I grew up idolizing PMC riders because they were superheroes, plain and simple. Throughout my childhood, my mom, Amie White, had been battling Breast Cancer and Ovarian Cancer as well. Our family had gotten into the routine of eating dinners in Brigham and Women's Hospital from the Longwood Galleria Food Court, and I had grown accustomed to spending time in that hospital. I knew Mom's favorite restaurants nearby, what floor to go to, and even the best hospital furniture to do homework on. I still remember the sounds of the chemo wing; there were the everpresent beeps, hums, and pumping of the various machines surrounding her, the subtle chatter of nurses and TVs, and the banter of families just trying to live a normal life. I remember the last time we left that hospital. When we brought the machines into our house. When we knew there was a timer we could no longer slow down. February 11, 2016, was an especially cold and unforgiving day. It was on that day I experienced the effect of the tremendous evil that PMC riders fight against. The world lost an incredible warrior the day Amie died, but I witnessed the power of community and love firsthand.

In response to the tremendous loss, my middle school hosted a fundraiser event in her memory. The entire grade participated in a walkathon where each lap walked would raise money contributed by family sponsors and friends alike. The entire amount raised that day was donated directly to the PMC, and I had never been prouder because I finally felt like the Superheroes I had looked up to for so long. The PMC is a way to make a real positive impact on the world as we know it. Every donation helps build a world free of cancer where only doctors have to figure out the best furniture to do their work on.