Twas the night before Spartan, and all through the crib; Not a thing was stirring, not even the racer’s bib; Compression socks hung by the door with care, In hopes that the start time soon would be there; Us racers were nestled all snug in our beds While visions of obstacles danced in their heads; And baby in her pj’s, and I in my cap, Had just settled in for a short autumn’s nap, All of a sudden there was a clatter, out on the lawn, Sprang from my bed to see what the hell was going on. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen rain, Gave a luster in the fog of my sleepy brain, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a Spartan Elite and all his race gear, With a spry young racer this year’s champion, I knew in a moment it was Robert Killian. More rapid than eagles his competition they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "
My observations and thoughts while being a passenger on Spaceship Earth