Sometime in the waning months of 2012, I became acutely aware of the fragility of life. My father was diagnosed with cancer, upending my life.

As time and chemo treatments progressed, it became clear his prognosis was grim; either he be relegated to a life of misery, hospitals, and chemo. Or, alternatively, a stem cell transplant to provide him a new lease on life.

In the months that followed, it was revealed through testing that I was not only the best match to grant him this opportunity, but a perfect match. The aftermath of this discovery was a blur of a time for myself, where I was greeted with incessant questioning about the ethical nature of such a donation, and they kept circling back to one annoying question: “What if he dies?”

Fanfare followed the successful transplant, and I was greeted with the same line of questioning. One question which was never asked, and never occurred to me until recently is - “What if I didn’t go through with it.”

Above is one of my favorite poems for the innate wisdom it bestows upon the reader. At 17, I was given a choice, stuck at a fork in the road figuratively. There was no doubt in my mind that once genetic profiling was complete, I would take this chance. But the numerous doctors who openly objected might’ve swayed someone else, gotten through to scare the young man who would be given preemptive guilt about the blood he may have on his hands. But what about the guilt if I had elected to remain passive?

Some years later, this phenomenon returned, with less action on my part. In the blink of an eye, my mom lost half of her functioning limbs due to a stroke. Devastated that all I could do was watch, emotions ran rampant. I once again was reminded of how precious life was.

A short time into her recovery, the Covid-19 pandemic disrupted her recovery, while we’ve never spoken about this fact, it for certain has an influence on her recovery for the worse. Since this time, what I have seen is a resolve from her to not be defined by her condition, and challenge herself consistently in her new reality. She stood at the fork, and chose what in my naive assessment to be the road less traveled.

Then it was my turn to face the harsh reality of my own mortality. At the age of 26 I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.

To this point, my adult life had been pretty pathetic in my own opinion. I had career success, but I hadn’t faced much of the emotional baggage associated with the parental health trauma, let alone my own. I was in grad school, but I felt like a lost soul. Some may call this a quarter life crisis, but for me, it felt much more like a call to action.

While on vacation, both from work and from alcohol, I reflected on my life to this point. For my MBA, I was assigned to watch YouTube videos put forth by Senator Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island. I completed my homework, but then continued watching other related videos, until I viewed a series of speeches given forth by John F. Kennedy. As a child, I adored JFK, and for the next two weeks I obsessed over his powerful edict:

“We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win.”

Sometime after that, I sought out to redefine myself, rediscover a fire that had long been tamed. My body may have failed me in some ways, but I became determined to not be defined by this disease. Just how I had chosen the path of resistance to help my dad, and witnessed my mom struggle daily to not be defined by her condition. I wanted to elect a path less traveled.

I wanted to defy the odds, and not be knocked down by this disease. I wanted to accomplish something so far fetched from my “normal”. That’s why 2023 became the year of the bike for me, 2024 skiing, and now 2025 racing.

The content within these pages will serve as a form of a journal. Not a memoir, not chasing to become an influencer. I haven’t shared much about my diabetic journey, let alone cycling and the complexities which accompany both disciplines. I look forward to a creative outlet, and to share with those I care about an inside look at what it is I do.