Sometimes extraordinary people do extraordinary things. And sometimes those same people are kind, thoughtful and modest, and might believe the things they do are nothing more than ordinary.
Today marks one year since the passing of Kevin J. Rodstrom, a truly extraordinary guy who did extraordinary things. But my belief is that Kevin thought he lived an ordinary life. Little did he know, that as a grandson, son, brother, best friend, friend, and just as an acquaintance to some people, he left an indelible mark on peoples' lives that will be forever remembered.
Sometimes ordinary people (or seemingly ordinary sports teams) need an extraordinary inspirational figure in order to accomplish extraordinary things. How many people have ever accomplished something in honor of someone or for someone?
As much as family and friendship were important to Kevin, sports played a big role in his life. On Nov. 14, 2009, I ran the SunTrust Richmond Marathon. At that event I encountered countless runners who donned t-shirts noting that this guy was running for this cause, or that girl was running in honor of that sister or mother, etc. On this particular day, I wore my red-colored multiple sclerosis bracelet in honor of my dad, who is living with MS.
But one of the big motivators of mine, who helped me through countless long training runs, was Kevin. I had no RoddyWear to sport for my marathon, so instead I simply used a black Sharpie marker to color a portion of my red bracelet black, in honor of Kevin and to represent the eye-black I'd seen him wear on a few occasions during baseball games.
Somewhere around mile 18 during the marathon I reached a stumbling block. My right foot was throbbing and I stopped to check it out. I now had a nagging injury and wasn't sure that I could make it through the remaining eight or so miles to the finish. It was cold. The sky was gray. It was raining. The tip of my yellow shoe was turning red like Curt Schilling's sock during Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS. And they say that in the marathon that the halfway point is mile 20. So I knew that this hurdle I was up against was going to be a challenge.
I looked around for a brief moment and saw an elderly man wearing a "Veteran" ballcap. I observed a police officer place his hand onto the shoulder of another struggling runner, offering words of encouragement. One runner passed by wearing a LiveStrong t-shirt.
And then I looked down at my red bracelet with the black stripe and thought, "If I'm going to get through this, I'm gonna need a little help guys." And at that moment, I sucked it up, hobbled along and eventually finished all 26.2 miles. My finish time was average, but the important thing was that I finished. I'd accomplished something extraordinary that most people never do, and in my case it took the inspiration of a couple extraordinary figures, Kevin being one of them.
On June 12, 2009, the Painesville Little League was holding its annual City Championship game at Calhoun Field. From what I'm told, one of the teams participating in this game was sponsored in memory of Kevin.
This game was reportedly an instant classic, taking three extra innings to determine a champion. And finally, at 10:48 p.m., the team that was sponsored in memory of Kevin emerged victorious in a 21-20 thriller.
One of the people who attended this game said, "It was one of the best Little League games I have ever witnessed," and "It was quite a testament to Kevin and his family. We felt that Kevin was with that team every game!"
This was perhaps an ordinary team of Little Leaguers that went on to do extraordinary things, and whether the kids knew it or not, they had a big angel with a big heart looking down over them, helping them every step of the way.
My wife and I recently made a trip up to Ohio for Thanksgiving. I wanted to take some time to run through the places where I'd grown up and observe what's changed over time and what remained the same. I did runs through Painesville City, Fairport Harbor, downtown Cleveland, Painesville Township, Concord Township, etc. On one particular morning I had my dad drop me off at the start of the new Lake MetroParks trail on Ravenna Rd. I planned on running from that point all the way back to my parents' home in Fairport Harbor, a distance totaling seven miles.
But when I arrived at Bank St., by where George's Famous Dinner Bell used to be, I took a slight detour. I swung it down around by the train tressel on Rt. 84 and remembered painting that on one occasion with Kevin, my brother, and a few others. I chuckled at the memory, and at the fact that based on my observations the tradition was still alive and well.
I hooked a left at the light and went over the train tracks, then took a welcomed walking break at Riverside Cemetery. This was my first visit to Kevin in years, and it was a nice way to break-up the long run. It was Nov. 28, 2009. Kevin would have been 31 years old.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, my throat was cold and dry. I shook my head and thought to myself, "Damn! Too young! Way too young!"
In five months I'll be turning 31 years old. Life is so precious. In the time I've had to reflect, I've realized that each day we have is a gift. And if we live our lives as Kevin did his - honorably and to the best of our abilities - after we're gone the best gift we can ever give anyone is the gift of knowing that we lived life to the fullest. Like each day was our last. We need to think extraordinary. We need to believe extraordinary. We need to live extraordinary.
And then maybe, just maybe, those who we one day leave behind can be inspired to keep our memories alive and do extraordinary things as well.
