The commuter’s crucible
Finding patience and resilience in Boston’s daily commute
Two years ago, as I prepared to embark on my grad school journey, I devised a bold plan to live far off campus in order to save money. I chose to share a two-bedroom apartment in a town fifteen miles from MIT, fully aware that it would require more effort to get to campus and a concerted effort to develop meaningful connections with my colleagues. Living on campus naturally facilitates frequent, casual interactions, so I worried about the potential isolation. However, the significantly lower rent—less than half of what it would cost in Cambridge—made the decision an easy one, given my ambitious professional and personal goals. Professionally, I hoped to excel in my department’s PhD program, which, like many other competitive programs, includes two years of rigorous coursework for the equivalent of a master’s degree, followed by three to four years of research assistance and dissertation work. My personal goals were to build emergency funds, pay off student loans, and save for future aspirations like buying a home one day. Motivated by these goals, I moved into my apartment in late June 2022, about two months before my program began.
I spent much of the summer visiting out-of-state family and friends, wrapping up my old job, and mentally preparing for the grad school journey that loomed ahead. It wasn’t until mid-August, as I began planning for the upcoming semester, that I discovered a major flaw in my plan to save money by living far from campus. Although MIT heavily subsidizes student parking compared to the $40+ daily rate that people normally pay in Cambridge and Boston, it still costs $11.00 per day for students to park on campus. In my case, this would translate to $220 per month, given that I had in-person classes and recitation every day. To make matters worse, the student parking lot was a mile and a half from my department building, meaning that even if I managed to beat rush hour and reach campus in 30 minutes, I’d still face a twenty- to thirty-minute walk to my office each day. Experimenting with the MBTA commuter rail proved equally challenging—the monthly pass cost $116, and the journey from my neighborhood to North Station took about 35 minutes, assuming the train wasn’t late or shut down for repairs. From there, it was another 35 minutes on foot or 25 minutes by shuttle to the office. Undeterred, I decided to bike to and from work each day. Sure, I reasoned, 30 miles of biking daily would be a lot, but as an avid runner and hiker, that might be a feature, not a bug, of my plan. This way, not only would I guarantee that endurance workouts maintained a place in my busy schedule, but I’d also save money and get to know the area.
I scoured Facebook Marketplace for a bike, settling on a safe but unattractive one that seemed unlikely to attract thieves. I invested in the best helmet and safety lights I could find at REI and prepared for orientation. My first ride to campus was jarring. The route alternated between paved bike paths through wooded areas, highway shoulders, and Cambridge and Somerville’s notoriously perilous bike lanes, which offered a thin line of paint as the only protection from distracted drivers. The roundabouts were the worst. Merging in and out of them when they were packed with cars was harrowing, and I eventually adopted the much slower but safer approach of dismounting and using the crosswalks. Every so often, the deafening sound of a modified exhaust system would roar behind me, growing louder as the car sped past. I arrived on my first day of grad school soaked in sweat and with my nerves fried. Over the next few weeks, I tried to make biking work by packing a change of clothes and shower gear to use at the Zesiger Sports and Fitness Center (fondly referred to as the “Z Center” by students), trying out different routes, and attempting to take my bike on the T for the most harrowing segments of the commute. But in the end, 30 miles of biking daily—about an hour and twenty minutes each way—proved to be too much for both my muscles and my nerves.
Next, I tried the commuter rail, which initially seemed idyllic. Unlike the T subway system—often chaotic like many city metros—the commuter rail connecting Boston to its outer suburbs is relatively peaceful. The hulking purple and silver trains, some of them double-decker, are typically filled with suburban commuters quietly working on laptops or reading books during their journey. Since the line from my town goes to North Station, near Massachusetts General Hospital, I was often surrounded by medical professionals, many of whom enjoyed chatting with fellow passengers about their work. I appreciated the ease of boarding the train, napping or reading, and then walking the remaining half hour across the Longfellow Bridge.
The view from Longfellow Bridge during my daily commute from North Station to campus
I also benefited from MIT’s generous 50% subsidy for the monthly commuter pass to my zone outside of Boston. However, I soon discovered the downside: the MBTA would abruptly announce week-long shutdowns of the train from my town, replacing it with slow shuttle buses that connected to the torpid orange line, stretching my one-hour commute into two or more. The most frustrating part was that the MBTA refused to offer a refund or pro-rate the monthly membership for commuters impacted by these last-minute changes, leaving me hesitant to commit to even a subsidized monthly pass in the future. (Since the adventures I’m writing about here, MIT has further bulked up the various commuter benefits it offers Institute members.)
Finally, I turned to driving. Initially, I developed a routine of leaving the house by 6 a.m. to beat the worst of rush hour. Even then, traffic was often unpredictable, and I found myself stuck in gridlock more often than not. My “light” road rage – characterized by cursing under my breath and doing nothing else – became a constant companion. The frustration of sitting in traffic, knowing I was powerless to change it, turned into a daily ordeal.
Looking back, I realize that if I were to do it again, I might reconsider whether the extra $700 a month was worth the mental and social toll during my coursework years of grad school. Living closer to campus could have alleviated much of the stress and strain of commuting, and I might not advise living far off-campus to first or second-years. Sometimes, the extra cost is worth the investment in one’s well-being.
Over time, however, I adjusted to my “new normal.” I realized that I needed to change my approach if I wanted to maintain my sanity. Inspired by stoic principles, I decided that on days that I drove, I would anticipate and accept traffic, which was utterly out of my control. I began to use my commute time more productively, listening to audiobooks, practicing mindfulness, and planning my day. This shift in mindset helped me cultivate patience and resilience. Eventually, I also regained partial trust in the MBTA. I learned that the occasional loss of a week of use of my pass and having to drive instead was worth the overall reduction of time spent in traffic. The convenience and efficiency of the train, when operational, outweighed the sporadic disruptions. Additionally, subsequent semesters brought some relief. With classes only three days per week, my commuting burden lightened, and I learned to pack meetings and social outings into the days when I was on campus for the most part.
Through these experiences, I learned that patience isn’t just about waiting calmly; it’s about adapting to circumstances beyond our control and finding ways to thrive despite them. My journey through Boston traffic has been a crucible, forging in me a resilience that I never knew I possessed. In many ways, commuting taught me lessons that have been invaluable in grad school: completing any PhD program requires patience, the ability to tolerate discomfort, and a willingness to iterate on strategies until you find something that works.
As an added bonus, I’ve also discovered hidden gems in the Greater Boston Area that I likely wouldn’t have experienced had I lived on campus. For instance, I live just a 20-minute drive from Nahant Beach, a beautiful spot that I love to visit on weekends but probably never would have taken the time to visit if I didn’t have a car. Living off-campus has also enabled me to build a more diverse social circle comprised of friends from both inside and outside of the MIT community. In addition to developing MIT friendships through coursework, department events, and on-campus clubs, I’ve also made friends of more varied backgrounds and in different stages of life in my neighborhood and by attending local events near where I live.
A peaceful sunset at Nahant Beach—one of the hidden gems north of Boston
For students in a similar situation, my advice would be: first, “know thyself.” The commuting arrangement works well for me because I’m a morning person and don’t mind leaving home before rush hour, starting my workday early, and heading home either before or after the evening rush depending. Second, look into carpooling: MIT offers an $88/month carpooling pass. This approach could also give you a chance to get to know your colleague(s) better during your commutes. Finally, remember that whatever approach you take to commuting is temporary. If things aren’t going as planned, you’ll have the chance to adjust later, and in the meantime, you’ll become your cohort’s expert on all the off-the-beaten-path destinations in the Greater Boston Area.
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