The job changeover has gone fairly smoothly, but I have not really landed a “real” project yet.  Between this, schoolwork and of course, family, I have not been able to set a good routine.  I hope that I will feel like I am in control of my own life soon enough.

What I want to talk about today is Providence.

No, I don’t mean the city in Rhode Island where I bought my first motorcycle - I mean the loving will of God.  I firmly believe that God manifests Himself in different ways to different people.  If we are lucky, at times we can see the hand of God at work through faith with thanksgiving.  Certainly, the birth of our son has God’s work written all over it.  Those who are close to us know the extreme circumstances that had to be in place to arrive at our current situation.  (Former relationships, timing, etc.)  These are the things that I think about when someone asks me how I know God is there.

In December, I was told by my employer, “We can’t find a new contract for you, and you’re too expensive to keep around.”  Therefore, they laid me off.  It was good in that I didn’t owe them anything for the tuition they’d paid for since they were the ones to terminate - not that I’d asked them for money for school in a long time.  What was bad was obvious - I was a sole provider looking for work right before Christmas in a town that practically shuts down for the holidays.  I posted my resume on a couple of job sites, and within 48 hours, I had received over a dozen e-mails/phone calls.  I had five interviews set up during my final week of employment.  I was excruciatingly honest in my interviews.  I wanted a secure job in my field, and I needed to find work by the first week in January.  I was not looking for fame or fortune.  I would have settled for a small pay cut, but I asked for a lateral move with each interview; I wanted to keep my salary.  Getting into the interview with my current employer was not easy.  The recruiter had not properly registered me to get past the front gate, and I waited for 20 minutes to get in before I finally had to give up.  My contact was not at her desk, and the security guards would not let me in.  I was prepared to write off the company.  On my way back to my office, I stopped for gas a few miles away and received a phone call from the recruiter, apologizing profusely.  I turned around, came back for my interview (45 minutes late), and had a good experience.  Of the program managers I met, the last one was inspired seize me.  As I was checking out with the recruiter, he walked in behind me and said he wanted to extend a firm offer of employment.  The start date was to be January 2nd (though a series of errors botched that up), and he was offering me a $10K raise to entice me to accept.  Compared to my long-suffering summer of 2002 through spring of 2003 unemployment - and it was long-suffering to both me and my friends who had to put up with me - this was cake.  Obviously, I prayed fiercely to find something quickly, and God did not let me down.  (I have theories on why He took so long to answer my prayers in 2002/2003.)

The new employer has a wealth of employee benefits.  Among them is an incentive to join a weight management program (WMP).  Although a close friend told me this weekend that I am “7-foot-14″, I am not at an optimum weight.  This program has me thinking more seriously about exercise, even more than the discussions with my doctor before Tommy was born.  I have considered joining a fitness club, but the cost was never something I could justify before.  My first week here, I even asked a coworker here about a local facility, since she works there part time.  She didn’t have a lot to offer, but told me to mention her if I ever visit to see if that gets me a better deal.

My office building has a modest gym on the first floor, and I have been using the treadmills there a few times a week.  The weight management folks are pleased about this, and have pointed me at their web site for programs to use to increase my cardiovascular fitness.  The treadmills downstairs are not particularly well maintained, and the one small TV in the room looks to be older than my wife.  Exactly one machine there is large enough for my stride and height, and is in view of the TV.  The WMP web site designed a routine for me that is crazy with the heart rate targets for certain intervals, so much so that I was nervous about actually being able to keep track.  To make matters worse, the one machine downstairs that I like has a “heart rate” display, but no sensors to grab.  After some looking around, I noticed that the console of the treadmill said, “Polar Heart Monitor Ready”.  Meaning, you have to buy your own to track it.

Now I had heard that you have to hit a certain heart rate for a certain amount of time to get in a good workout.  At the community center, I have used the treadmills that have the hand sensors and checked the little chart to be sure I was in the “Fat Burning Zone”.  (”There’s the signpost up ahead…”)  It is not an exact science, but I could at least know I was in the ballpark.  Getting my own heart rate monitor was looking like a better idea all the time.  After searching various reviews, I thought I might like to get a Polar F11 since it would let me track my heart rate over the course of an exercise, and it had programs to set up, and assessments and all kinds of cool stuff.  However, the prices were outside my comfort area.  I thought instead about getting something simple and making do, but not without actually seeing it in person first.

On Saturday, the family went out of town for an SCA event.  We drove three hours to our friends’ house on Friday night.  While the women were gearing up for a day filled with medieval crafts, our male host asked me if I, too was excited about the event itself.  The arts are really more the purview of my wife, and I had volunteered to be on boy duty for the day.  Quite frankly, it didn’t really matter where I chased after him.  He and I decided, instead, to just bum around on our own – three boys with no particular goals in mind.  On a trip out for lunch, we hit a local mall to wander around a bit.  Among the things we found was a little coin-operated children’s ride area.

Tommy does not like coin-operated sidewalk rides.  He was happy to climb into each of them until I inserted my 75(!) cents.  Then, he desperately wanted to get out.  “I don’t like quarters!”

We walked into a Dick’s Sporting Goods, and I searched for heart rate monitors.  “What’re you looking for?” my friend asked.  I told him I wanted something by Polar (because I had read the brand on the treadmill), though I did not tell him a particular model.  I knew what I liked from my research, but I also knew I was not going to buy that model.  We found a paltry selection, none of which really caught my eye.  I could get out of there for about $50-$60 and “make do”, but I wasn’t thrilled by the prospect.  Just then, my friend said, “hang on – don’t buy anything.”  He went on to tell me that he had gotten a heart rate monitor for Christmas from his wife two years ago that he wouldn’t ever use since having something on his wrist drove him crazy.  (I don’t wear jewelry either, but I will make an exception here.)  He couldn’t remember what he had gotten, but “Polar” rang a bell with him.  Happy to not have to make a decision, I agreed to check out this free monitor back at the house.

When we got back from our rounds, he found the box.  It was a Polar F11.

I thought it was oddly coincidental, but given that it was a good model, I was not too surprised that that was what he had been given.  (I still feel guilty for taking it, so he amended the “gift” to a “loan until I ask for it back”.)  My wife thought the match was too coincidental, and she was the one who suggested Divine intervention.  (Which draws a parallel between my friend/his wife and angels, but I am completely comfortable with that.)

This morning, I ran the self-assessment test with it, and sure enough, my cardiovascular fitness is not good.  At all.  Seeing my VO₂max number right in front of me galvanized my resolve to change.  I did my workout this morning, even though I wasn’t sure that I was doing enough, or doing it the right way.  (Certainly better this morning, though.  The monitor chirped at me when my heart rate was too low or too high and allowed me to adjust speeds to keep in the zone.)  The gym downstairs is free, and it’s right here in my building so I can shower and go right to my desk.  If I am sent to a customer site long-term, I don’t know what my options will be.

Last month, my company added a benefit where we can get discounted gym memberships through the International Fitness Club Network (IFCN).  You would think that would have been a nudge for me to actually check out the fitness club that’s in town, about three miles from the house.  I had been there once on a guest pass, and it is really nice.  They have racquetball courts, a swimming pool, an indoor track, a huge workout room and a nice place for the kids to play while the parents exercise.  IFCN benefit or not, I wasn’t listening at the time.

After my workout this morning, I got to my desk to find an e-mail from my coworker – the one I had spoken with two months ago.  She wrote to me on Saturday (if the timestamp on the message is near the time when my friend gave me the heart rate monitor, I’m going to freak out) saying that she can get me an employee referral that will give me more flexible options, no initiation fee, etc, etc.  Now, I’m listening.  I am going to take my company badge, the form she will give me tomorrow and head over to the club to check it out for real.  It is apparently not the cheapest deal in town, but I need to do something, and I need to make it a priority.  I’m listening, God.

Now, to find some good tunes to load onto my cell phone (I don’t own an iPod) so I can listen to my own music while I exercise.