Most mornings in the quiet cul-de-sacs of Alexandria’s Beverley Hills neighborhood, you’ll find neighbors out walking, some with coffee mugs, others with dogs or earbuds, all weaving through tree-lined streets at their own pace. It’s not a fitness class or a formal group. It’s the 10,000 Steps Neighborhood Challenge: a casual, self-started tradition that’s turned into an unexpected catalyst for community.
“It really began as a lighthearted thing,” says Debbie Tran, 42, who co-manages a neighborhood email list. “A few of us got curious about how much we were moving and decided to compare step counts. Then more people joined in—and now it’s a whole thing.”
Since last spring, more than 50 residents have started tracking their daily steps using pedometers, fitness watches, or old-school click counters. People post updates in a shared Google Sheet, exchange walking tips on group texts, and leave handwritten notes of encouragement on porches and mailboxes. No one’s keeping score; the point is movement, and connection.
For Eddie Novak, 67, a retired history teacher, it’s become more than just a way to stay active. “I walk the same loop every Tuesday and Thursday at sunrise,” he says. “At first it was for my health. But then I started looking forward to waving at the same people each week. It gives the day some rhythm.”
The challenge, which has grown mostly through word of mouth, draws neighbors of all ages, from middle schoolers training for track to grandparents recovering from knee surgery. It’s inspired sidewalk chalk art, group walks before dinner, and even a monthly “loop and latte” meetup at a local café.
Maria Ortiz, who moved to the neighborhood last summer, says joining in helped her settle in. “I didn’t know anyone when I got here,” she says. “But walking gave me a reason to explore, and now I bump into people I actually recognize. I feel like I belong.”
Some neighbors personalize their experience: one family plays mellow playlists from a portable speaker, another keeps a small chalkboard outside their fence with changing trivia questions. Someone even mapped out a “quiet route” with minimal traffic and good shade, which now hangs laminated outside Tran’s front gate.
There’s no expectation to reach 10,000 steps a day; it’s more of a suggestion than a benchmark. Some people aim for half that, others go far beyond. One walker tracks flower blooms on her phone; another writes short notes each night about what stood out, a friendly face, the sound of wind in the trees, or the scent of garlic drifting from a window.
“It’s funny how something as simple as walking has made this neighborhood feel more alive,” says Tran. “You’re not just passing people anymore. You’re part of something shared.”
As for who’s in the lead? No one really talks about that. The real win seems to be the conversations, the sense of momentum, and the realization that sometimes the simplest rituals leave the biggest mark.