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thing that had always
kept me going through
life’s ups and downs: be-
ing on the water.
In St. Louis, I’d sailed
the Mississippi and done
some side work build-
ing display models for
yacht designers. At some
point, I saw kayakers on
the river and realized
how much easier things
would be if I ditched
the sailboat for a kayak.
Soon Christy and I were
dedicated paddlers. We introduced
friends to the sport, and that mush-
roomed into a home business guiding
kayak trips and offering lessons.
Naturally I began tinkering with kay-
aks, which progressed to building my
own out of wood in my garage.
After Dad died, I thought, Maybe
now I’ll build a stable life. Then, dur-
ing a checkup about five years ago, my
doctor announced: “Walt, your blood
work shows that you have Type 2 dia-
betes. You have to change your diet and
exercise routine immediately or this
will kill you.”
I should have seen it coming. My
Czech heritage shows in what I eat. If a
food is doughy and sweet, I like it. My
Sunday morning routine in St. Louis
had included having six doughnuts
from my favorite bakery.
I figured kayaking gave me room to
indulge. I was wrong. Sitting there in
the doctor’s office, I wondered how I
could have been so cavalier. So stupid.
“What about kayak
racing?” I blurted. “You
think I could do that? For
exercise?”
It sounded farfetched
even as I heard myself
say it. Sixty-five-year-
old Walt with diabetes
matching strength and
wits with a bunch of
younger paddlers on
some tricky river.
My doctor paused for
a beat, mulling it over.
“Why not?” he said at
last. “Just don’t overdo it.”
Did struggling to complete a 72-
mile race through the rainy, choppy
Missouri River in the dark count as
overdoing it? I’d trained hard for this
race and crafted what I thought was a
foolproof food regimen of fruit, energy
bars and a protein shake.
My competitive instincts got the
better of me. I started off way too fast,
trying to impress myself by passing
younger paddlers. The protein shake
didn’t agree with my stomach, and the
physical demands of the race caused
my blood sugar to bounce around.
I’d get spurts of energy followed by
a crash. I pulled ashore many times to
take care of the digestive issues.
As darkness fell, I was still miles
from the finish. I kept replaying my
mistakes in my head. Stupid. Lazy.
Worthless. Whatever made me think I
could do this?
I needed something else to think
about. But there was nothing aroundRESILIENT Walt dug deep to
finish the race.