PICK UP THE SHIELD ANYWAY
Monday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.
A few days later, I received news I had been hoping not to receive.
I learned that the unicorn would not be in the cards for the 2027 Boston Marathon.
I’m not going to pretend that didn’t hurt.
I wanted another opportunity to run Boston for the hospital. I wanted the chance to have one good day on that course, with my 60th birthday falling that same week, and eventually close that chapter on my own terms.
I allowed myself to believe Boston might come calling.
It didn’t.
I also have to own my part in why the decision hit as hard as it did.
No one promised me anything. But I allowed myself to believe that my years of giving back, along with everything we were building through the tournament, might help my chances.
I hedged my bets a little.
That’s on me.
It doesn’t diminish why we held the event or what Monday accomplished. It simply explains why I allowed myself to become so hopeful—and why the disappointment felt so heavy when the answer finally arrived.
I’m disappointed, and I think it’s important to be honest about that. Rebuild the Shield was never meant to focus only on the victories and the good things. It’s also about acknowledging the setbacks, allowing ourselves to feel them and figuring out how to keep moving forward.
Sometimes things simply hurt.
But disappointment is not the only thing I’m feeling.
I’m also incredibly proud.
On Monday, forty-eight golfers, an amazing group of volunteers, generous sponsors, friends, family and local businesses came together for Fairways 4 Kids.
We played golf.
We listened to music.
We laughed.
We may have even guilted a few people into purchasing extra 50/50 chances.
More importantly, we raised approximately $5,000 for Boston Children’s Hospital.
That happened.
No decision made later in the week can diminish it.
Before most people arrived Monday morning, Cam, Billy, Jeremy and I were out on the course placing the hole signs.
Each one told a story.
Some honored people we love.
Some remembered people we have lost.
Some recognized battles still being fought.
And some simply reminded everyone that we were there for the kids.
Then the rest of our people went to work.
Ca and Renee did what they have done for years—helped keep me, and everything around me, moving in the right direction.
Tricia, Ashley and Shannon welcomed everyone and handled check-in and mulligans.
Sarah and Abby took the 50/50 onto the course—and apparently took that responsibility very seriously.
Chrissy and Kathy gave us the soundtrack for the day.
Paige sang live at the clubhouse with her angelic voice.
My dear friend Michelle arrived with her coffee truck and made sure the morning began properly.
Jackson (huge shoutout to my social media guy) joined Cam, Billy and me in our foursome, and the four of us took the first tee time.
I had a moment with my brother Tommy that I’ll carry with me for a long time—a hug between two brothers and one of those rare moments when a lot can be said without many words.
When I look back on Monday, I won’t remember whether everything went exactly according to plan.
I’ll remember the people.
I’ll remember looking around and realizing how many people had chosen to show up.
I’ll remember feeling proud, grateful and incredibly blessed.
Fairways 4 Kids may have begun as one of my ideas, but it was never built by me alone.
And it was never dependent upon whether I would be chosen to run Boston.
That matters.
We came together because helping the children and families who depend on Boston Children’s Hospital matters.
The purpose was real and decided on before I received the decision.
It remains real now.
Boston didn’t come calling, but the kids and their families still benefit from what happened Monday.
That is the outcome that matters most.
This is also where the words Rebuild the Shield have to mean something.
It’s easy to talk about resilience when everything is moving in the direction you hoped it would.
It’s harder when a door slams shut.
Picking up the shield doesn’t mean pretending the hit didn’t hurt. It did.
It doesn’t mean immediately finding the bright side or rushing to announce the next enormous goal.
It means allowing yourself to be disappointed without letting that disappointment erase everything worth celebrating.
It means accepting that one road has ended without deciding that the entire journey is over.
It means remembering who stood beside you, appreciating what remains and eventually taking the next step—even if you don’t know exactly where that step is going to take you.
After a couple of reflective days, I began to refocus.
I may not know every detail of what comes next, but I have set a new path.
I’m going to make this endeavor—and Rebuild the Shield—a priority. I’m going to do my best to stay fit, keep moving forward and continue building something that gives me purpose while hopefully helping other people find some of their own.
I don’t need to immediately choose the next thing, invent another enormous challenge or prove that I’m okay.
I can take a breath.
I can return to my routines.
I can focus on my health, my family and the people who continue to stand beside me.
I can keep building Rebuild the Shield.
And I can allow myself to be incredibly proud of what we accomplished.
As for where our giving-back road leads next, I’m not ready to reveal everything just yet.
But let’s just say there may be a little more pink on the fairways in 2027.
This road is not finished—not by a long shot.
Both things can be true.
I can be disappointed that I won’t be running next April.
And I can be genuinely peaceful and grateful for the life—and more importantly the people—I already have.
Monday still happened.
Forty-eight golfers showed up.
An incredible group of people gave their time and talent.
Approximately $5,000 was raised for Boston Children’s Hospital.
The kids will benefit.
The mission remains.
Boston didn’t come calling.
But, the shield is still here.
So am I.
And when it’s time to take that next step?
GIDDY UP.
PICK UP THE SHIELD ANYWAY. 🛡️
