I haven't exclaimed “eureka!” in a long time. In fact, now that I think about it, I never have. Yet I know those moments exist, because I've read about them in books such as James Watson's The Double Helix, the story of how the structure of DNA was discovered. And I've been privy to conversations with a few seasoned colleagues in which they recounted their biggest discoveries.

So why haven't I had a eureka moment, I wonder? Is it possible that my projects hold little promise for major discoveries? Or maybe it's because I'm too young, and eureka moments only arrive when researchers are more scientifically mature. I know I have a eureka moment in me. I know it because I'm capable of equally emotional revelations — like recently, when I used a few preferred expletives on hearing that my manuscript had been rejected in less than four hours.

I could use a eureka moment, but I know that science isn't necessarily about expecting or striving for one. I look at my research as a marathon, with experimental ups and downs, unexpected right and left turns, and a continuous process of learning. That may sound trite, but it's a mindset that helped me survive the rigours of being a graduate student, a postdoc and, I hope soon, a professor. Still, some day it would be nice to say eureka, even in a low whisper.