It was February 8, 2015, I got an email that read, "Congratulations! Welcome to the Public Relations committee!" I had no idea what I had gotten myself into when I received my glowing acceptance, but let me rewind a little bit.

I first learned about the Indiana University Dance Marathon when I was a freshman and was asked to join the Hillel team with a bunch of other Jewish girls who wanted to get involved on campus. I did 18 hours my first year, and hated the experience, because I didn't have any kind of support system. Fast forward a year and a half later, and I met a friend who told me that IUDM was a much better experience when you're on a committee. At the time, I wanted to get more involved on campus, because not being in a sorority meant I wasn't given the social scene that a lot of my other friends were given. I decided to apply for the Public Relations committee, because it made the most sense, being that PR is my major. I went into the interview one evening at The Union and I was asked by four people why I wanted to be on a committee, and why I specifically wanted to be on the Public Relations committee. I told them that I wanted to show kids how special they are, and that they are more than their sickness or disease; that they matter. This is where my IUDM story truly begins.

I walked into my first committee meeting at Phi Psi knowing absolutely nothing about what to expect from the experience. At that time, there were 289 days until the dance marathon weekend, which seems like a hell of a lot of time to get everything together, but you'd be extremely surprised. Months and months passed, and I wasn't yet feeling the magic that everyone else described from being involved with IUDM. Finals eventually rolled around, and my committee hit a staggering number of donation. We were at $25,000.

Then came summer. Being from the south, I didn't know how I was supposed to raise money over the next three months, because Atlanta has their own Children's Miracle Network hospital, and I knew everyone was going to donate there versus to a hospital they had never heard of before. Over the summer, I attended Bonnaroo, a music festival in Manchester, Tennessee. Now, you might be thinking to yourself what the hell does a music festival have to do with IUDM? Well, let me tell you. At Bonnaroo, I was amazed that a group of around 85,000 people gathered together for one purpose and one purpose only. It was a bit of magic that I didn't think I would experience anywhere else.

August rolled around, and it was back to Bloomington, which also meant back to weekly meetings at Phi Psi. At our first meeting of the semester, there were just two months left until the big weekend. The planning continued and continued, and the excitement was building up for October 30.

Finally, the weekend of the marathon came, and to be honest, I was scared shitless about having to stand for 36 hours. I arrived at the tennis center on Friday at 8:00 and immediately sat down because I knew I wouldn't be sitting for a while after that. Once 8:50 came, everyone was on their feet and ready to go. The tunnel was formed by 1,300 committee members, and Morale, along with the 2,700 dancers, ran through it with the most hype I have ever seen.

The first 24 hours went by, and the music and dancing continued. By hour 32, I was going delirious and thought my legs were going to fall off. (thank God they didn't, for those who were concerned!) By 6 a.m. on Sunday morning, I had never been more excited to see the total money raised in my life. I, along with my 74 person committee, had been working for this moment since February, and it was finally here. We all gathered for the final closing ceremonies, listened to the Executive President give his final speech, and clumped together to see the Accounting committee reveal the final number.

$3.88 million. An unbelievable number. It was the biggest jump in Children’s Miracle Network history. It wasn’t until that exact moment that I felt the IUDM magic; the magic that I had been trying to find for the past year. I turned to my right and saw my friend, who had told me to join this committee in the first place, and gave her a huge hug. I looked to my left and saw my best friend, who had been by my side for every step of this journey. I felt like I had returned to Bonnaroo. I felt the inspiration that I had felt when I was on that farm in the middle of Tennessee with 85,000 other people. Everyone that was standing in the tennis center that weekend was there for one purpose and one purpose only: the kids.

FTK may just be three letters to some, but to the people in that tennis center, they mean so much more. They mean raising money so that children can get chemotherapy treatments. They mean standing for 36 hours for those who cannot stand themselves. FTK means being a part of something bigger than yourself. FTK makes all the blood, sweat, and tears put into this one weekend; absolutely worth it.