"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