all good and long and dragged out things come to and end

i think i did my last training ride of the season. maybe i'll get my brain back soon so i can write again. so far, in the last 24 hours of knowing i was off the tour of Missouri roster, i've been ecstatic then depressed then ecstatic, several times over. like someone who was just let out of prison; who doesn't know what to do with himself, not sure which relatives to go visit first; wondering who knows or even cares that he made parole. . ? oh, wait. we're not talking prison, we're talking about getting paid money to ride a bicycle. never mind. i should be happy, or, maybe even ecstatic. ? Let me tell you the difference between being IN training, and being OUT of training: it's the difference between staying in the apartment OR going down to the the beir garten behind the building where the neighbors bbQ and smoke cigs and bullsh*# 'til wee hours of the night, which i finally did last night, to say hi and actually have a conversation with the people who have watched, in curiosity and probably concern, as i spent endless hours dinkin around with my bike and consistently rushing out the door in a hurry at 15 minutes to 10am (always 5 minutes late) to meet Levi at the corner of Mark West and Mendacino in the north part of Santa Rosa, approximately 35 minutes away from Sebastopol (30 minutes if I TT it and/or hit all the lites right) Last night, Erica (i finally got her name) said, "wow you must really like to ride your bike!" .. .."wow you must love to smoke cigs" i replied. or, well, i should have replied, but didn't. at least now, though, they know i'm not completely anti social, or socially inept, or too high and mighty about my shaved legs to talk to the book worm neighbors who actually have meaningful conversations about something other than bike racing, which i know they have because i can hear them even now as i sit and write on my B L O G alone, in my underwear, my cell phone sitting there next to me, no messages, no missed calls. an empty cereal box that was recently opened, and cat named Cole sitting on window sill wondering how the heck to get down to the beir garten and a dimming sky and passing, lingering sea fog rolling over the hills and through the tree tops. the evening sound of traffic nearby south main street my bike with sticky bottles that need rinsing, and chain that needs cleaning and SRM that need downloading, and riding clothes that need washing, but finally, nothing i need to be ready for next weekend.