King of the Turtles

King of the Turtles

I haven't always been a runner. 

My adolescence was plagued with exercised induced asthma and being slightly overweight as a child. Running the mile in elementary PE was nearly impossible, and any confidence I had in my body’s ability to perform aerobically was nil. I often recall a painful memory, a theme of my childhood, where I had so convinced myself that “fat kids weren’t allowed” to participate in sports, that it became a mantra I lived by. None of the other kids enrolled in soccer or gymnastics or dance looked like me, so I thought it was a rule that kids like me were excluded.  It took me a long time for my mindset to change, well into my young adulthood, before I tried a sport…and it started with Carmen. 

Carmen and I were co-workers at Liberty Tax Service, a very part-time seasonal job I picked up as I was struggling to find a full-time career ministry job in an expensive city.  She was a Baylor grad, as was I, so we bonded over our love of the green and gold. As we opened up to each other during the slow parts of the job, I learned that she was a runner- a marathon runner, to be exact, (which I have now learned is a whole other level of crazy.) Carmen wasn’t what I expected a marathoner to look like. In fact, I don’t even know what I thought a marathoner should look like. Maybe a small, 90 pound woman with 10% body fat? But Carmen didn’t look like that.  She was a “regular” person, with “regular” clothes and a “regular” life. She didn’t talk about running as if it were her personality. She was a beautiful woman with a magnetic smile, kind eyes and a heart of generosity and care. I was inspired by her realness and her ability to commit herself to something as challenging as running a marathon.

She told me about her journey into running and her methods of training- 7 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking. Lots of breaks as the body needs it. Slow and steady. The more she talked, the more I realized that running was more accessible than I ever thought. “I’d like to try running with you sometime,” I said to her across the office. I didn’t know it then, but my life was about to change.

Our training wasn’t well thought it out. It was simple. Not strategic.  A "just get out there and run!” mentality. We met up on Lee Barton Road, the road that ran behind the now demolished Taco Cabana, parked the car next to the Pitch and Putt, and prayed our windshields wouldn’t become targets for golf balls.  Our run began along the Hike and Bike trail, a 10 mile trail that surrounds the Lady Bird Lake.  It’s perfect for running, with its crushed granite pathways, and ample shade from the American sycamores lining the river. I fell in love that day- with running, and with the natural beauty of this spectacular city.

I’ve gone back to the trail almost weekly for the last 12 years, mostly to run segments of the trail- across bridges, through live oak tree tunnels, and past dog parks. A visitor for a moment, kicking up dust with every step. Rarely do I stop long enough to do more than grab a sip of tepid tap water barely flowing from the city water fountains. But on this last trip, I set out on a mission to slow down and pay attention to the residents of the trail, to the life that I never saw because I was too busy moving from point A to point B at a 6 mile per hour pace. What I found surprised me more than I could imagine. 

For one, the turtles.  There are so many turtles! I knew turtles existed along the river because I’ve seen them on a run before, but I never really stopped to observe them. The best place to find them is near Lou Neff point.  You can see them sunbathing on exposed tree roots. There is a small area of shoreline that allowed me to sit close to the water, as if nature had built stadium seating for me to observe.  The large boulder I sat on was uneven with textures made from water eroding the stone for centuries. Looking around, I noticed other large limestone rocks along the banks. Were they placed intentionally so humans could sit along the banks? Or was this nature’s living room furniture, set up to admire the beauty of life unfolding in front of me? Either way, I enjoyed my new vantage point.

I was slightly uncomfortable sitting on the bumpy bolder, but there was no better spot to see the turtles this close. As soon as I sat down, turtles came swimming up to the shore, with what I thought was curiosity of my presence. But, it became clear that they were accustomed to humans interacting with them along the shoreline, throwing bread or goldfish crackers, or whatever toddler food was left in a child’s stroller. I watched them for an hour, paying attention to their movements, their interactions with each other, and with the fish and the birds nearby. The bale of turtles coexisted surprisingly well, going in and out of the fanwort that proliferated the warm water, coming up to the surface for air every few minutes. 

The majority of the turtles were Texas cooters, with their long claws, green shells, and yellow and black markings.  I spotted a few red-eared sliders, a species of turtle that have distinctive red ears, and are considered an invasive species. But the king of the turtles had to be the granddaddy of them all, a spiny soft-shell turtle, not to be confused with the snapping turtle. He swam slower than the others, not in a hurry to grab a bite on the surface like the others.  This turtle was massive in size- at least 5 times bigger than the other turtles. He became curious of me, staying under the water, but coming to the top to make eye contact.  We stared at each other for a moment. His wrinkled face, long scaly arms, and pointed head reminded me of a wise grandpa. I had a tender respect for this turtle elder, peacefully coexisting among the rambunctious youngsters fighting for a floating piece of bread. 

His presence, along with the other turtles, really surprised me. Why am I always so surprised to find abundant life living in my midst? Maybe it’s because everywhere I go is so manicured and controlled.  Nothing exists without intentionally being placed- spectacular lawns, even the landscaping along the highway. It’s beautiful, for sure, but only because of human intervention.  This turtle was different- he found his way here not because a human placed him in the water, but because he (and his family before him) lived in this water before Lady Bird created a commission to beautify the shoreline. He is part of this habit, living alongside humans who find amusement in his wrinkly arms, pointy face and massive shell. 

Then, I left him.  Out of love and respect, I prayed for his safety and his well-being, hoping that the next time I run the trail, we can meet again.