When I was a kid, I would always see THON canners in my hometown of Chappaqua, New York. While I didn’t fully grasp the scope of the event back then, I always knew that Penn State was at the forefront of helping others and making a difference. 

My mom attended Penn State, so I’ve bled blue and white since birth. THON has always been a presence in my life. So much so that I used to watch the live stream at home, learning each year’s line dance from the comfort of my kitchen. 

When I arrived on campus as a freshman, I was eager to get involved. I joined Club Swimming to continue my passion for competing in the pool, but it was through that club that my love for THON really took off.

The first THON that I attended in person was life-changing. There are truly no words to describe it. I stand firmly behind my belief that THON is a feeling, not an event. Seeing 15,000 people packed into the Bryce Jordan Center, creating so much energy, never fails to give me the chills. 

It was that year, 2024, when I decided that I wanted to dance.

Over the next two years, I got to know and learn about our two Club Swim families, the Tyshawn Jennings and A’Niah Butler families. 

Tyshawn was diagnosed with pineoblastoma, a rare brain tumor, when he was eight years old. He went through five rounds of intense start-up chemo, followed by three rounds of autologous cell therapy. Then he received 32 days of radiation treatment. He was monitored for five years and was deemed cancer-free, ringing the bell in March 2024.

A’Niah was rushed to the hospital in 2014 in cardiac arrest, where CPR was performed for 38 minutes. She was induced into a coma, and two days later, it was discovered that 98% of her bone marrow cells were cancerous. She was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia on April 28, 2014. 

When she woke from her coma, it was discovered she had lost vision in both eyes due to hemorrhaging from the CPR. Gradually, she regained her vision and underwent extensive physical therapy and several surgeries. She celebrated five years in remission on June 7, 2021, and is still cancer-free. 

From watching A’Niah at her JV football game at State High, to snow tubing with the Jennings, connecting with the reason why we THON became increasingly meaningful.

I found out that I was elected to dance on December 7, 2025. I had just arrived home from welcoming Matt Campbell at the airport, and it was also revealed that Penn State would be playing in my dream bowl matchup, so it was a great day all around.

When I heard the knock on my door, I was speechless. I didn’t expect to be picked, but I was overcome with emotion when our THON chairs broke the news. 

The fight against cancer is personal to me. I have lost my grandpa, grandma, great aunt, and great uncle to the disease. Three of those were due to Leukemia. I’ve learned too well that we can’t take anything for granted in life. You never know what tomorrow will bring, so being able to fight for something I feel so strongly about right now is why I wanted to THON.

Let’s fast-forward to THON weekend, because it came fast. 

Walking into Holuba Hall for dancer meeting No. 2 didn’t feel real. After months, well, years of anticipation, the moment was finally here.

Upon arrival, I was directed to my seat in the front row. I was then greeted by a black Nike backpack, and I was excited to be part of the last group of dancers to receive Nike gear. 

Inside the bag was a plethora of souvenirs, gift cards, and fidgets. I immediately knew that the Orbeez stress ball and I would become close friends over the weekend, and that we did.

Walking through the human tunnel and up to the Bryce Jordan Center was probably the coolest moment of my life. It was difficult to grapple with; I felt like a celebrity, yet I was also standing up for something much greater than myself.

Right before I entered what would be my home for the next 46-plus hours, I spotted my mom in the front row of the tunnel, jumping in excitement for me. I ran over to give her a hug. Being able to watch my parents experience THON for the first time was one of the greatest parts of the whole thing.

I’m an emotional guy. And it didn’t take long before I shed my first tear.

Right before everyone stood up, the magnitude of the event really hit me. As the countdown began, I got teary-eyed thinking about how I would be standing for 46 hours in support of a cause that means so much to me. I was really about to create my legacy as a 2026 dancer.

The first 36 hours, believe it or not, were pretty smooth. 

Immediately preceding the National Act (side note: I’m more of a The Fray kind of guy), I completed an interview for 46 LIVE. It was the first time I had an interview that was strictly about me, so I felt pretty important. I’m happy that I’ll always have that video to look back on.

I was eager to experience my first set of graveyard hours as a dancer following the Fitz and The Tantrums concert. I definitely began to feel a little sore already, but my energy was still going strong. 

One of the best events of the weekend happened during the wee hours of Saturday morning. Before THON, I was notified that I was selected to play “Hula Hoop: Rock, Paper, Scissors” alongside my fellow Club Swimming dancer, Amelia.

The object of the game was to win 10 rounds of rock, paper, scissors as a team, advancing a space with each win and reaching the other side first. 

I had a brutal, no, embarrassing start to the competition. I lost my first three games in a row, letting the whole team down in the process. I was bordering on 1990s Buffalo Bills levels of embarrassment before I got lucky decided to start trying. 

I won, I believe, five games in a row to flip the script and turn the game upside down. My efforts propelled my group to a narrow win, prompting a wave of boos from the fraternity to my right (its dancer was on the other team).

I decided to hit the crowd with a little “I can’t hear you” celly. I did the same thing at the Penn State versus Rutgers game in Piscataway. Sometimes my competitive spirit gets the best of me.

Simultaneously, on Saturday morning, THON rolled out the worst lineup of meals and snacks. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for pancakes, followed by ice pops, followed by bagels. Give me a double bacon cheeseburger. Where’s my protein at?

Also, the ice pops were being marketed as a “heavy snack.” The last time I checked, it’s just frozen water. That was a light treat back in my day.

By the time Roots was being served as dancer meal No. 5, I went back for seconds. It was delectable. 10/10. I made mine with rice, corn, chicken, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, pickled onions, feta, and cilantro lime dressing.

By Saturday night, my throat hurt from having to talk so loudly, so my mom smuggled in some honey. Clutch. I took a swig right before I was set to go on stage, as Nevaeh, the cousin of Tyshawn, was set to perform her rendition of “Pretty Little Baby.” 

She was awesome. I can honestly say that she had the best voice in the entire Talent Show, and not simply because of my impeccable work snapping to the beat in the background.

I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t petrified before going on stage. I’m not usually one to get nervous in front of large crowds, but I’ve also never had nearly 20,000 individuals all focused on the stage that I would be on. Kudos to all of the kids who were brave enough to perform. Everyone was electric.

At the pep rally, I got chills when Matt Campbell was introduced, and his speech made me want to run through a wall. I was hoping he would make an appearance, and was especially happy when he was introduced by my favorite Penn State football player of all time, Trace McSorley.

The real challenge of the weekend came on Sunday morning, as expected. I danced for a while with the Jennings family, who, immediately following the Pep Rally, joined us on the floor. My mom and dad then came down at midnight and 4 a.m., respectively, as my dancer support persons. Seeing them gave me a much needed second-wind.

While my mom was on the floor, it was time for Mail Call, which once again led to some waterworks. The letters I received, along with the videos from family and friends, truly helped me push through the most difficult times. I am grateful to everyone who went out of their way to send me mail.

At 4 a.m., I swallowed probably three bottles of baby powder from Slides of Strength, and by 6 a.m., I had officially hit a wall. I utilized the ice baths in the athletic training room to alleviate some of my foot pain, but that was the least of my issues.

Nausea began to set in, and I would fall asleep standing up or while walking. Life began to feel like it was taking place on another planet, and my mind was spinning from the sea of colorful shirts that kept walking past me. 

I treated myself to a meal of champions consisting of saltines and ginger ale, as I begged people to engage in any form of conversation to help keep me awake. There was a point when I struggled to process how I would make it to the end.

ENTER. JACK. FREAKING. HUGHES.

Right when I needed it the most, No. 86 became an American hero, netting the game-winning goal in Milan to defeat archrival Canada. 

Most of the folks inside the BJC were watching the game on their phones, which led to one of the coolest, most patriotic, unified moments I have seen in a while. The entire arena erupted when the United States secured gold, as “USA” chants broke out in the crowd. I had goosebumps looking around at my fellow Penn Staters celebrating in unison.

Former Onward State staffer Nolan Wick FaceTimed me after the game, giving me an extra boost of motivation to close out THON weekend with a bang.

Once the Final Four hit, I knew that I would be able to finish it off. Family Hour was incredibly tough for me, as the combination of standing still, along with the emotions of the speeches, made it extremely difficult.

Each year during this time, I feel a great sense of appreciation for my family. I love them more than anything else in the world, and I’m so thankful to have loving and healthy parents, grandparents, aunts, and cousins in my life. 

I often think of Popsie, Aunt Linda, Uncle Alan, and Grandma and wish I could give each of them just one more hug. I wish I could experience one more Jamie-Popsie day in Wantagh Park, watching people launch their boats into the bay.

So, while THON is an extremely emotional time, it is also a time when I remember my “why.” I dance for those who can’t. No one, of any age, deserves to experience cancer, and I hope my efforts this weekend provided hope for every kid out there who may be suffering.

As my time as a dancer neared its close, I was overcome with a bittersweet feeling. I sang my heart out to GoGo Gadjet, dancing with Tyshawn and his parents. I looked up into the stands to see my mom doing the same, looking out in awe at the sea of Penn Staters.

I completed my last line dance, cried with Club Swimming dancers Cooper, Amelia, and Lauren, gave everyone a big hug, and finally sat down.

I will say it again: THON is so much more than an event. It’s a feeling. I truly believe that there is no other school on the planet that could unite behind such a cause like Penn State. 

Being elected to serve as a dancer in 2026 was the honor of my lifetime. It was the best, most emotional 46 hours of my life. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Dancer 154A forever.

“One day, we will dance in celebration. Until then, we dance for a cure.”