I have no idea how I managed to accomplish this, but getting out the door at 5 and not having to be anywhere until 8:30 is part of it. When I started my run it was dark, but my outfit (long pants and two long sleeve t-shirts) was too warm. I took off one shirt about 2 miles in. I did a 9 mile loop to start, and the sun gradually came up. My garmin was dead, so I just estimated and gmapped it later, and it was .03 less than 9. I came home, changed into shorts, swapped shirts, got my partially charged garmin and went out again. On the next loop the fog rolled in, the air was moist and the wind picked up slightly. When my watched chimed mile 13 and I looked down to see that it was 8:22 (I like Carolyn's arbitrary designation of anything faster than 8:30 being considered fast), I just pushed the pace, and ended my run with a 7:57, 8:07, 7:41, and then 8:15 for the last 1/4 mile.
Last week, thinking about Jane was emotionally draining. This morning it gave me strength to think of her and pray. I suppose it being Easter time also is uplifting. The funeral was, like all funerals, draining. I couldn't look at Jennie or Becky (two of Jane's kids) without losing it. I did lose it at 4 moments: the beginning of the Mass, we sang "Be Not Afraid" and "Here I am Lord" back to back and those songs remind me of my husband's parents; when they draped the coffin; at the beautifully written intentions read by Chuck's cousin Mike; and when we sang "How Great Thou Art," another song that reminds me of Chuck's parents, and I looked behind me to see Jane's oldest sister with tears streaming down her face. But I sat behind Jane's 5 beautiful grandkids and watched her youngest (2 year old Sophie) and I know Jane's love for life will live on in the family. Jane's burial plot is right next to Chuck's parents. They were neighbors in life--and they are neighbors once more.
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