The warm August day was just beginning to cool as a small but talented field gathered at the starting line. The first mile of the out and back course was gradually up hill, but my excitement pulled me through that mile in 5:19. Two runners were keeping me company, and we continued to breeze through the second mile, passing that mark in 10:34.

I realized that I was the one pressing the pace, and backed off as the course began a three-mile climb towards the turn-a-round point. I was well ahead of my target and more than willing to bide my time until we started heading back home.

The other two runners seemed at my mercy; I relaxed, letting them linger on my shoulder. They hung there until we reached the turn-a-round point in 27:53, two seconds faster than my goal pace.

It felt good to have the hardest part of the course behind me, and I accelerated on the downhill. Within a hundred meters, I was by myself. The runners still heading out watched me run by as mile six passed easily.

During the seventh and eighth mile, the road got quiet, and I relished the feeling of control. The final water station was at the eight mile point, and I grabbed a cup and looked at my watch, passing the mark in 44:08. Even if I slowed considerably, I would reach my goal.

I could feel the fatigue growing during the ninth and tenth miles, but my momentum carried me as I made the final climb. I pushed through the downhill of the last mile and crossed the finish line in 55:05, glad it was over, but wishing the adrenalin high would last a little longer. The numbers in the palm of my hand were smeared in sweat, and I smiled as I wiped them away.

I’m almost embarrassed to say this, but I didn’t understand how fortunate I was back then. I was blessed to be able to run away from competition and feel the unusual thrill of winning races. The bliss was almost blinding, and I would continue to run and race without any real plan or direction. Looking back now, I know I fell far short of my potential.

Most of us either fail to understand or fail to accept an important truism of life – the promise of today is temporary. Before you know it, something you are lucky to have will be gone.

Fortunately wisdom is mostly gained by making mistakes, and now I fully embrace the blessings in my life, most of which are far more important than running fast.

How about you? Do you see the possibilities in front of you? Are you embracing what you love? Whatever you’re answer, one thing is certain. Most things fade away in time, like ink pen from a sweaty palm.

Dave Griffin is the Times’ running writer. His column appears every other Sunday. Reach him at dpgflyingfeet@aol.com or join the Facebook group, Dave Griffin On Running.