Sunday, February 3, 2013

GFH3 Run #1,682; 2 Feb 2013

Again with the Great Falls! -- thanks to Hash Heroes Phoenix Rising and Chip Off the Old Dick.  We convened, as per, in the garage, which this week featured the innards of an entire race car, raised up on a sturdy table.  "Where does the food go?" I very reasonably asked PhR, and he pointed to some rickety card tables set up for the occasion.  A select group gathered slowly, perhaps reluctant to get going given around-freezing temps and rather cloudy skies.  They would, no doubt, have been more eager and appreciative of the weather had they all been woken at 1:00am, badgered from their warm beds by a de-ranged boyfriend, and shoved into a small Honda for a four-hour drive to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to stand around for two hours in a drunken, pot-smoking crowd in single-digit degrees Farenheit weather for the chance to listen, via an inadequate sound system, to a top-hatted someone on a distant stage say something about a woodchuck, and then drive four hours home again.  Love you, sweetie!  But I digress.

Big Wheel and Easy Strider dream of checkered-flag glory.

PhR helpfully explained a few techniques for discerning the differences between snow and flour as part of his hash brief.  Then the runners set out, at 3:15, into the landscaped woods path behind the house, while the walkers headed down the driveway to find their own bliss through the hilly local side streets.  I think there were about 12-15 runners, including sweeper COtOD, and about 8-10 walkers, including Gale and Melisande, who set their own out-and-back via the early part of the runners' trail.  I hopped into a truck with PhR, several bottles of water and a Gatorade, and a sack of pink flour to put the final flourishes on the trail markings.

PhR and COtOD benefit from a bridle path and a couple of helpful neighbors:  a yoga-teacher friend of Susan's who permitted use of her driveway, and the local who sold most of his land for development but retained several acres of perimeter for use by his ATVs and our hash group.  Gosh, do we love sensible and neighborly neighbors.

The pack kept itself together pretty well, with the help of a few strategically-placed backchecks, until near the end, when FRB and first-timer Al (and I, now descended from my truckly perch) got well and truly screwed up despite those 30 pounds of flour, and Easy Strider and Zipperhead caught up to us, and then The (not-very) Manic Mechanic came skipping down a hill, and then they all ran around in several directions whilst I continued my stroll until I encountered a backcheck five at the top of a hill.  After that, I don't know what the trail did as I rather 'zenned' myself to the On In very inefficiently, weeping silently.

T(n-v)MM missed a big pink 'X' (so did PhR and I, when we drove along to be sure it was still there -- caught it on the way back, though) and so ran up a small paved hill, then realized his error, leapt a fence, crossed a rough field, leapt another fence, and caught up with the FRBs within about half a mile, in time for a nice backcheck.

And what did I find back at the garage?  You know what - delicious, hot fried rice and sesame green beans and kung-pao-ish chicken and other yummy things.  Plus -- another half-dozen or so "hashers" who came for the social exercise and skipped all that pedestrian (ha ha) running and such, bringing the total group to about 30.  BC3 reported on an idyllic Caribbean vacation with books and warm ocean and not much else, as one needs nothing else.  A few of the kindlier folks speculated as to where Air Horn, Spurt and Chugger might be, they having gotten themselves well and truly separated from the group and even the sweeper.  They made it back in the middle of the roll call, to loud acclaim and threats of dire reprisals (i.e., no credit for the run) from the Mufti, sparkling with the vigor of a deservedly well-vacationed leader.  The Mufti requested a vote as to who would win the Super Bowl.  I just (typing this part Sunday evening) heard a commentator say that his heart was for the Ravens, but his head believed the 49ers would win, and the GF Hash counted eleven heads to nine hearts.  Those of you putting hands up for the 49ers will all go back to 99 runs the next time I get ahold of that official roll, and Oral Advocate can no doubt think up something worse.

And now it's Monday morning, and I have only this to say:  Neener, neener, neener, boo-boo!

Kiley snoozed amidst the chaos, Abby ate everything dropped on the ground, including a fortune-cookie wrapper (an alert Blazing Straddle actually prevented that last), two first-timers, Al and Judith, won their cheers, and Hasher Flasher celebrated her 300th by choosing (?!) 'Pink Parts' as her new name.  Still the First Lady having left by that time, Pink Parts had no one willing to explain the full implications of the phrase.  [UPDATE:  On learning what pink parts are in StFL's lexicon, PP changed her name to Bionic Babe.]  The party was only enhanced by PhR driving a couple of convertibles into the party space to get them out of the newly-falling snow.

Speaking of StFL, we were graced with the company of six of our 1,000-run runners, as the pictures prove.  Trivia question:  which 1,000-run hasher was missing?  Bonus points if you know which 30-plus-year hasher who hasn't hit 1,000 was missing.

INDY and I are vacationing next weekend.  Radar, if you take photos (or anyone else does), please e-mail them to me and I'll post them early next week.  Anyone who wants can e-mail me meeting commentary and I'll put that up here.  Enjoy the Valentine's Day hash, and do please wear red!

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