When I was younger, I was obsessed with Superman. I admired how stoic he was — a symbol of strength and resilience. I used to tell people that I wanted to grow up to be Superman.

That changed three years ago when I lost my maternal grandfather. He passed away from a rapid-onset cancer that had silently spread from a tumor in his leg — a tumor we thought had been dealt with years earlier. I didn’t know him well, but what stayed with me most was watching my parents try to be strong. They held back their tears and grief in front of me, acting like nothing had happened, even though I could tell they were in deep pain.

I hope to ride for them.

Through Texas 4000, I want to play my part — no matter how small — in the fight against cancer and in promoting advocacy. Having experienced firsthand how cancer can quietly tear through a family, I hope to spread the strength and hope I saw in my parents. Whether by telling their story, raising money for research, or spreading awareness across Austin and beyond, I ride to make a difference.

Now I realize I was wrong about Superman. He wasn’t strong because of his powers or muscles. Real strength is the ability to face a mountain of pain and still choose to keep climbing. Cancer is a mountain that, heartbreakingly, not everyone can overcome.

I ride for everyone who has faced that mountain — those who’ve battled, those who’ve lost, and those who’ve stood beside them. My grandfather was strong. My parents are strong. I ride on their shoulders, hoping to carry their strength forward — because they are my superheroes.