Some could call it a herculean feat. Some could call it an act of superhuman endurance. Some could call it a fat asthmatic man walking briskly up a hill and back. All would be correct.

Okay, so I covered the Cruise with the Blues parade today. Easy right? No big deal? Go across town and take some pictures of some cars moving relatively slowly, nothing can go wrong there, right? Well…

So, I took my golf cart over to the new middle school, where they were to start. Now, my golf cart is old, red, has office chairs for a seat, and sounds like a truck with a bad muffler. However, it does have a LOCAL PRESS sign. So, I park on the berm across from the middle school and start to get out my camera just as all of the vehicles are headed out on the road. They were starting to line up.

Toledo Police Chief Dan Quigley led the line of vehicles down the block. I thought, okay, I will go to the end and take a picture of all of the cars lined down the street. I started walking, and walking. Soon, I was breathing like a steam engine. With the chuffing sounds I was making, I didn’t know if I was having an asthma attack or moving some tanker cars to Chicago.

So, I’m walking at a fairly brisk rate, for me it’s a run, for onlookers it’s a stroll. I feared they’d start taking off on the “cruise” before I could get to the end of the line. It was at this moment that the line started moving again. I think a few curse words, and start to turn back towards the golf cart. That’s when Staker in the Toledo Ambulance lowered his window, and said that they’re just going up another block to let more people in the line. Then my phone starts to ring; it was Chief Quigley, he tells me they’re just going another block.

The cars lined up for the Cruise with the Blues; the little GPS marker is where my golf cart was parked.

So, I start back up the hill. My breathing’s really going, and if I would have gotten a nose whistle at any point, the whole thing would have sounded like: chugga- chugga-wheeze- chugga-chugga- woot-woot. Light-headed, I finally get to the top of the hill, and there are Chief Quigley and Reserve Officer Morris in the lead car. Quigley said something along the lines of, “See, ya made it.” (As to not offend the more sensitive readers, and so my editor will actually put this in the paper, I shall exchange one word I used for that of a male deer.) “Oh, buck off,” I said, which made the two of them laugh.

I took the pictures I needed, then talked to Quigley and Morris again. If I remember right, it was 3:53 and the parade cruise started at four. I needed to get back down the hill to the golf cart, then speed over to the courthouse to take pictures of them actually in motion. They said I could do it. Chief Quigley said, “Hey, it will be easier going downhill.” I again said, “Oh, buck off,” and I started down the hill.

The bad thing about going down the hill is that I knew most of the drivers of the emergency vehicles, and now I was walking past them. As I go by, a number of them roll down their window to say something. First, I see Staker in the Toledo Ambulance again. I’m breathing hard, and I tell him I may need to get a ride in the back. I also see Jaime Youngbear with 911, Tama Police Chief Jason Bina, Tama Fire Chief Richie, Toledo Officer Igor, Harris with the Tama Ambulance, and Stuart Eisentrager also with the Tama Fire Department. And as I passed them, and others, I begged them all to shoot me, put me out of my misery.

I was stopped by Toledo Officer Vern Jefferson, who had something he wanted to tell me. I talked to him for a moment as I huffed and puffed like the asthmatic big bad wolf. He then gave me the good advice to take my inhaler.

When I got back to the golf cart, I puffed on my inhaler and got behind the wheel. I hit the gas, and the golf cart lurched forward, sending me straight into the opposite curb. I whipped the wheel around and missed it by that much. I then hopped over a block and started up Broadway towards the courthouse. I had my foot to the floor, and the wind was whipping past me, but again, this is a golf cart from the ’80s. I keep glancing over, and I see the cruise has started. We are racing now.

I am pushing the cart for everything it’s worth as I see the ambulances and fire trucks passing by a block away. I finally come to that downhill stretch before you, go uphill towards the stoplight. I leaned forward and somehow gained speed. I’m gonna make it, I think. But then I see the stoplight, it’s red. I don’t see any cars around. I keep getting closer, and the light isn’t changing. Frankly, I knew all the cops in town were a block over with the parade, so I blew through the red light. I come up to the courthouse just as I see Quigley come to the stop sign by Laurie’s Hair Affair. I jump out of the cart and throw up both my fists in victory.

I believe Quigley and Morris celebrated my victory as well because as they drove past, Morris leaned out the window and said something like, “Good job, little buddy.”

I’m attaching a picture to this story. It is of my heart rate, which spiked at 154 during my little event, in part because of the activity, in part because of the asthma, in part because of my heart conditions, and I think in part just to be annoying.

So, I blew a red light on a golf cart as my heart was going 154 beats per minute, all while having a slight asthma attack, just so I could get some pictures of a parade. I’m not sure if that’s called dedication or insanity.