Paul Magers called me last night and reminded me that a year ago, we were on top of a convent across from St. Peter’s Square waiting for the new Pope to make his appearance.

We were both going on very little sleep from the night before (and likewise the night before that), about 18 hours into what would become a 30+ hour work day.

Sure, it might have been easier if we’d gotten a full night of sleep on any of the previous nights, but that’s not how it works when traveling for news.

So, even though I was fighting to stay conscious (and not completely successfully) as we did continuous liveshots, Paul and I somehow managed to make it through the station’s live coverage.

My legs felt like jelly. My head was spinning. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to passing out from exhaustion.

In the end, none of that mattered, because this story was a part of history. I’m thankful for having had the opportunity to see it for myself and I would not have missed it for the world.

Hey, Paul?