Aw, Groton!

Another weekend during Boston Marathon training season, means another long run, and this time we headed to the wilds of Groton to log the miles, 16 of them for the longer distance runners among us.

So, without further ado, as we head down some of the most scenic roadways we've logged this winter, cue Robert Frost:

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Now that we've got the literary corner of the blog out of the way, let's get to the running pics!

After connecting with all of the major state highways that bypass Groton, Scott took us to, appropriately enough, Camp Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, a never-before-seen-by-EStreeter-eye wildlife sanctuary for the central checkpoint of the run.

 

Simply gorgeous terrain.  Too bad we had to despoil it with our salty dialogue, but if there's no one around to hear it, does it count?

Andrew takes the lead.  Although come to think of it, someone had to be in front of them to take the picture.

Getting ready for his first Boston Marathon, Andrew is a man alone with his thoughts.  Thoughts like why the hell didn't I sleep in today?

We managed to find one of the few roads actually plowed in Groton

Frozen tundra be damned, I look like the Jolly Green Giant out there.

The man without a hat, sporting his Survivor buff

Scott was the only one who knew the course, and tried repeatedly to shake us, to no avail.  We're a tenacious bunch.

Which brings us to the obligatory town line race.  Here, Andrew shows truly bad form, boasting about his win over a clearly defeated and fatigued older E Streeter.

But there were more town line battles to be won this day!  The film doesn't lie - which one claimed victory in this battle of the juggernauts?

Coming into the home stretch for John, who logged his longest run in years (north of 8 solid miles), Andrew gets some words of inspiration for his marathon training from our own version of Tony Roberts.

Breaking off to log a solid 16, Tommy and Scott are specks in the winter landscape.

Andrew, of course, takes a moment to pose for a blog picture on the same stretch.  Bright boy, that lad

Afterwords, though, comes the most important part of the run - soup!

This time, Scott experimented with an andouille sausage and bean concoction that would melt any ice still collecting on the Groton streets.

The founder of the feast himself

Afterwards, we couldn't figure out what made us sweat more, the 16 mile run or Scott's soup

Now that I think of it, it should be Miles to Go Before We Soup

 

 

And for an extra bonus, a (fool)hardy crew of us ventured out into blinding winds and bone-chilling wind chills on Sunday morning to log another 6.6 miles on the roadways of Chelmsford.

Fools.

Proper facewear is always a bonus on days like this

Some, however, go commando

As Scott and Carlos try to kick off the six inches of snow accumulating on their sneakers, Tommy just stands idly by, wondering what the hell he's doing out there at all.

Sadly, there was no soup waiting for us at the end of this run.  Just runny noses and frozen faces.  For those of us without the facemasks, that is.

Coffee time!