GFH3 Run #1,748; 19 April 2014

It was an Easter egg hunt... for one little egg.

Greg and Lori sent the runners out into the Herndon woods at the back of the house, at the unconsciensably early hour of 3:06 or thereabouts.  They got a good size pack -- about 22? -- and offered them a healthy trail of roughly four miles, with a bit of mud and brambles and a fence enclosing ten or more dogs at someone's house.  Easy Strider thinks one dog, maybe two, is fine.  But a dozen?  The one egg, however, was near that house, and Air Horn found it right where E.S. left it, in the middle of a check that no one ever marked, and carried it back to the On In as his trophy.

Scrabbling, in the True Hasher fashion.

Meanwhile, a gaggle of runners decided to stay on the road after muffing a check, instead of scrabbling back into the woods and running along the fence guarding the super-secure Fairfax County water treatment facility.  Boo!  Shameless shortcutters!  They missed some extra mud.  Not as much, however, as an entire contingent of runners who seem to have veered off long before Wiehle -- no report from those people, but there they were, on the deck, enjoying the warmth and the cloud cover and the fajitas and a wide selection of wines and beers.  Maybe twelve walkers managed to divide themselves into at least three groups taking distinctly different routes; half of them arriving after the runners were all in.  A very straggly hash.  Whatever happened to that Fist of Discipline the Mufti promised to bring down upon us all?

Two kinds of tortillas, chicken and beans and veg and cheese and....

Anyway, the run was great, the weather was decent, and the potential sighting of a blue heron added a pleasant anticipatory tingle to enhance the beauty of springtime in northern Virginia.  The food was excellent and plentiful, although it would be interesting to know where the Fist of D. was when early finishers were snarfing up guacamole by the quart.

Now we get serious.

Food largely dispatched, and a very happy looking cake on the table, the Mufti broke tradition by presenting new names before calling the roll.  Lori, actually at 103 runs, was up first, and was thrilled to learn that the Executive Committee's original pick of 'Nippletism' had been shortened to 'Nipples.'  Acid-green t-shirt presented, she bravely raised the cup of beer-wine-water to her lips, and had the Mufti snatch it away and dump the contents over the edge of the deck to wither the mulch below.

Rick (105 runs) got to hear several of the nicknames proposed by his nearest and dearest, including 'Howls for Hooters' and 'Sugar Daddy.'  He promised there are stories behind those, but didn't tell them.  With a flourish, the Mufti presented the bright red t-shirt emblazoned, 'Climax Investigator.'  Nipples offered C.I. the 100-run cup, and he actually swallowed a mouthful of beer-wine-Gatorade punch.  It made his mouth look funny.

Welcome to the Executive Committee!

Lots of cheering, hooray hooray, and short speeches, and joy abundant about the land.  Mufti's roll call was pretty exciting, too, with Rachel earning five bonus runs for correctly guessing the number recorded for her on the C List (6, so she's now at 11).  Aaron made it back for number two, and admitted he was unfamiliar with the local strain of poison ivy, having been here only two weeks.  Oh, boy.  Someone watch him carefully.  Chris, Rosemary and Alyssa celebrated #1s, and Randy and Tim both hit #2.  I myself reached 300 runs, and you may now all call me Bubbles, instead of the nickname being exclusive to the Ole Fud.  Probably no one but me will call him Trouble, though.

It was a great hash.  Nipples had prizes for the three hashers involved in discovering the egg:  handsome furry ears and a little chocolate bunny.  Plus cake, without even a birthday.  Check out the pix if you like; thanks to Blow in the Hole and Beef Strokemoff for shutter assistance.

GFH3 Run #1,698; 22 May 2013

Yes, you heard the radio weather announcer correctly:  86 degrees, and 90% chance of thunderstorms.  Oh, yay!

That's right, oh, yay -- because this is the day that our Mufti returned to us, looking suspiciously hearty, fit and well, walking with a jaunty swagger and the gentleman's walking stick that always goes with a jaunty s.  BC3 reports that he was demanding to be let alone to do things for himself a week after surgery; Mufti recalls wistfully that, "For the first two weeks, everyone comes to you.  After that, you go to them."  He was much less wistful when predicting that he would be the first runner in, and when threatening to leave Ole Fud in his dust on the walkers' trail.

Well, we're all very glad you did come to us.

So I guess Greg helped Tasty Cakes with the setting (on his bike, so he could do all the falses), and I'm guessing that Beef Strokemoff set the figure-9 walkers' trail.  Both of them excellent courses, and the walkers' trail was especially handy for the several runners who decided they'd had enough of sweating through the increasingly cloudy evening and used the pink arrows as a shortcut.  Incidentally, the hares report that in consideration of the weather, they cut a mile or two off the true trail, bringing it down to five-and-a-half miles or so.  Herndon offers some lovely opportunities for stream crossings and mixing the paved with the dirt and etc.

So it was a charming bit of exercise however one cut it up, and the back deck at Beef S's greeted returning hashers with plenty of icy drinks and a fancy wine cooler and an even fancier beverage dispenser full of extremely tasty sangria.  To give you an idea of the kind of spread the Strokemoffs lay on, pitch your mind back to the last time you heard anyone say, "appetizers" at a hash.  As in, "The appetizers are on the deck."  Pitch your mind back.  It was never, right?

What?!  No ice sculpture?!

The interior of the house featured a Mediterranean spread of seasoned chicken to go into pita bread and be topped with yogurty sauce and hummus and cukes and other veg, plus three salads and stuffed grape leaves.  It sounds ridiculous.  But wait!  There's more!  If you attended tonight you also received several kinds of cookies, some absurdly rich chocolaty bars, and baklava.  That would be homemade baklava.  Right.  Homemade.

The Mufti hollered the roll, and it was as if he'd never been away -- except that Bionic Babe brought out a cake blazoned with "Welcome Back, Mufti," and everyone "sang" "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," and the Mufti demanded three cheers ("hip, hip...  ON ON") for himself and his hip.  Welcome Axel, Lindsay and about a half-dozen other first-timers, and welcome back Leila (98 to the cup!), and click here for photos (some very fuzzy in the twilight), and goodnight.

And yes, there was a torrential downpour about 8:30 or 9:00, and everyone scurried inside.  It is a generous host indeed who allows post-run hashers into the living room.

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.

GFH3 Run #1,683; 9 Feb 2013

Only two of us made it to Albuquerque for the run on Saturday.  The rest of you missed a great day with a bit of snowstorm, a bit of sandstorm, ferocious wind, desert-like intra-day temperature swings and a decent view or two.  We enjoyed the local sparkler, Gruet, revivifying hot chocolate with chili peppers, and plenty of blue corn and red chili sauce.  Thanks to Lilith for hosting!

A brief break to let the sand settle deeper into our ears, our eyes, our mouths and noses and scalps and fingernails and boots and between our teeth before setting off into the wind tunnel again.

Several Rio Grande crossings made for some excitement.

Setting fire to the roof in hopes of dissipating the early-morning freeze.

INDY, not wearing a swimsuit, as he knew he was lying about high-altitude scuba.