(With apologies up front to the poet Robert Frost)
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promised to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Here's a reminder, in case you've forgotten the classic scene:
So Sunday, it was time for Andrew and I to try our hands at recreating that scene during Andrew's 13 mile Boston Marathon training run.
The results were more along the lines of this:
Yeah, even Gandalf's staff or Gimli's battleaxe couldn't help us Sunday as we forged new paths in Paxton.
So the story behind the story - there's a terrific run through Paxton that Andrew and I have done in the past. Scenic, quiet roads with gorgeous vistas and tree cover that really helps you appreciate nature and the views add an extra step to your run.
But as Andrew and I learned on Sunday, it turns out Paxton doesn't always plow those roadways.
The result, nearly a mile of trudging through three foot drifts of snow to get to the other side. The other side being Moore State Park.
A couple of decades of running, and I have to confess, this turned out to be one of the most strenuous runs I've ever logged.
Just before we took our first steps onto the roadway, one of the crankiest old farmers we've met in some time basically told us we were jackasses for doing what we about to attempt. He was like something you'd see in a Stephen King novel.
Turns out he was a fairly intelligent cranky old farmer.
Not even ten feet into the trek, Andrew gave me the thumbs up. Or maybe it's the middle finger.
Really, he's asking himself, Dad, what the hell are we thinking?
And just like that, he was off. He didn't really get that much of a lead on me. I just lagged behind to catch this dramatic shot.
See? Eventually, I caught up to AND PASSED him.
Cleverly, we both wore bright clothing in case rescue choppers needed to spot us from above later.
Andrew got so excited when we finally spotted the other end of this maniacal mile, he just took off like the Flash.
Leaving the Jedi Master to follow in his apprentice's ample footsteps.
Out in the free world, Andrew is dwarfed by the snowbanks, but he was just thrilled to be back on solid ground.
At run's end, Andrew's backside was a casualty of the messy roads.
Seriously, this one was one for the history books. Sure could have used Scott Graham's trusty snowshoes. Course, we didn't KNOW we were heading up Mount Caradhras when we set out.
But I suppose, in hindsight, Robert Frost may have been on to something in another of his poemts when he wrote:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I (and my son)
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.