I am incredibly proud and excited to join the TargetCancer Foundation in their fundraising efforts for the 2020 Boston Marathon. I will be fundraising and running in honor of my dad, Michael, who passed at the age of 60 from a rare brain cancer called glioblastoma.
The TargetCancer Foundation focuses on rare cancers that do not receive the funding, research, n'or awareness necessary to adequately aid the people suffering with them. While rare cancers are, by definition, not as common, an innumerable amount of patients, friends, and families are impacted by them all the same.
Please join my team in our efforts to fund raise and bring awareness to this cause by making a donation or by giving a shoutout as I train for my very first marathon! Please check to see if your company matches your charitable donation.
If you'd like an "introduction" to my dad, I shared a memory below to key you in. If you're already well accustomed to him and his antics, well, here's some more Michael entertainment.
My dad was an avid golfer. Check that; he was an avid participator of golf. Ya, that's better.
He introduced me to the game as a toddler and I was one of the few 4 year olds who actually found the game enjoyable. I'm sure it had something to do with the circus display that he gave with a golf club in his hands.
Like every kid, I was fascinated with the golf cart. From the very first time he brought me onto a real golf course, he would let me steer the cart while he worked the pedals. He would also let me steer the car down our driveway (my mom was a huge fan of this).
Anyways, at the ripe old age of 7, he decided that I was ready for the real deal, the whole shebang, the big show... he let me drive the cart all by myself.
I remember this vividly and I haven't decided whether it's vivid because it is a fond memory or a scarring one... both?
We had just teed off and were ready to depart from the tee box. Ahead of us was a straight cart path. Next to this cart path was a guardrail protecting a mud pit that dropped vertically 10 feet from the path. Good decisions were made.
I hit the accelerator and took off, glowing confidence and poised in my ability to simultaneously hold a steering wheel straight while pushing on a pedal.
Suddenly, a wolf jumped out of the trees and sprang right at the golf cart!
That was a sorry attempt to be funny.
A towel fell off the back of the cart and my dad shouted. My fight or flight instincts took over and told my 7 year old brain to turn the cart 90 degrees directly into the guardrail.
The cart jumped onto the guard rail and perched on top of it, one gust of wind away from flipping into the mud pit. My dad scurried me out of the cart back to safety. I ran into the woods, terrified, while my dad and the foursome behind us struggled to hoist the cart back onto the cart path. I definitely learned some new words that day.
With the imminent danger passed and the cart under his control once again, he turned to me and had one thing to say before resuming our round,
"Justin, don't tell your mother."
He still let me drive the car down the driveway...