Thoughts from 2020:

Hey everyone! Welcome to my PMC profile page. Even despite these crazy times, I'm thrilled to be able to continue supporting Dana Farber and the fight against cancer through the #PMCRe-Imagined campaign this year. The world has been absolutely crazy lately, and I'll be the first to admit, it's been hard to find a foothold and make sense of it all. First, Covid-19 hits. So many things that I have taken for granted were attacked - the freedom to go to a restaurant, to go to Clery's with my roommates, to see and hug my grandparents. But as I came up for air and looked around, I realized I am unbelievably fortunate. I can hardly begin to comprehend the depth and breadth of pain and suffering this pandemic has caused so many in our country, especially those experiencing homelessness, living paycheck-to-paycheck, or hailing from underserved communities.

Just as comprehension began, George Floyd was senselessly murdered, joining hundreds before him in a long line of needless murders of black-american men and womxn at the hands of the police. After discussing with friends and colleagues and following these stories more closely, I realized I never understood, never really understood, what was happening right under my nose. I was a passive ally. And my passivity was contributing to the problem, a problem which only truly began to reveal itself to me when I watched 13th and When They See Us by Ava DuVernay. And once again, I found myself in a position where I was unable to comprehend the depth and breadth of pain experienced by so many other humans in this country.

In my opinion, especially in this time of great need, if you have the ability to give - whether it be your time, money, effort, or otherwise - you also have a duty to give. We must all come together to overcome these massive obstacles, whether deeply rooted in our history or springing up in the present day. That is why I am so proud to have the opportunity to ride in the PMC re-imagined this year. Even without the life-changing experience of pushing through two hard days of cycling with 6,000 other riders, witnessing the tireless support of 4,000+ volunteers, and feeling the warmth from countless cheering friends and family, supporting a cause this important is more than enough for me. While I will not be able to ride the entire 192-mile distance over the 2 days without the support from the PMC volunteer squad, I will certainly carry these sentiments with me every pedal of the way.

Please consider joining me by donating using this page - no amount is too small, and 100% of rider-raised revenue goes to funding the Jimmy Fund and the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. Thanks for reading, and be safe!

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Thoughts from 2019:

I'm riding for my grandfather, Stew Lang, who battled pancreatic cancer until his last day in 2005, and my Aunt Melinda, a survivor of breast cancer. Because my Grandpa's battle marked the first instance of my exposure to this sickness, I have reflected on it in detail below.

When I was a little kid, we would go up to the serene backwoods of New Hampshire to visit my grandparents - Gigi and Grandpa. They lived on Chase Pond, a peaceful respite guarded by the looming figure of Kearsarge Mountain and often veiled by the ghostly mists of the cold New Hampshire air. We went to frolick in the water, play with the dogs (labs, always), fish for perch, pray to catch a striped bass, devour Pizza Chef, become theater critics at the Red Barn Playhouse, rule the world in Risk, race sticks down small river rapids, and create imaginary worlds in the woods. Paradise, really, for a kid.

While these activities defined our experiences at Chase Pond, they evolved over time, adapting to our changing interests and lifestyles. Basketball and workouts replaced our imaginary worlds. Stick races became actual races, training for sports at school. Homework and college prep began to creep into our routines.

Throughout this change, the one constant was the ducks. Grandpa, despite being a real estate investment manager, was an avid artist - a masterful painter. His best works adorned the halls of the Chase Pond residence, seasonal scenes from the surrounding landscapes. But our favorite creations of his were his ducks. There were dozens - mallards, whistling ducks, loons...each one with its own story and personality (so we were told). Sometimes he would let us take one home, and we would put it up on the fireplace or on a living room table, a wild presence in our tame suburban setting. We loved them.

One day, though, Grandpa had to stop making the ducks. After he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, as his strength waned and waned, his hands were less and less able to work their magic on a canvas or wooden animals. Chemo replaced fishing and a careful diet of pills replaced meatloaf and turkey, but there nothing to replace the ducks.

While he left us peacefully, watching this change was heartbreaking for me, my siblings, my parents, extended family, Gigi - and the metaphor with the ducks brought the truth crashing home. So this August, I'm riding for those ducks that were never brought to life, the ones left wishing for a few brush strokes, a careful touch, a polished finish. Because somewhere else out there, there is another duck-maker whose diet is changing from meatloaf to pills. And every additional duck that duck-maker brings to life is a testament to Grandpa's memory.

I'm a proud supporter of the PMC because it is leading a charge to beat cancer. Last year 100% of rider-raised revenue went directly to support the Jimmy Fund and Dana-Farber Cancer Institute's tireless commitment to finding a cure. And since my Grandpa passed away, I have been abundantly fortunate to see a different member of my family take on and beat cancer - my Aunt Melinda! She was diagnosed with breast cancer just a few years ago, and after surgery, is completely cured.

Please join me on this journey to find a cure - any amount helps. Thanks for reading!