For most people, cycling 2,000 miles through Europe over 21 grueling stages sounds impossible. For Redondo Beach resident Jeff Davis, the mission feels necessary.
On Saturday, June 27, Jeff joins eleven other cyclists from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Ireland in riding the amateur version of the Tour de France, tackling legendary mountain climbs and unpredictable weather during nearly a month on the road. The goal is not glory, but something far more personal: raising money for Cure Leukaemia (which uses the British spelling), a UK-based organization supporting blood cancer research, after his daughter Lucy was diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML) at just 17 years old.
But, Jeff’s cancer journey did not begin with Lucy’s diagnosis.
Cancer first altered the course of his life decades earlier. When Jeff was seven years old, he lost his father to pancreatic cancer. “My dad died when he was 35,” Jeff said. “So my story is bigger than just my daughter.”
Today, Jeff lives in Redondo Beach with his wife, Jackie Nguyen. Their son Caleb plays Division I soccer at Lipscomb University in Nashville, while Lucy—now 20—is a junior at University of California, Davis with dreams of becoming a lawyer.
Outside of family life, cycling has long been a defining part of Jeff’s story. He grew up riding BMX bikes in Indiana before progressing to mountain biking and eventually road cycling after moving to California. “Once I started road cycling, I found my home,” he said. For Jeff, cycling became more than exercise. It became therapy and a way to keep moving forward.
Each morning, long before sunrise, Jeff climbs onto his bike trainer in the garage and rides virtual mountain routes through the cycling app ROUVY. “I wake up at 3:45 in the morning and I'm in the garage,” he said. “I’m on the bike at 4 AM and done by 6:30, and I'm in the office by 7:30.”
Those predawn training sessions, along with long rides on local trails, are preparing him for the relentless climbs of the Tour de France route, including the iconic Alpe d'Huez and the towering Pyrenees.
Even training has posed its own challenges. In April, Jeff crashed during a ride and required shoulder surgery. Through all of these experiences, however, the most difficult part has been watching Lucy navigate a life reshaped by illness. "She's still struggling," Jeff said. "There's a lot of things that she's looking forward to in life that she feels like she just can't look forward to."
CML is a rare blood cancer, especially in someone Lucy’s age. While treatable, it requires constant monitoring, daily medication, and the possibility of a bone marrow transplant.
Jeff remembers the moment concern turned to urgency after tests revealed Lucy’s diagnosis. “Her white blood cell count was over 500,000. It should be like [12,000],” he said.
Lucy was admitted immediately to Miller Children's & Women's Hospital Long Beach just before Thanksgiving during her senior year at Redondo Union High School.
In the middle of fear, Jeff leaned into action. “I threw my project management hat on. ‘Okay, this is a project. What do we have to do to solve this problem right now?’”
Through it all, Lucy has continued moving forward. She graduated high school on time, delivering a graduation speech about cancer and “how it doesn’t define her.” Friends and family watched her stand at the podium with remarkable composure, transforming one of the hardest seasons of her life into a message of strength. “I’ll keep that video forever,” Jeff said, tears filling his eyes.
The emotional weight of the experience has impacted the family in different ways. For Jeff, cycling has become an outlet not only for the fear surrounding Lucy’s diagnosis but also for grief he has carried since losing his father at a young age.
“We, as men, tend to hold a lot of things in,” he expressed. “Not only am I riding this for leukemia, but I think I’m riding it for my own mental health as well.”
That honesty is part of what makes Jeff’s mission so compelling. He does not present himself as fearless or heroic. He is simply a father trying to keep going. He admits he is nervous. “What am I nervous about? Just being ready.”
The opportunity to ride with Cure Leukaemia came unexpectedly last year while Jeff was listening to a replay of Tour de France coverage. An NBC Sports documentary about the organization followed the replay. “I hear the guy talking. ‘I have leukemia.’ I ended up watching the whole thing, and at the very end it said, riding for Cure Leukaemia.” A few days later, he applied.
For Jeff, the ride is ultimately about what is possible when endurance is redirected toward hope—toward research, toward families searching for answers, and toward a future with fewer lives interrupted by devastating diagnoses.
“One of the reasons that I'm doing this is not only for my daughter, but for other families that have the same kind of hope that we've had,” he said. “I don't want other fathers and other families to have to go through the same thing that we've gone through, and if this is one thing that I can do to work hard, to help get further towards the cure, then I'm willing to put forth that effort.”
Jeff’s family will be at the end of the route in Paris. Originally, they wanted to attend the starting line, but Jeff had another idea.
“I said, ‘Well, that doesn't give me motivation to get through,’” he recalled. “‘If I know that everyone's going to be at the end, then I have no choice.’”
Somewhere between the steep mountain climbs, the aching legs, and the long, quiet hours on European roads, Jeff Davis will continue doing what he has always done—carrying hope forward, shaped by childhood, tested through loss, and now devoted to Lucy.
“We, as men, tend to hold a lot of things in. Not only am I riding this for leukemia, but I think I’m riding it for my own mental health as well.” —Jeff Davis