I grew up watching my dad taking off on long bike rides for as long as I can remember. Donned in neon and spandex, he'd head off on journeys I could never understand. As a young kid, the bike was one of the only tricks to calm a cranky Stephanie. I'd sit in the back and finally let myself be lulled into a warm calm, knowing I was safe with Dad at the helm.

Dad taught me how to ride on the quiet streets near our childhood home, taking off the training wheels and letting me soar. I can still hear him cheering me on from the sidewalk as I took my first wobbly pedals and never looked back.

In 2010, after serving as a Watertown Firefighter for over 25 years, my dad was diagnosed with stage 2 Hodgkin's lymphoma, a likely side effect of years of smoke and chemical inhalation. It was the first time I saw my dad ever show any weakness. Our whole life suddenly shifted to a slow-motion fog as we adjusted to the news. I was 15, and utterly too self-conscious to let anyone know I was struggling.

But dad is a fighter - we knew this and we clung on to this. In 2011, we learned the news we had all been waiting for: Dad was cancer free.

This August, I’m riding in the Pan-Mass Challenge for the first time—because it feels like the most meaningful way I can honor his fight, and the quiet strength he showed us all. I ride for my dad. I ride for the kids watching their parents battle cancer, just trying to stay strong. I ride for the doctors, nurses, and scientists working tirelessly to find better treatments and, one day, a cure.

Every single dollar I raise goes directly to Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, fueling the life-saving research and compassionate care that changes lives every day.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, and for supporting this mission. If you’re able, please consider donating—your contribution makes a real, tangible difference. Together, we can ride toward a world without cancer.