David and Jen on their wedding day, and Jen undergoing treatment for her rare sarcoma.
It was 15 years ago this month, but I'll never forget those words. When my wife Jen and I asked her oncologist about our plans to start a family, he calmly replied, "Well, I wouldn't do so unless Dave is prepared to be a single father."
About 50 percent of all people with cancer have a rare type, like the one Jen was fighting.
Time stood still. The danger crystalized — we were in a battle for my beautiful bride's life, and the odds were not in our favor.
We felt every emotion expected. Anger, sadness, confusion, frustration, and especially fear. But we made a very intentional choice to take that fear, put it to the side, and do everything we could to live our lives together to the fullest.
We focused first on Jen's health and learned everything we could about MFH Sarcoma. I was with her every step of the way — for hundreds of medical appointments, six intense surgeries, and twenty different types of chemotherapy. During such a challenging time, our choice to reject fear allowed us to live our best lives. Our careers blossomed, we enjoyed several international vacations, and Jen inspired thousands of fellow patients through her blog and speeches.
When we researched treatment options we learned that Jen was not alone. About 50 percent of all people with cancer have a rare type, like the one Jen was fighting. However, rare cancers don't get the funding they desperately need so effective treatment options are hard to find. The lack of funding felt unfair — and urgent. We didn't worry about everything that can go wrong when starting a new venture. Instead, we jumped in head first and convinced a small group of friends and family to ride stationary bikes with us to raise money for rare cancer research.
Jen Goodman Linn, riding a stationary bike for Cycle for Survival.
(Courtesy David Linn)
From those humble beginnings, Cycle for Survival grew steadily. After starting from scratch, Jen and I ran Cycle for Survival on our own for two years. We quickly realized that if we wanted to help as many people as possible, we needed the best partners. In 2009, we agreed that Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center would take over the ownership of Cycle for Survival and Equinox officially became the Founding Partner. Flash forward to today, and Cycle for Survival has raised more than $220 million! I'm proud that 100% of every donation, yes every penny, goes directly into life-saving rare cancer research within six months of the annual indoor cycling events, which now take place in 17 cities nationwide.
While Cycle for Survival's trajectory was heading straight up, Jen's health struggle was devastatingly swinging up and down. With her incredible spirit and tenacity, Jen would beat the cancer through chemo and surgery, but then it would frustratingly come back again and again. After going into remission six times, it returned with such a vengeance in 2011 that even the world's leading doctors were forced to say, "I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do."
Those were the most difficult words I've ever heard, by far. I hope no other family has to hear these crushing words.
When Jen died soon after, I didn't know what would happen to me, to my life, and to Cycle for Survival. I do remember making two very important choices at the time. First, I chose to get out of bed and put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't easy. Tears, pain, and grief would hit at any hour of the day or night. I did have a great support network of family and friends who kept me moving forward. One friend in particular changed the route of her morning runs so that I would join her and start getting back to exercising.
My second key choice was to stay involved with Cycle for Survival. At times, it was an excruciatingly difficult decision because I felt the depth of my loss each and every time I stepped into one of the events. However, it was also rewarding and energizing because I could see firsthand how many people it was helping, even though it was too late for Jen.
I began to travel across the country with the Cycle for Survival staff. My hope was to spread the word about rare cancers; along the way I met a lot of wonderful people who shared their stories with me. What I soon realized is that each of us faces obstacles in our lives. For me, it was losing the person who I wanted to spend my life with. For others, it might be challenges with their kids or in their professional lives. The common theme is that we don't have control over the fact that we have to face these challenges. But the biggest lesson I've learned is that we very much do have a choice in how we react.
I made the choice to do everything I can to help rare cancer patients and their families and it has been transformative and healing for me. The small group who rode in the first Cycle for Survival event has grown into a powerful movement of nearly 40,000 riders making a real difference. If Jen were diagnosed today, there are new treatments available– including genomic sequencing, targeted therapies, and immunotherapies – that could help her. Those weren't even options a short time ago. That's the result of funding research.
A recent Cycle for Survival event shows the passion and power of the community.
(Courtesy David Linn)
I also want to share one more choice I made. Remember that friend who changed the route of her morning runs so I could start exercising after Jen died? Well, over the years friendship grew into love, and we're now building a home together and can't wait to see what the future holds for us.
So with all that in mind I ask – when you face those inevitable challenges in your life, how will you choose to react? Remember that even in the midst of hopelessness, you can find choices. Those will be the decisions that define and guide you.
A robot server, controlled remotely by a disabled worker, delivers drinks to patrons at the DAWN cafe in Tokyo.
A sleek, four-foot tall white robot glides across a cafe storefront in Tokyo’s Nihonbashi district, holding a two-tiered serving tray full of tea sandwiches and pastries. The cafe’s patrons smile and say thanks as they take the tray—but it’s not the robot they’re thanking. Instead, the patrons are talking to the person controlling the robot—a restaurant employee who operates the avatar from the comfort of their home.
It’s a typical scene at DAWN, short for Diverse Avatar Working Network—a cafe that launched in Tokyo six years ago as an experimental pop-up and quickly became an overnight success. Today, the cafe is a permanent fixture in Nihonbashi, staffing roughly 60 remote workers who control the robots remotely and communicate to customers via a built-in microphone.
More than just a creative idea, however, DAWN is being hailed as a life-changing opportunity. The workers who control the robots remotely (known as “pilots”) all have disabilities that limit their ability to move around freely and travel outside their homes. Worldwide, an estimated 16 percent of the global population lives with a significant disability—and according to the World Health Organization, these disabilities give rise to other problems, such as exclusion from education, unemployment, and poverty.
These are all problems that Kentaro Yoshifuji, founder and CEO of Ory Laboratory, which supplies the robot servers at DAWN, is looking to correct. Yoshifuji, who was bedridden for several years in high school due to an undisclosed health problem, launched the company to help enable people who are house-bound or bedridden to more fully participate in society, as well as end the loneliness, isolation, and feelings of worthlessness that can sometimes go hand-in-hand with being disabled.
“It’s heartbreaking to think that [people with disabilities] feel they are a burden to society, or that they fear their families suffer by caring for them,” said Yoshifuji in an interview in 2020. “We are dedicating ourselves to providing workable, technology-based solutions. That is our purpose.”
Shota Kuwahara, a DAWN employee with muscular dystrophy. Ory Labs, Inc.
Shota, Kuwahara, a DAWN employee with muscular dystrophy, agrees. "There are many difficulties in my daily life, but I believe my life has a purpose and is not being wasted," he says. "Being useful, able to help other people, even feeling needed by others, is so motivational."
