missing things sucks.
and I don't mean the kind of missing like "Oh I missed the Sons of Anarchy last night - don't talk about it!" I mean the kind of missing that is more of a "man, I miss pigging out on Saturday nights after an 80 mile super hilly bicycle ride and then falling sound asleep by 9pm".
I mean, I DO miss that and all my crazy cyclist friends that I would see at 8am when I am super grumpy and hungry but... I know what's really important... (grandmas, nieces, players' autographs etc.)
I ran in to a cyclist friend of mine outside Whole Foods the other day - his girlfriend is also a wonderful beautiful cyclist pal of mine - and after hugging him I immediately delved in to the Bay Area hills and what I am tackling next and what I just did and what race is he doing next and how is Jean doing after getting her wisdom teeth pulled and I am constipated and Mark is crazy and how long will it take me to go up Mt. Hamilton?
by the time we were done happily blabbering at each other, my husband looked like me after he talks football statistics to the side of my wine-sipping face for 8 hours straight: uninterested and admiring homeless people.
next weekend I am sleep-driving to the bottom of Mt. Hamilton in San Jose while sipping the greatest Bean & Body (coffee and energy) drink from a can, and slowly rotating thighs and tires up 18 miles to Lick Observatory. it will be the longest constant incline I attempt - with just 2 one mile downhill sections - but not the steepest. so hopefully I'll show it who's the boss (is it Tony? or Angela? I still don't know).
wish me luck.
in other news...
...cholesterol is one thing I am not thankful for any longer.
...downgrading to an apartment after a house - no matter what age - stinks.
...I am sorry you have read this far. here, enjoy this old photo of thin strangers at the top of Mt. Hamilton.