Two months after finishing my first PMC in 2015 and just a week after my dad’s 60th birthday celebration my family and I were hit with the horrible news that my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It took a while for it to sink in and honestly it still really hasn’t.
My dad, as unpredictable and crazy as he was, has always been a rock in my life. He has supported me and had my back with every move I have made. When I started doodling blue prints and sketching floor plans as a young kid, he’s the one who took them seriously. He didn’t see it as a kid’s work, he really believed in every single nonsensical thing I drew up. It’s always been his faith in me that encouraged me to apply myself, and I credit his belief in me to where I am now.
Last year after completing 110 miles on day one of the PMC, I woke up extremely sick from sun poisoning and physically exhausted. I couldn’t imagine getting back on the bike, but with a lot of encouragement from Team Fitz, I began pedaling. In our first couple miles of that morning we took a right turn onto the Bourne Bridge as the sun rose over the canal. After pedaling up the deceivingly steep hill of the bridge and having the sunrise gleaming in my face, I saw out of the corner of my right eye a wild man at the end of the Bourne jumping in the air with a jelly donut in hand, screaming hysterically. It was my dad waiting for us since 530 am. It was his sheer excitement that fueled me to continue the next 82 miles that day with a smile on my face. A photo was taken that day of me at the finish line holding my bike above my head. Since that day, my dad carried that photo of me in his pocket. He has always been my number one supporter.
In the months since we found out about my dad’s cancer we were tested with hard realities, sad days and long nights, but not once did he get down or lose his sense of humor. He continually gave us reasons to burst out laughing; I think all of the hospital staff would agree. He even used some of his wit and charm to con his way into having a private hospital room. Along with the care from his unbelievable doctors, he was also lucky enough to have his own personal nurse, my mother, who was by his side 24/7. No matter how tough life had gotten for each of them they held on tight to each other to fight through it together.
On February 18th, four months after his initial diagnosis, my dad lost his battle with cancer. Those months my dad fought were the hardest and fastest four months of my life- but the fight doesn’t end there. He fought like hell, an now its my turn to fight. I am riding this year for so many reasons. I’ve watched cancer touch the lives of way too many people I love and this is the best way I know how to help them fight back. The sweat, tears and miles of the PMC really don’t even come close to comparing to what they go through on a daily basis. As I ride over the Bourne this upcoming summer, I know my dad will be with me, jelly doughnut in hand, waving me on.
"This year, I’m riding for you, Dad."