We had planned this for a month, our team of Federal retirees; fundraising, online, offline any way we could. I had many pink wardrobe accents: gloves, vest, crocs, socks, and bracelet.

"Are you serious, you all ask?" Not really, but New York is chock full of possibilities.
As the week prior to the walk began, some dire forecasts also began. Not one, but two nor'easters were predicted. The second arriving right around the time of the Sunday morning walk. I found it challenging to think of persevering through a storm, but Paul harbored thoughts of us being sucked from the boardwalk in tornadic winds and tsunami like waves. Any mention of coastal flooding introduced high levels of anxiety into our home. As I continued to accrue donations, Paul monitored the weather activities on the TV, radio, newspapers, and the Internet. Whenever I logged on to our PC, the weather channel popped up. Bookmarked and shortcutted on our desktop.
We awake early Sunday to wind and rain. Liam looks from one parent
We set out. I announce that the weather is not so bad. A dangerous comment, as Paul is not eager for this adventure. I keep my rising feeling of exhilaration to myself. Walking in a near nor'easter with like minded folks in a united cause is exciting to me. As we near Jones Beach, the traffic slows. Thousands are crossing the parkway, stopping traffic, arms linked, chanting slogans and names of loved ones. The storm seems to rev up its velocity, picking up energy from the crowd, the throbbing sky and the peaking waves . My eyes fill with tears. I love this! We wait to turn into Parking Field Five. I connect with our NEPSC team via cell, meet at the rendezvous place. Our Captain asks "Ready?" Silent assent. We set out on our walk.
The conditions are fierce. Wind, sideways rain, floods on the boardwalk, the sea and sky the same color grey.
People are wrapped in pink blankets sodden and heavy with water
storm from Newsday

The total walk is five miles and at the halfway mark a wall serves as the turnaround point. On this wall, walkers have placed photos of loved ones, signs, slogans, names of those lost and those surviving, hats, pins-water cascades over and through all these mementos- the wall evocative of those that sprung up after 9/11. We touch the wall, tap it reverently, pause to reflect, then twirl around to begin the second half. We are slapped with a lacerating wind, pebbled with hard rain. I need goggles. My face is under water. I had applied mascara, eye shadow-even darkened my eyebrows for my hoped for Newsday interview. What was I thinking? All my makeup is gone.
I put on my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the elements, causing many smiles as I walk.
The crowd surges forward as if it were a sunny dry day. I know I am soaked through my jacket, my arms feel heavy, as if weights are attached.
Our team joins in the collective crowd cheer echoing through the underpass as we emerge from under the parkway and head to the finish.
We did it.
I find my way back to the car. My crocs are making squishing noises, with each step water gushes out of each one, the weight of my waterlogged clothes make it feel as if I have a backpack and two suitcases to carry. If I squeezed my jacket, I probably could have filled a bucket with water.
I find the "H' section and our car-my hands frozen into locked position
I was in a surreal, almost spiritual mental state and not ready to return to the world of expected required explanations.
I feel euphoric from the palpable passion and shared mission of the day.
I walked for a Survivor

No chores this day, I read the NY Times and drink some red wine, relive the Yankees win the night before
Woof, woof
Hi Carol, I enjoyed reading it as a blog. The pictures add a lot. Toby
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