GFH3 Run #1,770; 10 September 2014

As you know, Zipperhead takes great pride in discovering some stretch of dirt, no matter how small, through which he has not previously set, for each of his runs.  Thus he claims to have included virgin territory in all but one of 54 runs he has hosted since June 1986.  (And in that one exception, he got a few friends to don quasi-virginal attire and bang tambourines or something.)  In celebration of the six-month anniversary of his four bypasses, tonight's trail continued the streak.  With Dances with Bulls lending her crafty mind as well, the hares achieved about five miles of true trail, with two disorienting loops contained within the larger loop - which Zh believes is also a first.

Zh and DwB ensured their marks were clear and true by driving most of the trail as the runners ran it, and parking by the more confusing of the cross-over points.  Whether they achieved any satisfaction in watching the 20 runners scramble, unscramble and re-scramble themselves [repeat] is not recorded.  Certainly they successfully re-set the marks required to ensure the pack worked through the second loop as successfully as they had the first.  Clever pack!

Sticking together nicely.

Eleven walkers enjoyed a very small part of the runners' trail, and all made it back to the house before dark, while the runners were still thrashing about in the woods, leaping over fallen branches and unscrambling themselves from the briars.  Headlamps and flashlight apps brightened the ever-earlier dusk.  Fortunately, though the evening was humid, the temperature wasn't outlandish, which helps keep a backcheck six entertaining instead of infuriating.

The On In seemed unusually crowded, and 35 people looked more like 50.  Maybe that's because so many of them were crowded around the table, nibbling on brownies while they waited for their turn at Phlashback's paella.  Praise for the wine offset diffidence towards the beer.

The Mufti, finding no double-number runs on his roll call, tried to make something of this being run #1770, but no one took him up on it.  So he looked again, and realized... HE MISSED SOMEONE!  It transpired that Mini Schlonga, having achieved run 199 back in June, and 199.5 in August, and 199.75 last week, had finally tripped the odometer to reach 200.  [Shouts, cheers, jeers]  So Mufti pulled out his fez [cheers, jeers, salaams], admitted that in the two months since the Exec Comm meeting he'd mislaid the list the possible names [sympathetic murmurs], and noted the Honoree's fashion sense, lack of sense regarding distances appropriate to a hash founded on the theory that three miles are plenty [jeers and lots of them], and app collection.  Valiant pointed out the Honoree's slender ankles.  [cries of befuddlement]  The Mufti then shouted the new nickname to the skies:  NIPPLE KNOCKER!  All the blonde women in the crowd demanded an exhibition of the inspiration for such a name, at which N.K. became uncharacteristically modest.

Let the knock-knock jokes commence!

Maybe next week he'll show up shirtless at Drill Me Fill Me's at 6:30. That's right, it's another early start next week. Only one person arrived in time for a 7:00 start this week; see if you can guess whom from the photos here.

Slender, yet strong, fast and flexible.

GFH3 Run #1,769; 3 September 2014

Walks on Water's stretch of Arlington contains some decent hills, but he and Mini Schlonga and Eric made the choice to eschew the most challenging of them on this hot and humid night.  Instead, they sent the pack on a non-Death March (remember the last time we were here?  Minivans carjacked to haul hashers out of the depths of the Potomac in the dead of night?) through pleasant parks, along Donaldson Run, and back through the less-undulating streets of Cherrydale and environs.

Nonetheless, while MinS insisted true trail was a (to him) paltry five miles, most of the 16 runners short-cutted in one way or another.  The holdouts?  Chip Off the Old Dick and Matt stuck with true trail, bashing their way through the second woodsy bit in the dark, and marking the checks assiduously.  Probably Bad Dog did, too; if he's made it in by now, you can ask him.

Once you've bonded like this, you've got to run the full trail.

There were 30 of us total, including Melisande without a crutch but not up for running yet, Paula abandoning the charms of Charm City for the evening, and Howard floating free of Space City.  It was, of course, well worth the trip.  The walkers got a proper trail, incorporating stretches of the runners' trail, and everyone got bratwursts and beer and WoW's family-recipe spud salad, which is delicious with or without the bacon.  Plus Tofu Pups for at least one of us, and the delightful Mo declined to be added to the roll but kindly provided us with two super-delicious and homemade cakes, moist and dense and the vanilla one filled with fruit.  Cake!

With the Mufti off doing surveillance on the Outer Banks, and the Associate Mufti performing reconnaissance in Croatia, the Assistant Associate Mufti was entrusted with the official roll, thumbing exasperatedly through the 2,006-name C List to find the couple of Mount Vernon regulars who joined us.  Also getting a tiny bit of something just a little bit sticky on the B List.  Sorry, Mufti.

Lovely view on a bit of false trail -- makes it worth the extra distance, right?

We welcomed Dana from Tampa, formerly of Arlington and soon to be of San Francisco, plus Anne, for their #1 GFH3 runs, and Chris for #2.  See if you recognize them in the photos here.  Given the early dark, you'll find fewer than usual.

See you at Zipperhead/Zipperbody and Phlashback's at 6:30!! next week.  That's right, 6:30pm next week, half an hour earlier so the Phlashheads and Dances with Bulls have a little extra daylight in which to shove you through the woods.  Fun!

GFH3 Run #1,767; 20 August 2014

First time host Katy did the hash proud tonight, getting the downpour out of the way early, and the runners on the road promptly at 7:00 in the hot-and-humid aftermath.  Co-hare Thanks for the Mammaries drove out to re-lay marks damaged by the rain; the hares had almost finished setting before the skies sundered.  A big ol' walkers' contingent of about a dozen (clean to start; a dirty dozen by the finish), plus newcomer Bruce, enjoyed a paved trail largely of their own making.

The roughly 19 runners got some winding roadways and a good bit of pipeline.  A plethora of shortcuttery and a mismarked check or two brought them On In in widely-spaced clots of one and two and three and five.  Nipples can tell a story of minor adventure better than it can be told here.  Ask her!  The trail was brief enough that most everyone was in before dark, which arrives so sadly early nowadays.

Twilit clot of three

And at the garage, the 37 hashers were met with a bevy of sandwich fixings and some gigantic turkey legs, which they enjoyed with enthusiastic gesticulating.  There's just something about a drumstick, isn't there?  Beverages and seating were both plentiful, and the evening made for lingering.

Mufti ran down the roll, with Zipperhead making 1177 (the double ones and double sevens, not that anyone seemed to care much) and Katy, who first joined this group for run #1151, back in 2003, making it back onto the A List from the ignominy of C.  First-timers Bruce, who does not replace Duke but makes a fine addition to the PPPP household, Mike and whoever that was dancing with the hostess, did not seem to sign on for the roll.  Curious.  They are all in the pictures, though, the most revealing of which are courtesy of Puss in Boot.  Thanks!

She says she's not dancing, but she is.  She is.

Next week:  The Return of Bill!

GFH3 Run #1,765; 6 August 2014

Fancy stuff tonight, as Blow in the Hole rented the party room at her Herndon swim club, and called in the caterers so she could devote more time to setting:  "It's a little longer than I meant it to be," she explained of her trail.  But with sunshine and mild temps, as well as reasonable humidity, and a hostess with a reputation for most-est-ing, 43 hashers turned out for the run tonight.  Alex and John popped up again, bringing mother and wife Ellen for her first GFH3, Radar tore himself away from the Cape or whatever more exotic travel has taken him from us, Heater Beater made it his third hash in a row -- because of that mild weather, you see -- Melisande limped along, Flowerkraut brought a swelling hand (yellow-jacket sting), etc. etc.

"She did one thing, and she did another thing, and I didn't do much of anything..."

And Zipperhead and Bionic Babe were there, having helped set, and thereby creating a not-that-confusing array of different false-trail styles, plus one hare's arrow that pointed in two different directions.  The 24 runners got it all figured out pretty quickly, and were through the little bit of shiggy and almost at the water stop before the water stop was.  (The official water stop, that is; not the impromptu water stops of Zipperhead wanting to see who would fall for the pipeline decoy and other fun tricks.)  They had a back-porch audience near Dranesville, and the neighbors were kind enough to cheer on the pack as they pounded up the hill toward the cooler and a five-spoked check.  The Beer Near sign, a few miles farther along, did not get washed away by lawn sprinklers before most of the hash had made it back to the On In.  Rrocks Starr mentioned that he had noticed that "little longer than I meant" part BitH had described.  Runners finished between about 8:20 and 8:40; walkers were done somewhat earlier, heh heh.

Whippersnapper!  Putting on a show for...

a back-porch cheering section.

The party room was seriously festive, with centerpieces and highly effective a/c, and the pasta and salad and rolls laid out on long tables.  The volume from 3.5 dozen chatterers was considerable, and when Mufti got ready for the roll, it required shrill whistles from three or four tables to calm the crowd.  There were four first-timers with us:  Paul, Ellen, Devon (fast) and Rudy, who vanished before the roll so we must hope he takes enough time out from the San Diego, San Antonio, Hong Kong and Mount Vernon hashes to join us again someday.  Nobody had unusually exciting numbers, but we did get an update on Dr. Pecker, PhD.  As Mufti notes, he is a low-pressure guy, but the 30/60 he recorded after his recent cardiac procedure was a bit worrying at first.  The good folks at Norfolk Hospital soon had him up to better numbers, and he is now doing well - and probably back home tonight.

Beer very near indeed, now.

Dr. P, PhD didn't make the photos tonight, but everyone else did.  You may notice that orange is indeed the new black.

GFH3 Run #1,763; 23 July 2014

Well!  This streak of folks who haven't hosted for a while stepping up to host is all to the good, as the Oral Advocate proved with a short run and a great dinner.  And even the threat of thunderstorms couldn't keep 25 of us from gathering under the pavilion, in the heat and humidity and a low, dense mass of gunmetal gray clouds, to enjoy all the heroic host had to offer.

First, he promised no poison ivy.  Next, he promised that short run, claiming to have heard complaints.  Finally, he sent the pack of 18 runners away, so he could nip back home and retrieve the turkey and beef he'd been smoking since 2:00pm.  Yowsa!

The pack zoomed away up the street, crossed the parkway to circle behind the pool, and took to the trails by the time (about 7:28pm) those clouds starting hurling rain and lightning upon the earth.  The much smaller walking contingent had almost made it back under cover by then, as they chose to keep the walking really brief - up the street to Mufti's to return Mango and her houseguest, Oscar, to the safety and comfort of roof and walls.  O.A. assured the only-slightly splattered walkers that the runners should be mostly under trees by now.  Relieved of that almost overwhelming worry, the walkers then felt free to talk about beer.

They didn't walk far enough to work up a sweat, so you know all the dark patches are rain.

The runners were all back by about 8:00pm, entirely cheerful and with about three miles, or a bit more, on the GPSes.  Happy as they were with the run, they were ecstatic at the sight of the carvery station O.A. had improvised, with its array of sandwich fixins and himself at the board, knives in hand.  The poor man thought he'd smoked enough meat for at least 30, and would be enjoying leftover beef for dinner for several days.  Not so much:  the hungry and appreciative hashers demolished pretty much every scrap of meat available.  People who had the turkey thought it so good they should try just a slice or two of beef, and vice versa, and eventually everyone stopped pretending and just said, "I'll have another sandwich, thanks!"  So O.A. moved on to slicing watermelon, and passed that around until the crowd was sated.  Looks like it's leftover chips and lettuce this week, dude.

Thanks for the photo, Ronda!

As the watermelon made the rounds, the Mufti began his roll call, alerting all to the presence of Just One More, who's been AWOL since sometime in the 90s.  (Well, it feels like that long.)  So tonight he showed up with a great contusion around the right eye, having wrestled a bicycle and lost earlier in the day.  Offered ten bonus runs if he knew his current run count, JOM guessed 262, and got a Bronx cheer and 235.  Katy, back after a respite of seven years, came thisclose to winning her bonus, but missed it by one, and hence moves forward to a respectable 14.  Justin and Ronda both had easy guesses, at #1; Matty earned #2, and the Mufti hit one thousand, five hundred fifteen -- the double 15s!

Rough Cut is closing in on 900, and celebrated by heroing up for next week.  That's right, we're off to Leesburg!  The boss will understand if you need to duck out early.  If you're interested in what we looked like this week, check here for photos.

GFH3 Run #1,761; 9 July 2014

Many of our newer hashers haven't had a chance to get to know the Jazz Swinger well, as she's been MIA (Missing in Artistic Activity, viz: busy singing schedule) a good bit for the last couple of years.  Presumably those folks now have some understanding of why she was once called 'Martha F-ing Stewart.'  Quite the hostess, isn't she?

The Jazz Swinger

And this is her Pearl Necklace face.

Her take on her hash:

"Dick Knoblauch was my hero for sure!  I was ever so grateful.

"It did go beautifully from all reports.  And the weather even cooperated!  Once the thunderstorm went through the temp continued to drop and it was all very pleasant--except for the ticks, briars and PI.  Hey, that's hashing.  Stop your whining, Joe.  No one got lost.

"We [re-]named [Suck Squeeze Bang, who is now] 'Puss in Boot.'"

GFH3 Run #1,760; 2 July 2014

Some people love the 'heat index' idea, some people mock it, but the heat index, early this evening, was 103 degrees, on an ambient temperature of 94 degrees Fahrenheit.  And the forecast included thunderstorm warnings through 8:00pm, and something like thunderstorm-certainties after that.  Yikes!  In typically unpredictable fashion, 27 hashers braved the swamp-like weather to gather in south Reston, where Chip Off the Old Dick had laid what may be his shortest trail ever, and he and Maria laid out their usual feast.

Mobile Water Stop One, on the move (and farther behind the pack than planned).

It is awfully entertaining when the hare says he has no idea how long true trail is, but COtOD clearly put some time in to planning and marking thoroughly.  That said, rain lays waste to the best of plans, so he encouraged everyone to take chalk during one of the most-interrupted hash briefs of all time, and sent the 18 runners on their way.  COtOD also mentioned that he'd expended thought and time on shortening the route he'd initially planned.  He had a couple of new spots (one actually lightly-used from three weeks ago, when thunderstorms scattered the pack in the midst of a lovely bit of park) he wanted to include, and managed to do so in less than four miles of true trail.  Multiple water stops helped ensure that the full pack was getting where it was supposed to go, and also proved that the marks had done their job in helping keep that pack together.  So everyone was back before dark, raving about the excellence of the trail and delighting in pizza, spareribs, several salads, too many kinds of beer to count, and lots and lots and lots of wine.  Plus chips.  And maybe cookies.

With Easy Strider providing lighting, Reston Association assuring plenty of tables and seats, and the ODs ensuring that no one in a quarter-mile radius would go hungry, dinner was a convivial affair.  The Mufti announced that there are plenty of hosting slots still available in July and August, and the Jazz Swinger mentioned that she'd sure love some help with setting trail from her place in Ashburn next week.

Rough Cut loves to find a false trail when the heat index is 103!

The Mufti further announced that, in the Year of the Chefs, the Chef of the Year was Heats it Up, and Blows and Goes had managed to stick around long enough to step forward and collect her award for her.  In additional post-Anniversary Hash business, he asked The Oral Advocate to accept a token of collective esteem (gourmet crackers and a Nationals pen shaped like a bat) for his ceaseless care of the Hash in his role as Associate Mufti.  Then he called roll, and we welcomed Other Sandra back from Mozambique, welcomed occasional newbies Ann and Kim, and celebrated Maria's double-ones, Rough Cut's triple-eights, and Nipples's triple-ones.  Oooooooooooooooooh.  Suck, Squeeze, Bang will never stop celebrating her 299th, and next time we see her she'll have the chance to persuade the Executive Committee to give her a new name -- maybe one she actually likes this time.

Almost home.

And it didn't rain.  Awesome.  All those damp-looking people in the photos are just -- you know -- glowing.  As one does in Virginia in the summer.

GFH3 Run #1,755; 4 June 2014

The listing said that Cracked Pot would be co-hosting, so of course the hash turned out in its legions to welcome her home from the Great North.  (Mitchell on gardening in Vancouver:  "We don't have mosquitoes.  There's no poison ivy.  We get very few squirrels.")  Her former neighbor, Phoenix Rising, with help from Chip Off the Old Dick, laid out a very pretty runners' trail with several permissions from the neighbors and a turkey/eagle split with all-new territory for the eagles.  Sadly, none of the 28 runners actually completed it... although there were some noble efforts.

Welcome home!

So what happened?  Seriously, two weeks ago, we had a 4.25 mile true trail, and only the three hashers who left twenty minutes early finished, and that in the dark.  Last week, we had about a four mile true trail, and everyone completed it just fine, albeit in well-faded light.  This week, PhR heard the hash thrashing about in the woods on the far side of Difficult Run as he waited on the near side with a water stop, and said, "&$!#, they're going to be another ten or fifteen minutes at least."  Since it was already nearing 8:00pm, he called an audible and dashed up the Pike to the turkey/eagle split, requesting that everyone please play turkey tonight.  Lemme tell ya, it's a weird thing to hear PhR asking people to turkey.  Bad Dog resisted the plea, COtOD elected to sweep after him, a few people hopped into the Rising van, and everyone else turkeyed.

About where the swear words started.

Needing a place to turn the car, PhR was excited to see that Towlston has re-opened -- the bridge repaired.  So he could head straight home along Old Dominion, except there he saw the pack again, not as far along as he would have liked and not as clearly visible, given it was truly dark by then.  Marking the back-check seemed insufficient, and he opted to collect a caravan of cars and auto-hash everyone back.  Sadly, the caravan had not made it to the collection point before the lowering sky did its whole pouring-buckets thing, and by the time the runners made it back, they were each and every one soaked to the bone.

There's 1.5 miles still to go, and all of it woods.

Luckily, there was hot-n-tasty Chinese food waiting for them, and plenty of it, as ten walkers and some miscellaneous extras restrained themselves nicely.  (Plus the Risings went heavy on their order, since a bunch of neighbors came over to see the Pots, too.)  The fridge was stocked with beer (Vienna Lager amongst others, out of Lexington, Virginia) and there were several Black Boxes for the wine contingent.  PhR made a special effort to find, and force into his van, the eagles -- who included the early starters Paddle My Candee Ass, Big Balls on Deck and Norm.  We lost Sean to the woods and the storm, but a search party eventually located him, and brought him back in time for the end bits of the roll call.

Runners return

And get well fed for their efforts

Mufti performed his duties with his usual élan, offering C.P. ten bonus runs if she knew her count; she was off by about 40.  Oh, well.  Cums on  a High Note, who more than ever ought to be known as Long Time Cumming, didn't know hers, either.  The three newbies knew theirs:  Alex, his dad and Chris are all at #1, and we look forward to their second runs, very soon.  As everyone agreed the trail tonight was great, and beautiful, and well worth running, maybe we'll see it again someday -- on a Saturday, for instance, in early autumn.  Easy Strider requested I take a photo of dried blood, and proposed the thigh you'll see in the photos here.  If you can guess whose thigh it is, there's something wrong with you.

MUFTI CONFIRMS THE 32nd ANNIVERSARY HASH WILL TAKE PLACE AT PICKLED PINK HEAT AND PACKING PETER'S ON SUNDAY 29 JUNE.  MARK YOUR CALENDAR!!

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 #1,752; 14 May 2014

Gracious, he's a clever young man, isn't he, our Chip Off the Old Dick?  All that shiggy he was able to find in the oft-traveled neighborhoods of North Reston.  And the weather helped out a bit, as recent rain rendered the dirt paths extra slick and entertaining.  Phoenix Rising claimed credit for ensuring that all 20 runners weren't still on trail at 9:00pm (his son sometimes sets long).  COtOD, assessing Dad's assertion, remarked, "A strong sense of self-esteem can be healthy."

Extra points for style!

Our two hosts should be feeling healthy tonight, as this, their yumpty-gazillionth foray into setting trail, earned all kinds of plaudits from a grateful crowd of 34, including one runner's comment that, "My butt-ochs are getting a workout tonight."  COtOD's decision, accounting for clock, calendar and cloud cover, to get the crowd away pretty promptly at 7:05 or so helped ensure that not very many people were still on trail in the dark, and since those lingering few had him sweeping them up, it worked out just fine.

While the Mufti led the walkers around the lake, and the runners allowed two 18-year olds and a 19-year old to lead them across four humid miles of mud to the On In, PhR was shuttling off to pick up the victuals.  Living up to a well-earned reputation, COtOD fed his troops well.  There may have been 15 pizzas, which would have been plenty, but then two trays of sandwiches, just in case, plus four pans of various high-carb casseroles like enchiladas and mac 'n' cheese, plus pulled pork somewhere in the mix.  And side dishes, and dessert.  Whew.  PhR chose Yuengling and various IPAs, plus whatever was cheap in the wine aisle.  Several toasts were drunk to the memory of It's Too Long, who died at 68 on Monday, in Florida.

Exec Comm members stand by to help with roll as needed.

The Mufti called roll, which offered a respite from all the excitement of last week by offering nothing out of the ordinary.  For some fairly ordinary photographs, check here.

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 #1,710; 7 August 2013: Third Annual Jeff Schwartz Memorial Hash

For those of you who haven't heard the story of Jeff Schwartz:  In late spring or early summer of 2011, the Mufti began casting about with e-mails and phone calls asking whether anyone in the hash knew Jeff, who had signed up to host one summer day.  No one did!  No one had ever heard of Jeff Schwartz, the putative host for a run from the Reston Community Center by Lake Anne for the third of August.  Jeff had provided an e-mail address when he registered to host, but did not respond to messages sent.  Quickly skipping over the question of who had played this prank in questionable taste, the Mufti issued his decree:  the hash will go on!  I'm Not Dead Yet and Mini Schlonga volunteered to set, and any handy local restaurant could host the on-in.  And so it happened, and last year it happened again, and tonight was The Third Annual GFH3 Jeff Schwartz Memorial Hash.

Everyone looks around to try to find Jeff.

Same hares:  INDY and MS, though this time they pre-set rather than live haring as at past JSMHs.  Same On-In, Kalypso's, where no one has yet figured out how to deliver food and drink efficiently to an uncertain number of people arriving at irregular intervals and all wanting something different plus separate checks, please.  Same weather, or close enough:  summer in NoVA means humidity and who cares beyond that.  (Actually, it wasn't blisteringly hot, just quite warm, and cloudy enough to make the threat of thunderstorms believable.)  Same popularity:  more than 30 showed for this event, ready for fun.

The runners rushed clockwise around Lake Anne, albeit a large and zig-zaggy clock.  The walkers strolled a closer, widdershins trail.  It is difficult to piece together just what happened on that runners' trail, but it seems likely that a lot of hashers took short-cuts and long-cuts and side streets to nowhere.  People returned at very staggered intervals and took up a gigantic table and a couple of satellites (Kylie and Abby were welcome only at the very edge of the outdoor dining area).

Yay for umbrellas; bonus yay for not needing them.

And then it's BRING ON THE FLAMING CHEESE!, which is reliably delicious, especially paired with Bell's IPA.  There was plenty of seafood and souvlaki and burgers making the rounds as well, though a few of the less-hardy snuck off to find faster service elsewhere.  Mufti bellowed his roll without regard to other diners, and claimed run number 1,490 for himself.  One senses an epic poem coming on...  And Beef Strokemoff hit the triple ones, while Roger made it, nine years after his run #1, to the double 9s.  There was a meeting of the executive committee, and a very successful one, too.  Next week the hash will be just a few blocks from Lake Anne, and Roger will be sporting a handsome light-blue t-shirt with his slightly-less-handsome new name emblazoned on it.  Can't wait.

A few photos here, including this really lame one of flaming cheese:

GFH3 Run #1,709; 31 July 2013

If you look to the right on your screen, and maybe scroll down a bit, you'll find a blog 'gadget' captioned "Labels."  Browse through that list of words and phrases, and you'll see the word "sunshine" stands out in great big letters, with the notation "(20)" beside it.  That is because twenty of these posts have included the label "sunshine," to indicate that that weather condition was an element of the hashes described in those twenty posts.  If you squint a bit, a few lines above sunshine, you'll see the word "rain," in tiny letters, with the notation "(4)".  If you had checked before Job Blow and Heats it UP's fabulous hash tonight, that notation would have been "(3)."  But it poured like the dickens, or something a lot wetter than the dickens, in Reston this evening.

Not at first, mind you.  As about forty of us gathered around the Blows's fish pond, where the Mufti was gregariously distributing anniversary t-shirts, the sky was maybe partly cloudy, or overcast if you're pessimistic.  The heat and humidity were doing their thing, and Job Blow was out in the driveway, making sure no one ran over the neighbor's mailbox.  Despite vigorous efforts by our Fearless Leader, a pair of New Balance lost-and-found shoes went unclaimed (Mufti!  Do not drop those in the fish pond!) and after a bit people slowly straggled out front for the brief.  I frankly remember nothing of JB's sapient comments, having been mildly concussed by an over-enthusiastic hasher gesticulating recklessly, but there may have been something about blue chalk and true trail being determined by at least four, not three, ons.

It's a RUNNING club!  Somebody RUN!

"On on!" someone eventually shouted, and a bit more straggling ensued.  Misled by an over-enthusiastic hasher misinterpreting marks recklessly, the pack headed up the street, then turned 'round and came back down, and into the woods trails through the kindly neighbor's yard.  Thank you, kindly neighbor.  Once everyone -- walkers, too -- had gotten well into those woods, the clouds moved in fast and thoroughly.  The walkers and a horde of shortcutters made it back to the house before the skies sundered, but the true trailers (all eight or so of them) got soaked to the bone.  Poor things.  And then no one tried out the new salt-water pool, which looks just gorgeous.  BC3 is putting together a party to sneak over there while JB and HIU are off on their next vacation.

The usual HIU generous feast was laid out on the kitchen buffet, with roast pork and three salads (the tortellini artichoke was my favorite, although the bean-corn-avocado was a very strong contender).  A wide variety of beer was available, as were Black Box and Ch. Ste. Michelle wines.  Dessert was ridiculous, and included super-fresh and juicy cantaloupe, many pastries and two flavors of ice cream.

Imitating the courtship ritual of the blue-footed booby (or double-breasted booby) is a great way to stretch out after a long, soggy run.  Photo is proof I did not hallucinate this, despite my brain injury earlier in the evening.

Mufti's roll was notable for the strength of the replies, except when he got to Zipperhead and Rrock Starr, who didn't make a peep.  Eventually someone realized they were still out on trail, in the dark and the wet, and a search party formed.  A whole bunch of people got cheers for their first runs -- a German, I think, and at least a couple of Americans -- and BC3 is getting awfully close to 500.  Then a huge gust of cheering burst out as our lost sheep returned to the fold, with tales of winding trails and invisible marks and very, very wet t-shirts.

My attempts at photographing the koi were dismal failures, but you can see much of the other stuff in the pictures 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 #1,705; 3 July 2013

Ah, summer in Great Falls:  the heat, the humidity, the threats of thunderstorms, the verdant, vital, vigorously flourishing poison ivy festooning ancient oaks, stilt grass and parking lots.  The thirty-or-so hashers thrashing about under overcast skies, fruitlessly searching for the turkey/eagle split.  Okay, that's an exaggeration.  There were only about 35 hashers total, and of those let's say 20 runners, and of those perhaps three or four actually found that t/e split.  So great work setting those marks, Rrocks Starr, Phoenix Rising, Blow in the Hole and Dances with Bulls!  Great work!

Hashers paying close attention to explanation of the t/e split.

That's right, Blow in the Hole has now co-hared three of the last five hashes, and may be helping out with next week's course.  Perhaps someone ought to speak with her therapist about adjusting the meds.  While you're at it, talk to Brogue Bait and Seth's counselors.  When they reached the path back to R.S.'s, having lost trail and accidentally turkey-ed pretty seriously, they conferred briefly and decided a couple more laps around the park would be the right way to spend the next thirty minutes.  Ah, youth.

By all accounts, it was a great course if you could find it through the oozing mud, and those who persevered were only out for about 90 minutes, and it makes a nice change of pace to have the usual FRBs DFL instead.  The walkers and shortcutters, having enjoyed watching kayakers working way too hard to go nowhere on the falls, made serious inroads into a luxurious sandwich spread with side salads and assured each other of the strength, competence and survival instincts of the missing eagles.  Since the Starr family does not skimp, the return of Mike I., Easy Strider (the Mufti:  "It looked like he might be straining just a bit."), Suck Squeeze Bang, Bionic Babe, Paula and, finally, Chip Off the Old Dick, individually and severally soaked to the skin in their own sweat, could not ruffle Christina:  she just laid out more cold cuts and cheeses, and the late-finishers dug into a well-earned dinner.

Mike smiling now that he's been back for ten minutes or so; COtOD not ready to smile quite yet.

Finally, the Mufti could call the roll.  Paint in the Ass hit 398, Spurt 598, Lilla number one (99 to the cup!), and both Mr. Herman and Mr. Hermansson reached #5.  Thanks for visiting!  Were there really no pup dogs at this hash?  Check out the photographic evidence here, and thanks to Lilla for help with camera-wielding.  There are pix as well of four of R.S.'s 37 or so carefully plastic-wrapped signs providing parking instructions.  As if buying beer and setting out chairs and spending five hours setting a trail no one can follow weren't enough work...

GFH3 Run #1,704; 26 June 2013

We knew they were good, but who knew they were this lucky?  Despite the warnings of severe thunderstorms, despite not having checked that the pavilion was available before they heroed up, BC3 and Mufti held a perfect hash:  no one came inside the house, and no one got wet.  What more can one ask?

Yes, Mango, you're a hero, too.

One can ask for a great trail, and one got that:  a bit over four miles, round the scenic lakes of Reston.  One can ask that the walkers have a seasoned guide, and Oral Advocate took charge.  One can ask for great weather, and one can make do with hot and humid, but not melting oozy puddle hot-and-humid; just mid-June-what-do-you-expect hot and humid.  One can ask that the severe thunderstorms hold off and they did, for huge-ola bonus points.  One can ask for pizza, having looked forward to it all day (sing along:  "Oh yay, hooray, today is pizza day; oh yay, hooray, today is pizza day..."), and one got plenty of that, along with Black Box and a selection of IPAs, and then there were what looked like Girl Scout cookies, too.

And the neighbors can stop to ask what on earth is going on, with all these semi-dressed people drooping over the walkways.  They accepted the explanation and went on their way.  Had they seen Mufti calling the roll, they might not have been so sanguine.

Plenty of excitement in the roll today:  Mary from Annapolis finally added her name to the list, estimating this is her fifth GFH3 run; Queen Cobra hit 222 (rhymes with "oooh"); Dave and Gale both hit 35; and all the way from Albuquerque, Ghanarhea (who actually has a different name now, but it's not as great as 'Ghanarhea') stepped up for special notice.  AAAAnd... Bite Me celebrated (I know you can't always tell with her, but I'm confident that expletive was a celebratory one, masquerading as complaint) her 900TH RUN!  It is, as Mufti notes, "a remarkable milestone."

Please don't make me use my goofy new name!

And then... and then... the Mufti produced a familiar-looking black frame, and spun it around to reveal Bob Raymond's well-preserved smelly t-shirt, or what we sometimes call the Death March Award.  Hisses sibililated through the gloaming.  The shameful nominees rang in the air:  second runner ups:  Airhorne, Brogue Bait and Pumpmaster, at least one of whom had faked major surgery (there is no such thing as a back replacement) to avoid hearing the calumnies heaped upon him.  Runner-up:  Easy Strider, who impresses no one when he hits mile eight on his bicycle for silly's sake.  And then:  the colossal losers of the Death March Award 2013... Greg and Lori, who immediately began pointing fingers every which way.  Greg blamed Lori, Lori blamed Lezlee (who was mysteriously absent), and finally the whole hash chimed in to blame Mini Schlonga, who leaped and pranced and danced about in the shower of booing righteously descending upon him.

Boooooo!   Hissssssssssss!

Later, someone blamed a dog.

Don't forget to carpool next week, and if you get lonely before then, all your friends are here in the pix.

GFH3 Run #1,701; 12 June 2013

South Florida was hot and humid this morning; Reston was hotter and humid-er (there's a good pun on humidor in there, waiting to be made) this evening.  And we could all have stayed home in the a/c if it weren't for Blow in the Hole and Bite Me's hash heroics, which dragged about 30 of us to the pavilion for camaraderie, beer and sweat.  Note that four of us arrived in an open Jeep or a sporty Austin Healy, which is not on a par with BitH or BMe's heroism, but is pretty brave in the face of flash-flood advisories.

Did you ever know that you're my HEEE-ro...

Mufti was there, waving the Anniversary Hash flier (2pm!  Sunday!), and Bionic Babe was filling in order slips for the 31st Anniversary t-shirt.  The Mufti formally announced that no one is signed up to host for the rest of all time (other than PPH and PP for Sunday), and offered a paean to the XX half of the hash, lauding our beauty, wisdom and generosity in stepping up when the sign-up sheet is empty, and our hosts (who really live up to the beauty part, though given the weather the wisdom part is open to question) got a well-deserved cheer.

You know it's going to be a great run when the hares announce, in the brief, that everyone should identify and stick with a running buddy, just in case.  They did pull this one together in a rather ad hoc fashion, but included some nice little bits and bobs including a well-cushioned stretch along the back of the Giant shopping plaza that I believe only Gale actually ran, and she did so backwards.  Seriously, it was pretty well marked, and yet.  And yet...

Excellent BN mark that pretty much none of the runners managed to find.

Back at the pavilion, the hosts had laid out beverages and sandwich fixin's and about sixteen different kinds of chips and similar.  Hummus, a great big juicy red tomato slice and cheddar on whole wheat, with a lettuce leaf to top it off.  Yum.  Seriously yum.

Bionic Babe continued to t-shirt (you will *not* want to miss this year's shirt -- order now, or on Sunday) while the Mufti thundered the roll - double 3s for Dave, and #1 (99 to the cup!) for Austin, though that subsequently changed to #3 (97 to the cup!).   The Mufti added a few announcements, which have slipped my unfortunate mind at this point.  You can ask him on Sunday!  And if you'd like to see what we all looked like, wilting a bit as the night drew in, click here.

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.