Runnin' London

Early on a crisp, October Sunday morning, when the roundabouts and streets of London were blissfully devoid of heavy traffic, the E Streeters took to the roadways on moderately-fleet feet to take in the local sights on a whirlwind 8-mile run that crisscrossed many of the major tourist stops, as well as a few off the beaten path.

Before we got started though, Andrew needed to channel his inner Who for a windmill riff outside the Hard Rock Cafe, because you know, when in London....

With all the miles we runners log, we frequently experience problems with nagging plantar fasciitis, a foot malady often attributed to issues with our arches.

But I don't believe the Wellington Arch is the arch in question.

Shameless plug alert: Over at the gates of Buckingham Palace, I'm rocking the product placement with a Middlesex Community College Health and Wellness tee.  More product placement to come

There has to be some kind of security alert needed when these three characters gather at the gates of Buckingham Palace.

Apparently, there is.  This is us hastily making our retreat before the Royal Guard is on to us.

A quick stair workout to the Victoria Memorial

Royal pains.

The Royal Family

One of the cooler moments of the run - of which there were many - included running straight down the middle of a closed-to-traffic Mall, alongside St. James's Park

Heading over to Trafalgar Square, Barry and I were given the finger

Andrew meanwhile, was doing his best Lion in Winter, or at least October.

Not the Eye of Sauron, but no less impressive

Andrew and I recreating our best Dalek Invasion of Earth pose on the Westminster Bridge for all our fellow Whovians at home and abroad

Barry loves this view!

Love that Dirty Water!

Shameless product placement Part II

Abbey Run

Through Downing Street and the heart of Parliament, heading back to the hotel through St. James's Park

Stopping long enough to honor the guard

Andrew ran afoul of the local peasants in Hyde Park

The Boy Who Refused to Grow Up - Peter Pan, not Andrew

Post-run, it was back to Baker Street for some quick lunch before leaving town, giving Andrew the opportunity to rock his Litogram Sherlock Holmes tee-shirt in the detective's back yard.

Baker Street - where even the pizza parlors pay homage to the Great Detective

The game is afoot

And finally, for all of those worrying about me being cut off from my favorite java in England, fret no more.  I made sure to patronize the local Dunkin's, quite possibly the ONLY Dunkins in London.  Oddly enough, they sell mugs inside boasting America Runs on Dunkin's.  We proved this morning that England does, too, but I guess there's no market for that mug. Shame.

Though sad to say, their version of iced coffee was a hot coffee with ice cubes in it, cubes that melted within two city blocks.

Off to the trains, heading south to the coast!

London Calling

Readers of this blog will know that we lost a beloved member of our E Streeters conglomeration in recent weeks, Martin Brewer, the Magic Rat who ran down Flamingo chasing the Barefoot Girl.

This past week, Barry Scanlon, my son Andrew, and I took a trip across the pond to meet Martin's UK family and Great Britain's version of the E Streeters.

It was an unforgettable, powerful, and historic trip for us.  Emotional beyond any description we can reduce to words on this blog.

But it was bonding.  We met incredible people, we experienced unforgettable sights, and we shared common memories about a dear friend taken from us way too abruptly and way too early.

In the blogs to come, I'll try to chronicle our road trip, and at the same time, introduce you to a whole new cast of characters who have inextricably become part of our extended family.

So with that, let's start night one by hoisting a pint in a London pub to Mr. Brewer, one of many that would be lifted in the days to come.

When you're far from home, it's always nice to see little glimpses of your stomping grounds, things that make you realize that as big as this world of ours is, it only takes a small reminder to make you realize it's a small world after all.

For Barry, it's Mexican food.

Anyone who knows me will understand the glorious feeling of finding what may be the only Dunkin' Donuts in the United Kingdom.

Victory.

Both of those institutions just happened to be on one of the more famous streets in London, a roadway that Andrew has been longing to get to for quite some time.

In particular, Andrew, he of literary love, especially that of the Great Detective, wanted to stop by 221B Baker Street to see the office digs of one Sherlock Holmes. 

In case you haven't picked up the clews along the way, Andrew was pretty pumped.

Finding the place was elementary, my dear Watson.
Getting Andrew away from it would be another challenge altogether. 

See you on the sunny side of London with a run for the ages!

Smutty Emeralds

Two weekends, two wonderful half marathons - different weather conditions and obviously, completely different courses, but the same cast of questionable characters winding their ways through the 13.1 mile courses to do our best to represent and take advantage of the wonderful fall weather that makes New England the greatest place to be in the fall.

First up was the Smuttynose Rockfest at Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, a favorite fall outing for the E Streeters.

This year, though, despite the warm and placid appearances to the contrary, a biting headwind for the first six miles was a special treat that didn't make it into runners goodie bags.

This year also included a special gift for spectators:  the bridge from Seabrook to Hampton was completely closed, which meant folks like spectator stalwart Ann Scanlon had to make the trek across the windyway on foot.  But she did it with a smile.  And nary a word of complaint. *cough*

One half of this happy couple was at least dressed for the weather

Andrew's got his stride going in the first loop around Hampton

The sight of Blink's Fried Dough being closed behind him was enough of an impetus to drive Andrew to run at much faster pace

And perhaps Tommy was driven by the same fried dough closure, as he, too, was blazing up the boulevard on this seacoast Sunday

Either that or he's trying to run away from his brother's inappropriate comments

Sunshine on my shoulder

Barry strikes an imposing figure against the Hampton Beach skyline

The camera went away for the back 7 miles, though.  Too damn windy, and needed to concentrate on the course!

Post-race:  yeah, we might look bright and colorful, but make no mistake, we were frozen.

Tommy and his posse at least had the common sense to grab thermal blankets and sweatshirts up at the half-shell

Nicely done, all you Smuttynosers!

This past weekend, it was on to the Boston Marathon half-marathon, which weaves its way through the historic Emerald Necklace loop, which starts at Franklin Park

Barry, of course, was clowning around as always

The weather was a bit warmer for this outing, but we still needed to have our race start disposable gear on to keep us warm on the front end of the 13.1

In the chute, everyone was smiling.  Except for the woman whose nose Barry broke.  (Not really.  Not even close.)

One final thumbs up from Andrew and we're off!

Andrew was in full fighting mode.  Me, I looked like I'd already gone a few rounds.

Because yeah, photobombing friends is what running a half-marathon is all about

I felt bad for the other runners.  They didn't have a chance getting around the rolling roadblock of Barry, Sean, and I.

One of the more interesting finishes, I might add.  After an out-and-back along the Emerald Necklace, past the Arnold Arboretum, and back to Franklin Park, we ran a loop through the Franklin Park Zoo.  Sadly, I didn't see any wildlife, other than my fellow E Streeters.

Post-race we proudly showed off our medals swag.  This was pre-feedbag, which, I might add, was epic thanks to hamburger sliders provided by B Good.

While we didn't get a chance to connect in person, we can't let the blog pass without a shoutout to fellow E Streeter Nicole Hatem who was blazing up the byways with best bud Colleen! Awesome socks, Nicole!

One final note - a posthumous thank you to our bud Martin Brewer, who passed away this week, but was on our minds during the race.  When I hit my darkest patch of the course around mile 12, my ipod provided me with Bruce Springsteen's cover of I Wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones, an unforgettable cut from one of the dozens of Springsteen shows we took in with Martin.

Barry chose to acknowledge the unforgettable Mr. Brewer with a note on his running bib.

Long may we run! 

My Favorite Martin

A few times in each person's life, you encounter someone who leaves an indelible mark on you.  Obviously, everyone we meet is special, everyone is unique, and everyone brings something different into your life.

But occasionally, you meet a breath of fresh air, someone who adds a smile to your face, an energy to your conversation, and a renewed passion for life, just through his/her exuberance, vitality, and perspective.

That was Martin Brewer.

He passed away very suddenly this week, after a very brief battle with an insidious disease that has claimed far, far too many lives.

I don't even recall the exact year I met Martin Brewer, but I DO know, that it was because of Bruce Springteen.

Martin was an English teacher from New Hampshire, who came into my life via Barry Scanlon, who met him while covering high school soccer during a gig at Foster's Daily Democrat newspaper in New Hampshire.  He hailed from a city outside London, England, but made his home here, and proudly shared the news when he became an official U.S. citizen a few years back.

Barry and Martin immediately bonded, and not surprisingly, that friendship blossomed because of their mutual passion for all things Springsteen.

It would only be during the long car rides, or the pre-concert feedbags that Martin and I realized how many times in our lives we had been at the EXACT SAME CONCERTS throughout the decades - whether it be Bruce, the Clash, the Moody Blues, Fleetwood Mac, the Kinks, David Bowie, U2 - hell, name just about any concert tour, and chances are that Martin and I were in the same building at the same time.

But it was Bruce that brought us all together.

And by us, I mean the far-extending group of friends who've collectively come to be known through the years as the E Streeters. 

What does it take to be an E Streeter?  Hell, nothing.

Just be a friend to any of us, and you're one of us.  There's no dues, there's no requirement to love the music of Bruce Springsteen.  You don't have to be a runner.

You just have to be a friend.

In the pictures to follow, you'll see Mr. Brewer mugging it up with any various collection of E Streeters at any number of shows throughout the last 20 years.

Before every Hartford show, there was a tradition.  We had to stop at Angellina's for one of the most gluttonous, indulgent Italian meals to be found on the East Coast.  Sometimes I think Andrew and Mike O'Connell would go to these shows just to partake in the chow-down

But always, without fail, there was Martin.  Not always hoisting a pint, sometimes just a pint of Sprite. 

Elsewhere, Andrew posted a link to Springsteen's song Blood Brothers, which speaks to this unbreakable bond between friends that exists, without having to be spoken.

We played king of the mountain out on the end

The World come chargin' up the hill, and we were women and men

Now there's so much that time, time and memory fade away

We got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take

We stood side by side each one fightin' for the other

We said until we died we'd always be blood brothers

Jackie said it perfectly this week when she said that one of the most energizing things about Martin was his infectious passion for life.  He LOVED teaching, he LOVED literature, and he LOVED reaching out to youth to help invigorate their passion for the written word.  Just ask Andrew and Lyndsay about the influence he brought to bear on them.

But another great characteristic that Jackie recognized was Martin's zeal.  If he wanted to go to a concert, he went.  He didn't fret about the rest of life getting in the way.  If he wanted to go somewhere on vacation, he went.  Sometimes, he went alone.  Sometimes, he went with his mom.  It didn't matter.  He just went because it was someplace he wanted to see.

Jack Minch, Tim Bradley, Susan Bradley, everyone was pulled into Martin's infectious laugh and storytelling.

One of the more hysterical outings we shared together was a Bob Seger concert at Mohegan Sun, the same day as the Kentucky Derby.  It was a thrill to experience it with Martin.  Not just because he found a way to climb into pictures with the ladies and their Derby Hats.

Not just the opportunity to hoist a pint waiting for post-time

No, it was his glee at picking the winner and claiming his jackpot prize, one that he happily flaunted for all to see.  It was a whopping $3 payout. 

We'd return to Mohegan Sun last year for what sadly prove to be the last concert experience we'd share together, another Springsteen show, this time with John along for the ride.

Where, as was wont to happen at these shows, we'd meet up with Jimmy and Candy, thereby sparking another long conversation with Jimmy and Martin over not just Springsteen, but their mutual fandom for Bob Dylan.

Rocking out to Born to Run with Martin screaming in my ear is one of those indelible Martin moments that I'll keep forever.

The truth is, there are literally dozens more pictures, dozens more stories of Martin that I could share from throughout the past two decades.

Just about all of them bring a smile to my face, and ALL of them make me realize how much I'm going to miss the guy, even if we only saw one another less than a dozen times a year.

This week, by some divine nudging, I found an email Martin sent to me years ago.  It contained an essay about Springsteen's influence on his life that Martin wrote in 2004.  The contents of the essay speak to Martin's voyage through life, 

Here's one excerpt:

I have been getting rid of so much junk in my life lately as if to say that more room needs to be created for the things that truly matter.  Big things seem small to me now, and the smaller things are what is really big - a phone call to my mother, initiating contact with a friend, appreciating the beauty of nature, saying a prayer.  Growing old does not have to mean decay.  I am bracing myself for considerably more turbulence, but although I am piloting my own plane, I have a pretty good cabin crew that includes God, family, friends, and a certain musician who speaks to me as seasons change and generations shift.

Via Dylan:

May God bless and keep you always

May your wishes all come true

May you always do for others

And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars

And climb on every rung

May you stay forever young

Forever young, forever young

May you stay forever young

Anyone who knew Martin knew of his propensity to grab a kip, even in the most adverse of circumstances.  And for those of you not up on your urban slang, for Martin, grabbing a kip meant catching forty winks, stealing a catnap, or just catching up on some sleep on a moment's notice.

In our circles, some of Martin's most legendary kips include the poolside slumber he snagged in Philadelphia, October, 2004, just before the Vote for Change concert.

My personal fave was the limo ride back from Mohegan Sun after an epic Bob Seger concert.  Martin managed to not just grab a kip, he managed to grab every sheet and pillow and sprawl out in the limo while the rest of us crowded into another corner of the limo. (see pic below)

So with that, Martin, I hope you're in a place where you can grab a kip anytime you want.  Where you've got reserved front rows for all the best concerts.  Across all of time and space, where the greatest Doctors reside.  And where you've got an endless libraries of the greatest works of literature that you can read to your heart's content.

To quote a line from Hamlet, written by one of your favorite authors, that crazy old Bard of Avon himself, Shakespeare:

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.Now cracks a noble heart.  Good night, sweet prince, 

From the churches to the hails

Tonight all is silence in the world

As we take our stand

Down in Jungleland