in praise of "doing stuff"

being a grad student is tough. being a "real" academic, so my friends a few years ahead in the game tell me, is no walk in the park either. that's not to say it's horrible -- indeed, no. many of us are here because we love what we do -- but it *is a lot of hard work (my recent love affair with the microfiche reader in the basement of the campus humanities library only confirmed this for me!), and as such, requires a certain degree of down time in which one can find renewal.

given the number of hours we devote as a community to innovative thought, i find it surprising that there are so few modes of release that are validated by fellow community members. pontificating over a pint (or several) -- not a problem; "doing stuff" that falls outside status-quo scholarly behaviour -- that's a different story. at the same time that reports of colleagues "doing stuff" evoke curiosity, coupled with that curiosity is often a simultaneous questioning of that activity's validity. two friends have recently been involved in discussions of varying intensity about the legitimacy of blogging; another friend often finds herself staring into puzzled faces when she explains that the activity that keeps her sane while in the thick of studying for her comprehensive exams is training to compete internationally in triathlons. i've had both veiled and direct questions about my love of rowing. "doesn't that take away from writing time?" "don't you find your energies and attention divided?" all fancy ways of saying, i think, "how can you be a nerd and a jock at the same time?"

i won't deny that there is a danger in allowing "doing stuff" to become a retreat from the academy. at one point last summer, after being in a car accident and dealing with the serious illness of a family member, the only thing i felt i had the strength to do was row (ironic, yes). my dissertation was the furthest thing from my mind, and i wanted to keep it there; the anxiety that writing provokes in me was the last thing i felt capable of dealing with effectively. the rhythm of a rowing day was calming -- down at the boathouse at 5 am, home from practice by 7:30 am, back at the boathouse at 5 pm, home by 7:30 pm, shower, dinner, bed -- and in a couple of weeks, it effected the healing that i so needed. a retreat? yes. but a necessary one. in the end, the love of what i do brought me back to my keyboard and i learned that i could adapt that rhythmic day to fit my writing schedule. the hours between daily practices soon became filled by trips to the library, writing, revising and researching. my productivity shot up in surprising ways.

i write/think/speak better when i row (or run, or bike). i know this. during my comprehensive exam year, i decided to forgo all exercise and focus solely on studying. i reasoned that i didn't want to look back at the smoldering wreck of my academic career brought about by failing my comps and think "oh! if i'd only spent the hours i did in the gym reading more robert browning in the library!" -- it was one of the stupidest decisions i have ever made. i came out of that second year quite literally a nervous wreck and it took me several months to fully recover.

ultimately i suppose the question is one of integration -- of finding a way to organically join the love of what you pursue academically (my research focuses on 19th-century sport culture and sport journalism and the relationship these two cultural fields have with popular Victorian literature) and the joy you find in "doing stuff". my fellow academic bloggers have varying uses for their on-line space: one of my blogging friends uses her blog to flex her writing muscle in a variety of genres so as to liven up her academic prose -- it keeps her fresh, if you will. another friend has used her blog to open up a discussion of the place of such on-line activity in the scholarly community -- can blogs do something heretofore not done in the universe of scholarship? i'm with her in thinking yes, they can, but we have yet to fully realize the possibilities (and the limitations).

along with on-line scholars and scholar-athletes, i'm lucky to count among my friends who "do stuff" those who find joy in making music. this week, a friend and her band *finally put up a profile on myspace. when not researching/teaching courses in/writing books about topics as diverse as 19th-century performance practices, theoretical conceptions of authorship, and canadian copyright law, L is playing gigs and laying down tracks with the swamp ward orchestra, who are due to release their first CD very soon. is marking out a place for your band on the folk festival circuit tough? yes. but there's a way in which the music she plays and her practices of musicianship are intricately linked to, and actively fuel, her research interests -- a sort of organic whole.

i don't know if the climate of the academy will ever change concerning those who "do stuff", and admittedly, there's a part of me that likes my position on the fringe of things. i do know, however, that if i'm going to make it through to the end of my dissertation, i'm going to row a hell of a lot to get there.