"Hill-Seeking" on a Saturday Morning in Austin

It's still dark at 6 a.m. on a Saturday and there's no real traffic to speak of.  As I pull into a space on Blanco Street, just north of West 6th, I can make out the forms of about ten people, standing or stretching under the light of a street lamp.  Their water bottles are lined up on the curb at their feet like soldiers, and I take a deep breath, then let it out and join them.

Our guide is A.T. Turner, educator and Crossfit guru, who I've known since we worked as Austin ISD School Improvement Facilitators back in 2008-2009.  She greets me warmly with, I think, way too much energy for this time of day.  To my right, I can sense 7th street, as it makes its way east of where I'm walking.  This is the hill we will climb, either walking or running, or some combination of the two, and I just let it sit there in my peripheral vision; I'm not quite ready to look at it directly just yet.

During my warm-up jog I feel my heart and respiration rates begin to rise.  The others in the group nod tired greetings, which I return as we pass one another.  Circling back, someone yells, "Car!" and I turn to acknowledge that I've heard them.  The car's headlights reveal the shadowy shapes of houses, cars, trees and the occasional cat.  Other runners, not of our group, go loping by periodically.

When I get back to the base of the hill, I'm ready.  The younger, fitter folks sprint up the grade, but I've set a different goal for myself.  I've decided I'm going to set a weekly personal "threshold" in the face of this task.  Last week was my first time, and I told myself I would walk up and down the hill five times.  It got painful, and vaguely nauseating, but I did it, feeling a great sense of accomplishment when I did.

Today I set the intention of fast-walking the entire loop, a block around including the hill, five times.  I am pleased I've made this choice -- not only due to the above-mentioned good feeling of having done something difficult, but because of what is revealed during this hour of daybreak.  Not only is there a postcard-worthy view of downtown Austin, bursting up in front of me at the crest of the hill, but each time I make the loop I see more details taking shape in the increasing luminescence.  Homes stand sturdy, looking out over the view, their lawns clean and well manicured.

The chirping of crickets has now given way to birds who titter at each other from across huge pecan and oak trees that stand like ancient sentries before these solid houses.  A calico cat eyes me with some hesitant curiosity and stands tall when I make kissing noises at her.  I take a quick break to give her a scratch behind the ear.  She mews loudly, and I apologetically inform her that I have no food to give her.

(When I return on subsequent laps, she is nowhere to be seen.)

Presently, I'm sitting in my favorite local coffee shop, basking in my pride.  Next week, I'll set a new goal for myself, and as the confidence comes, the fast walk will get faster, eventually becoming a run.

And I'll take it from there.

Stalwart "Hillseekers" after a good morning run in Austin

It Has to Come from Me

I’ve mentioned, in a previous post, that I’ve fallen into the habit of “checking in” on Facebook, particularly in the morning, when I’m on my daily bike ride. I’ve taken some heat (“good-natured ribbing,” really) from friends about it, and have lately thought better of the daily check-in. When I stepped back and thought about it, I had to admit that it did seem a rather silly, borderline boastful thing to do.

By way of explanation, then, let me try to unpack the dynamic, to those of you poor souls who have read the words “Dan Fuchs checked in at ShadowGlenn Trail Morning Bike Ride," over and over again for the past six months or so.

To be perfectly honest, I have never been a very self-disciplined individual. I’ve had trouble over the years holding to diets, exercise regimens, oaths, and the like. My tendency has always been to seek the path of least resistance and least discomfort. As a boy, I was on the track team in high school. I enjoyed the camaraderie of it, and it was cool having a letter jacket. I didn’t mind having a few extra photos of myself in the yearbook, like the one above. But I wasn’t too big on the competitive part of it, and I certainly didn’t enjoy practice. The only reason I did it was because I knew I had to; and I never pushed myself too hard while working out.

As an adult, I didn’t start going to the gym until I was in my forties. I did start to find enjoyment in working out then; I found that it made me feel better in general to maintain some level of physical activity. My first gym was Eastern Athletic Club, which I liked because it was three blocks down the road from my apartment on Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn. I worked with a trainer there (again, needing that outsider’s voice to get me started) and really learned how to work out for the first time. I later switched to New York Sports Club, with my then-girlfriend, now-wife, and then to YMCA.

I’ve written about Lifetime Fitness, where we are now members, and that’s a great place, as well, mostly as a place to go with the family. This morning cycling (and don’t get me wrong – there’s no danger of my entering a triathlon any time soon) is special because it was my idea. No one told me to do it. It wasn’t on doctor’s orders, or at the suggestion of my wife or brother or anyone else. There is a certain pride in self-motivation, I think. There’s a relationship between self-discipline and self-esteem, and what I’m starting to understand (for myself, anyway) is that things like diet and exercise are only sustainable under these conditions.

And that relationship doesn’t stop at fitness for me. You may have also noticed, for example, that I tweet my new blog entries, so that all my Twitter followers and Facebook friends are alerted to the fact that I’ve written something new. Like the check-in’s, I sometimes worry that these tweets and status updates are immodest in some way. However, the bottom line is that I’m proud of my fitness and my writing. It’s not that I want to make anyone feel bad for not exercising or not writing or working on their art, whatever it may be. On the contrary, my hope is that it may get them out there, to give it another try and to keep on trying, until it’s no longer coming from me, or anyone else besides the inner-motivation that comes with doing what you know, in your own heart, is good for you.