Wiping encrusted sleep from my swollen eyes, I sleepily killed the alarm clock-- 5:00 am, and Marge hadn't made a peep yet. Let her sleep, the PMS run is gonna be a bitch, I just know it...and besides, the covers are warm and oh-so cozy...5:45 found me rolling my sorry ass out of the bed to take Marge out for her morning dookie. Yanked my new MVH3 sweats off the hook, and put on an extra jacket just to be sure. Thick insulated gloves, hash shoes, and the Marge hat, and I was ready-- except that I was all bundled up like the Michelin Man, and I had to take a piss! Marge's barking continued throughout, but finally I connected her to the leash, and made our exit into the hallway. Geez, you could see your breath in the hallway, and the doorhandle was covered in frost. Out the window, trees danced around like some artsy cartoon. Hell, better to just get this over with and read the wind chill after we get back. On out.
Sweet Jesus! The ferocious blast was as shocking as first whiff of a wicked fart at the On In, only in this case all of the shock is transmitted as cold, and there's nowhere to run to for relief. The intrepid Marge started bouncing around, happy as could be, wanting me to play(!). Quickly, I turned my back to the gale and persuaded her over to the puppy poo area, where she promptly made her deposit. Back into the house we dashed, slammed the door shut, and double locked it in case the wind wanted to jimmy the door. Blood painfully rushed back into my facial capillaries (that's doctor talk-- pretty impressive, huh?), and Marge bounded into the bedroom to greet the slumbering No Class with an ice-cold nose to the armpit-- REVEILLE!!!
Turned on the Weather Channel, which reported the wind chill at National at 15ºF. Made a pot of coffee, boiled up some oatmeal, and got back under the covers, where I savored unsettling flashbacks of old Navy hypothermia training films. I distinctly remember one unfortunate shivering miserably, unable to speak, with his buds shedding their clothes to keep him as warm as possible. Finally, I dozed off into an uneasy, restless anticipation of the PMS run.
Two cups of coffee after reading the paper, I came to a warming realization: I was lucky that I didn't have to help No Class lay this trail, which would have involved getting up early and being cold longer. I guess you have to count your blessings where you find them!
I remember feeling distinctly jealous of Marge as we secured her crate on our way out of the house. She would be warm and snug while Mommy & Daddy went hashing.
After a quick drive we arrived at Ice Station Zebra outside the Fairfax County Govt Center. You got to give Spread Sheets credit-- the county govt takes care of its own. I searched in vain for a tree line, something to break the wind. The only wind breaking this morning was emanating from the hashers. If it weren't so bastardly cold, you could almost find humor in the way folks would try to use each other as wind shields. If you stayed put for more than 30 seconds, someone would use you as a wind shield, which only makes you feel colder. So you find someone else to use as a wind shield, which only makes them feel colder...it's sort of like a square dance to watch.
The hares distributed fortune tampons containing vital messages to inspire us on the trail. They displayed a playful, sassy attitude which was totally at odds with the theme of this day's run. Beer Nuts, who should know better than most, failed to detect any tell-tale signs of bloating or cramping among the hares. The habs did a brisk business distributing sweats and assorted hash paraphernalia. Full Metal Balls and Your Humble Scribe started the Father A on our own, since the Joint Masters' watches must have stopped. The pack was off quickly around the govt center parking lot, except for Beezer and Mocha who felt the need for a warm, solid environmental. For the first time in a month, No Class & I watched a dog take a crap without having to render praise! The first check yielded marks off to the right near a pond, where it was determined that these marks represented the end of the trail. Most of the pack smelled a pre-lay, and grumbling we headed back to the start, or shortcutted, or plopped down and sobbed emotionally.
It wasn't but a couple of minutes before I heard whistles coming from the north end of the parking lot, and I picked flour back up almost immediately along a section of trail that Byte Lightning had investigated in a half-assed way. Figures-- both his cheeks put together only equal about one half of a normal ass! This true trail led us almost directly to Fair Oaks mall. A gathering of about 15 hashers stood about, frantically waving their tampons, hoping that one of us newcomers had the Golden Tampon containing instructions for solving this check. Alas, I had discarded mine back at the start, so I wisely kept my mouth shut until all the rest of the tampons were accounted for. Hard Drive nobly backtracked to ask the stragglers to open their tampons. After a couple of minutes, Stained Sheets was found with the Golden Tampon in hand, which directed us to the main entrance of Hecht's.
Dashing through the Fair Oaks parking lot and mall, we attracted loads of attention. 'Who ARE you people?' asked one lady of Cross Hairs. 'There's a major sale at Hecht's!' was his prompt reply. Buddha was seen admiring a feathery nightgown in one of the department stores, and he told me later that he would have bought it except he didn't want to lose trail...
Poop Deck and I discovered a shortcut near Hecht's which bypassed going through the store itself. We picked up flour right away, but the marks became scarce again until trail was found going through the drainage culvert under Route 50. Many hashers were trying to keep their feet dry, to no avail; besides, the water was relatively clean for once. On the other side, trail led us up to a winding road, through some frozen swamp, a construction site, and into wooded trail. Nice thing about the woods was that the wind wasn't quite so severe. Soon enough we hooked back up with the prelayed portion of the trail, past the start, and On In to Chu Mi's place and warmth, beer, and outstanding chili & rice.
I was hoping the hares had thought about serving MIDOL tablets, but it was not to be. Oh well, ibuprofen works just as well. I searched in vain for complimentary hot water bottles to help relieve my cramping and that horrid bloated feeling I get (then again, maybe that was just the beer).
Out on the porch, Bavarian Bush said, "Let's pour the beer before the wind--" before she could finish her sentence, the wind blew all the cups away.
The Circle
We held The Circle outside, to save the virtuous from continued exposure to the cold. First up were the hares; they drank many times this day. Cunning Runt called the hares a bunch of dumb blondes-- sounds like she may have been PMS'ing herself!
Anniversaries: Hard Drive (275), Chu Mi (205), Byte Lightning (205), Dual Airbags (105), RutRo (75), Hairy Buddha (25), Grave Robber (5), Dr. Pecker (5).
Virgins: Peter Freeland, Kristin Motley
Visitors: Deliverance, Darlin'
Returning Hashers: Barney Sore Ass, Cross Hairs
Violations:
Losing Wedding Ring, And Then Relying On Wilburrr To Help Find Same: Beer Nuts
Doggy Environmental Upwind Of The Pack: Beezer, Mocha
Fucking Up The Start Of The Trail: Byte Lightning
Fashion Statements: Cross Hairs, Byte Lightning, Little Digit
New Shoes: Little Digit
Sex At The Hash: Blank Check, RutRo
Folks tarried a bit longer than usual, scarfing chili and putting off their return to the frigid cold as long as possible. If the hares had built a fire, we would all probably still be there!
My Work Here Is Done.