I made it through 22 miles today. It was not horrid. It was not fantastic. But I'm done with my longest run before the marathon in three weeks. It is mostly a mental game. The first 13 miles were fine, then the last 9, I had to do a lot of self pep-talk. I felt ok afterward. Stretched. Ate a banana, some yogurt, broccoli. Hopped in the tub. Then felt like passing out and nauseated. Good times. Why am I doing this again?
One of the things I love about running is the time to think. To let my mind wander without course or worry. I think it's the mental health aspect of running that's one of the best benefits.
Today I kept thinking, "I can't believe Grandma's dead." Over and over. Earlier I'd received one of the nicest cards from Karen and Rick to share with my mom and sister. I think being away when someone dies allows you to pretend it didn't happen. This week (of course) I've had the urge to call Grandma. It's so hard to believe that I can't ever talk to her again. There's a DVD of the prayer service and funeral. I've been wondering whether or not I should watch it. But today I decided that it might help with closure and reality.
I've been remembering Grandma a lot this last week. Her generosity, her laugh, how she always asked, "How's your love life?" when I called but didn't really care that I wasn't married and had no kids. She was so accepting. How she had told me lots of little truths through the years on our phone calls. And sometimes we'd be laughing like idiots the entire call. I wonder how many people are lucky enough to have a Grandma like that?
She was the most generous person I know. And creative. When I graduated from optometry school, she found an old pair of her super-thick hyperopic glasses and doctored up the case and then taped two Ben Franklins to the inside of the lenses. It was the neatest gift I've ever received. I didn't even want to take the Ben Franklins out. So sweet.
When Molly called to tell us she died, I thought, "Now it's just us." Meaning my mom and sisters and me. Grandma always seemed like she was in our family of girls. She just fit with us.
It's hard to believe she is gone. No more hugs. No more sneaking in her back door to surprise her on our way through town. No more talks about life.
I guess I'll take Grandma's advice and be happy that I had her in my life for 33 years. And that we were so close to her. She was a treasure to have around and someone who I'll look up to for the rest of my life.
To Grandma Hazel, who danced on tables and laughed right up to the end, I love you.