In the beginning, it was less about the cause and more about me. This is shameful, but the truth.

Granted, when my friend Jeff Farrar first told the PMC story to a group of couples over dinner, we could all tell he was genuinely inspired, and his enthusiasm was contagious, but the dirty secret I'll share with the world is that I signed on that winter night in the presence of family and friends because I was looking for a physical challenge, a goal, a reason to train and get my middle aged ass back in shape. Not to mention maybe make a few new business contacts along the way. Yes the story was compelling, inspiring, moving. That, I thought, added to the intensity, which I would use to help me get through the training, and the ride, which I wasn't entirely convinced I could complete. Are you following the sub-text here? "Me - me - me."    I thought you would.

Along the way, things changed. I met the McCreesh family. Learned about Dana and Michael's fight to save their son Brent, who in 2004 at two years old was diagnosed with a Neuroblastoma, the genesis of Team BrentWheels, with whom I'm formally allied. I learned my summer intern of 2 years, a young man of 24, whom I had just hired in a full-time role, would have to leave after working for less than 6 weeks, to fight the fight of his life against a rare and particularly aggressive cancer. I began to take stock of ALL the many important people in my personal and professional life who were either in remission or were actively undergoing cancer treatment. The training and even the looming ride began to take on greater meaning, as if I were actually contributing to the fight instead of merely nodding my head in empathy as I listened to another gut wrenching story.

Then came the ride itself, and I got it. I've told people about the ride, and how the physical aspect simply pales in comparison to the emotional aspect. Five thousand riders bike two hundred miles in two days across Massachusetts. The mob raises over thirty million dollars to aid cancer research. Along the way people cheer, hold signs, express their gratitude, give their support, play bagpipes. Middle aged men ride in memory of their teenage sons. Teenage daughters ride with their moms in support of their grandmothers. Many riders make the journey with missing limbs or organs. Everyone has a story, and no...no one makes it through the experience without shedding a tear...often more than one.

My second PMC ride is just a few weeks away. Jeff and I have been training faithfully, despite summer 2010's oppressive heat. We both owe an enormous debt of gratitude to our friend and co-trainer Paul Craine, on whom we have come to rely so completely that I'm convinced that without him this whole exercise would likely collapse.

I'm touched that you've visited this page (and frankly amazed that you've read this far). The reason for the ride is to raise money. When we sign up, the ride organizer, Billy Starr, makes it very plain that participants commit to raising their minimum, and if they don't make the number...they "reach". So, I'm going to ask you for money. You knew I was going to.

Any donation is appreciated and is fully tax deductible.  Below is a link you can use to donate online.  If you'd rather write a check, please make it payable to Pan Mass Challenge and mail it to my home address - Marc Fischer, 9 Sue Terrace, Westport, CT 06880