Alexander Ciccocelli

They Didn't Get to Opt In. So I Am

Three days. Roughly 400 kilometres. About 3,900 metres of climbing. And one very specific reason I'll be on a bike from September 10-13.

This will be my 4th Randstad Ride for Myriam.

It started small. A group of colleagues honouring Myriam, a friend and teammate at Randstad who lost her fight with cancer in 2013. They got on bikes, they rode, they raised some money. And then they did it again. And again. Thirteen years later, over $2 million has been raised through Randstad Foundations of North America, in support of the Canadian Cancer Society and specifically pediatric cancer research.

I want to sit with that last part for a second.

Because it's easy to scroll past "cancer research." It's a phrase. A charity bucket. The thing you click "donate" on at the grocery store checkout.

But somewhere today there is a 6-year-old getting a port flushed before chemo. A mom in a hospital parking lot who hasn't cried yet because she hasn't had a minute alone. A dad learning what "neutropenic" means. A kid missing the first day of grade two because the only fight that matters is the one inside their own body.

Siblings who suddenly understand far too much for their age. Nurses who memorize favourite stuffed animals. Bald heads decorated with marker because someone decided today we're being brave AND ridiculous. Birthdays, Christmases, and Fridays in hospital rooms.

That's the part I can't unsee. And honestly, the part I don't want to.

So I ride. Because I can. Because so many of these kids can't. Because the families on this road didn't get to opt in, and the least I can do is opt in to something hard on purpose.

Will the ride hurt? Yes. Day 1 is 150 km from Laval to Mont-Tremblant. Day 2 climbs over 1,500 metres through Circuit Nordet. Day 3 is Circuit Labelle along the lakes - beautiful, brutal, and the day my legs will be writing me strongly worded letters. I'm a finance guy by trade, not a pro cyclist, so by km 260 I'll be running on stubbornness, electrolytes, and the names of the kids we're riding for.

Which brings me to the ask.

If you've ever thought, "I should support something this year", this is the something. Every dollar goes to pediatric cancer care and tangible support for these families during the worst chapter of their lives. Tax receipts are issued for Canadian donors (and as a finance guy, I'm contractually obligated to mention that).

No amount is too small. $20, $50, $500 - it all adds up to the same thing: one more kid getting one more shot.

To everyone who has supported me in years past, thank you. Genuinely. You're part of the reason I keep clipping back in. To everyone considering it this year, thank you in advance.

I won't stop riding. Not while there are kids who don't get the option to stop fighting.

See you at the start line. The finish line. And probably at the top of a hill, breathing like a malfunctioning kettle.