Goodbye to Steve

Last night’s walk was hard penance for the past two days of undisciplined eating.  It was a good mix of short, steep hills, long and gradual slopes, rocky trail terrain and some flat stretches to give us both a break, starting at the end of Long Bow, winding through the woodsy trail, taking the steeper hills at St. Ed’s, back through the woods and one lap around Stacy Park.  Usually I overestimate how long I’ve walked; this time I underestimated and came dangerously close to missing the first few minutes of Mad Men.

After nursery duty – with only five babies, because Schlotzky’s Bun Run had closed so many streets downtown that I think a lot of people just gave up – I spent much of the afternoon at my friend Steve’s home for his annual “Goodbye to Austin” party.  Let me tell you about Steve, who has one of the coolest and most unusual work lives I know about.  From May to October he lives in Chicago, where he is a gifted and much sought-after tennis teaching pro.  It is grueling and physical work, and he gives it his all.  Once the weather turns, he comes back to Austin for the next six months.  He has a beautiful home and grounds here , and there is always a major landscaping or renovation project going on to occupy most of his time. (His Chicago home is a small condo). He also hangs plays drums in a couple of different bands, listens to live music, goes to movies and generally enjoys all the wonderful things Austin has to offer.  How cool is that??? Work for six months, make enough money to play for six months.  I love hearing him describe how he knows it’s time to return to Chicago, or come back to Austin:  he feels a tug both ways for a while, and then suddenly “the switch flips,” and he’s gone the next day.  Unbelievably enough, he has never set foot on the hike and bike trail, and swears that he will make a five-mile walk with me before he leaves this time.  Here he is playing host and taking a break from playing with the band for the last time. 

Red Meat

It felt so good to walk early in the morning yesterday that I knew I’d do it again today.   At 8:30, Banks and I arrived at the trail, and as always, I felt a rush of warmth when I saw the multitudes already there.  I love how fit a city Austin is.  I love seeing the new moms trying to get their shape back; the elderly and infirm, who are maybe trying to come back from a stroke; the serious runners, as well as the seriously overweight, both with faces of grim determination; and maybe most of all, the beautiful and the heart-stoppingly handsome, running with the pure joy of knowing that they’re young and fabulous.

As we crossed over the 1^st St. Bridge, you could already hear the miked presenters at the Food and Wine festival.  I love eavesdropping on the events at Auditorium Shores from the wrong side of the fence.  I had as good a view as anyone of the chef on stage, cutting up a steak and discussing, in painstaking detail, all the special properties of this particular cut of meat.  It gave me the delicious sense of crashing a party, not to mention a mouth-watering pre-taste of tonight’s dinner.

It’s Cindy’s birthday, and the GNO convinced her to choose a really good steak place, not only because we love her and wanted to treat her to something special, but (as we reminded her repeatedly) poor Brian is working off an iron deficiency and is being encouraged to increase her red meat intake.  So off we went to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse (in the history of restaurants, is there a more tin-ear name?).   

Brian, Janette, Cindy, me and Leslie H.

My "cowboy ribeye" -- did they have to call it that?  I swear I took a portion of it home....

Stare it Down

I won’t bore you with more ramblings about my insomnia, but suffice to say, it was one of those nights.  Getting up at 2:00 AM on occasion and not being able to get back to sleep does not qualify as tragedy when you’ve experienced it, on and off, since the age of 12. 

By 4:00 I had already decided to take my walk, but wanted to go to the trail and thought I should push it to 4:30 at least.  So off we went at 4:30, and wouldn’t you know it, yet ANOTHER festival (Food and Wine) is in the works, so the park was shut off at the entrance, and will be until May 1.  So I drove to the footbridge at Zilker Park, and, for the first time in memory, the cavernous parking lot was completely empty.  Not only did that give me a little anxiety about being completely alone on the trail (even with Banks), but I thought it might put my car in a vulnerable spot as well.  So we turned back toward Auditorium Shores, and parked at the RunTexas right across the street.  At least this had the benefit of eating up about 15 minutes, and we hit the trail at a more civilized 4:47.

A friendly young woman was already out setting up the Food and Wine Festival.  This thing is going to be huge.  They’re not just putting up tents, there‘s heavy equipment out there and they’re actually building things.  She mentioned a few celebrity chefs who are going to be there, including some from Top Chef.  She also mentioned that a drunk guy had just entered the trail about 20 minutes before.  “He’s moving slow and seems pretty impaired, so I don’t think you’re in any danger.”  I wavered for a couple of seconds before deciding that even if I could outrun a drunk, being berated or even stared down by a strange and scary guy was not a great way to start my day.  So Banks and I crossed over the 1^st St. Bridge, then back, then took Riverside all the way to Lamar, doubled back, went back and forth over the bridge again, and finally hit the trail. The ache in my knees reminded me that I had done this just six hours before.  I went on instinct alone, since there was no way to keep track of the distance, and when we returned to the car, I saw that I owed the clock 12 minutes.  I’ll take Banks for a potty walk after dinner.

You can fight insomnia, you can give into it, you can let it dangle you at the end of a string.  On your best days, you stare it down.

Mind Games

Here is what is NOT recommended for someone who is obligated to walk five miles when it’s 90 degrees outside:  Finish up a very stressful meeting at 5:00 up north.  Decide to pick up Chinese food for dinner.  Pick up said food at 5:20. Sit in rush hour traffic for 55 minutes.  That’s 55 minutes to drive eight miles.  Get home, and eat half of a generous serving of cashew chicken, and a lot of pot stickers.  Realize that you’re very full.  Decide to lay down until the feeling abates, and the sun continues to go down.  Fall asleep.  Awake in a half-twilight haze, and try to think of all the reasons why it would be okay not to walk tonight: I could do five miles Friday morning, then five miles Friday evening.  No wait, I’m going to be home late Friday.  Walk TEN miles on Saturday!  No -- skip tonight, then do six miles instead of five every night next week!

I pulled myself off the bed; Banks shot up, startled and hopeful.  Yes, I thought, let’s just get it over with.  And that’s exactly what we did   Got through it, got over it.  The hardest part on a day like this is just getting started.  As usual, it was just fine once we left the house (for a neighborhood and St. Ed’s walk, not the trail this time.  I am not made of steel).  Not inspiring, not joyful, but fine. Banks’ leash has miraculously healed itself, so I had to take a few minutes to remove the knots and the loop I put in it the other day.  Off we went, and here we are home again. Another day, another five.  No excuses, no regrets.  Just doing my job.

Early Finish

For reasons unknown, I got up at 4:30 this morning, and after two cups of coffee, I looked around and wondered what to do for the next three hours.  The answer was obvious.  Walk.  How long has it been since I’ve done five miles that early in the morning, on a weekday?  Weeks and weeks, I think.  I did not bring Banks. I forgot to mention last night that his leash is broken – must have happened during one of Jackson’s walks.  It’s a long, retractable lead that stretches, oh, I don’t know, 12, 15 feet?  The retracting mechanism is broken, so last night I made several big knots, then a loop, at the halfway point, and guided him from there.  He was a handful, so I decided to go alone this morning and pick up a new leash on the way home from work.

When I’m alone I don’t like to venture too far off the beaten path, so I stayed within the St. Ed’s boundaries, and finished up with six or seven loops around the soccer field.  Banks hates doing that, and for some reason I like it, so always take advantage when he’s not around. I took my phone, and played my favorites loud and often. 

There is something empowering about completing five miles while the rest of the town sleeps.  You go to work and you have this little secret.  You got a jump on the day.  You can eat a piece of cake someone brought in for Admin’s Day without worrying too much about it. Some of the annoying little issues that arise during the day seem to evaporate more quickly for you than for others. 

But it’s going to be weird not having most of my evening eaten up by the miles.  Maybe it’ll remind me of what life was like a year ago.

Barton Springs

The best way to describe my mood tonight, as Banks and I started the loop around the lake, is "petulant." Pissy.  My mantra could have been "Why doesn't everyone just do what they're supposed to do?"  Translated, of course, it's "Why can't everyone act the way I want them to act?" A series of small misunderstandings and disappointments from several key people in my life was just enough to knock me slightly off-kilter.

Not even 45 seconds in, the trail began to work its magic.  The warm breeze, the water, the energy....what on earth did I do before I started walking?  Just sit home and stew in it?  God, I love this place.

As we approached the 1-mile marker, on a small footbridge crossing a creek, I decided, on a whim, to proceed straight past the bridge rather than cross it.  I had always noted that the trail went off in that direction, but so slavishly did I adhere to the mile markers that I was never tempted to explore.  This time I felt like being adventurous.  This trail has a wilder, more unkept appearance.  The water seems a little wider and mustier.  As we kept going, I thought I could hear rushing water; we walked a little further, and I could have sworn I heard a waterfall.  And then there we were, at Barton Springs.

Barton Springs!  I haven't been there in years.  Of course I knew it was in the Zilker Park area, just like the trail, but my incredible sense of direction, combined with the fact that I had only ever driven there, ensured that there was no way I could have connected the dots and found my way there on foot.  At least not on purpose. So there we were, but on the "other side" of the tall chain link fence which separates Barton Springs proper from the downriver, dogs-allowed, no entry fee required section.  Banks loved it.  Lots of dogs to romp with, and lots of clear, cold water to drink and play in.  I had to tug hard to get him to leave.  Best of all, this adds another 1/2 mile to the walk, so we don't have to get to the 4 1/4 marker and then backtrack or proceed east past the Congress Bridge.

When we first moved back to Austin, in 1994, I loved taking the kids to Barton Springs.  It's still referred to as the "jewel" of Austin watering holes, a natural spring-fed pool which remains at 68 degrees no matter what the weather. I eventually stopped taking out-of-town visitors there.  I've lost counts of how many kids and adults I've coaxed into those waters, and then watched them clinging to the side of the pool for the next hour or two, lips blue and trembling, trying mightily to have a good time.

The allergies have almost cleared up, and I'm almost back to normal.  Today, I swear, was the last after-work, pre-walk nap I'm going to take this week.

Avid Indoorsman

I heard someone describe himself that way once, and it made me laugh, because that’s exactly how I would have described myself this time last year.  My favorite season of the year is winter.  It would be fall, if Austin had a fall, but as we all know, what most people consider summer weather drags well into November here.   And my favorite kind of weather has always been cold and rainy.  And my favorite venue is indoors – watching the natural world from a safe and climate-controlled distance, reading, going to movies, working…..you will never find me on a tennis court at 2:00 in the afternoon, I promise you. 

But something has changed.  When I woke up this morning, to what has to be the most beautiful day of the year, I COULD NOT WAIT to get outside and start my walk.  No pressure to get it out of the way, no hurry to do it while there was still some coolness in the air.  I just wanted to be outside. 

his morning I drank my coffee out on my patio.  At lunchtime, it was still nice and cool, so I had my lunch out there as well.

Is it possible that, just as my body is now used to being put through five miles a day, it also craves regular contact with the outdoors?

I don’t think you’ll every completely change the way you’re bent, but it makes me very happy to think that perhaps I’ve started accessing something in me that’s been closed off.  I have now gone through two seasons – winter and spring – as a regular outdoor participant, and I can assure you that I experience a field of wildflowers very differently when I’m walking through it and trying to get Banks to pose for a picture in it, than I do merely driving by it.

What’s next?  Rock climbing?  Bird-watching?  Let’s not get carried away here.  But it’s been less than four months, and I can already feel some kind of deep, and I hope permanent, shift inside of me.

But let me put in a plug for an indoor activity -- Salmon Fishing in the Yemen was funny and charming and beautiful, and Ewan was his wonderful self.  Very much worth catching.