Four years ago my friend Roger Leventer and I started a fundraiser for the Johns Hopkins Colorectal Cancer Center of Excellence called End Cancer Cycle, Run, Walk  to give back.  We raised over $340,000 to date and wanted to give back for saving my life from Stage III Colo Rectal Cancer.  For giving Roger 6 years of time with his wife Lynda who was diagnosed with Stage IV Colo Rectal Cancer.

My Story:

In 2009, at 49 years old, I heard the words no one expects to hear: You have cancer.

I had been an athlete my entire life—40 years of playing goalie in ice hockey, competitive squash, and plenty of cycling. When I began experiencing bleeding, I assumed it was related to the Aleve I had been taking for chronic hip pain. Fortunately, a doctor friend convinced me not to ignore it and to get a colonoscopy.

That decision may have saved my life.

The colonoscopy revealed a large, slow-growing tumor that had already broken through the wall of my colon. I had Stage III Colon Cancer. My doctors believed the tumor may have been growing inside me for five to ten years without my knowledge of it.

Suddenly, everything changed.

I started with oral chemo, radiation and then underwent surgery to remove the tumor, followed by more chemotherapy. It was one of the most difficult periods of my life, but I was incredibly fortunate. My family and friends rallied around me. People who had battled colorectal cancer themselves reached out, shared their experiences, and helped guide me through treatment.

Their support taught me something I have never forgotten: none of us should have to fight cancer alone.

Cycling became part of my fight.

Even before my diagnosis, I rode regularly with a neighborhood cycling group (BEC). Cancer had touched others in our group as well, including my friend Kevin Beverly, who lost his mother to colon cancer. We decided to turn something we loved—riding our bikes—into a way to fight this disease.

During my first fundraising ride, it rained all day. I was still undergoing chemotherapy and living with a temporary ileostomy. I could have had plenty of reasons not to ride.

Instead, I rode 50 miles.

Years later, I set a much bigger goal: 200 miles in 24 hours. When I struggled during the ride, a teammate stayed with me, paced me around the course, and pushed me forward. On the final allowable lap, I reached 200 miles.

Those rides taught me that we are capable of far more than we think—especially when we are 

doing it for something bigger than ourselves.

Today, I’m taking on another challenge: 1,000 miles in the month of October.

But this isn't really about the bike, the miles, or the elevation.

I ride because too many people are still being diagnosed with colorectal cancer. I ride for the people going through treatment today. I ride for their families and friends. I ride to support education, screening, research, and better treatments. And I ride because I know firsthand that these efforts can save lives.  I ride for Tom Davenport, and Lynda Leventer who ran out of time with this insidious disease.  I am riding for my friends daughter Charlotte S. who is currently fighting her battle with Colon Cancer.

Cancer changed my perspective on what matters. It made me appreciate my family, my friendships, and the simple privilege of waking up and having another day together.

It made me a better dad, a better husband, and a better friend.

So I’m asking you to join me.

You can ride. You can run, walk.. You can donate. You can share this story. And perhaps most importantly, you can encourage someone you love to get screened.

Every mile matters. Every dollar matters. Every conversation matters.

Together, we can help prevent more families from hearing the words that changed my life—and help ensure that when someone does hear them, they have better treatments, better support, and more hope.

Please join me in the fight against Colorectal Cancer in supporting the Johns Hopkins Colorectal Cancer Center of Excellence.