I’m not sure if the reality of stepping into the ring on November 5th at the Hammerstein Ballroom has fully sunk in. I’m not sure how you ever truly prepare to get punched in the face. I doubt a "real boxer" would even confess to these thoughts. But what I do know is that no matter what happens, I will continue to rise off the mat and keep fighting.

When I was 10 years old, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, an incurable autoimmune condition that causes chronic gastrointestinal inflammation. For the past 20+ years, my life has been a cycle of various treatments and medications just to keep my own body from attacking itself.

Yet, I consider myself incredibly blessed. I was diagnosed early and have always had access to great medical care. Over the years, I’ve met many others battling Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD) who have faced far tougher medical hurdles than I have. Their resilience is something I carry with me every single day.

This is the first time I am broadly sharing my Crohn’s journey. Perhaps it helps explain why a 33-year-old with no collegiate athletic background and no prior gym membership would sign up for something like this. (And yes, before training started, my diet consisted of an unhealthy amount of fast food and sour candy. Don't worry, I cut all of that out months ago!)

This November, I am fighting to raise money for the Colorectal Cancer Alliance, the nation's largest nonprofit dedicated to ending colorectal cancer (CRC). This cause is deeply urgent: CRC is now the leading cause of cancer-related death in adults under 50. Because chronic IBD significantly increases the risk of developing colorectal cancer, this fight is deeply personal to me.

In "Haymakers for Hope," the operative word is hope. As a kid enduring endless colonoscopies, "hope" was the large pizza my mom promised me after every procedure. As a preteen receiving 6-to-8-hour IV infusions in the hospital, "hope" was being told I could go see a movie later. Today, as an adult living with Crohn's, "hope" means helping patients afford medical care for CRC, increasing knowledge and access to screening tools, and furthering medical research towards Project Cure CRC.

My coach tells me to visualize the knockout punch and having my arm raised on November 5th. I can’t predict the future, but I know one thing with absolute certainty: everyone competing in and contributing to this effort to knockout cancer is already a winner. But make no mistake - I’m also boxing to win :)

Through your generosity, we can find a cure and bring hope to so many who desperately need it. Thank you for standing in my corner.