Every year on the third weekend of February here at Penn State, something happens that I've never quite been able to explain. At 6:00 on Friday evening in the Bryce Jordan Center, more than 700 chosen volunteers rise to their feet and don't come back down until 4:00 on Sunday evening— that's 46 hours.

46 painful, exhausting, delirium-inducing hours, with no sitting and no sleeping.

With thousands of their fellow students in the stands cheering them on, those dancers continue on through sheer will and determination. In 2015, I was one of those dancers down there on the floor.

This, my friends, is THON. Why do we do this? We do this to give hope to those who need it— to kids who battle cancer every day, and to the families who watch their little ones fight like warriors. Every year with our efforts, we raise millions of dollars for the Four Diamonds Fund, an organization that pays the hospital expenses of families of Pennsylvanian pediatric cancer patients and researches tirelessly to find a cure.

We've been doing this since 1973, and we won't stop until one day—one beautiful day, we find a cure.

As we count down the days to THON 2017, I want to tell you a little about what it was like down there dancing for the kids. I always tell people it was one of the toughest things I've ever done, but if I was given the chance, I would do it again in a heartbeat. It's not about the pride I have because of it - it's because I've never experienced anything more beautiful in my life. THON is something that I will never forget, not until the day I die.

What it's come to mean to me is deeper than I have words to describe, and, well, I usually have words for just about anything. Since words might not do it, let me show you in pictures:

1. Preparing for the big weekend

Dancing in THON isn't something you do lightly - you've got to condition your body and mind to get ready for it! To prepare ourselves, we undergo what's called the "Dancer Diet."

We cut out all caffeine, alcohol, unnatural sugars, tobacco, and generally processed foods. I'm a man who loves his coffee, so giving it up was tough! Beyond that, a friend and I would go to the gym a couple times a week for cardio and to condition my legs to stand for 46 hours.

But beyond that is the mind and spirit. You need to think every single day about why you're doing this— watch videos about kids in treatment, listen to their voices, watch them laugh and play and fight to get better. You need to commit your whole heart to this and nothing less. Everyone has their own way of training their soul for this great journey, and mine was having a symbol of it written into my body. I've never been a big tattoo guy but I told people that if I got selected to dance, I was going to get a tattoo to remember it all by.

Two weeks before the big day, I had this etched on my right shoulder. The diamonds represent the story of the Four Diamonds, where the Four Diamonds Foundation gets its name. Christopher Millard, who was battling cancer, wrote a story about himself as a knight pursuing the Four Diamonds.

The diamonds are the four keys to defeating the great monster of cancer— Wisdom, Honesty, Courage, and Strength.

The lion's head in the center is for the beautiful community that brought me to this cause. The swords over the diamonds represent little "Sir Christopher" and the great battle to defeat evil and return to peace and joy.

2. Getting ready to go to the BJC

Photo credit - Anna Ungar

When you wake up Friday morning, you realize that you've just opened your eyes to one of the most beautiful days of your life. I waited in my room for hours, listening to music and just thinking about everything that would happen in the next 46 hours.

Soon, it was time to go. All the dancers gather in the Multi-Sports Complex to be sign in, gather all their gear for the weekend, and start getting ready to stand. Here is where we're given our official dancer number for the weekend (I was #218-A). This is also an optimal time for lots of stretching.

3. Spending the last hour of sitting time reflecting

I remember laying down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and tuning out everything except the song being played over the speakers - Avicii's "Hey Brother." I had heard that song in a THON promo video and I decided to make it my main pump-up song for dancing.

When I heard this play, I knew I was ready.

4. Counting down the final seconds, and finally standing!

5. Having the support of my best friends

Once you settle into the weekend and the hours begin to pile on, it's great to have friends come visit you on the floor to keep you going. My friend Heather (left) was one of my co-dancers and Robyn (center) was working as a security leader (Rules & Regulations shout-out!) through the weekend.

People from your org or group can come down and visit you every now and then, and you also get a special support pass that you can give to anyone you want which allows them to come stand by you if you're in a really tough spot.

6. Getting to act like a kid again

THON is all about celebrating childhood and helping kids with cancer live their youth to the fullest! Thus, there's fun things for everyone to do through the weekend. The kids ran around with water guns and got into the occasional water battle with me or joined us in a nice relaxing coloring session.

Other times, I would wander around and find games to play and other stuff to keep my morale up. Here, my friend John and I were playing dress-up or something, I don't quite remember!

7. Getting care packages and mail from the people who have your back

There are certain points in the weekend where you'll be given mail from your family and friends who send it in ahead of time. Dancer mail is often filled with things that will lift your spirit— for me, it's inside jokes and Spongebob quotes.

8. Meeting up with our Four Diamonds family and spending time with them on the floor

Photo credit - Caity Kramer

Orgs in THON are often assigned a Four Diamonds family - a family with a child who either fought or is currently fighting cancer. Our family, whom I still keep close contact with, was the Otstotts. Bob (in the white PSU hat), Shannon (right of Bob), and Dani (right of Shannon) are the family of Ashley, who as of October, 2016, has been cancer-free for twelve years! Ashley, like a lot of Four Diamonds kids, knows just about everyone at THON, so I'm sure she's chatting with someone just outside the frame of this picture!

9. Seeing my family Sunday morning

By Sunday morning, I was totally worn out and hitting a wall. When people say dancers go delirious sometimes from the exhaustion, they aren't kidding! But things really improved for me when my family suddenly showed up. It's things like that that keep a dancer going even at the lowest and toughest points.

10. The Final Four

The final four hours of THON is one of the most emotional things a Penn State student can ever experience. You listen to the stories of families whose children are fighting the battle against cancer now, who have won the battle, and who heart-breakingly lost the battle. Through this, we all stand together, arm-in-arm. It is a true moment of human unity and compassion.

You will hold a dear friend or a complete stranger and just sob with them. You cry unashamedly for all the children who are in heaven now, and you weep with joy for all those who have fought with the courage of heroes. There truly is nothing more heart-rending I've ever experienced than these moments.

11. The Finale

I'll never forget it. We counted down those final seconds, and the 46 hours— those 46 hours that seemed so impossible and so unending— are over. We sat down for the first time in two days and our hearts were overcome with so many emotions. We all just reached for the person closest to us and hugged them in jubilation. And then the moment we all had been waiting for, the beautiful reveal.

We finally saw the result of everything we'd worked for that whole year. Over $13 million, every last dollar earned with love for the kids who surround us. I heard someone say it best in a documentary about THON called Why We Dance.

Seeing that number through tears, he sobbed, "... it's magic."

..... It's nothing short of magic.

12. The exhaustion and knowing that we gave our all

I'm the one that looks like a sleeping Snorlax, in case you couldn't tell. At long last, we could go home. My friends escorted me out and I insisted in my sleepy madness on going for dinner at Pollock Commons. I fell asleep with my face in my food twice, as I recollect. They had to help me into bed when I finally got back to my room and I didn't even have the strength to take my shoes off.

I honestly couldn't tell you how long I slept for, but let's just say I let my professors know in advance I wouldn't make it to class on Monday.

THON was a memory I will cherish forever and I can never express how honored I feel for being given that opportunity.

Here's the thing about THON though: it's not about the dancers. It's not about us. It's about the kids— FTK, or "for the kids," as we always say. Someone told me once that dancing in THON is an amazing experience, but it's also an analogy— it helps explain what it's like for these kids to fight cancer.

When you start, you know you've got a massive journey in front of you. You don't always know how you're going to make it through, and sometimes you feel like you might never make it.

The pain and exhaustion you constantly feel are nothing compared to what someone with cancer suffers through, but it helps you understand the weight of it all.

Sometimes it just makes you want to give up. But you have people to help you along the way— your friends and family coming to visit you on the floor represent the visits of loved ones to the hospital. Sometimes you get treatment to help the pain go away— massages and stretches help represent chemo and other forms of therapy.

In the Final Four, you hear about the kids who we've lost over the years. A pediatric cancer patient often makes friends with other kids in the hospital, and sometimes they will lose a friend they've come to love. They were two little warriors who fought together. When you watch those names and faces and sing that heartbreaking song "Angels Among Us," you feel a part of their pain. But at the end, you break through into pure, inexplicable joy. You make it out of what you thought was insurmountable. You beat what looked like the impossible.

You made it. That's what it is for these kids.

I don't often talk about my experience dancing in THON or show off my tattoo. It's not something I want to claim credit for or brag about in some way. I'll usually only tell the story of it if someone asks or if I feel the time is right. That experience was, to me, more of a humble service than only a great chance to do something wonderful. I was allowed to serve as a beacon of hope and light for kids who needed it.

I stood for 46 hours for kids and families I don't know and might never know.

Why? Because that's what human beings are truly about.

We're about love and taking care of each other, no matter how dark the world may be sometimes. I also did it because I know that if some awful day I somehow am told my child has cancer, I will know without a doubt that there will be people I don't even know who will stand and fight with me, my child, and my family. In the end, I stood for everyone around me.

In the end, in those 46 beautiful hours in the Bryce Jordan Center, we're all fighting.