Ehsan Homaee
Hometown: Shahreza, Iran
Major: Biophysics
Biography
Hi! I’m Ehsan—final-year PhD student in Biophysics. I study how tiny viruses make “decisions” inside single bacterial cells (the smallest boardroom you’ve ever seen). When I’m not coding or in the lab, I’m on a bike (unless it’s Midwest winter), hiking, camping, blasting music, or losing graciously at board games with friends. My bike obsession started as a kid: the neighborhood crew and I would ride with absolutely no destination—pure freedom on two wheels. It later became my favorite way to commute, and now with Illini 4000, I get to turn that joy into something meaningful: biking across the country to help fight cancer, hear people’s stories, and prove that quads (front-of-thighs, not front-of-Foellinger) + kindness can go a long way.
Personal Statement
I’m riding for my grandma Touran, my friend Amirhossein, and my cousins Elham and Saadat. My grandma, Touran, was my first home outside of home—the one who slipped extra fruit into my pockets. At 56 she was diagnosed with colorectal cancer and given six months; she gave us twelve more years. In a small town, when most women her age stayed at home or feared starting a business, she ran one. She spoke her mind, laughed loudly, and refused to shrink to fit anyone’s frame or fear anyone’s judgment. She also lived wide: saying yes to small adventures, celebrating ordinary days, and grasping every joy she could find—even during treatment. When the road gets steep, I hear her: keep going; take the joy that’s yours. I met Amirhossein on the first day of middle school. We shared a desk and became friends for life. For years we had a Tuesday ritual: a movie, and fast food afterward. In 2020, from an ocean away, he told me he had tongue cancer. A few months later, he was gone at 25. On long rides, I still set a quiet place for him in my mind. I carry our Tuesdays. Elham was an artist and a teacher who made rooms brighter just by walking in. Diagnosed with late-stage metastatic breast cancer at 26, she endured five years of pain with stubborn grace and a smile that made you believe in better days. She passed at 31. Her students—and our family—still speak in the colors she taught us to see. Saadat was an electrical engineer, diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer at 40. He fought for two years while being a loving father to two little ones. I think about his kids when I’m tired; the pedals feel lighter when I remember who we’re riding for. This ride is for them—and for everyone whose life has been touched by cancer. It’s for every family learning words no one wants to learn, for every good day wrestled back from a hard week, for every extra year a treatment can give. Mile by mile, I want to turn grief into motion and love into fuel, and help into something you can measure—in research funded, in services provided, and in time returned to the people we love.