GFH3 Run #1,778; 1 November 2014

The day after Hallowe'en; the first day of National Novel Writing Month.  There must be stories...

The story behind my 2014 punkin:  Lubbock.

Creative hash pumpkin of 2013; backstory unknown.

Lubbock + kitty = Happy Hallowe'en!

GFH3 Run #1,773; 27 September 2014

Nipples:  "What kind of a person sets a backcheck five on the turkey trail?"  Phoenix Rising:  "Heh heh heh."  Pause.  "At least it was downhill coming back."

Plus, the backcheck was only about halfway up the very long hill..

Although the funnier bit, arguably, was Air Horn beginning the brief with the announcement, "We ran into a few problems on the trail."  Specifically he, setting eagle, and PhR, setting turkey, ran into someone else's marks:  a whole bunch of floury arrows pointing some other people some other way through the Great Falls woods around Riverbend.  Luckily, the outlaw arrows had no cross-hatches, and were not paired with any kind of checks or other deviousnesses, so the hares wrote "GFH3" at frequent intervals on their overlapping trails and hoped for the best.

Another funny bit, actually, was when A.H. said turkey trail was about five miles.  Ha ha ha!  Eagles had a true trail of about six and a half, although Knipple Knocker reported 7.9 miles on his GPS.  Devon probably got more, as between outlaw arrows and Malaysian jetlag, she meandered a long way off trail and didn't make it On In until the search party was forming.

And Spurt is running again!  Welcome back!

Gorgeous weather ensured that ten turkeys and eight eagles (there were only 16 runners, but Blow in the Hole and Bionic Babe, after starting as eagles, mystically and abruptly evolved into turkeys during a moment of inattention, and thus count twice) plus ten walkers, all enjoyed their various excursions and came in smiling.  And kept right on smiling when they saw the big pot of turkey-and-chicken chili (hot sauce on the side, as A.H. did not want to make six different chilis at various levels of spiciness to suit all tastes) and the large pan of barbequed chicken.

The Associate Mufti was enjoying a Nationals win, and the Mufti was... Anyone know where the Mufti was?  Anyway, the roll showed up, so the Assistant Associate Mufti called 34 names (several people showed up late to eat and drink and camaraderie), with no birthdays or double numbers or other excitement.  Nonetheless, everyone in the photos looks pretty happy.

She's smiling in there somewhere.

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.

GFH3 Run #1,758; 25 June 2014

By unanimous acclaim, it was a great trail.  Rrocks Starr, Air Horn and Dances with Bulls set it, and part of its greatness was relative briefness.  Concerned by the threat of intermittent downpours, they kept it short; with the resources of Riverbend Road at their disposal, they made it scenic.  Incidentally, Phoenix Rising asserts that setting with R.S. and A.H. is an invaluable life lesson for every young hasher, and encourages the experience.  Apparently, the two of them carefully analyze placement of each hash mark, with consideration as to moisture content of the ground, relative adhesiveness of bark vs. leaves vs. etc., prevailing winds, forecasted weather conditions, solar flares and numerous other criteria.  DwB confirms that it's not a fast process, but it is educational.

Creek crossings help make a trail great.

So our gang of 26 assembled inside the new dog fencing, where Oscar and Mango promptly tuckered each other out with some rough-and-tumble, then rested a bit, then roughed and tumbled some more, repeat all evening.  About 15 people, including identical-twin whippersnapper Zane, essayed the runners' trail, and only three of them short-cutted.  The walkers spent some time mesmerized by the Falls and, a bit lower down, the kayakers who brave them.  This evening, the watercraft included a paddleboard.  Mufti and Ole Fud witnessed the paddleboarder actually get to his feet and balance briefly in the rapids.  Cool!  I saw him later, coming out of the water with his board balanced on his head.  Versatile!  And not a young man either.  In fact, on the shady side of middle-aged, at least.  New hobby, everyone!

Waterfalls are also good.

Creeks crossed, authority unmolested, the pack reassembled at the R.S.'s, where Christina and Mrs. Costco had laid out a feast of pulled pork and chicken, plus veggie patties and heaps of salad.  Ole Fud anted up the wine, and PhR put 1.7 miles on his GPS going up and downstairs between the beer and the food.  Spurt got his sweets, and Suck Squeeze Bang (foot in a boot; boot in a bag) and Blow in the Hole fought over who loves Oscar more, while R.S. and Christina hovered, having overheard dognapping plans.

Put down the puppy, ladies.  Put him down, and step away.

When the raindrops started to splatter, the food moved indoors, with about half the pack.  When the Mufti moved indoors, he inspired a general migration, and called roll to a full house - or at least full living room.  SSB, who really hates that name, hit 297 and began puzzling over the replacement name.  Zane and Chris celebrated #1s, and just for fun the Mufti made everyone shout for John's #3.  The speed and accuracy with which the group calculated, "97 to the CUP!" was heartening.  Photos here; thanks SSB for help!

SUNDAY!  SUNDAY!  SUNDAY!  Anniversary Hash at P.P.P. and P.P.'s!  Group photo before the run!  Don't miss it!

GFH3 Run #1,754; 28 May 2014

Radar's plea for assistance did not go unheeded, and he spent the afternoon with his buddy Valiant, throwing enough flour on the streets, trees and mailboxes of Great Falls to survive the threatened thunderstorms that didn't actually manifest.  So the 42 hashers who made their way to the garage this evening were doubly delighted:  the trail was enthusiastically well marked, and the weather was warm and reasonably sunny, if a touch humid.

Runners

The 26 runners got an under-five mile true trail, and mostly managed to complete it by dark.  The 5-K contingent made appropriate shortcuts.  Walkers, just 11 of them, got a pleasant, and well-marked, loop along Thimbleberry.  The well-bandaged Beef Strokemoff and Kimball did a little checking up on the local real-estate market, while Tastycakes rested up back at the On In.  She was fresh from nine miles in the Blue Ridge, helping Dad and Brother prepare for their attempt on Denali in a week and a half.

Miles, kilometers - there are no rules.

Arriving back at the garage, the hash found chips and guacamole as well as wine, beer and water.  Of course, just behind that there's...  THE POOL!  Radar's solar array had brought the water to a pleasant 84 degrees, which was enough to tempt a handful of swimmers, a few feet-sticker-inners, and one cannonball that only splashed a few electronic devices and a couple handfuls of chips.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, Radar started bringing out his barbequed chicken, crispy on the outside and juicy in the middle like it's supposed to be.

This is eerily similar to a picture from about one year ago...

The Mufti being absent without leave, the Associate Mufti shouted the roll, barely heard over the roar of the three mini waterfalls in the pool.  There were four newcomers; welcome Sean, Donna, Will and Will's father-in-law who is not named Justin.  Walks on Water made a special appearance, as did Heats it UP and Jeffy Lube, whom we don't usually see on Wednesdays.  Mini Schlonga was back after too long an absence (work, work, work, plus dehydration severe enough to warrant a couple visits to the E.R.).  They're all in the pictures.

GFH3 Run #1,747; 12 April 2014

What a day for a celebration, or a small slew thereof.  The sun has finally returned for good, and something like 55 barbarians broke down the gates at Air Horn’s to help him celebrate his something-or-othereth birthday and the marriage, last fall, of his charming daughter Brogue Bait to the delightful Seth.  BB and Seth attracted a whole bunch of whippersnapper friends and relatives, including the ridiculously whippersnapperish Mallory, who hasn’t yet begun to toddle.  The Mount Vernon H3 sent a half-dozen or so representatives, attracted by the 70-degree temps, the woodlands of Great Falls, and the possibility of champagne.

Do this.  Go these ways.  Marks are on the ground, or somewhere.

AH and Pumpmaster set, and Pumpmaster promised to sweep, carrying home any victims of his youthful exuberance in one arm.  Ah, to be young in the springtime, and a professional gym rat.  AH reminded everyone that cars + hashers = danger, and regretted the intrusion of roads into his trail.  Then everyone ran away, except the walkers.  The walkers stayed for advice on where to walk, and then they all strolled away and began ignoring the advice.

If they are going to make days this beautiful, you might as well run around in them.

About an hour after they set out, the runners emerged from Riverbend Park onto Riverbend Road, and then it was only a hop (up onto the shoulder, to be out of the way of the cars), skip (up and down the pipeline hills) and a jump (over a little creek) until they were back at the On In.  Shortcutters finished first, unless they walked their shortcut, in which case they came in after the sweeper.  AH finished his Peruvian-chicken run a few minutes after the last runners arrived.  Everyone fell to with vigor when the hosts started stirring that delicious green sauce Peruvians serve with their chicken.  After a while, with the first hunger pangs sated, the hosts started popping corks, AH sending them high over, and eventually down into, the crowd.  People grabbed their bubbly, added o.j. as desired, and started toasting.  AH also, in an excess of celebratory spirit, demanded his birthday song, which this reporter found unusually painful.  Thanks to Rick for that. 

Heads up! but only if you're wearing safety goggles.

On behalf of the Hash, the Mufti presented the not-that-newlyweds with a handsome hare to decorate their happy home.  AH made the usual pseudo-speech.  The double-barreled cake (vanilla for birthday; chocolate for marriage) was trimmed with the same china cake-toppers that decorated AH and his late wife’s wedding cake 40-ish years ago.  Sweet.

Mufti started roll-calling.  Paula arrived, damaged but undefeated, at the double-4s; was it Sally at double-3s?  Seth made seven.  Land Ho made it to two hashes in a row, and promised to come back really soon.  She’s taken a j-o-b, so Saturdays may be busy for a while, and she’s working at a marina, so the employee discount may make the paychecks moot.  Ole Fud abandoned us for West Point and lacrosse honors, but Double-Breasted Booby flew in from the west coast just to see her favorite hash.  A bunch of people won cheers for their first hashes, huzzah huzzah and 99 to the.  Next week should see Rick and Lori with their new names finally awarded, and Mufti and BC3 will host on the first Wednesday, which is to say 7 May, at the pavilion.  They will, on that occasion, finally achieve their 1,500^th and 500^th runs, respectively.

There are photos of much of the celebration and some of the sunshine right here.

And they lived happily ever after.

GFH3 Run #1,744; 22 March 2014

The first hash of spring brought spring-like temperatures and celebratory sunshine pouring across the ponds, lawns and briar patches of Great Falls.  After dusting himself liberally with flour, the heroic Drill Me, Fill Me opened his home to 37 hashers including head chef Irene and co-hare Air Horn.  DMFM to AH:  “I’m covered with flour, and you’re practically clean.  How did that happen?”  AH showed off his beautiful, custom made (of plastic grocery sacks and duct tape) flour bag in explanation.

Mad Dog, leading the pack as per ;-)

The Mufti, returned from tropical climes on Sunday last, just in time for the 900^th snowstorm of this winter, expressed appreciation for the weather, concern about the lapse in discipline the GFH3 suffered during his absence, and a promise to re-instill said discipline with an iron fist.  Several people chuckled appreciatively.  When AH and DMFM promised no death march, several people huzzahed appreciatively.  The hares also noted that the marks really were on the left, mostly, and that they had permission for a half-dozen or so forays onto private property.

True trail was just under four miles, with a mix of pavement and dirt footing, and at least a couple of fences to traverse.  Walkers went in different directions, some taking and some ignoring the advice of their kind host.  Easy Strider, back on the DL, and I kindly marked checks that the FRBs forgot, those SOBs.  The pack did get a bit strung out, and several runners seem to have gotten confused at the very end of the trail, heading up Springvale (sadly missing an amusing back-check six) or across the back yards of people who hadn’t necessarily granted permission.

Not content with hashing for a hobby, Paint in the Ass and Easy Strider are taking up taxidermy.  Or something.

No buckshot pursued anyone to the On In, and good thing too as it messes up the flavor of the chicken tikka masala.  A wide selection of beers, fruity-nutty salad and tiramisu made the meal complete.  Most everyone sat outside, which is a midge tricky when the pool is still covered, but worth the tip-toeing on a day like this one.

Mufti called roll without incident.  His own 1,497 has apparently been scrupulously audited already.  Chris expressed regret that her years of hashing in foreign parts still doesn’t get her past two at the GFH3.  She is, however, thrilled by the lower-key and lack of down-downs at our country club.  Nobody put a foot through the pool cover, and everybody checked for ticks.  Right?

If you look at the pictures, you will notice a sequence that begins with Air Horn, seen from the left, with both hands together in front of him.  Sadly, you can’t see the snowball he’s packing between those hands.  The subsequent pictures show him readying to throw, Easy Strider getting ready to catch, then catching, then observing the snowball, then laughing at Mini Schlonga, who is brushing snow off his shoulder, then M.S. setting off to supply himself with his own snowball, then one of Gale leaping up to extract snow from her shirt, then Gale chasing M.S.  Hijinks of this sort aren’t the norm for our usually sophisticated hash, but spring fever takes different people different ways.  Thanks for photos, Irene, Beef Strokemoff and Suck, Squeeze, Bang!

The kind of day that makes some of us wish to stop time.

GFH3 Run #1,736; 25 January 2014

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, and let it stop snowing before the hash, leaving a lovely, light, bright carpet of powder over the streets and woods of Great Falls for the runners and walkers to play in.  And if there’s a bit of ice and slush in the mix, so at least one hasher’s car goes a little further into the roadside ditch than desirable, and everyone has to run and walk in that funny shuffly slow motion skate-step thing to avoid sliding into a coccyx-threatening crash, well, isn’t that what hashing’s all about?  No?  Not technically?

Brambles!  That's what hashing's all about.

Well, for the 32 or 33 or maybe 34 folks who showed up in Great Falls today, sliding cars and shuffle-steps were a big part of the story.  The group gathered, carefully, under cold and cloudy skies, and were rewarded with a lot of road-running (and what a lot of people were driving, briskly, up and down Walker today!) and a few woodsy bits, including a really brambly, new stretch Easy Strider discovered behind a church.  No blood was spilled there or on the walkers’ trail; any strains or sprains inflicted when feet zigged whilst hips zagged could be appropriately treated with cold packs right there in the field.

The other big part of the story was Drill Me Fill Me’s generous hospitality before a roaring fire at the On In.  He went Greek on us today, with grilled chicken, spanikopita, hummous and more, and all of it quite tasty.  Speaking of grilled, someone grilled DMFM on what the spice was flavoring the spinach dish; “Is it cinnamon?”  (Pretty sure DMFM was not the one raiding the spice cupboard for this meal.)  Plus there was culturally-inappropriate but deeply delicious and warming hot apple cider, and cold hard cider for those who prefer it.  Incidentally, it seems to me that this hash does not go in for hard cider in a big way – a lot more Yuengling Black and Tan and various shades and varietals of wine vanished than did cans of Woodchuck.  There were also Valentine’s cookies, two of which Rocket enjoyed greatly.

Teaching the dog to bark for cookies is not what anything is about.

The Mufti having abandoned us for the dubious pleasures of California (southern California?  In the winter?!), the Associate Mufti demanded attention and requested volunteers for a spot of car-pushing, recommended The New Yorker’s current issue’s profile of Barack Obama, then called the roll.  Rick hit 95.  Flowerkraut achieved 701, and demanded to know why her 700^th had passed with little fanfare.  Perhaps she will plan an over-the-top absolutely fabulous hash to celebrate it.  Perhaps not.  Christy showed up, years after her first hash, for her second.  Double Breasted Booby presumably did not get credit for showing up via laptop and Skype, but who knows?  There are no rules.

Phoning in from 3,000 miles away is not what hashing's about.

Quote of the hash:  “My boot’s off, but I’m swelling.”  For some reasons, many of the photos from today seem to show people eating.  That doesn’t always happen; I certainly don’t aim for it.

GFH3 Run #1,723; 2 November 2013

Glorious weather, beautiful foliage, and no suspicion that Phoenix Rising had paired up with The Pumpmaster to set the trail combined to induce over 40 hashers to come out to Great Falls today.  (Also about 10,314,612 people to pack onto the Georgetown Pike on their way to Great Falls Park, resulting in a traffic jam extending from the park to the Madeira School, creeping along at about seven mph.)  And, while no formal polling took place, it's not unreasonable to assume everyone enjoyed the event mightily.

Yikes!

Of course, it's entirely reasonable to assume a collective shudder shook the crowd when Chip Off the Old Dick's male parent and Air Horn's male offspring stepped forward to claim credit for engineering the run.  The former is notorious for deciding that he just can't skip this beautiful bit of scenery through here, because people will enjoy it more than enough to make up for the additional 2.7 miles it adds to true trail.  The latter is about 30 and a personal trainer, a profession notorious for believing that people should push themselves just a little bit further.  That's right!  One more!  You can do it!  And how 'bout one more after that!  You can do it!

Well, almost everyone did do it, though Pumpmaster, as sweeper, offered up a nice bit of shortcutting for some of the stragglers.  Gale, seeing confusion in the crowd early in the run (Gale, they are always confused), took off up Beach Mill and finished about 45 minutes ahead of anyone else, and missed several really beautiful bits of scenery.  Those bits of beautiful scenery were enlivened by a thick coating of drying leaves over fair-sized, jagged rocks; bonus yay!  And some of those rocks and leaves were muddy and wet!  And no one returned to the On In via stretcher!

Note challenging footing, skillfully handled.

Note beauty of trail.

I have no idea what the walkers got up to.  I have been away too long and forgotten how to do a Hash blog.  Sorry.  I do know there were a lot of dogs at the event:  Mango, Piper, Espeon, Abby, Kylie, Ralph, some golden-retrieverish pup, maybe more.  The sign on the door to the Horn family hashing suite read, "No dogs," but Air Horn kept inviting them in.  For a cat man, he has a very generous nature.

He's also a generous host, and got in Peruvian chicken for the crowd, with that tasty green sauce, plaintains and some kind of yucca or sweet-potato fries, plus salad and cookies and seven-layer dip and other stuff.  Magnificent, and perfect for the warm-but-starting-to-get-chilly weather and the longish run.

The Mufti called the roll with his usual flair.  Little Ricky Tutu, whom we don't see tutu often (ha ha!), reached number 111 (ooooh) and Moaner Lisa achieved 965.  Somewhat ironically, she advised LRT to "get a life."  Great weather, beautiful trail, good friends, fab food, dogs everywhere and plenty of beer and wine served at appropriate temperatures... how much more of a life does anyone need?

Photos via this link.

GFH3 Run #1,715; 11 September 2013

Boring, boring, boring.  That’s pretty much what you get when you try to set a fast trail with reliable artificial light throughout, and that’s pretty much what you need for the last Wednesday Hash of the summer.  The On-In is incrementally less fun, for some people at least, if someone remembers that so-and-so and someone-else were both here at the start but aren’t here at the end, and must be flailing around somewhere in the dark woods without any beer.  Hence, true eagle trail tonight was 3.75 miles of almost all pavement, with large, bright and frequent Ons.

It was a lousy day for setting -- hot and humid with baking sun -- but an okay evening for running and walking -- a little less hot, still very humid, and a bit of color with the sunset.  The pack totaled 25, and took advantage of the two-mile and three-mile splits, with usual suspects going the full distance, which totaled over five miles thanks to the gas station/repair shop parking cars on top of the hash marks.  Sheesh.  Plus, a few of what Phoenix Rising was so kind as to refer to as 'devious' backchecks.

False, but lighted and paved, trail at the start.

Valiant skipped the trail completely, not realizing that it is his voice that resounds in my head as I set, admonishing, "Hares should understand that these little blobs of flour just aren't good enough."  There were some really big blobs on this trail, Valiant, though of course not as big as the impressive catalba tree? or something like that? he found in the local nature preserve.

Most everyone was back before full dark, but the flashlight came out soon after to help improve beer-label viewing.  Supper was a variety of bean-and-rice and chicken-and-rice casseroles, with a few warm cookies and two outlandish chocolate cakes for dessert.  The cakes were courtesy of the Oral Advocate, who discovered them when he stopped for a biking-break at Great Harvest and thought them so good he drove back there to purchase a pair.  A kind contribution to the hash indeed, and even kinder when be-candled in celebration of my birthday last week.  You know, if you sing along with the hash birthday carol ("Happy birthday to me," etc.), it doesn't sound nearly so bad as if you just listen.

Mufti's roll call revealed the double 4s for Gale, and 1144 for Rrocks Starr, #3 for Rachel, and.......  #199 for the Duck Sucker.  There was a meeting of the executive committee, from which a new name for Suck Squeeze Bang arose.  She may be called either Wait, Wait or Just a Minute based on her contributions to this naming session.  The Duck Sucker will definitely be renamed [redacted] at the next meeting of the GFH3.

Welcome home and thanks for the cake!

By the way, this all took place in McLean, where the Veggie Wedgie (what a dumb name) hared and hosted all alone.  I'm still figuring out the fancy new camera.  It looks like it's smarter than I am, but this is the best it could do for pictures.

GFH3 Run #1,713; 28 August 2013

YAAAY!!!  Another first-time host, and in that very pleasant part of Herndon that offers lots of access to the Sugarland Run trails, with a generous backyard, generous parking, and a generous host.  So, many thanks to Gale for stepping up, and may her clean-up be easy and her leftovers few.

Tonight's hash netted about 32 runners, walkers, hosts, co-hosts, chefs and loungers-about, and our hares made a point of sending people out pretty promptly at 7:00'ish, mindful of the ever-shortening daylight.  (NEXT WEEK'S HASH WILL START AT 6:30 -- given the location and the extra 30 minutes, you might expect a woodsy trail.)  The runners dashed away briskly, trying to outrace the humidity, and the walkers strolled off in the opposite direction with local resident Beef Strokemoff acting as guide.  They've got a very nice paved loop of about two miles for walkers, with some of those fun Herndon stepping stones over a couple of creeks.

Everybody loves a water crossing!  If these were runners, Chip Off the Old Dick would be where the dogs are, and Bionic Babe would be up on the stepping stones.

The runners also got some creek crossings, but apparently weren't always certain they were stepping on the right stones.  Easy Strider seemed, to the impartial observer, to be promulgating a calumny when he suggested that "the girls got to gabbing" whilst setting the runners' trail, and therefore scattered their flour less often and in less visible locations than they otherwise might have -- but later Lori, Suck Squeeze Bang and Bite Me confirmed his hypothesis.  Apparently, they also waited out the thunderstorms with a bottle of wine before setting out to set.  So the pack got maybe a little straggly and a bit short-cutty, as it sometimes does. 

About that Easy Strider:  he was a walker last week, given illness and injury.  This week, he was recovered enough to be FRB by a comfortable margin, with the twin engines of Lyme disease and a broken rib apparently turbo-charging him along the trail.  First-timer Rachel demonstrated a nice turn of speed, with Pulls Out Early helping her interpret the (few and far-between) marks.  And everyone else made it in, hot, humid and happy, before darkness fell.

At the on-in, they discovered barbecued chicken, beans, potatoes, corn and two salads (including kale -- last time the hash got super-food, anyone?), as well as a bountiful assortment of beverages including a growler of beer -- from Sweetwater, Brent thinks.  Brent also thinks that the hash should always be hosted by good-looking women who have time to shower and change into their fancy duds before the on-in.  Others may have ideas about what Brent should do, and should make suggestions directly to him.

Hail to the chef!

Mufti's roll call included Rachel's first, Kyren and Chris's seconds (Chris was the bbq chef, very handsome in his brightly-colored apron), and Suck Squeeze Bang's birthday, with a big chocolate cake with extra frosting.  Pulls Out Early (who left early) hit 222, and Rrocks Starr hit 1166.

Animal sightings:  two shelties, one fox, and a few deer.  I don't know why two guys in grey and black insisted on being in the photo of five guys in green, but you can see all the pictures here.

GFH3 Run #1,707; 17 July 2013

Lezley, stepping up onto the curb outside The Buffalo Wing Factory and Pub in Reston:  "Goodness, it's hot."  Everyone else:  "No, really?!?"

On the good news front, it wasn't nearly so humid as it has been, nor as it will be over the next few days.  So while it was somewhat uncomfortable, and the big tub of bottled water on ice on the sidewalk outside the Factory was decidedly welcome, no one was fainting, nor quite so thoroughly drenched in his or her own fluids as everyone was, for instance, last week at Rrocks Starr's.  And good thing, too, since the On In took place inside the said Factory and Pub, where neatly dressed waiters were serving civilized people, and the intrusion of a crowd as -- ummm -- olfactorally unsatisfactory as the hash at its peak of ripeness would have been intrusive indeed.

Storing solar energy to be expended on the run.

But before making the dinner hour slightly less comfortable for innocent bystanders, our crowd of 31 gathered on the sidewalk to receive instructions from Lori, who chose the location and mapped the run, and Bite Me, who set the course with help from Blow in the Hole and a friend with a much-appreciated GPS.  (For those of you keeping track, this makes four times BitH has hosted, hared or helped in the last seven hashes.  Somebody stop her!)  Lori also had printed instructions for the walkers, which they followed until they got into the woods and couldn't read them clearly anymore.  Mufti:  "We'll go half a mile and then turn around.  Someone keep track of where we go."

The runners did a big, zig-zagging circle in a bit less than an hour, with several young whippersnappers helping to lead the pack in, including BMe's nephew.  Since they are young, they don't yet know to mark the checks.  What Easy Strider and Mini Schlonga's excuses are is unclear.

PBR was available in cans for $2, and there was a $10 pizza special back at the Wing Pub place.  Thirty-one hashers squeezed into two very big tables, and the super wait staff coped admirably.  Mufti was not intimidated by the presence of strangers and two dozen TVs showing different sports channels (and some really gross commercials), and called the roll only very slightly sotto voce.  Paint in the Ass hit 400, and as threatened kept her name, despite such alternative offers as "Problem Child" and "Ass the in Paint," the latter of which would allow her to keep wearing her valued necklace.  Spurt hit 600, so if they got one of those cojoined-twins-separation operations in reverse, they could apply for a satin jacket.  I think.

If you finish an order of the 911 Wings, they put your name on the wall.

In the meantime, they could step outside with the Mufti to his car, and receive their super-duper new 31st anniversary and Mufti Appreciation Day t-shirt, zip-locked bagged for maximum shininess.  Air Horn:  "Who's this Shriner on the back?"

Lori says her mum reads this blog, and looks at the pictures.  Hi, Lori's Mum!  Thanks for reading!

GFH3 Run #1,699; 29 May 2013

Neither so hot nor so humid as the forecasters predicted -- though certainly a bit of both -- and everyone seems to have figured out that we're on Wednesdays now, so maybe forty hashers convened in Great Falls, gathering around Radar's pool before heading straight into the woods to scare the deer.  Seriously, deer were leaping every which way as the shouting pack heeled and hauled and crashed about in the underbrush.

The trail featured two turkey/eagle splits, leading some to boast of being "double eagles," surely not a concept much in use in this group.  Co-hares Radar and Phoenix Rising heaped praise upon co-hare Tasty Cakes for setting all the backchecks.  The runners suggested heaping something else, but you just can't pay attention to the runners once they reach a certain sweatiness level.  Valiant offered the walkers an eagle walk, alert to the most magnificent arboreal specimens and reminiscing on threats he has received whilst cycling around and about the village.

Only the very sportiest water stop will do for the GFH3.

Hey, I just realized we had two complete sets of Joneses this evening.  How often does that happen?  How happy we are when it does!

We also had chicken barbecued by our host that garnered rave reviews, salad and fancy guacamole.  You may not have seen the fancy guacamole; BC3 and Bite Me did not exactly make sure of that, but they both seem to enjoy guacamole.  Also, tons of Gatorade given the whole heat/humidity combo.  Plus... A SWIMMING POOL!  Walks on Water swam in same instead, along with a handful of friends, all cheerfully ducking the squirt gun fight going on overhead as Lust in Space taught three little boys how not to behave at a grown-up party.

The Mufti shouted the roll call, from the patio and the diaphragm to be sure of people on the deck hearing, and people in the pool area hearing, which they all more-or-less did.  Although, from the pool, with frequent forays to the underwater part, it was hard to tell if anything more exciting than Greg's #50 occurred.  Let me know if it did, please.

Just to be clear, this is a grown-up.

You know what tonight was, right?  Check the headline if you're not sure...   that's right, run number one thousand six hundred ninety-nine.  Oh, my.

I am really having a lot of trouble getting pix in the woods once the sun has even begun to set.  Perhaps we can all think of them as artistic, rather than blurry.  See what you think here.

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.