Long run at Teller Farm.

On the crest of the hill and four miles to the north, the water tank.

After a scheduled week of lighter running--last week 5 miles--this week it was back to building. Speedwork included two 1-mile runs at pace, followed by a 1/4-mile at pace. Long run was 13.1 miles again.

Teller Farm in east Boulder County is ideal for a run like this--enough terrain to give some challenge, followed by a long stretch of downhill and flat to allow for good distance.

The last time I ran this stretch was shortly after donating blood, and I was short of breath much of the time. One of these days I'll get around to posting the journal entry I made. Today was quite a contrast, much to my relief. No doubt my continuing training contributed to my improvement, but I also felt like I'd returned to my pre-donation level of cardio capacity.

Just below the water tank, shown in the opening image here in the distance, is a 10% uphill grade of about 1500 ft--a good pull. Today I was able to maintain my running pace the entire distance, no power walking. (I also prepared myself a bit better for it, anticipating it with a couple of hundred yards of very slow pace to allow my HR to quiet itself down before tackling the grade. It helped.)

I felt a good surge of energy and fun cresting the hill and seeing the water tank and the valley beyond. Very satisfying. Also relieved to know that I'd reached the high point of my day's run, and from here I could just relax into stride.

The last time I ran this trail it was in full spring thaw with rain, pretty muddy and slippery. Today was dry, though with temps in the 50s still some challenge to get the dressing exactly right. I ran without tights but with my coat; at mile 4 I shed the sleaves on the coat, finishing with vest and short-sleeve shirt. With a bite in the wind I felt the cold, magnified by the paradoxical level of sweat the run was generating.

Thinking today about patience. Running seems to require at least two different levels of it.

At a larger scale, getting to 13, 14, 15 miles at a time requires a long-term view, building slowly by the 10% rule over many weeks/months of time. If I go on to marathon distance--a thought that occasionally crosses my mind--or even into ultramarathon distances--at my age that's increasingly unlikely--I'll have to continue the patience. The price for impatience is simple: injury.

I know about that.

Then you start several steps back and have to begin the rebuilding process, especially if it's something like tendonitis, for which the only remedy is rest. Long rest, while the blood slowly, slowly filters back into tendon and nourishes the healing.

And a second level of patience. It's a busy life, with other activities, other commitments, other interests competing with running for my limited time. Some days it's family that calls; other days its friends. These days it's the non-profit I'm so heavily engaged in developing, and the complex and rewarding networking that forms its infrastructure.

To take three to four hours on a Saturday afternoon--a prime time, when I'm free of my duties with my City office--is almost painful. Training goals are such with the running, with the quiet encouragement and support of Coach, that I know I need to keep building the distance capacity. Today, 13 miles. That's going to take a minimum of 2.5 hours on the trail, longer if I enjoy it with some image-making, breaks for rehydrating and refueling, exploring.

Patience. Just put one foot in front of the other today and allow the time to pass.

Let go of everything else. I can't rush the run. It's going to happen at its pace. So I release into it and savor the minute.

It's actually quite sweet.

The last time I saw this it was framed by bright white snow.