Hot air

I followed the story yesterday of the six-year-old boy who was presumably stuck in a man-made hot air balloon his storm chasing parents constructed. Read the story here.

Turns out he was hiding in the garage attic the whole time.

Why jobs are like boyfriends

When I got laid off in July, I was bummed out. I sat around by myself, I cried, I ate and drank things I probably shouldn’t have. I discovered websites I didn’t know existed through hours of daily Internet surfing.

Now I’ve been looking for a job the last three months, with little to show for it (except an updated resume and a bunch of business cards from people I’ll probably never talk to again). Then I realized, looking for a job is like looking for a boyfriend. Observe.

The break-up

Sure, we had disagreements and fought once in awhile … but I thought I was pulling my weight. I helped out when I didn’t need to. I made you feel good when you were down. I gave you my heart, and you stomped on it. With no forewarning, nonetheless. What did I do wrong? Of course, I had to figure we were both having problems and dragging this out longer than necessary. But we were both comfortable, weren’t we?

Do I talk too much? Did I ignore you? Did I break the fax machine one-too-many times? And much like a severed relationship, I’m left wondering why instead of just moving on and getting over it.

Nesting

Now what do I do with all the hours I would usually spend with you? I can’t go and hang out at your place. That would just be weird, and needy. Instead I sit on my couch for hours watching terrible daytime talk shows and rented movies. I sit in my pajamas and I don’t shower until 2 PM. I eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. Along with ice cream, pizza and cheeseburgers.

When I’m feeling a little better, I try to find some fellow singles to go out on the town on a Tuesday night. But I can’t because ALL MY FRIENDS HAVE JOBS.

The first date

Finally, for weeks, I’ve been searching and searching for that someone special. We meet online and notice a connection. Hey good lookin’. Say, you’re in the Milwaukee area? You need someone with my kind of experience? You like grammar and correcting typos? Let’s meet!

We decide on a day, find the location and pick a time to meet. I have to dress to the nines and make sure I’m on your A-game. I’ve only got one chance to make a good, lasting first impression.

When I get there, I have to talk about myself. Incessantly. Not only that, but you have to make yourself sound good. Not only that, I have to make sure I ask you questions too.

The callback

This is usually done by phone or email. Texting in either situation is absolutely unacceptable. So far, I’ve received at least a dozen emails before and/or after an interview saying why I’m not their type. “You don’t have enough experience,” There were so many well-qualified applicants and it was difficult to choose,” or, my personal favorite, “I’m not sure you’d move for me.” (Not a direct quote) Fine. I’ll move one. It’s not like we knew each other that well anyway.

But the trouble always is, you don’t always know exactly why they didn’t pick you. You can’t read minds, and ask that potential employer why they made the decision they did. What’s that person you picked got, that I ain’t got?

Going steady

I’ve dragged the metaphor on, you can probably figure this one out. It’s when the job you’ve been seeing says they want to offer you a place in their heart. Or a cube, as it were. You want to support me and give me insurance? Let me celebrate holidays with you and meet all your friends? That sounds swell.

In all respects, I’m still single. Sure I’m playing the field right now with a few freelance opportunities; but I have yet to lock down that lasting relationship.

That said, I can still say I learn from every job I meet. I realize that some of the interviews I go to, I wouldn’t want to work for a particular person or company. Or I realize that I really, really want that job … but they found someone that can type faster, joke better or has more, ehem, experience than me.

Lakefront Marathon

I woke up around 6 AM and made the same breakfast I always do before a run: an English muffin breakfast sammich with egg and Canadian bacon, swallowed down with some Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. It was barely light out when I packed up the rest of my gear when Greg and I hopped into my Camry on our way to Grafton High School. Today I was going to run my first marathon.

Lakefront Marathon, October 4: 48 degrees and cloudy at 7:45 AM. Only 2,700 runners. Not nearly as many as my first race this past May; a half marathon in Green Bay, with almost 10,000 total participants. The Lakefront Marathon limited participants mainly because both Ozaukee and Milwaukee Counties can’t completely close down their roads for the race. The route itself starts off in Grafton, and goes along the Lake Michigan lakefront to downtown Milwaukee. One way. No loops or circles – you’re always headed toward your destination.

I made sure to charge my iPod that morning, and created a list with more than 100 songs, or six hours worth, for the entire 26.2 miles. I took off my sweats, down to my running shorts and tank top. A lot of runners wore cheap gloves, cut-off sleeves, or throw-away shirts to stay warm before the race. I didn’t because I knew I’d be warmed up within the first mile.

I went to the bathroom – a staple of any long distance run. I took one Imodium, to avoid any, err, accidents during the rest of the morning. Plus I was dealing with dear Aunt Flow that morning. TMI? Too bad … it’s worse dealing with it, than hearing about it.

I knew the last half would be more difficult than the first. My longest distance in training was only 16 miles, opposed to the 20 miles I should’ve made it up to. I cut back on my distance during training to avoid a knee injury and focused more on strength training.

Miles one through 10 were pretty uneventful. The run consisted mainly of country roads with a few scattered houses. I kept a 10:40 pace, and stuck with the 4:30 pace group for awhile. There were some volunteers that kept music playing in their cars. I also remember a guy playing a banjo in his driveway, while his dog sat by his feet. I knew I couldn’t use too much energy because I’d have to save up for the second half. I looked forward to seeing Greg, knowing he’d meet me at Mile 10.

I ate my first gel around Mile 8, so I grabbed my other one from Greg when I met him at Mile 10.

I made a pit stop at Mile 12 to go to the bathroom. I figured it was the best idea, since I had a full mug of coffee and at least a full bottle of water already.

I anticipated seeing Greg again at Mile 15, and told myself I only had five miles to run before we met up again. The next time I saw him, Greg gave me some Vaseline for my legs, because my shorts were beginning to chafe my thighs. I told him I’d see him again around Mile 22.

I stopped at every water stop, about every two miles, and made sure to drink at least one cup of water. I even had Gatorade twice, because I knew I needed sodium and electrolytes. I would walk for 50-100 yards to get my bearings and not swallow the water to fast. I also went through two gels, which isn’t much considering they recommend having 1-2 every hour that you’re running. (The second one I had around Mile 18.)

I went into the race knowing my mental strength was half the battle. I knew my body could physically handle it. I’m in pretty good shape, and I’ve been working to get here since March. The problem is, you can’t psych yourself out; 26.2 miles can be daunting if you look at it as an entire distance. So I broke it down to numbers, and made it a game. I knew that after mile 10, and every five miles after that, I’d see Greg. That broke the distance up into four (almost) equal segments, with the longest at the start. I could anticipate seeing him (and everyone at mile 22 :D), knowing he’d be there to hand me gear and he’d be there to push and encourage me. (When you’re at mile 15, and you have 11 more to go … you might need someone to give you some motivation.) I focused on each mile, and would tell myself things like, “Once you pass mile 10, you’re in double digits” or “Once I make it to mile 17, I’m in single digits to the finish.” It also helped that the last 8 miles of the race were usually incorporated into my training routes. I could recognize houses, street names, cracks in the sidewalk …

At Mile 19, I ran next to a middle-aged woman who was running her fourth marathon. We talked for about a mile. She told me she wasn’t sure why she was doing this a fourth time. She didn’t like the idea of taking up her entire summer with training. (For more than half the 3+ months of training, you should be incorporating a long run each week between 10-20 miles – there go your weekends.) But we both laughed about the fact that we’d be able to eat whatever we wanted today once we finished. She had baked brownies the day before, and bought a half gallon of ice cream. We were burning at least 2,800 calories each; an entire day’s worth of food.

While we were talking, the 4:45 pace group came up and ran behind us. The woman holding the pace sign was wearing bright pink shorts, and a pink and white tank top, and continued to smile and say encouraging things to all the runners she was with or passing.

After the next water stop, I broke ahead of the pace group, and the woman I was talking to. I passed Silver Spring Drive, and started recognizing roads. I knew I was getting close to my next cheering section :)

Then, I saw everyone (Greg, Kate, Ivan, Weeks, Jesse, V and Dexter) at Mile 22, near Lake Dr. and Capitol Dr. That gave me the motivation to get through the next four miles.

And it’s true, marathons have two parts: the first 20 miles, and the last 6.2 miles. After seeing everyone at Mile 22, I knew I wasn’t too far from finishing, but I could also tell that my joints and muscles were killing me. I continued to run past Capitol and told myself to keep running until the huge decline on Lincoln Memorial Drive, about a mile ahead. Once I stopped running, I immediately felt my muscles tense up every time I took a step. I didn’t want to mess up my knee, so I walked down the entire hill. Then I saw the 4:45 pace group … except it wasn’t a group, it was the same woman in pink, with two stragglers behind her. I saw her go about 20 yards ahead, then 100 yards. That was it. I told myself that if I was going to finish, I wanted to make it in under 5 hours. I began jogging again. I passed the Mile 24 marker, and started to pick up the pace even more. Once I passed the first couple people, I felt a second (or sixth?) wind coming on. I felt less pain when I ran than when I walked. I had already figured out my breathing, and the harder I pushed my muscles, the less pain (relatively) I felt.

Once I got going, I started gaining on the pace group. I was in a full-out run by the time I got to the Mile 25 water station, and I could hear people cheering. It seemed like (or maybe they actually were?) the volunteers got louder as I came through, because they realized I wasn’t dragging. I was actually running … probably at a 9:30/mile pace.

One volunteer even stepped out, put up his hand and yelled my name (our names were printed on our bibs). I gave him a high-five, and grabbed a water from the last volunteer in the row. For the first water stop during the entire race, I squeezed the cup and chugged – without stopping to walk.

Then I had a half mile to go. I could see spectators walking to and from the finish line. I kept passing people on my left and right. AND THEN, Queen started playing on my iPod: “We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions.” Perfect timing.

I could hear my breath, along with the music … and occasionally people would yell out “Go Erica!” or “Almost there, keep going!”

I could see the curve that took me to the home stretch, and realized I had about a quarter mile to go. I was going to do this. I turned the corner, and “Times Like These” by Foo Fighters started playing. I can justify why making a playlist for each big run is important.

People around me were walking or slowly jogging in, but I wanted it to be over. I wanted to cross the finish line. I heard the crowd around me, and people yelling my name. Almost there.

And then I crossed. I made it: 4:42:39.

A volunteer put a medal around my neck. I grabbed a space blanket, took a slice of orange and a banana. I felt lost for a minute, realizing I was done. It was over. Then I heard my name. Greg!

I found him, and we walked over to my mom. . I needed to stretch. My heart raced. I limped and stumbled. My joints ached. I shook. I didn’t know if I was cold or hot. I felt sweat caked to my face and arms. I had just run 26.2 miles.

And it was all worth it.