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Day 59 - The Final Familiar Frontier

Donny and I had about 80 miles to travel to our front door on my 59th (and his third – go Donny!) and final day of the journey. My level of excitement and anticipation of having my house and pillows and the cat and laptop and friends and spinach anytime I wanted and Trader Joe’s and running instead of cycling and maybe wearing a different t-shirt and clean socks and not having to smear Asso chamois sludge in the nether regions and imprison my dick and balls in a locked and padded room for many hours daily had exponentially increased in the last 24 hours. I was overly ready to see the familiar coast I’d ridden so many times over the years from north of Malibu to Santa Monica and then on my usual commuter route from the beach (a few blocks from where I work at Common Ground) to La Jolla Avenue. I imagined myself pedaling up the bike lane on Santa Monica Boulevard with a big yellow “DC to LA” banner, yee-hawing to drivers at stoplights and the few pedestrians on the LA streets, beating my

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