As some of my readers may know, I lost my dear mother this year. After a long and arduous battle with cancer, and one in which she was brave and valiant, my mother, RoseMary, ultimately lost. 

Although over the last 3 decades, the death rate from cancer has dropped 32%, still, in America, more than 600,000 people die of it every year. For me, it is personal. I lost both my mother and her sister from the disease, as well as close family members and close friends. 

Each year, as I ride in support of finding a cure for this heinous illness, I wear their names on my jersey as a reminder of why I do this – ride with many other dedicated warriors, 560 miles across the entire state of New York. – to put an end to this disease once and for all. 

In this, my 5th year of cycling to end cancer, we began in New York City and cycled all the way to Niagra Falls. When we riders are climbing the hills, pushing along the ribbons of roadway, feeling the pain in our legs and burning in our lungs, we constantly think of those we lost and what it means to have true pain. 

We raise much-needed funding, we garner tons of support along the way, and we hold our loved ones close to our hearts to conquer a dreaded disease that has affected nearly every American family. 

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