a realisation that we are what we believe and that He lives through everyone and everything. It was exactly what I needed, a divine intervention to make me feel as infinitesimal as the grains of sand beneath my feet, yet as vast as the cerulean sky and sea before me.

As doctorate students, we require – deserve – a similar tranquillity at various points in our journey. Frequently, for example, I have been asked ‘how long have you got left?’ or ‘when are you going to finish?’ – sometimes before I had even started. While public scrutiny is inevitable, however, you cannot be profligate with your energy, for it is needed in abundance further down the professional journey: the Viva Voce, minor/major corrections and subsequent conferences. I, therefore, attempt to rest on the opinions of the people that matter, such as my peers and supervisor(s). Occasionally, with regards to the latter, dialogues can (and do) break down due to differences in opinions or delays in feedback. Often, though, I feel realigned with the direction of my research after some comforting from immediate superiors.

That said, our supervisors cannot always be present, with academic isolation being commonplace in doctorate students. Such a situation can become compounded by students attempting to manage conflicting priorities. In the past academic year, for example, having worked industriously to secure a full-time tenure as a lecturer in education, alongside my existing teaching and lecturing commitments, not to mention the performative pressure to publish, I have only managed to write an elementary methodology chapter and gain ethical approval.

Rather than looking on the outside, however, I made a concerted effort to focus within. For example, as opposed to feeling underwhelmed by my progress, I now have an awareness of the underlying hum of holiness that I (and all living things) embody. Such an awareness helps me to connect with something Higher, giving me belief. First, a belief that, irrespective of my (lack of) progress, I am who and where I am. Professionally, I am a senior lecturer in education that happens to be in the middle of their doctorate. Personally, a son, brother, uncle, fiancé and friend who is trying to spread light by finding grace in His sight. And spiritually, a sentient vessel that is living in the present moment like my house is a gift, instead of living in the past like my house is on a cliff. Second, a belief that regardless of how quickly other people want me to finish the doctorate programme, I can only complete my degree according to His timeline. Third, a belief that notwithstanding how worthless and purposeless social media can make us feel by incentivising idiocy, the doctorate degree is a mammoth undertaking and, more importantly, it is my calling. If I want to do it well, and subsequently bring glory to His Kingdom through redemption, it will take as long as it needs to take. Put simply, rather than make unnecessary objections, all I can do is have the faith – the next theme of this written blog.

Lecturing
After trying to balance being a supply teacher, an hourly paid lecturer, and a visiting lecturer, never truly finding a home, I finally secured a permanent position as a senior lecturer in education. The position, however, did not come easy. Over the last year, I have endured two unsuccessful interviews, always falling at the final hurdle. Meanwhile, against the backdrop of financial cuts in the higher education sector, many of my applications were outrightly rejected. As a result, in combination with my fixation on the ‘physical’ and a compulsive pursuit of perfection, I was beginning to lose all faith. Indifferent towards almost everything, I was spiralling towards self-sabotage.

However, every so often the Highest places us in difficult situations, more so if we are one of His favourite children. By seeing how we respond to such situations, He can gauge how much conviction we have in Him. The stronger the faith, the greater the glory. Admittedly, in the midst of my melancholy, I saw no hope, my mind and body withering. However, sequestered deep within the spirit of my soul, something in me refused to succumb. He – the universe – was whispering to me, ‘Just stay with me for a little longer.’ So, and with the unabating support of my fiancée, family and friends, I continued – one last time.

Rather than yearning in desperation, I approached the ‘mission’ – securing a permanent lecturing position – with the acceptance that all things happen according to God’s timing, rather than ours. Furthermore, I attempted to understand that irrespective of my calling, whether lecturing or not, I would approach it with passion, purity, and positivity. For example, having realigned with my – His – purpose, I disseminated my curriculum vitae to multiple schools of education while offering my services to work voluntarily in such departments, in the hope of acquiring something more permanent in the future. I fulfilled two VL contracts, too, alongside undertaking modules on the periphery of my subject discipline, trying to further cultivate my knowledge and craft. Finally, I published a series of blog posts which, like this, explored a central theme: one lived experience of undertaking the doctorate.

Sometimes, understandably, I became materialistic, incessantly checking my emails and (unreasonably) pleading with my parents or partner to explain why I had not heard from employers. However, for the most part, like my marathon run, I tried to be calmly aggressive.

The benefit was that I received two successive interviews at the same institution for different roles. Compared to my previous two unsuccessful attempts at interviews, I planned a lot more robustly, always relating my responses back to the underlying themes of the job specification and the institution’s mission statement, values and strategic aims. In my quieter moments, I tried to visualise myself before the interviewing panel and, further down the line, conducting the role itself. I even solicited the advice of my professional network, asking them questions about what to expect in the interview.

Regardless of my spiritual (re)alignment, however, I still esuriently wanted the role. And while I was ostensibly calm before the interview, on the actual day I was gripped by a crippling fear that my meticulous preparation would desert me and that members of the interviewing panel would eventually discover that I am an imposter. After the gruelling, yet somewhat enjoyable interviews – the second interview being slightly better than the first – I had nothing left to give: beleaguered. However, for the first time, in a very long time, I kept the faith, reciting two mantras in my head: one, I gave everything I could, given the circumstances I had; two, while I cannot be everything, the institution would be fortunate to have me.

Less than a week later, it came: an offer. Rather than immeasurable excitement, I felt a oneness with the Highest. He knew what I had been through – the blood, sweat, tears. And through His grace and mercy, He delivered to me His promise. It was a promise that, through serving Him rather than my own selfish desires, things always work out. In fact, the blessings were so plentiful and powerful that I was able to flourish. While such flourishing is rare on a doctorate degree where survival is the basic instinct, (through faith) there are a myriad of opportunities to thrive – WhatsApp communities of practice, conferences, and (like this) written blogs. We can, in our own ways, find a way to fly.

References

• Harper, K., & Lee, T. (2020). The art of academic success: Managing your doctoral journey. Academic Press.
• Jones, A. (2021). The marathon mindset: Mental strategies for long-term success in academia. Routledge.
• Jones, A., & Thompson, P. (2022). Doctoral journeys: Overcoming the obstacles of research and personal growth. Oxford University Press.
• Miller, S., & Davidson, R. (2021). Navigating higher education: Challenges and triumphs of doctoral students. Sage Publications.
• Parker, C. (2019). Writing with persistence: How to stay motivated during the dissertation process. Palgrave Macmillan.
• Shaw, J. (2018). Beyond the wall: Mental resilience in academic research. University of California Press.
• Shaw, J. (2021). Personal growth in the age of academic pressure. University Press.
• Smith, L. (2020). Resilience in academia: How to manage stress and keep moving forward. Springer.
• Walker, D. (2019). The doctorate: A comprehensive guide to completing your PhD or EdD. Wiley-Blackwell.