I have always considered myself to be an extreme person, so riding to Alaska only felt fitting- but the more I debated it, the greater my heart swelled. Every thought I had steering me away from Texas 4000 was quickly matched with 5 reasons pulling me towards it. There is not a single reason I could truly validate for deciding not to at least apply: fear, doubt, self consciousness, time? These feelings are all too familiar for those with and affected by cancer.

 
My Oma is one of the strongest people I’ve had the honor of knowing; our whole family was centered around her. She served in the military, raised 9 kids, and continued to work as a nurse for decades- of course she did not do all this alone. My Opa, Francis, was alongside her until he passed from lung cancer. My aunts & uncles tell stories of Opa with pride: his Naval career, the times he caught them in trouble, and how he would fall asleep to TV static. Opa passed from lung cancer before my sister and I got to meet him. He seemed strong, determined, and stoic; I never understood how someone so important to my family could be taken by cancer. I was in 7th grade when my Uncle Tony, Oma’s little brother who had previously been battling cancer, passed away. I distinctly remember walking Oma to the funeral; she was around 90 and had severe Alzheimers. It felt cruel and merciless telling and retelling her why we were at the church, knowing that cancer played a role in the loss of both Uncle Tony and Opa Despite these great losses, Oma held herself together. She was an influential presence in the lives of her 20+ grandkids. She treated us with coke floats and ice cream sandwiches, always lost her teeth, found peace in praying the rosary, and compulsively salted her food without tasting it- a habit in which I will always share with her.

 I ride for Opa, whom my family holds so deeply in their hearts. I ride for Uncle Tony, who called Dot and I, “sweetheart,” and kissed the top of our heads, who crossed my mind constantly at the pools. I ride for Oma, who lost so much to cancer but still loved so fiercely, who embodies strength. I ride for my family who still grieves these losses but more importantly celebrates their lives. I ride for the empty chairs at game night and for every time we sing “Mama Tried.” I ride for the Frances club and for the nostalgia at every family reunion. I ride for my Aunt Teresa, who battled breast cancer throughout the pandemic, while continuing to teach middle schoolers. She is beyond amazing & I hope to show an ounce of her strength. I ride for those who love me and whom I love.

In mid-October my Pre-K best friend turned 21. We celebrated at brunch, and her mom passed around old pictures of us. One showed her in a sparkly pink dress, revealing a brown birthmark on her arm. At that young age, I did not realize the gravity of the situation when she told me her birthmark was being removed because of her brother’s cancer diagnosis. Cancer left a lasting mark on her and her family, but they never let it define them.

 
 Unfortunately, many of my close friends have had familial experiences with cancer; upon telling them about doing Texas 4000, their natural reaction was to celebrate and congratulate me- completely unnecessary but incredibly sweet. That’s just who they are and who their families raised them to be. They’ve known fear and doubt, but have made so much more known: humility, resilience, grace, joy.

I ride for Jessica & her family who love their kids’ friends like their own (but fed me all the snacks my mom wouldn’t) and always greet me with open arms.
I ride for Mia & her family, the hardest workers and most genuine people, who never fail to make me laugh until I cry.
I ride for Ethan & his family who meet me with compassion time and time again.
I ride for Claire, my first college friend, & her family who recently celebrated their mom’s last chemo treatment!!!!!!!!!
I ride for my lifeguards, who  hold a soft spot in my heart, even if i hate to admit. It only took 5 years to get everyone to wear sunscreen :)  

I ride for my community, who has known great loss, but continues to grow and walk with eachother. 

I have always struggled to express my feelings to my loved ones. This 4000 mile ride is me: breaking down barriers, stripping down to simplicity, and physically writing out my love.

I ride for those I love. From Austin to Alaska,
- elena