Month of Mike II

For years the month of June has been “The Month of Mike” in the O'Grady household.

Typically the month kicks off with the annual Mount Saint Mary's Alumni Golf Tournament, followed by my birthday, fathers day, Joe and Mel's pilgrimage back home, several charity golf events, lots of good eating, running and beer drinking.

Last year, “The Month of Mike” came to an abrupt stop; the month that I always looked forward to and enjoyed with reckless abandon withered like a crop in a drought. Individual events brought joy and happiness yet my head simply could not revel in my month.

A year later I am pleased to report that “The Month of Mike” is back ! There are changes, I can't hit a golf ball as far (I'm fifteen pounds lighter), regulated beer drinking is the norm and cautious optimism replaces reckless abandon.

The first two days of June found me recovering from an infected jaw and an emergency root canal. If I were “into” pain I certainly would have described it as exquisite, an unrelenting rhythmic stabbing timed to each beat of the heart. Pain pills were almost useless but the shot of antibiotics in my “bum” and the two different prescriptions have reversed the infection.

The annual alumni golf outing revealed Jekyll and Hyde golf swings; a smooth swing produced excellent shots, albeit shorter then normal, while a little added oomph in the swing produced mind boggling dead right to right bullets leaving one less ball in the bag. Similar to previous years, our team performed well enough to have fun and enjoy our day.

Yesterday (June 3ed), Sue and I headed for the North Face Trail Half Marathon. Last year just prior to the start of the race I “Graced” a Port-O-John praying that I would get through the race without any accidents. At that point I had completed five weeks of Radiation an Chemotherapy treatments feeling remarkably well... considering. My Nephew Matt and I had a good race yet on the ride home I remember breaking down wondering if I had run my final trail race. Now, a year later I was here again, more confident, lighter and better trained hoping to break two hours and finish in the top one hundred runners.

No two trail runs are ever the same, even when they cover the exact same ground, the North Face would be no exception. Heavy rains late in the week combined with feet from of hundreds of Saturday runners churned portions of trail to resemble well used cow pastures. Perhaps due to the number of runners in the Half Marathon (almost six hundred) the organizers would “Wave Start” runners. While this makes a good deal of sense if the waves are based upon projected times, it penalizes faster runners placed in a second or third wave when assignment is random. Once runners reach the single track trails it's often difficult to pass slower runners and you must adjust to their pace whilst looking for a safe place to attempt to get by. I was “second wave”

As the second wave started I ran near the front and managed to catch some of the slower first wave runners before we merged onto the trail. Occasionally glancing at my Garmin I noted paces from eight and a half to eleven minute miles as I worked my way through runners. Finally, at about four miles the only hill on the course slowed most runners to a walk while I ran passing a dozen or more to get to a faster group.

All in all starting in the second wave cost me a few minutes, having to tie an unlaced shoe cost me another but I ran well finishing in just under two hours six minutes, winning my age group and finishing seventy-sixth.

With a little over two miles to go two “young guys” passed me wearing water bladders on their backs. I have nothing against those packs, many of my trail running friends use them all the time but for this race, on a cool morning they spoke to me of “inexperience”. As soon as we were off single track I saw the young guns fifty or sixty yards ahead and closed the gap. Their breathing seemed labored and their feet sounded loud (perhaps indicating fatigue), though I was pushing myself I was comfortable. “OK, here we go Guys”, I thought and picked up the pace. For a couple hundred yards we ran together until I kicked up the pace again. It worked and I started pulling ahead. With less then a half mile to go I figured I was clear of them until I heard their feet. Looking over my left shoulder I verified they had caught me.... though I didn't say it...... I thought, “Guys, if you are going to beat me it's going to hurt”. They didn't beat me and yes it hurt; just after crossing the finish line my belly complained with dry heaving since I had been “bad”. Well sometimes “Bad” is “Good” and I was happy.

Sitting in the Beer Garden with a cold beer, my loving wife, brother, sister in law, nephew and friends the world was good again. To fully restore my Universe I'll have to beat my brother Tim at Golf to reclaim my title as "Family Golf God". That goal Tim annouced, "Will be a while".

The Month of Mike has started well.