31st December, 2022. That was the last time I posted here.
It’s taken a will of steel to sit back down to write. Almost 21 months have passed and it would be easy to think that my research project, What motivates people to practice a form of movement, exercise, and/or sport, and how does it change (them, the practice) over time, had been left by the wayside. It’s been quite the opposite, in fact. Not a day has passed when I haven’t been diving into this research. The bit missing was my will to write.
So much time has passed that my website had locked me out. Not only that but in these months many writers who are more inclined to read a blog post have headed from blogs to Substack. As I gingerly return, I do so without the expectation of an audience but rather, with the intention of finding the words I need to write my research up.
Time is of essence these days and perhaps that is why I am waking back up. This research project was always meant to be the one to hone my research skills and presence, and prepare me for a journey through a PhD. Last week, my application and initial research proposal was accepted and that journey is fast arriving next month.
If truth be told, I can’t quite believe I’ve reached this point. I’m aware that a much bigger mountain or vaster stretch of sea to cross awaits me. I am under no illusion that being accepted onto a PhD programme means completion of one. I have seen people’s mental health suffer as they grapple with the narrow and lonely depths of Level 8. And I work a full-time job that has a habit of taking over my life and in my mid-40s, my energy levels can fluctuate. So I approached this journey as sensibly as I could, as a part-time PhD. That means my journey will be 6 years at best.
“Where does Dr Higgins want to be in 6 years time?” This was the second question my supervisor asked me right after asking what I wanted to research, and I stumbled at the first hurdle. All I could see was that I’d be 51 and that in this patch of life, anything could happen. My eyesight is deteriorating so rapidly that I’m under close monitoring for diabetes and hypertension. Thankfully, neither seem imminent and I am being as vigilant as I can be about my diet and exercise, ever seeking improvement (take that as one motivation to move - fear of loss of sight!). The other concern is burst blood vessels at the back of one eye and now, appearing in the other one. My theory is they’re linked to either my near-fatal horse riding fall at the age of ten or a particularly nasty judo accident at the age of thirty eight, when my training partner and I rammed our heads into each other. He was fine but blood spurted everywhere for me, right from above the affected eye. But the medical trajectory here is most likely diabetes. The only thing they couldn’t work out was why both eyes weren’t affected at the onset. Now we’re apparently waiting for a blood vessel to burst and leak. Wonderful.
This issue of eyesight has affected me in so many ways, including my willingness to sit down and write. After long hours of working online, staring at a computer, the last thing I have wanted to do is sit down and write. I’ve tried recording voice notes and using AI to generate text (side note: how AI has sky rocketed these past 2 years!), as some well-meaning researchers suggested, but that failed repeatedly for I ramble incessantly when I speak (and only somewhat less when I write). At least when writing I can look back easily at what I’ve written and cross out bits. That’s a laborious task when voice recording, not to mention frustrating when I realise the words I’ve spoken aren’t actually the words I mean at all.
Dwindling eyesight has also affected my capacity to train. My new karate dojo - a place that is actually my original style (JKA) - is almost a one hour drive over dark country lanes. Classes start at 8pm which means leaving the house at 7pm then driving home, often in the rain and dark, at 9.30pm and arriving at 10.30pm. The younger me could hack this easily and even take delight in the adventure but the older me, well the reality of getting to class is now harder than the actual training itself. There is also the pressure of work. Many of my students work full time jobs and teaching often spills over to 8pm, so I have a habit of putting their needs ahead my own. It’s a logical thing to do given they are paying to learn and it’s my responsibility to guide them.
But the time for excuses is fast fading and so this morning I reached for my iPad and told myself, I’ve got to find a way to make this work, to get my research insights into the written word, in any way I can right now. Yet this is now a mammoth task some 3.5 years into the process. The research has grown legs in this time that I could never have expected at the onset and I now see it has evolved in 4 parts:
First, there was my motivation to conduct this research. PhD aspirations aside, I wanted to make sense of my martial arts journey and particularly a phase that emerged after a judo shoulder injury in 2017. This was a moment that sparked my interest in Exercise & Sport Psychology, leading me to a Masters degree in the subject as I neared forty. The physical pain was so bad that I barely slept and it wasn’t long before a depression set in, one of a bio-psychological kind. I couldn’t train properly or compete, and I had lost an important part of my identity. I was also significantly under-slept and my cognitive functioning had declined. Together, they spelled my first conscious foray into the world of depression. The timing of that couldn’t have been worse as mid-life approached and questions around relationships and mothering and settling down descended.
I tried to build some stability with the move to the UK for the Masters. Two pregnancy losses later, I had a very different relationship with my body and training, not to mention a complex kind of grief I couldn’t make sense of. I then lost my dog in early 2022, some 10 days before my 43rd birthday and the second pregnancy loss. Covid struck me in between. This dog had been my best friend and rock since leaving humanitarian work in 2012 and with his loss I fell apart and spiralled down further.
As my insides unravelled and my eyesight deteriorated, I had to keep going. We had a business to run and I had students to teach. 2022 was perhaps the saddest year of my life while 2023 was the year I started trying to climb out of it. So far, 2024 has both lifted me and pushed me back. The tides are still coming at me but instead of falling down, I’m just about standing and ready to wade back into the waters.
I know from growing up on the beach that waves close to shore are just a necessary obstacle to break through before reaching calmer waters. I used to drive my canoe’s nose into them knowing that if I turned sideways, the canoe would instantly capsize. I try to take heart in such a childish insight and keep my eyes focused on the journey ahead. There are ongoing waves but somehow, I’ve got to drive the nose of my research boat into each wave and keep going until the stiller - and deeper - waters emerge. That is theoretically where the beauty lies, where things everything slows down.
As I said, I’ve thought about this research project every day. If the first part was my judo injury, the second part was my IPA study with 7 participants who generously shared their time and wisdom, and have been endlessly patient with my write-up of their contributions (and my as yet unfulfilled promise to write a book). The third part took me back into my reflexive self, as I continued to explore my own movement and exercise practices (my days in sport are long gone however I did notice a tendency to still compete in other ways!). Meanwhile, the fourth part unexpectedly carried me into my everyday work, reminding me of something my new supervisor said, to make your research what you do everyday. I train Positive Psychology Practitioners and I couldn’t help but observe and discuss with them their various motives to practice, particularly as I began to notice similar storylines emerging to my IPA participants. This led me to question whether what we practice even matters at all and that that motivation to practice anything, and how practice changes (us, the practice), might offer a core theory that potentially I could apply to anything. Naturally that then led me into my own reflexive practice of Positive Psychology and what motivated me, and how that motivation has shifted considerably over time.
I have so much to share but being an academic piece of work, rigour and clarity is needed in presenting my research findings before I pop out a theory. So this is where I am, mindful that the wave of this unfinished research study is about to collide with the PhD wave, and hoping that if I just keep my eye on the road ahead, I’ll break through these waves in an upright manner and eventually reach those deep and still waters where I can slow down and focus on the PhD, the topic of which I’ll keep hidden for now!
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