It’s a picture-perfect Austin day, one of those rare fall moments when the sky is as blue as the Caribbean and yet there’s a slight chill to the air. A small group of people surrounds a lovely, lithe young woman with an athlete’s muscled legs and a rock star’s spiky ’do, who laughingly poses in running clothes as the water from the Liz Carpenter Fountain in Butler Park shoots skyward around her. The photographer gives instructions; the poses change; a young mother and her son watch from a nearby picnic blanket. “Excuse me,” she asks as the group walks by, “should I get an autograph? Is she someone famous?”