About Me

Profile

About:

Yo, I'm Trent. I'm currently pursuing a B.A. in Advertising/TexasMedia with a certificate in Business Foundations. Post graduation, I aspire to work at an advertising agency in a place with more green than grey. I have a cat. Her name is Kitty Mau.

Why I Ride

As a child, witnessing my relatives’ battles with cancer exposed me to the devastating ways the disease affects both the victim and their loved ones. It's painful to helplessly watch as a family member’s health and happiness decay during their struggle with cancer, knowing there is very little I can do to ease their pain and suffering. I am finally privileged to channel my compassion through the opportunities Texas 4000 provides, bringing hope and inspiration to those whose lives have been shaken by this epidemic. Though I may never directly make scientific progress discovering treatments for cancer, I can use my youth and sound health to spread awareness to the communities I encounter along my expedition. It is my desire to give inspiration to those we inform along our ride in the same way I was inspired to dedicate myself to this momentous cause.

I ride for my Aunt Linda who passed away in February of 2004 from ovarian cancer, a type in which only 1/5 of its victims survive. Christmas and Thanksgiving were never the same without her. One of the first times I ever remember being truly shocked and disturbed as a child was witnessing the effects of chemotherapy on her body and mind. I remember one visit towards the end where I was so overwhelmed by the treatment’s deteriorating effects on her once thriving spirit that I had to leave the room. I was scared. I didn’t understand why someone should have to go through anything like that. I still don’t. If anyone can relate, it would be my cousin and her son Jarrod. I ride for Jarrod, who though now cured through a successful series of treatments, was diagnosed with leukaemia at an early age. At just 7 years old Jarrod was put through chemotherapy until he turned 10. Jarrod is thankful that everything happened during his childhood, “it’s just a blur” to him now. I ride for my girlfriend's grandmother, who recently passed away. I ride for my mother, who lives in constant fear knowing that cancer runs in the family. A woman so strong I swear she could build the Empire State Building singlehandedly, humbled in this monster’s wake. Finally, I ride for those who aren’t cured or already gone, the ones still fighting the fight.