GFH3 Run #1,717; 21 September 2013

Hands up if you ate so bloody much pizza, in response to Hash Hero Chugger's pleas, that you may never walk again.  Pity, because the walking around Chugger's place in Great Falls is lovely, even in intermittent showers that eventually (as today) settle down to a steady rain.  "We need this rain," Rough Cut pointed out, with truth if not originality.

And certainly the 20 or 25 hashers present today looked revived and refreshed and soaked through as they arrived, pretty well grouped together, back at the cool, dry garage they'd departed an hour or so earlier.  (Incidentally, the group included Mini Schlonga, back from interhashing through Europe.)  Chugger and Phoenix Rising are to thank for taking a lesson from last week and ensuring they placed checks everywhere there needed to be a check, and a few extra places, too.  That diligence kept the pack mostly packed as they raced along a mostly off-road trail.  As promised in the brief, they crossed no major roadways; "Springvale," Chugger clarified, "is not a major roadway."

Someone in this group is thinking, "Oho!  So we head west..."

The walkers split into two about-equal groups, one sticking to pavement (street-walkers, heh heh) while the other headed into the homeowners' association-maintained woodsy trail around a little pond and up a good hill and then the wrong direction somehow or other to miss the second part of the woods trail.  Oh, well.  Kylie and Abby don't like to stay out in the wet too long, anyway.

Back at the garage, there was a spread you wouldn't believe, with fancy sandwiches on seeded bread and ciabatta warm from the oven, and fruit and cheese and chips and homemade cole slaw (very excellent) and other salad-like items...  and those were the appetizers!  Dominos delivered about 1,000 pizzas minutes later, each one a different set of toppings, including fancy things like banana peppers and spinach, and mainstays like ham and pineapple and just pepperoni.  Easy Strider:  "Snausages!" (imagine boyish grin and thrilled intonation).  And only later did the dessert trays come out, laden with pastries.

Plus stacks and stacks of pizzas off the the right somewhere.

Mufti called the roll for this, run number 1717.  Get it?  The double 17s?  Ooooh.  PhR and Chugger and Trish got well-deserved applause, and while I didn't actually hear her, I can't imagine Paint in the Ass didn't urge everyone to make the trek to Maryland next Saturday.  It's a great location for both running and walking, and well worth the trip.

Along about 5pm, with Chugger urging people to take home some leftovers, PhR went out into the wet in his old Volvo to find Spurt.  The expletive-deleting rain had washed away some chalked X's, but not the mistakenly-laid, flour checks those X's were designed to keep people from finding.  So Spurt was way off where he shouldn't have been, and willing to take PhR's taxi service.  Remember, everyone, that sidewalk check is designed to wash away easily.  Anyway, Spurt should have worked up enough of an appetite on all that extra trail to take care of the extra pizza...

Here's what it looked like up until the camera battery died.

GFH3 Run #1,716; 14 September 2013

What a very special treat for the runners:  Gurr's Hill and Oleta's Hill in the same trail.  "Ole Fud insisted we have both," Phoenix Rising explained.  "I don't know what it's called, but there was a hill that was really sucky and it really hurt and I thought I was going to pass out," Blow in the Hole reported.  "That's Gurr's Hill," Ole Fud said with confidence.

So O.F. and Strac insist the trail they set was about four miles, maybe a bit more.  PhR believes that, setting all the false trails, his total run this morning was about six miles.  Every runner who managed the true trail asserts, via GPS reading or just that unpleasant feeling in the lungs and quadriceps, that she or he slogged nine miles, give or take a few tenths.  The term "death march" rattled about the On In.  It was all great fun for the casual observer, heightened by the general gorgeousness of the weather and the specific gorgeousness of the Fuds' landscaping, which soon had even the most exhausted of the pack succumbing to the beauty of Great Falls in the sunshine.

It's a running club.  Someone run!

The group took a bit of time to gather -- this first Saturday thing is so confusing -- but once there were about 30 ready to go, O.F. offered a military brief, with comments on infantry and artillery, and wisecracks from draft-dodger PhR.  Then the pack circled about the first check, tried this way and that way, and eventually more-or-less headed down the driveway.  Chip Off the Old Dick rather brilliantly thought to ask for guidance, and subsequently headed straight out the back gate, shouting, "On on!" until a couple people heard him and the slow turning toward true trail began.  Suck Squeeze Bang leaped out of her car and noted that for once, arriving late paid off.  Through the woods, up the street, and to the third check, at an intersection, for several minutes' milling and jogging long ways in wrong directions and muttering imprecations, before they headed toward Runner Road and another eight miles or so to go.

They're so small.  How much shoulder do they need?

The walkers, meanwhile, splintered:  some headed down the drive and along the paved pathways; others followed instructions and the runners' trail as far as Arnon Chapel, whose dog-unfriendliness inspired a few 180-degree turns.  It took a while, but eventually everyone met up again, with a handful of sitters and latecomers, on the deck, where Felicity served up a perfectly-dressed quinoa salad and a pasta salad that were ideal for the weather.  PhR chose the beer, so it was heavy on IPAs and Yuenglings.

The Mufti called the roll:  double ones and double fours for Zipperhead (1144, you see), and 99 to the cup for John, Jay and Mike.  Politicking madly, the Mufti insisted his "and a great run"s were offered "with trepidation," but cheers resounded through the quickly cooling air.

Still figuring out the new camera; rather overexposed photos are on view 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 #1,714; 4 September 2013

Most of tonight's 31 hashers made it to the Duck Sucker's by 6:30, though traffic was certainly a bit icky.  But oh such a good thing they did, as those woods -- and co-hares Dances with Bulls and Zipperhead made the most of the woods, and even more of the river -- get darned dark once the sun starts thinking about setting.  Despite a challenging inlet/waterfall crossing, however, everyone (except maybe Severely Last, but his consistency in living up to his name is scarcely news) made it back to the house before losing the light entirely.

Now, about that water crossing:  apparently there was a turkey/eagle split, and turkeys got water while eagles got rocks.  However, I think everyone except Chip Off the Old Dick made it to the promontory near the waterfall where a big rock on one side of the inlet bore two large floury arrows pointing toward a big rock on the other side of the inlet, which bore two large floury arrows pointing toward dry ground.  Pickled Peter barely hesitated before wading in to water that ran almost waist-high.  Easy Strider and INDY turned around and headed back into the woods, emerging on the rocky crags, or craggy rocks, just in front of the waterfall and stepping carefully across to scrabble up onto a ledge where two folks we don't know were embracing.  The embracers scrabbled down and walked purposefully away, and the rest of the pack split about evenly between dry and wet crossing.

Bravo!

And where were the walkers?  No clue -- they had a recommended trail leading to the waterfall, but other than Chris and Gale, it's unclear whether anyone made it there.  Fortunately, anywhere you ramble in Scott's Run is bound to be lovely and at least mildly challenging.

Challenges accepted earned their reward at the On In, where fancy sandwiches imported from Georgetown were waiting, garnished with excellent kalamata olives.  Zipperhead apparently chose the beverages:  several connoisseurs rated the beer as 'swill;' no complaints noted ref: the wine.  There may be a theme emerging...

SSB took this one; that's why it's so artistic.

There was probably dessert and there were certainly chips, but I got caught up in roll-calling and water-volleyballing and neglected to investigate.  For the third time this lifetime, the Mufti entrusted me with the official roll, and so far I haven't left it in a flood zone or anything.  The responsibility fell to the assistant associate Mufti this week as the Mufti is vacationing in Duck or someplace like that, whilst the associate Mufti has decamped, with three tubs of Vaseline and a large box of bandages in assorted sizes, to the land of his ancestors (viz: Italy).  Nothing terribly exciting in the roll, though Rachel returned for run #2 and a stellar performance in the volleyball court ('in' not 'on' as the court is in the swimming pool).

And the weather was perfect.  Thanks to Suck Squeeze Bang (19 runs to a new name!) and Blow in the Hole for photos, which you can see here.

To Bea or Not to Bea hospitalized

Please check your e-mail for news about Bea.  If the e-mail didn't reach you (Air Horn, Brogue Bait will have the info on your behalf), please contact me.

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 #1,712; 21 August 2013

Gracious, what a lot of soggy corn chips remain after the hash has departed...

So, it was hash hero time again, and once more unto the breach, dear friends.  The Veggie Wedgie (what a dumb name) threw open the door of her gracious McLean home (and promptly started shrieking, "Bugs!  Bugs!  Shut the door!"), welcoming 29 hashers on an overcast evening that wasn't quite as hot 'n' humid as feared.  The call for volunteers yielded three:  let us now praise our favorite hashers.

The brave, smart, strong, sensitive, witty, beautiful, noble, chic, fascinating and in-all-ways wonderful Paddle My Candee Ass arrived from distant lands (Warrenton) at 7:45am to help set, prepare food, lug furniture and beer around, and accidentally do all the cooking and most of the hostessing, before leaving about 14 hours later.  The thank-you note is in the mail; it ought to be a medal.

Chip Off the Old Dick, whose hash heroics are already legend, arrived about 3pm (fresh from Phoenix Rising's retirement lunch, but a smidge confused on how this retirement thing works if he's still going to be, well, working), and headed up the street to navigate the entire trail as insurance that VW hadn't messed it up.  Along the way, he came upon six teenagers commencing some sort of carnal activity in the woods -- when was the last time that happened?  And when he got back to the future on-in, he declined to shower and change because, gods and nature love him, he was happy to sweep up after the pack.  So he just shotgunned about three quarts of ice water and greeted the slowly-gathering hash.

HEROES!!  Photo taken after PMCA got all scratched and hot and dirty setting trail, and before she got all scratched and hot and dirty making dinner.

The Mufti, may his name be praised forevermore, arrived about 6:30pm with the much-needed ice for the future cold beverages.  Thank you!  And shortly after him, the rest of the crew made their various ways to the driveway, and with the clouds lowering, blotting out the setting sun and rising full moon on an evening when the trail warranted as much light as possible, we kept the brief brief and kicked everyone out onto the street.

The walkers got a one-mile turkey or as-long-as-you-like eagle trail, and a few actually opted to eagle it a bit.  Eagling also offered more off-pavement walking, so it's a lovely choice.  Having finally put enough "T" and "E" marks on that sidewalk that they actually found the split, I shall now retire that trail.  The runners' trail, however...

It was a thing of beauty, I'm assured, to the 'true hasher' (Phoenix Rising is, apparently, a 'true hasher').  For the 'regular runners,' who just want to get out and back as easily as possible, it was somewhat uglier.  Radar came down somewhere in the middle:  "It's a great Saturday-afternoon trail."  Meeee-OWW!  Rrocks Starr thought it so good I should set it again, sometime when the hashers can actually see it.

I did mention in the brief that there was a half-mile stretch of bushwacky/shiggy-ish stuff that might feel a whole lot longer.  And provided a water/beer/Mike's/DCoke stop, and provided a sweeper who knew where he was going and what everyone should be doing.  So there.  Nonetheless, when called on for a merciful mission, I zoomed out and collected a handful (bit more than a Honda-ful, but not quite a someone-will-have-to-sit-on-Mike's-lap-and-don't-pretend-you'd-mind-that size load) of hashers who'd gotten fed up.

Speaking of fed up, what with water-stop providing and mercy-missioning, I abandoned PMCA with two large pots of boiling water and a mess of corn, potatoes, sausage and shrimp to turn into dinner in a strange kitchen.  (If she ever came over to make a nice supper for me, my kitchen would not be strange to her.)  Anyway, all the walkers and two runners returned before I did, demanding wine and chips, and PMCA coped so admirably she should be knighted or something.  I did make sure she had a glass of bubbly, and I don't mean Perrier water, before I took off.  And I think that helped.

Her shrimp boil got highest praise, most of the runners covered true trail, the cookies were warm from the oven, and the beer held out, if only barely.  The generous hashers even showed willing to sit outside in a light drizzle rather than plonk their shiggy-ish selves down on my cream-colored couch.  So all in all, I'm claiming a success, and extra points if first-timer Karen (99 to the etc.) actually shows up again like she said she will.

What with one thing and another, I had limited time for photography.  However, there are a few photos; you can click here to look at the pix.

Doggy bags and everything!

A million thanks to the Mufti for ice and to INDY for starting a discrete clean-up while several of us were still drinking under an umbrella, a hundred million to COtOD, and a gazillion magillion jillion to PMCA.