Vulnerable. Hopeless. Frustrated. Scared. These are some of the emotions that coursed through my being as soon as the word "cancer" came out of my Dad's mouth over 2 years ago. I can scarcely imagine how it would feel to hear the same thing coming from a doctor directly... Sadly however, it's a near certainty that each and every one of us has in some way dealt with this torrent of anguish in some capacity throughout our life. With the support of family and friends, and some world class health care, my Dad beat his cancer. Not everyone is so lucky. Let's continue to try and change that narrative.

If you've ever laced up a pair of boxing gloves and got inside the ring with someone for the first time, particularly someone with more experience than you, here is how you might feel: Vulnerable. Hopeless. Frustrated. Scared. Is there any comparison in magnitude to the above? Absolutely not, and I hope not to make that direct parallel. However it is uncomfortable and it is a grind and it sometimes feels like it's never going to end. But if someone told me I could spend 6 total minutes (3x 2-min rounds) inside of a boxing ring, in front of 2,500+ people, in New York City, and be part of a $1 million dollar fundraising event for cancer research/awareness (this same event last year came in just shy of 1mm), I'll take that grind any day. 



We're about half way through the journey now as I launch my fundraising initiative, and while training and preparing has certainly taken it's toll physically and mentally, I remind myself daily that it represents but a microcosm of what those battling cancer endure day in and day out. Microcosm might even be a bit of a stretch. Any support you can muster, whether it be a donation, showing up on fight night, or simply some words of encouragement, would be appreciated.



Stew