Sinh Nguyen: 5 Takeaways from My 5K Runs at Sea, July 24, 2025

NOAA Teacher at Sea

Sinh Nguyen

Aboard NOAA Ship Pisces

July 7, 2025 – July 24, 2025

Mission: Larval Bluefin Tuna Slope Survey

Geographic Area of Cruise: North Atlantic Ocean, Slope Sea

Date: July 24, 2025

Conclusion Log

On my first day sailing aboard NOAA Ship Pisces, I stood on the treadmill with my head held high. “I got this,” I told myself while setting my usual running metrics.

Exercise treadmill positioned on metal flooring of a ship surrounded by electrical tubes and wiring, cabinets, and engine system parts. — The treadmill was bolted down on the lower deck. Tucked among the engine systems.

Lower deck of a ship with a punching bag hanging in the left foreground. There's a big metal drawer, large wood-top island table, and exercise equipment in the background. — It smelled like metal and salt. The air felt like a humid Texas summer: warm and dense.

“You’ve been training these past few months,” I reminded myself. “This will just be another run.” A few seconds in, I stumbled. Hard. The treadmill hadn’t budged… but I sure did! I’d swerved off and landed (thankfully feet first) on the floor.

Fast forward to my final days at sea: I’d completed consecutive 5K runs on that same treadmill. Boy… it wasn’t easy. But neither were the science mission nor my time at sea, and that’s where the reflection begins.

Just completed a run.
Celebrated the achievement.
Stretched and cool off on the flying deck.

I’ve been thinking about how much my time at sea mirrored my time on the treadmill. Here are five takeaways from running at sea; and what they taught me about science and teaching.

A man holds up a jar half full of some liquid to two women. In the background, two other women are standing and working at a counter. Text overlay reads, "Accept help. You're also a learner."

Accept help. You’re also a learner.

Small silver gray Lasko fan placed on the lower deck floor next to an exercise treadmill. — Next to the treadmill was a fan. During my runs, engineer crew members would pass by on their rounds and turn it on. They checked in (made sure I was cooling off) and reminded me I wasn’t doing this alone.

When I began the Teacher at Sea program, I had no experience with NOAA fisheries research or oceanography. I’d never lived on a ship. Let alone been out in deep water.

Three people stand together aboard a ship and smile for the camera with blue ocean water and sky behind them. The man in the middle is wearing jeans and a button up while the woman and man on the ends are in black boots and navy blue uniforms that say NOAA Corps. — Every part of the mission, from scientific terminology to ship protocol and living, was unfamiliar.

Although, I wasn’t expected to know it all, my science team was patient. Like any great teacher, they scaffolded the learning: they explained terms, modeled procedures, and gradually released responsibility until I could confidently take on the tasks myself. To be among top scientists in their field. To feel welcomed, supported, and taught… was humbling.

Two sets of hands at work, one holding a white funnel and the other a metal tin containing some dark brown substance

Four people sitting and standing together at a desk to look at a computer monitor together

An Asian man wearing glasses and NOAA Teacher at Sea shirt stands on a ship besides an older woman with her hair tied back and also wearing glasses. They both hold a red lifesaving buoy between them and smile for a photo. — All crew members aboard *Pisces* didn’t just show me the ropes. They reminded me that learning never stops.

Asian man with glasses, backwards baseball cap, and NOAA Teacher at Sea t-shirt smiles while wearing a life-saving buoy across his body — All crew members aboard *Pisces* didn’t just show me the ropes. They reminded me that learning never stops.

Begin steadily, avoid burnout.

There were moments, especially early on, when I wanted to try and do everything, even after my 12-hour shifts. I went from 0-100 fast, thinking that was the way to show commitment. A few days in, I was hit hard by exhaustion.

Over-the-shoulder image of a man at the command deck of a ship with a view of the sea at sunrise/sunset ahead. — The same lesson applied to my runs. I’d start too fast and burn out too early.

Asian man with glasses photographed in mid-motion smiling/laughing at the camera. — The same lesson applied to my runs. I’d start too fast and burn out too early.

Eventually, I learned to pace myself, both on and off the treadmill. I set boundaries, made time for rest, and remembered that sustainability matters more than speed.

Asian man with glasses, backwards yellow baseball cap, and navy blue Teacher at Sea t-shirt stands on a ship and smiles for a photo with ocean water and blue sky behind him — I learned that I could be more helpful, more present, and more productive when I prioritized well-being.

Two women with ponytails sit at a wooden table on a ship deck surrounded by barrels, thick ropes, and other equipment. Overlay text says, "Stay flexible. Conditions will change."

Stay flexible. Conditions will change.

Shout-out to Emily Susko (program coordinator) for helping making this experience possible before, during, and even after the sail. Her patience reminded me that plans shift, even with the best preparation.

As a teacher, I know this well: you can write the perfect lesson plan, but students and life will take it in different directions.

Zoomed out image of a man standing against the inside walls of a ship deck and waving at the camera — The same applies at sea. From unpredictable weather to equipment delays, we had to adapt constantly.

Not everything was in our control but our responses and mindsets were. Flexibility didn’t mean lowering expectations. It meant adjusting our mindset and staying ready for the unexpected.

Even on the treadmill. It was calm and cool on some days but rocky and shaky on others. Eventually, I adapted, adjusted my balance, and kept going.

Stay grounded in your “Why.”

Our mission was to survey larval bluefin tuna. Some stations yielded many while others, none. But each time mattered.

Four women with light skin tones wearing orange life vests, ocean overalls, and hard hats pose for a photo as they complete nighttime work on a ship. — We weren’t focused on isolated results but were focused on contributing to the larger scientific picture.

There were lonely moments at sea. I missed land, my family, and friends. But I reminded myself why I was there: my students back home. This “why” connected my work at sea with my work in the classroom, and kept me grounded.

Asian man wearing glasses and orange ocean overalls kneels and smiles on a ship deck near a table and research equipment — Whether I was preserving fish samples or logging data at 2 AM, I knew I was part of something bigger that would outlast the sail itself.

Four women stand with their elbows on the walls of the ship deck overlooking water with land, city buildings, and other vessels in view. Text overlay reads, "Remain curious and humble."

Remain curious and humble.

One of the most memorable moments came after a shift. It was a quiet night. The storm had calmed, winds had slowed down, and Pisces‘s lights had dimmed. I walked out to the back deck alone.

Nothing surrounded me but ocean. I looked up and saw the Milky Way. Lots of stars above while I was surrounded by nothing but the ocean. I paused, stunned by the beauty. My mind loaded with curiosity and with many questions.

That moment was a reminder that there’s so much I don’t know. So much to still wonder about. And that wonder is a gift I’ll bring back to my students.

I will come home with the renewed motivation to bring the ocean back to my school community, not just through facts, but through curiosity. I want students to look at the world, land, sea, or sky, and feel and then share that same awe.

Man wearing glasses, backwards yellow ball cap, shorts and NOAA Teacher at Sea shirt standing on a ship deck, looking to his right with a sunset/sunrise in the distance — I’m grateful to NOAA’s Teacher at Sea Program for reminding me that learning is lifelong, and that the unknown is not something to fear… but to explore.

As educators, we wear many hats: teacher, learner, mentor, student. At sea, I was all of them. For that, I thank all crew members aboard who made this mission possible: