GFH3 Run #1,791; 17 January 2015

Several people commented that this year's Boom Boom Birthday Hash was not nearly as unpleasantly cold as it has been since the tradition began back in 2011, when she was just 99 years young.  Temps being well above freezing, Big Balls on Deck had to include the warning, in his brief, that some of the mud was thawed, and therefore treacherous in different ways than in the still-frozen sections.  He also had to warn about watching out for arrows, in order to ensure avoidance of un-permissioned private property, and offered a special graffiti treat!

While 14 walkers hung back for special instructions, 30 runners got themselves down the hill to the first check, and a whole bunch of them checked to the right while the rest hung around waiting.  Eventually, everyone charged off to the left and found their first arrow, pointing them downhill.  Was it Cock in the Crease who complained that starting with a downhill just meant he'd have to climb back up later in the run?  Reassurances that this was an all-downhill trail did not seem to help.

Away we go.

Then there was some confusion in the middle of the trail.  Remember the graffiti treat?  Phoenix Rising, working backwards and early, found it before the others, and found a law enforcement officer on the site.  The L.E.O. informed him he was trespassing, and after a bit of reasoned discourse, with PhR making some salient points, the L.E.O. offered to write PhR a citation.  They both agreed that would not be nearly as much fun as finding a different trail -- which PhR did, eventually bumping up against the main pack and recommending a judicious detour.  So Sean and Not-Jennifer (sorry!) were the only two to run the true trail, as they'd gotten far enough behind not to witness the hash careering off onto false trail, and the L.E.O. was gone by the time they arrived at graffiti central.  Nipple Knocker has promised a photo of the graffiti (he helped BBoD and Paddle My Candee Ass to set).  When he sends it, I'll post it.

No known explanation for any of this.

So eventually everyone made it back to the On In, where Norm was grilling bratwurst, PMCA had finished making gravy, and Jill had filled every horizontal surface in the house with food.  We're talkin' pork, we're talkin' chicken, we are talking about several potato salads and a crock pot full of mulled wine and cheesy casserole and scalloped potatoes and something like chili.  We are talking, ladies and gentlemen, about enough food to feed 90, and sufficient beverages for 150.  (In addition to the 48 hashers, there were about 10-15 friends and family, so while doggy bags were available, there were significant inroads made.)  At last report, no one had attempted the bottle of Wisconsin cranberry wine.

The Associate Mufti, or Mufti Pro-Tem, played his M.C. role to the hilt, lauding Jill and her myriad helpers for the feast, and demanding an on-key rendition of the happy birthday song.  He may actually have blown a kiss to the birthday girl, who looked spry and happy despite all the shouting strangers banging about around her.  "I hope they're not drunk," she acknowledged at one point, but expressed delight at seeing, and hearing, the young folk enjoying themselves.

Here's to 103 more!

And enjoy themselves they did, as shown here.  Thanks to PMCA for additional photos.

GFH3 Run #1,745; 29 March 2014

“Perfect Hash weather,” the Mufti congratulated hares and hosts before the brief began.  Perfect, indeed – or at least it may have been in San Diego, maybe, or one of those Mediterranean islands like Capri.  Perhaps Phuket, in Thailand, is experiencing an idyllic spring, but in Oakton this afternoon, we had a firm, steady rain and not quite enough Fahrenheits to make it feel friendly.  On the plus side, these conditions weed out the fair-weather hashers, leaving us with a close-knit, élite group of 26 to brave the elements in our various ways.

Big Balls on Deck briefed the team, explaining that the rain had probably washed away most of the Xs and many of the Ons, so, y’know, good luck.  He also advised that credit for any good parts of the trail go to Paddle My Candee Ass and Mini Schlonga, while complaints regarding less-good parts be directed to him.  It’s easier to be gracious like that when you’re 6’5”, don’t you think?

Haaashing in the rain; I'm haaashing in the rain; what a glooooorious feeeling
[jazz hands, everybody!] I'M HAAAAAPPY AGAIN!

So ten runners slid down the wet clay hillside to the trail, while 11 walkers split up into at least four contingents.  One of those contingents was BC3, who made it as far as the car, which she then drove to Target, claiming later that she had the most challenging route of the day.  The runners will take leave to disagree; their four-mile true trail included plenty of mud and at least one stream that hadn’t been there in the morning.  Dances with Bulls went in mid-way up the calf; rumor has it that Air Horn wound up practically swimming the thing.  They were further slowed down by scores of trees that were generating fluffy white foam at their bases, which looked confusingly like flour – although the actual flour was mostly shades of yellow-brown by the time the hashers found it.  Nonetheless, not much more than an hour after the brief, the Davis deck was thick with successful and now semi-dressed hashers changing into dry things.

So happy he did not have to hash on Sunday, when today's rain ceded to giant chunks of frozen slush.

Once re-dressed, they headed indoors to where Jill, Norm and PMCA had ensured several groaning boards of pulled pork, beans, chicken slices, four salads? or five?, and a multi-veggie casserole, plus chips and dips and cheese on every surface and brownies somewhere.  Many, many bottles and one Black Box of wine and a beer selection that included a growler and Warrenton’s finest Bust Head English Pale Ale enabled everyone to wash down as much food as they could stuff into themselves.

Mufti announced his own 1,497^th run, and his dear wife’s 497^th.  Coincidence?  Hmmm...  But if he stays home for the next 20 years, she can catch him up.  Boom Boom reached five, Phoenix Rising 700, and Irene the double-6s (600 to the Number of the Beast!).  Dave, who volunteered a portion of his lawn for Drill Me Fill Me’s trail last week, chose this as his first hash (99 to the cup!) and he and his brand-new sneakers got thoroughly baptized.

After threatening "another boring Mufti run" Our F.L. helped host this one instead by bringing dessert around the room.

For a visual lesson in stream-jumping form, check out the photographs here.  (That first one, of BBoD – he is making a funny face on purpose.  Never mind why.)  For a sunshiny beautiful hash, keep your fingers crossed and your aura shiny, and join us at Valiant’s next week.

GFH3 Run #1,735; 18 January 2014

Worth celebrating, yes?

Brisk, bright, breezy, to the point of being downright freezing, and nonetheless a near-record crowd of almost 50 hashers, plus a whole bunch of friends and family members, showed up in Oakton for Irene/Mimi/Boom Boom’s 102^nd birthday, and the Hash’s 1,735^th run.  This is the third or fourth year of this annual happy birthday tradition, and may it continue for decades to come.

Big Balls on Deck and Paddle My Candee Ass set a 4.7 mile true trail for Grandma’s big day, much of it on the inter-county connector trail that runs right along Jill and Norm’s back yard.  Handy!  BBoD warned the walkers that the dirt paths by the streams were pretty slick (clay/mud/something-not-quite-ice) and recommended the gravel paths in preference.  An officer and a gentleman, he’d marked the quarter-miles on one path so walkers could choose a distance for an out-and-back walk.  Handy!  Hardly anyone complained much about the cold, and the farthest I heard anyone mention running was a bit over six miles.  That said, the pack did get awfully strung out, with Mini Schlonga and Jeffy Lube finishing way, way before Chip Off the Old Dick, Phoenix Rising and Don.

Study the form, future FRB-ers.

There was relatively little trail-talk at the On In, where folks were busy stuffing themselves with the traditional Mimi family German buffet of wursts, sauerkraut, potatoes in many styles and more, all washed down with glugwein, other weins, Double D Double IPA (Air Horn’s pick), bourbon and more.  Then there were all the little Germanic bon-bons (gut guts?) for people unable to wait for cake.

Cake, however, had to wait for Mufti, and he had the long roll to get through.  Flowerkraut celebrated her own anniversary of 700 runs (“Get a life,” the Mufti advised, from the vantage point of 1,492 runs) and did a bit of caroling in her native German, waving a sausage jauntily.  Rick returned to us from the west coast in time to hit 94 runs or thereabouts.  In his eagerness to reach 100, he has recently taken a job in the DC area, accepting a 3,000-mile commuter marriage as the price one pays to make a GFH3 nickname possible.

This 'man' has a nickname, and who wouldn't want to be like him?

And then... and THEN... BBoD slid the big ol’ cake in front of Mimi, with the ‘102’ candles blazing, and the Hash chorale rendered a passable version of ‘Happy Birthday.’  (“Sing it nicely,” the Oral Advocate roared as the cake settled into position.)  Mimi blew out her candles, and everyone cheered and cheered.  The Mufti presented her with a Hash nickname, Boom Boom (that’s her nickname already!  And she’ll tell you you’re naughty if you call her that.  Must get backstory.), and a Mufti Appreciation Day GFH3 t-shirt (“Don’t wear it in public,” the Oral Advocate muttered).  More cheering.  Hip hip on ons.  Etc.  And CAKE!

What to get for the woman who has everything, including
great grandchildren and 102 birthdays?
A portrait of yourself, on technical fiber, of course!

Questions remain, of course.  Who said, “Get your hands off me,” to her beloved, and why?  When will Suck Squeeze Bang run again?  How slow will she be by then?  Why was Flowerkraut groping at Jeffy Lube’s chest?  Who were all those Bavarians, jaunty red feathers in their jaunty green caps?  And the lovely young ladies with blonde braids?  Why was this cake not soaked in hooch, like the amaretto one BBoD brought for PMCA’s birthday in December?  Who puts out a bottle of bourbon at a Hash?  What are we going to name Rick, and then Lori, and SSB, who is rapidly approaching 300 though never rapidly enough for her?

Feel free to look over the photos whilst pondering these mysteries.  Thanks to Mini S. and SSB for camera work.

We all love you, Mimi.  Thanks for putting up with us.