GFH3 Run #1,764; 30 July 2014

The last A-to-B I can remember was run number 1,500, in November 2009, when the hounds had to traverse all of the five or six miles between I'm Not Dead Yet's and Queen Cobra's.  For tonight's run, Heater Beater and Rough Cut, after dragging 31 of us out to Leesburg on a weeknight, threatened a reeeeally long A-to-B trail, claimed they were hoping to win the Death March Award, and promised vehicular transport to get everyone back from the On In at B to their cars at A.  Funny thing was, it actually was a decent-length trail:  several GPSes hit five-and-a-half.

Leesburg on a gorgeous night.

But ha ha!  The B was actually only three blocks from the A!  So the 17 runners got a BIG circle around to the east and north of Leesburg proper, and through a cemetery somewhere along the way, and then plunged back into the quaintest little downtown in northern Virginia to jog east along Loudon Street and so to HB and Puss in Boot's new little cottage.  It's a fixer-upper; they plan to rehabilitate it and then rent it out to some lucky single, or couple, or very small family.

A drinking club with problems walking past a bar.

The walkers chose a variety of routes and distances, and found such distractions as a closed model-train store against whose windows a few hashers rubbed their noses, and a bar that temporarily distracted two of the entourage from their vigorous exercise.  Everyone made it to the On In eventually - the runners' pack actually keeping pretty well together - to enjoy a gloriously warm evening on the lawn, watching the sunset dim a pale cerulean sky to mauve, and gradually to black, lit by an improbably slender sliver of moon.  And scarfing down Peruvian chicken while they did so, washed back with Red Hook and Tecate and cabernet sauvignon according to preference.

Perfect party house

The excitement of getting rid of a pair of lost-and-found shoes and two shirts before the run began was not enough for the Mufti, so he welcomed Rrocks Starr back from South America (some geographically-challenged cynic demanded to know whether he'd been exposed to ebola), and made Chip Off the Old Dick unseat himself from his comfortable wall to stand in the middle of the crowd and accept great cheers for achieving 700 runs, and led a round of hip-hip-on-ons when hash heroine Blow in the Hole volunteered to host next week.  Cheers, of course, to the gracious hosts, their attempts at trickery easily forgiven.  When the weather's this great, everything's forgiven.  Photos here if you want them; thanks to Beef Strokemoff for taking a turn with the camera.