In Loving Memory of Elizabeth "Liz" Wallace   1980 - 2026

I am riding LOTOJA 2026 in memory of my sister Liz. On May 27, 2026, she lost her battle with cancer. I will carry her with me every one of those 206 miles.

Liz was a fighter in every sense of the word. A devoted single mother of three — Bella, Eve, and Ben — she spent her life raising her children to embrace the world with curiosity, courage, and compassion. She taught them to love deeply, pursue education, seek adventure, and never take life for granted.

Liz started as an English teacher who inspired her students to pursue their dreams, then became Publisher and President of Gibbs Smith Education. She and her teams created textbooks and curriculum materials for K-12 classrooms across the country, including a diversity studies program now used by top-tier school districts nationwide. She worked until a week before she passed.

Her journey was not an easy one. She faced stage four triple negative breast cancer — her third cancer diagnosis. Each diagnosis was unrelated, yet she met every challenge with resilience, strength, and unwavering determination.

Liz had a deep love for life that shone through in everything she did. She was incredibly passionate about the outdoors — especially skiing — and found joy in traveling the world and being in nature. She had a special place in her heart for her two beloved dogs, Juniper and Oak.

Liz inspired everyone around her. Her spirit was unshakable, her love for her family unwavering, and her ability to find meaning and beauty in life truly remarkable. She is not defined by her diagnosis, but by the extraordinary way she lived, loved, and led. This ride is for my sister, Liz — my hero. Always.

A Celebration of Life for Liz will be held Sunday, June 28, 2026 at North Fork Park, Liberty, Utah from 4:00 to 8:00 p.m.

My parents have a combined 11 sisters and only 1 brother. My only blood relative uncle is my Uncle Kevin Ellsworth, my mother's oldest sibling. He has always held a special place in my life and has been battling bladder cancer since July 2024.

Kevin has dedicated his life to serving others through his role as a wonderful family man, scouting and youth leader, and professor/department head at ASU. He has been a guide and mentor to many. Uncle Kevin makes time to sit with anyone to discuss the finer points of rock and roll, politics, enjoy a bowl of cereal, or just sit in silence.

His initial diagnosis of bladder cancer has been worsened by it spreading to his lymph nodes and pancreas and causing kidney failure, liver infections, and the removal of his gall bladder. I will be riding for my Uncle Kevin and hope to be able to smile by the end as he has been smiling through something far more daunting and painful.

I'm riding for my father, Clark Campbell. Showing up for his people is just who Dad is. As the father of seven kids and grandfather of 28, he built a family that adores him, not because he asked for it, but because he earned it. With patience. With consistency. He possesses a quiet strength that makes you feel steady when you are around him.

I'm the oldest, and I inherited his slightly over-the-top enthusiasm for life. As a young man, he was the one in the bleachers, filming with a massive 80s camcorder and shouting encouragement as I ran track. He showed up to everything possible. Always in the background, always cheering.

Last year, after what we thought was a difficult recovery from a heart attack and open-heart surgery, we got the diagnosis: advanced prostate cancer. The news came not long after a trip he organized to Bear Lake. On that gathering, like countless previous gatherings, he pulled all of his family together, because that's just who he is.

Now it's our turn to show up for him.

I ride every mile for my Dad, the guy who spent decades in the stands cheering us on and now navigates something without a clear roadmap. I'm riding because cancer changes the math for too many families, and research is how we start to change it back.

If you'd like to help, we'd be grateful for a donation.

Some people come into your life and quietly make it better just by being who they are. I'm riding LOTOJA this year for two of those people. Both are fighting cancer. Both are fighting it with a grace and a courage I deeply admire. And both deserve every mile I can give them.

Jarom Sweazey

Jarom and I met in sophomore PE class under circumstances I'd rather forget. A much larger kid had decided I was an easy target. Jarom stepped in without a second thought. No hesitation. No calculation. Just the kind of instinct that tells you everything you need to know about a person's character.

That was nearly 30 years ago, and Jarom hasn't changed a bit. He has spent 20 years serving with the Gresham Police Department, protecting people who never knew they needed protecting. He's a devoted husband to Rebecca and a proud, present father to six kids who are his whole world.

Jarom is a Stage 4 Melanoma warrior who has beaten this disease twice. In August 2024, while attending a law enforcement conference in California, he was hospitalized with what appeared to be stroke symptoms. The doctors found a hemorrhagic stroke and several brain tumors, including one large enough to require immediate surgery. He went in fighting, just like he always has. The prognosis is taken one day at a time. But Jarom keeps defying the odds, and those of us who love him keep believing. I am riding for him because he would do it for any one of us without being asked.

Sam Draayer

Sam is my sister-in-law. She is a nurse who has spent her career caring for others. She has never smoked. She is the mother of three young children who light up every room she walks into. And for over a year, she has been fighting lung cancer.

There is no way to make that make sense. Sam did everything right. She is exactly the kind of person you want more of in the world, not less. But cancer doesn't negotiate, and Sam has responded to that reality the only way she knows how: with quiet, steady, relentless fight. Her kids are watching their mom battle something enormous. She shows up for them every single day.

I ride for Sam because she deserves a cure. Her children deserve their mother. And no one who gives this much to others should have to fight this hard alone.