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!

Snowfall

So, as stated in a previous post, the weekend's wild weather wasn't without a local casualty.  Sadly, me beautiful bride chose the early morning hours on Saturday to defy the laws of gravity and remind me of how she fell for me, lo those many years ago.

Indeed.

 

Normally, Jack LOVES playing out in the snow.  Loves it.  And this blizzard would prove to be no exception.  Except.....she forgot some of the basic tenets of ice and stairs, and overestimated her own agility.

 

Here she, is about 30 seconds before the dreadful fall, playing with Brady, who had his fill of the cold, snow, and outdoors, and was all too happy to head back inside to the warmth of his blankets and multiple sleeping quarters.

Unfortunately, as Jack walked Brady back into the house, she backed up, missed the top step, and went ass over teakettle down onto the walkway.  I was too concerned for her safety, so I didn't catch it on film, but this should give you an idea of what the end result looked like.

The outcome put a damper on the wintry weekend.  Thankfully she didn't suffer any major injuries in the fall, but her ankle twisted in an ugly direction.  The result?  A weekend on the couch, her foot elevated on pillows.

This morning, we got her to the foot specialist, Dr. John Clarity, the miracle worker who at some point, has seen virtually every foot of the extended Cook family.

Here's the patient, ALWAYS in a good mood

Here, the doctor happily delivers the news that the X-rays didn't show any broken bones.  Ligament damage and swelling and bruising, but she should be ready in time for the Patriots opening kickoff in August.

She'll be spending the next few days house-bound, with Brady and Minnie keeping her company, not to mention her in-house physicians, Heather and Dad.

Here's the wounded warrior, or as Jack calls it, her Cankle.

Sounds like a week worth of watching Downton Abbey and ESPN Sportscenter is on tap for my sweetie.

Wish her well!  Here's hoping for a speedy recovery for my best friend!

 

Storm Troopers

So, nice quiet weekend.

 

The internet's been flooded with everyone's images from the big storm, which I refuse to call by the made-up-name christened by the Weather Channel.  I've done my part on social media to keep the dialogue moving, so to wrap up a wild and wintry weekend, it's time for a Wicked Good update.

 

I love the winter.  I love snow.  I never complain about us getting whalloped by huge amounts of snow.  The more the better.  Unfortunately, not everyone in my family feels the same way.

After much cajoling, I was able to get Brady to venture outside, sporting, of course, his best Holy Cross swag.

Really, if he could talk, he'd make it abundantly clear, he's not a fan of the deep snow.  So hurry up and clear the walkways, dad.

Here's the view up a snow-covered Dinsmore Street

Let's take a walk around the neighborhood and see what our friendly neighbors are up to, shall we?

Elias rocking the snowblower, always in a good mood

His bride, Victoria, staffing the shovel before she laces up the sneaks (more later)

Kevin's two kids were out back making a snow fort, leaving dad to clear the way

Finally, the roadways clear, it was time for - what else- a nice run around the neighborhood!  Here's Victoria, finishing up her blizzard jaunt

A short while later, it was time for Tommy and I to elicit the comments of "freaking idiots" from our Belvidere neighbors.  No beeping horns, though, because the driving ban was still on.

How quiet was it?  Check out Tommy running straight down Route 133, Andover Street.  Not a car in sight.  Take that, John and Scott!

The roadways were clear, so time to take advantage of running where no man is allowed to run

And finally, the obligatory Middlesex Community College shoutout, complete with the winter gear to brand it!

Sadly, though, not everyone made it out of the weekend unscathed.  While taking Brady in and out of the house, Jackie took a backwards dixie off the front steps, and likely tore some tendons in her foot, leaving her laid up for all of the storm.  Not going to share her rehab picks.  That's a post for another day, but here's praying for a speedy recovery for my favorite snow bunny.

A Chili Run

With no reason to watch this year's Super Bowl, it was the perfect excuse for an E Streeters group run, incorporating part of the infamous "commute," a winding, hilly course that spans Westford and Groton.

As an added bonus, it even gave us a chance for some quality, if not icy, trail running on the hills of MIT, where we encountered a man out walking his dog and happy to document our group run.

Barry, legendary for exposing illegal gambling dens across the Merrimack Valley, shows John what a Super Bowl pool MIGHT look like if one was looking.  Which one wasn't.  From here, Barry was off to the Abbey Road Tavern.

Right out of the gate, we broke into Secret Service formation, protecting John should we run into the errant Pomeranian

Yesterday's hills in Bolton didn't discourage Tommy for lacing them up for another outing today.

Marathon Men, Marathon Swag

Why is this man smiling?  Could it be because he's heading to the 1974 Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders reunion this week?  Could be...

Gorgeous trails provide a picturesque background for us.  Up to this point, Tommy was enjoying himself.  That would change.

Suddenly, it hit!  Ice on the trail!  And not just small patches of it, but long stretches that would test the agility of even the most agile of runners. (See next pic)

Alas, the ice would claim its first victim, as Barry performed his best Bambi impersonation, finally succumbing to gravity despite three valiant attemps to stay upright.  Thankfully, as always, Carlos was there for him.

At this point, Tommy stopped enjoying the trails and gave them a thumbs down.  He didn't know what waited around the next few bends.

Like the mythical trolls of old, a swarm of yellowjackets waits beneath a bridge

A makeshift footbridge spans our first brook crossing

The next crossing would prove trickier, with a sloped, ice-covered metal bridge testing our balance.  Thankfully, we all made it across, casualty free.  We kept looking for the barbed wire crawl or rope climb ahead of us.

Thinking it could help with his hunting, John contemplates the value of deer-antler spray

Finally, at victory's end on Martins Pond Road, awaited the legendary Spence chili, previously available only to the Top 10 finishers of April's Merrimack River Trail race.

Sean and John, clearly torqued because Barry's on his third bowl and they haven't had their first

Indeed, since it was a chili day, there was no soup to be found.  Nor would there likely be a Super Bowl we'd be watching either.

Wait 'till next year!

Ground Hogs Daze

February 2, and the E Streeters felt like it was deja vu all over again - a long, cold, hilly run, in the environs alongside Interstate 495 in training for the Boston Marathon.  This week's start point: Bolton.

First, though, we had to wake Barry up at our rendezvous point

Once we were off and running, it was a quick stop for some whining at the Nashoba Valley Winery, just as the first of the day's many hills began.

After the quick victory pose by the Marathon Men, it was time to trudge upwards

Tommy has felt the wrath of grapes before, but not this day!

No, today, Tommy's nemesis was to be the armada of mailboxes that lined the course.  Not once, but twice his ipod was attacked by the errant mailboxes.  Police are still looking for the man seen crashing into multiple mailboxes along Routes 117 and 110.

Who claimed the first town line of the day, of which their were many?  This photo  should clear up that mystery.

Time for a quick drink stop at mile six, and Andrew found words of wisdom on the convenience store door.  Steak, indeed.

Barry too, found his inspiration at the store.  Truth in advertising?  His tank wasn't full, and neither was his wallet.

Tommy called out one of the missing E Streeters along the course.  This one was a one-way street.

Undisputed victor of a town line race along a ridiculous stretch of hills.  Let the boy bask in his victory, it was well earned.

At mile 12, Barry stopped for the sights on Bareass Road.  Or somesuch name.

Another one in the books, and a mighty one at that!  A fabulous course with only one mistake that extended it by a mile to a 15-mile loop.  Lots of laughs along the way, including how to Talk Like an Egyptian, the smell of donuts, and some well-placed water stops.

Always an adventure!