I tend to get very sentimental about my running shoes.  I only change them every one or two years.  I wait until the last possible moment (like getting a haircut) before buying a new pair.  I usually know I absolutely need a new pair when all the original rubber is gone from the sole and I start getting running injuries.  I love my shoes to be the dirtiest and grimiest they can be.

My last pair of of shoes have lasted me for hundreds, maybe even a thousand, miles.  They’ve been through two half-marathons along with all the training that required. They are a pair of white and blue Asics I bought at a sporting goods store in Newbury a year and a half ago.  They’ve served me well, but they were ready for retirement.

Under the guise of “running some errands”, I left the shoes by the back door at home and visited the same sporting goods shop in Newbury.  I hate buying new shoes (well, all kinds of clothing actually).  There are so many different brands and it seems too tedious to try them all on.

It took me a while, but I finally got the attention of a guy who worked there to help me fitting a new pair.

“Do you have high arches or low arches?” he asked me.  I didn’t understand the question.  I’ve been running for fun since I was 18, but no one had ever asked me that.  I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about.  But I made sure to mention that I’ve been running a long time so he wouldn’t think I was just one of those New Years guys who picks up a pair of shoes a few days before the 1st and then never tough them again.

He made me stand on a little gel heat sensor device.  It was like standing on a big mood ring, so when I stepped off of it, you could see the imprint of my feet.  I’m low arched, but apparently I’ve always worn high arched shoes.  Does this mean I’m flat-footed?  That’s always a bad thing when they talk about it on TV (usually about cops).  Hmm, more internet research is required here, I think.

I picked up a new pair of Asics.  I used to be a Nike man, but admittedly I liked the ads more than anything else.  I also liked to shop at the Nike store in London because it made me feel more athletic.  But, in the end, I find the Asics shoes a lot more comfortable and usually cheaper.

My old shoes, dutifully sitting by the back door, warned me of the blisters and pains I would get from the new pair of shoes—and they were right.  After my first 6-mile run in the shoes, I have blisters on my arches.  Maybe I am high-arched after all, and the machine was wrong.  But, the calluses will form and the new pair of shoes will take me at least a year forward. 

I’m training for the marathon this year, so lots of miles need to be piled up. 

I couldn’t throw away the old shoes just because all the rubber has disappeared from underneath them.  They’ve become my gardening shoes.  Now, I just have to take up gardening.

I got a call from a recruitment agent a few weeks ago. I get them all the time, mostly from agents checking up on my availability. He was looking to fill a permanent position, but I told him I was a contractor. He asked if I would consider permanent employment. I told him I wasn’t interested. He asked me why.

I’ve never had an agent ask me why I wouldn’t work permie before. The answer was too long winded to give to a guy who called me cold, so I told him that I was a contractor and that’s all there was too it. But, I do have my reasons.

I’ve been offered permanent employment in quite a few contracts before. When I politely decline, I get the same response – “I suppose the money’s too good as a contractor, huh?” But that’s not the motivation at all.

The main reason I work the way I do is for the freedom. I like to choose the work I do based on how interesting the company or project seems. I also like the idea that I will move on at the end of the job.

I suppose I’ve been burned in permanent employment before, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like having to ask for raises, or get permission to take a few weeks off, or have someone tell me what they thought I should be learning. I hated working longer hours or weekends because there was a promise of a year-end bonus based on how hard I worked. I hated staying in the same place, hoping that the environment would get better around me and feeling stuck where I was.

Moving from permanent employment to contracting was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I was so afraid for myself and my family. I didn’t know if I would get any work at all. I looked at my kids and thought about how selfish I was to leave a perfectly good job just because I hated it. I worried about losing my house, or not being able to buy food, or not having any presents at Christmas time.

But soon I found work. Then I found more. Then, I ended up in situations where I was practically in a contracting “job for life”, but that bothered me and I knew it was time to move on.

I work harder than most people I know to keep my skills up and stay sharp. My competence is my job security. The competence I have today won’t be sufficient for tomorrow, so learning never stops. I get teased for being the guy who codes on his own at weekends– but I love having some control over my destiny.

Now, the most comforting thing about my work is the end date on each contract. During my first contract, which was only 10 weeks, I was terrified about what I would do at the end of it. Unlike I did as a permanent employee, I started saving for being out of work. Luckily, I found a job immediately after that one ended, but I’m still always ready. When redundancy or a bad market hits, when redundancies are announced and no work can be found, I’m prepared psychologically and financially. The old ‘premie’ me permie would have been one of those sob stories you see on the news about a guy who was laid off after working 24 years with a company and now can’t find any work. With an end date, I know when I’ll be out of work—and I’m working now to make sure I’m marketable when that happens.

I don’t necessarily see myself as being a contractor forever– in fact, my work on Overpass is trying to break me out of that cycle. I don’t want to be a 50-year-old software developer (or even a 40-year-old one), but I love the work I do and have a hard time leaving it behind.

I may change my tune one day. Permanent employment is one of my fall-backs if one day everything goes horribly wrong. So is my teaching degree. So are my language skills. But for now, I love what I do.

I’ll take freedom over security any day.