Horse racing has a pulse, and that pulse beats strongest at Saratoga. We felt it Saturday in the roar of the crowd for Rachel Alexandra. We felt it the weekend before in the Travers, when Summer Bird flew. Major events serve as a reminder, but in reality, we feel it all the time. When a first-time starter rolls to an impressive victory. When a hard-knocking gelding guts out yet another score. When trainers who are 0-for-whatever finally visit the winner's circle. It's like our game is black and white the rest of the year, a Technicolor movie for these sweet six weeks. We're swept along through the swirl of silks and immersion into the vibrant world of racing. In this town, the sport is everything we want it to be. Someone once told me during a visit to Saratoga that she was amazed by the way the importance of outside news -- politics, the stock market, world peace -- took a back seat to the here and now of racing. A return to the hometown from this oasis means a plunge back to reality, to the next step of the cycle. We face it today as the meet winds down to an end, through the traditional last efforts -- chasing quotes from leading owners, counting down to the training title, watching the riders wrap up their race for the top of the standings. For the last time, these facts and figures are all that matter. And that makes Saratoga what it is. The ups and downs. Slight variables from year to year. Marking of the changing seasons. All tied together in what we know will always remain the same. The ringing of the bell 17 minutes before post. The trek of jockeys from the winner's circle through the crowd. The backside walk to the Oklahoma oval at five o' clock in the morning. The camaraderie shared between trainers, owners, jockeys, exercise riders ... even members of our own press squad. Some things never change. Five minutes to post before the last race on the last day, we breathe a collective sigh of relief. Feel a little bit of remorse. Say our final goodbyes. We're packing up and shipping out. It feels right, and we know it's time. Until next year, Saratoga, thanks for the memories. And good-bye.