Rodd's Ramblings: Some things remain the same

Well, it’s been a little over a year since my walking articles hit this column. Little did I know that the back-to-back columns would be a foreshadowing of a health problem a couple of weeks later. Last Friday was the 1-year anniversary of my quadruple bypass surgery, and things have changed.

Following surgery, I started following a stricter diet and managed to shed 55 pounds. I also focused on eliminating stress and accomplishing things that had eluded me in my previous 63 years of life.

No. 1 on the list was to find the lady who whipped by me on my walking trips with my wife. I wanted a chance to redeem myself.

Flashback to last June. My articles focused on my lack of walking speed. I described myself as someone who likes to take my time and relax on a walk, while the people around me seem to be walking to make the Olympic team. On one of those walks, my wife and I were trailed by a pregnant lady who walked the same route we did every day. My competitive juices started flowing. While my wife and I picked it up a notch, I still had to use shortcuts to keep ahead of this very pregnant walker. Little did I know I was a couple of days away from an ambulance ride to the hospital, with four extremely clogged arteries.

Flash forward to last Friday, June 25, the 1-year anniversary of my surgery. My cardiac rehab couldn’t have gone any better, I’ve lost a ton of weight, I’ve been walking every day, and my mental attitude was right for the challenge. I was going to take my walk, and if I ran into the pregnant lady I would show her how far I’ve come.

After a block of walking, I spotted her. There was no doubt it was her. There she was, walking down the same road, on the other side of the street, pushing a stroller with a 1-year-old and a 3-year-old. The showdown I thought was coming would be a cakewalk, because now instead of me carrying around 50-plus extra pounds, she was pushing a stroller with two little kids. However, I forgot she would no longer be pregnant.

We headed west up the avenue and I noticed she was moving quite quickly. I decided to pick up the pace and show I was now ready to prove my mettle. Suddenly it seemed like the now-not-pregnant lady hit another gear.

Her legs were churning and the stroller resembled the Fred Flintstone mobile with the two little kids laughing and giggling away. It was almost as if they were taunting me. Then, it happened: the 3-year-old said, “Mommy, can you walk faster?”

All of a sudden the not-pregnant lady began pulling away from me. I realized I needed to change my game plan. I hooked a right turn at 24th Street and started up the hill from Sahlman Avenue. Essentially, I was going to “live to walk another day,” but things went from bad to worse when I heard a child’s voice behind me. It was them. The not-pregnant lady had taken the same turn and was now heading up the hill like she had been shot out of a cannon. I crested the hill and took a left down Doddridge, heading west toward 22nd street. For some odd reason I knew that they’d be right behind us, and I was right. What gives? Why me? As I turned down 22nd Street and cruised by The Lost Tavern, the sweat was dripping down my forehead and my taste buds were screaming for me to make a quick stop and have a nice cold one. Instead, I kept chugging away, arms swinging, legs moving and striding toward home.

Five minutes later I realized there was no noise and the stroller and not-pregnant lady had disappeared. I knew she hadn’t stopped at The Lost for a drink, but where did they go? I was nearly back to my house when I noticed a block over the unmistakable laughter of those darn kids and the pounding of tennis shoes on the pavement. What gives? It was then that it hit me. The not-pregnant lady had continued to go a block further than I had gone and turned down the next street over, at which point she started jogging while pushing the stroller. “This can’t be real,” I thought, “there is no way she went a full block past me and was now almost a block further down the road and ready to cut back and pass me by.”

By the time I had got to the corner the stroller was long gone. They were a half a block away and pulling away.

I still have a long way to go. I realized despite overcoming a quadruple bypass, losing weight, exercising and eating better, I’m still not in the class of the not-pregnant lady. Even more reality hit when I heard that Brent Smith, another Cloquet graduate, who is two years older than me, had just set an age-group record in Grandma’s Marathon last month.

While I’ve come a long way in a year, it makes you realize that what Smith accomplished was nothing short of amazing at 65 years of age. It also made me realize that if I ever want to be on par with Smith, I’d have to be able to beat the stroller-pushing not-pregnant lady first.

Kerry Rodd has been covering Carlton County sports for decades on the radio and in print paper. Contact him at [email protected].