I like that this is my last blog post. The idea behind it embodies a lot of what this ride has been for me.

My red Superman cape has flown on my back for 71 days, all the way from Austin to Anchorage. Though it started as a joke, a gimmick to wear, it quickly evolved into much more. On day 3, the morning after we had split up from the Coastal route, I decided to turn my cape into a Dedication Banner. I wrote "I Ride For:" in large letters across the top and then wrote my grandfather's and dad's name on the cape. My grandfather, a victim on lung cancer, and my father, a smoker, are who I've been riding for all year.

I invited riders to add names of those they've been riding for and had our host tearfully add his mother's name. She had fought breast cancer. From this point, I kept a Sharpie on my at all times and had hosts and strangers along the ride add names of people who had in some way been affected by cancer. By the end of the ride, after talking to hundreds upon hundreds of people, at gas stations, on the side of the road, at churches, anywhere, I ended with about 300 names to ride for on my back.

The cape carried hundreds of fighters all the way to Anchorage. Through thick and thin I wore that cape. Rain and headwinds made riding with the cape difficult. The cape also become caught in my brakes multiple times, fraying the bottom. Over ten weeks, the bright red faded to a dark red with darker spots, a few holes and extremely frayed edges. Names faded but were never lost and in the end we made it to Anchorage.

The cape, though aerodynamics dictated that it slowed me down on the bike, served me extremely well. It attracted attention everywhere and people always wanted to know what it was for. It was the single reason I was able to talk to as many people as I did and hear all the stories I did. On one occasion, when Natasha had been dehydrated, it served as a shade to help cool her. Outside McBride, in Canada, it was the reason that I was asked to sign my first autograph. I little boy, about 9 years old insisted that I sign his shirt. I, of course, signed "Superman." Hopefully he'll keep the shirt for a few years.

The cape has been my one most defining feature, more than my mohawk, this summer. Many people who would run into the team after we were off the bikes and in street clothes would ask for "the guy in the red cape." It was a great way to hear the stories that defined my summer and I will cherish the cape more than I will my jersey.

From Austin to Anchorage we rode and from Austin to Anchorage that cape billowed in the wind on my back, acting as a sail in headwind and a weight in rain. From Austin to Anchorage, 300 peoples stories were carried on my back, adding a burden on my shoulders yet somehow making it easier for me to ride on hard days. With the ride complete, the cape will be retired and Superman will call it quits, at least in his current persona. A true superhero never stops fighting for the greater good.

My summer ending, my journey complete, I put the cape away, but I still ride, physically and metaphorically. I still ride for Himat Dada and Pinakin Patel, two men who mean a lot to me, who raised me as a boy and defined me as a man. I ride today and always for my grandfather and my dad.