HOPE Walk

[December 2, 2018]

This past Saturday morning, I woke up at the sweet hour of 5 to go volunteer at the AIDS Outreach Center's fundraising 5k. For Chi Tau Epsilon Dance Honor Society I am the Senior Director of Community Engagement which means my job is to coordinate service opportunities for our members. Volunteering at this "HOPE Walk," sponsored each year by the AOC (our organization's chosen philanthropy), has become a Chi Tau tradition every fall. The 5k takes place along the Trinity Trail, beginning and ending with vendors, music, and festivities at a park on West 7th next to Chuy's. In the past, our assigned duties have amounted to passing out T-shirts, setting up tents, and manning the water stations. Usually we show up, do our part, and are out within a couple of hours; short and sweet but always nice to spend time one-on-one with the individuals who run the AOC. This year's HOPE Walk however turned into one of the most confounding and comical days of my life, but luckily, the day's events got me outside for an unexpected brush with Trinity Trail.

When I first arrived in the familiar park, it was still pitch black outside; it might as well have been eleven or twelve at night. I stupidly signed up for the 6am to 8:30am shift telling myself that "no, you'll go to bed early on Friday so waking up won't be a problem!" I knew I'd regret it and sure enough I did, but alas, arranging this volunteer opportunity was my primary job in XTE, so I knew I had to power through if I wanted the rest of the chapter to fulfill their obligations as well. I worked for about an hour with six or seven AOC employees to set up tables and tents. It was both a chilly and breezy morning so I had to tell myself to stop obsessing about the weather; it was what it was. Then, a cross-eyed man approached me in an AOC shirt and joggers and asked if I wanted to work the turnaround. I happily agreed, not knowing what that meant, but that I only an hour left of my shift so it couldn't be that bad! He followed with, "Great. That's my white van on the hill. Go hop in," and he took off -- not walking -- but running up the hill. I could not make such ridiculousness up. Running through a park after this stranger and towards his white van before the sun had even risen truly made me feel like I was living in a movie. I laughed out loud at the thought of what was happening.

Then, as if things couldn't get weirder, I opened the back door of the van and discovered there were no seats so I sat down on the floor and imagined this is what it felt like to be kidnapped, but somehow I wasn't really phased. We drove the length of the entire 5k out to "my post" where I was told to instruct runners to turn around and find their way back to the park. When I finally emerged from the window-less, seatless van I realized I was in the part of Trinity Park that is directly across University from the Botanical Gardens: a place I used to visit all the time with my friends. It was nice to be somewhere familiar, but be there for a reason so new. My friend in the van drove back to the starting line and there I was, all alone watching the sun rise slowly in the distance: a sight I don't often give myself a reason to view.

From my post, I could see the downtown Fort Worth skyline reflecting the rolling clouds and glaring in the light of the sun. I was standing on a concrete recreation path traveled by people on foot, on bike, on scooters, and on rollerblades alike. An asphalt parking lot filled with shiny cars lined the path for as far as I could see, smoke was emitted from the chimneys of many chain restaurants across the way, and the constant traffic on I-30 buzzed from overhead. A year ago, I would not have called this scene "nature" but I've come to believe that any interaction with a piece of the natural, outside world can be considered an interaction with nature. For also at my post I saw the river down below me, an abundance of trees across from me, and dancing clouds coloring the sky above me. I had an awkward job just standing there waiting. I had to look like an authority figure for the race participants to know where to go next, but not like a weirdo for regular people passing by on their Saturday morning stroll. I felt very awkward and also very alone.

I challenged myself to keep my phone on the ground the whole time, and endure the aloneness by my own devices. It all felt so unnatural. I wanted so badly to talk to the other people on the trail but I knew I couldn't distract them. There I stood, waiting patiently, and finally resolving to observe what all was natural around me. The natural world seemed so much more appealing than the cement and metal and other manmade materials that occupied my space. I hope that I can come back to this place and walk the path myself another day.