GFH3 Run #1,742; 8 March 2014

Oh, the soft advent of springtime in Virginia:  the suddenly warm days, the gentle caress of a hesitant sun, the rapid melt of six to ten inches of snow that drenches the earth and turns all of Great Falls into a murky stew of slick red clay, semi-liquid goose poop and little surprise crunchy bits – nuggets of ice crystals, deer droppings, pointed twigs shed by trees eager for new life.  And the opportunity to run through this slop, under blue and golden skies, inspired 47 lonely souls to congregate at Zipperhead and Phlashback’s and start shedding jackets in the warmth.

We sent condolences to Blow in the Hole, whose mother died early in the week.  We tried to figure out how to tell Roi from Rei.  We refrained from talking baby-talk to Nathan, who is quite a big boy now.  We unfortunately missed the bit about whether to count the backcheck, but heard something about ‘an unusual trail,’ and then we watched Rough Cut run out into the street with a large, milling crowd shouting, “On on!” encouragingly from the safety of the driveway.

Ha ha!  Not that way!

Once Rough Cut figured out that the trail didn’t begin to the left, almost everyone tried rushing through the yard and out the back.  That didn’t work either!  Unusual indeed to begin by running up the street to the right, and smack into G.F. Village.  The walkers, having stayed back to get specific instructions for their trail, mingled with the runners at the light, and Dances with Bulls and Zipperhead watched carefully to be sure no one crossed the streams.  Or trails.  In a moment of bold unusualness, they’d set a figure-eight trail.  After five to eight miles of mostly broken-trail running, the pack hit a backcheck three that got them headed for the On In.

A fine example of getting across broken ground with exuberance.

The gorgeous weather made the patio safe for drinking and eating, with a creamy, rich potato soup and three or four kinds of bread as the feature foodstuffs, and a vast array of chips and dips to fill in at the edges.  Sandra, not content with volunteering to help set on just her third outing with the GFH3, also made some tasty bolhos (or something like that – Mozambiquean doughnuts, or beignet if you’re still in a Mardi Gras mindset) liberally coated with flaked coconut.

The Oral Advocate donned his Associate Mufti  persona, which is very loud, and called the roll.  Infrequent visitors Grey Ghost (the former Wombat Willie), Brogue Bait and Hard to Catch got welcomed back, and there were several first-timers and single-digit-run-count types.  Huzzah!  90-something to the cup!  Lori hit 99, with wailing and lamentations, and Zipperhead... had a birthday!  Good thing the Jazz Swinger made one of her guest star appearances to lead the singing.  The Executive Committee met, doubtless with disastrous results (for other people, not for you, dear), and the sun began to set, taking its gladdening warmth with it.  Queen Cobra and Paul hit the road in her namesake convertible before it got too chilly, while Phoenix Rising sat around drinking, philosophically accepting that his drop-top drive home would be miserably cold.

Happy birthday, Zipperhead!  Happy spring, everyone!

Bravo for an excellent walkers’ trail that poached on a lengthy section of the runners’ trail, and bravo for the large crowd of veterans and newbies that enjoyed the day together.  And hooray that no one got run over by a deer, although the pack did frighten a substantial herd.  There are some photos of them, showing us how running is really done, mixed in with all the usual subjects.