• Route: Ozarks
  • Ride Year: 2023
  • Hometown: Fort Worth

About: Hello, I’m Olivia! To start, I want to thank you for taking the time to learn a little about me, but more importantly about Texas 4000. Your support means very much to me, and getting to be a part of this organization fills me with an inexpressible amount of honor.

I am a second year Business major, and would love to pursue non-profit work or small business endeavors post-grad. I was born here in Austin, Texas but grew up in Fort Worth. I am certainly happiest when outdoors, and grew up riding both bikes and horses (in the summers you can find me teaching groups of very small kids to ride those very large animals.) I love to read, walk, and hike, and love to pretend that I love to run. My favorite book is To the Lighthouse, I have two cats named Big Rascal and Little Rascal, and my dog Ivy was named after the TS song. In addition to Texas 4000, I am involved with Texas Lassos, Students Expanding Austin Literacy, and a regular volunteer at the UT Microfarm, all of which I love very much!

This is absolutely not a ride I take only for those I personally know, so please do not hesitate to reach out to me at or 682-217-9314 about yourself or anyone you would like me to ride for.

Why I Ride

At 3 years old, my little sister was a crazy person. Impossible to stop, Tatum would sneak into my parents room to model her favorite necklaces from my mom’s jewelry box, choose to paint her own face instead of the bucket of coloring books under our bunkbed, and climb the dining room chairs so often that my parents had to tie them to the table. It was a shock when those explosions of misbehavior and belly laughs began to disappear. My parents took her to the hospital and she was diagnosed with ALL Leukemia on July 13th, 2009.

The next five years were full of chemotherapy, radiation, and relapse. I used to stick googly eyes all over Tatum’s bald head. She would come home from the hospital and sleep all day long. My 6 year old brain was constantly jealous of the Barbies she would bring home from each ER visit, because cancer through the eyes of two sisters aged 3 and 6 was, logically, centered around who played with which doll. Tatum’s leukemia truly did become the new yet normal center of our childhoods. We both started to homeschool, stayed away in our family pod of four to avoid any possibility of Tatum catching colds or the flu, and settled into a life that is alien to me now. She relapsed after a full cycle of treatment, we moved to Fort Worth to be near Cook Children’s Medical Center for her second round, and she been in remission now for 10 years.

I ride for the in-between-years. Tatum had to lose 5 years of full living, of real kidhood, to get well. Her playground was sterile and painful and beeping. I ride for my grandpa Mike, who passed away from cancer when I was a baby; who I only know through my mom's stories. I ride for friends’ mothers and grandmothers, for great-aunts and uncles, for past teachers, for the kids I can remember but won’t be able to talk to again. I ride for the length of the list of the names in my head. I ride for the goal of a cancer-free world. I ride for communities who haven't been shown knowledge, hope, and charity.

I think the greatest thing I have is the ability to call my sister and hear her talk about how ballet class went. I am so thankful. It is not a gift given to everyone, but it is with the hope that one day it will be that I pursue this endeavor.

Thank you so much for reading, and again, I would truly love to hear any stories of those I can ride for at

To Alaska and back,
Olivia Flaming