Just like the historic dog sled run of 674 miles saving Nome, Alaska 100 years ago, by transporting an antitoxin for diphtheria across harsh terrain in 127.5 hrs, with temps going as low as -85 F, 6 gloom warriors bro coded under cold, pelting rains, pounding the mean streets of Westhoe beneath our powerful feet. With no dogs of fame such as Balto or Togo to carry us along, we had only a thoroughly soaked Wally, our wits, and a relentless pushing forward. We left no man behind, except for Pigskin, as he acted as great men do, plotting his own course.
Tales were told of home repair mishaps. Mysteries of flight 5342 were laid bare, revealing its truths. And dreams were swirling of uncharted csaups, as we recounted the many times we had already conquered the frozen triangle.
Today, for these men, there would be no fart sacking. Strength of character and mental fortitude would not allow it. Nay, today there would be only glory and wetness.
Prayers were offered to the Great Sky Q, that like today, we may brave all conditions, be they physical or otherwise, to be a light unto others, achieving our objectives, be they great or seemingly trivial, one small step at a time.
