GFH3 Run #1,743; 15 March 2014

Beware the Ides of March, they cautioned J. Caesar back in the day, but the warning doesn’t seem to apply to the GFH3.  Perhaps that’s because for Lezley, there’s no such thing as the Ides; she calls it "two days before St. Patrick’s Day."  So she ladled up a warm and sunny day, silly hats and green beads that caused one Herndon civilian out on trail to guess that we were celebrating a tardy Mardi Gras.  We were, of course, actually celebrating the news that Zipperhead got through serious surgery successfully.

Lezley and Lori were responsible for a five-mile true trail for the runners that included, in the celebratory spirit, ‘real water crossings, not the wimpy Herndon ones.’  That’s a paraphrase, but Lori’s share of the brief certainly included the word ‘wimpy.’  The walkers’ trail is a perennial favorite, permanently marked in blue and white spray-paint arrows.  Word is that the runners’ trail went a considerable distance; evidence suggests that it was quite successful in keeping the pack nicely grouped.  Only Rick got seriously lost; that’s what you get for being FRB at that age.  Sheesh.

The pack, part I, following Rick and Mini Schlonga, both some distance ahead.

Back at Antrim West, there was a feast of corned beef on a platter, regular beef stewed up with spuds and carrots, and a sublime potato-leek soup for those who eschew red meat.  (There’s a pun struggling up through that sentence.)  Also some sausage, possibly to be called bangers just for today, and a huge quantity of Irish beers, including Guinness, which is Good For You, that more than satisfied forty hungry hashers.

The Mufti having decided not to return early from Hawai’i, the Associate Mufti performed his signature 45-minute roll call.  For reasons of his own, he first demanded a shot of whisky, then settled for a nip of Drambuie.  Later, for what can’t possibly be any good reason, Don brought out a full-size, brand new bottle of single-malt Scotch, which the Hash consumed so quickly you’d think they believe they’re worth high-quality hard liquor.

Hash time is happy time!

Despite taking sick leave (is this elective surgery?) Zipperhead got credit for a run, which is unprecedented.  Ole Fud made it to 700 (he was one of our first hashers, but what with traveling the world to save the global economy all those years, he didn’t make it to as many hashes as he would have liked), and I think it was the Oral Advocate himself who hit 750.  Michael attended his first hash but didn’t put himself up for the roll, and Robert made four.  Whoo hoo.  Lori hit 100, and the O.A. declared her, “Nippletism,” but we’ll believe it when the Mufti says it’s true.  Rick hit 99.2 – he’ll make 100 when Double Breasted Boobie is here to see it happen.  Speaking of Mufti, he’s stuck at 1,496.  Whoo hoo.

Here’s what it looked like.  Be sure to keep checking the website; prospective hero Drill Me Fill Me is considering hosting at an empty lot near his home next week.  He’s considering Port-a-Potties, but you might want to stop by the toilets at the Brogue on your way to the meet, just in case. 

Get well and stay well, please.

THIS JUST IN:  Chip Off the Old Dick fills in the details of an October 2013 run that sounds like an unusually excellent good time for all.  Check it out here.

GFH3 Run #1,706; 10 July 2013

Well, it was great while it lasted, but sadly, the Great Falls Hash House Harriers have come to the end of their trail.  With no one willing to host ever again (though July and August are usually the most popular months of the year to host), the GFH3 is no more.  Too bad, really.

Too bad, because clearly some sort of mojo is working for this group.  The clouds gathered tonight, the forecasters warned, the wind picked up and Ole Fud saw a drop of rain.  Yet somehow, that drop's fellow drops did not drop, and Lezley was able to keep everyone mostly out on the back deck, and everyone who risked taking electronic gadgets out on the trail brought those gadgets back dry and functioning.  So let's see if we can't keep this thing going after all...

Having gathered in a Herndon driveway to accept their cucumbers (fresh picked in Easy Strider's garden), commiserate with Oral Advocate over his busted wing (Blazing Straddle:  "Don't fall off bicycles!", apparently advocating for falling off subway platforms, roofs (Lori:  "No, Ole Fud has rights on that one.") or fancy raised kitchen/sunken living room floor/curb thingies), and twirl about in skorts (FIVE hashers wore athletic skorts tonight, following the lead Multiple Lustings, that fashion pioneer, set two or three years ago), the hashers enjoyed a brief brief under threat of ankle-breaking if they didn't stop talking.  Spurt threatened worse if they didn't mark checks, but apparently a few of them didn't hear that part.  Oops.  And then they got going, in fits and starts, to cross OVER the Fairfax County Parkway, circle around a few times, cross UNDER Wiehle, jog over a basketball court, cut a corner of a neighbor's lawn and head for home.

Happy!  Because they know B is N even though, having short-cutted, they did not see the "BN" mark.

The walkers (about 15 of 35 were walkers tonight, and five of 35 were hosts, hares or helpers; Valiant, paraphrasing Our Founder:  "This is becoming a serious walking club.") crossed under Wiehle a couple of times, making their own circles and carrying their pups across the streams or letting them wade, according to personal preference, dog size and color, and carpet cleanliness standards.

Damp and delightful, back at the On In the crowd tucked into burgers, brats and dogs, slaw and spud salad, chips and stuff.  Don wielded the grill tongs as soon as he got back from compassionate leave/emergency airport pick-up run.  For dessert, there was Lori's birthday cake.  Mufti celebrated Bite Me's 901st and Paint in the Ass's 399th (PitA:  "I'm keeping my name.") during a fairly sedate roll call.  Mufti, did you note Austin's #4?

Listening to a GFH3 rendition of "Happy Birthday" is a heavy price to pay for a single slice of cake.

Lori has volunteered to scout and map a Reston trail for next week, and arrange with Wings 'n' Things for a pay-as-you-go On In if someone's available to set her trail.  Please oh please, check out the Score! page and make a mental note that if your name's not on that list, and you haven't had major surgery in the last 6-8 months, you are probably due for a stint as host or helper.  If you can't have/don't want this bedraggled and pungent crew in your own home, borrow a friend's, book a pavilion, find a party room, or look for lightly-patrolled parking lots or houses whose owners are on vacation (ha ha!  That's a JOKE!).

While you're checking out pages, feel free to roll an eyeball over the photos.  The three young ruffians in the final photo are a Nashville-based band and airport-rescue-requirers, in case you were wondering.

GFH3 Run #1,692; 13 April 2013

All right - who's turn was it to look after Valiant?  And what in the world was that person thinking in letting him get away, so he could go for a gentle run along the side of the Fairfax County Parkway, where there is not only no sidewalk, and a 50-mph speed limit, and plenty of traffic zipping by, but also really not much of a shoulder?  While there may be such a thing as acceptable loss, that does not apply to one of our most revered and respected nearly-founding members.  Let's all take a bit better care next time, shall we?

It's easy to understand people getting distracted, though, since the weather was beyond bee-yoo-tee-ful, and there was some eccentric cyclist riding a pennyfarthing on Herndon byways more accustomed to Treks and Cannondales.  But the discipline in this group always re-asserts itself, so about 35 hashers set out from Greg and Lori's to wend their circular ways through the streets and paths, paved and unpaved.  One hears rumors of backchecks, with The Manic Mechanic claiming to have predicted, and skipped, two.  And it is reasonable to believe the FRBs messed up badly somewhere along the way and short-cutted by a lot, as five or six of them finished about 20 minutes before the rest of the group jogged in past the fishpond.

We were all this happy today.

Additional distractions included a gorgeous blue heron that kept swooping about through the trees by the stream, and some lovely yellow flowers that seem related to orchids, and at least two grisly sites by the side of the path.  It's not easy to follow directions under those circumstances.  Plus, the information that Red Hot and Blue had provided the vittles, which is reason enough to shortcut.

So the FRBs got back to the deck, generously supplied with seating, not too long after the walkers did, and Lori set out great pans of barbeque and at least three kinds of salad (she garnished the Caesar with fresh lemon wedges -- who does that for a hash?), plus a fancy asparagus ravioli for the herbivores.  There were a few Tecates spotted amongst the Red Hooks, but the Duck Sucker was off in Florida, so the excitement over the beer selection may have been slightly more subdued than it might have been.

Mufti hollered the roll from an especially comfy chair, pausing about the middle so Brogue Bait and Pumpmaster (two of the FRBs; what a surprise) could bring out a cake for Air Horn's something-or-otherith birthday.  And Sarah celebrated run #1, and Joyce bravely accepted her 99th.  Oh, yes indeedy, there was a meeting of the executive committee.  I wonder what they came up with....

Couldn't be happier, in fact.

The neighbors showed up after all the shouting and exercising was over to help prevent leftovers, and Blazing Straddle made it home with both pups, despite Greg's recurring efforts to kidnap one.  It's unusual for the girls not to make it into the photos, but they didn't this week.  Proof is right here.

Tomorrow I'll post a link Greg sent me so you can see an aerial view of the route.  Or something.  And here it is; let us know what you think via the 'comments' option.