The universe is filled with many questions, some unanswered, some recently answered and some unanswerable.
The solution to one of these, which I had always thought of as totally unanswerable, became apparent to me on Roger’s run. I had always wondered why people would force themselves to get up early on New Year’s Day, presumably with the standard hangover and then subject themselves to the gruelling experience of a run in near zero temperatures? Why do the prospects of mud, frost, hills, rain, ultra-weariness and possibly hail, snow and gales not deter the noble breed of hashers? Yesterday, in a moment of hangover-induced pain, repentance and clarity I realized the answer.
One hasher who will remain nameless (Mick) was reduced to an extatic state of near drooling incoherence by the brandy soaked version. I don’t know if there were any virgin hashers, but feel that they may well have developed a real taste for hashing.
But back to the obligatory run. There was a big bunch of us. I don’t know how many – but well over 40 at a guess (46!), who gathered in the car park next to the GM’s house. The traditional pre-run whinging was in full flow when the cold air was rudely interrupted by the GM raucous whistle as a start to the proceedings.
In due deference to the collection of hangovers (Aside, does anyone know the collective noun for hangovers? - is it a Groan?) the run was announced to be much shorter than usual at just 3.6 miles – and we were promised a nearly mud-free run. Well, one out of two isn’t a bad average. (Second aside: I clocked up 5.4 miles!)
We set off on what turned out to be a figure of eight course that trended towards Widmer End with the crossover point at Cosy Corner and my heart rate rose from a resting 58 to a running 185 just a few minutes later (New Year’s Day can do that to you), before settling back to a much more normal 130.
The first on-back was an 11! - it turned out that the number on the on-backs was in honour of the day 1.1.2018 – and yes, I got caught by both the 11 at the beginning and the 18 at the other end together with an additional five long on-backs in-between!
One hundred years ago everyone had horses and only the rich had cars. Now everyone has cars and only the rich have horses. Oh how the stables have turned.
As far as I know, nobody moosed or did anything too silly on the hash, which is always a problem when you have to do the write-up, so I will have to rely on indiscretions and things I overheard – the first being the rather clever – “My New Year’s resolution is 1080p” and the second being “I was going to quit all my bad habits for the new year, but then I remembered that nobody likes a quitter.”
I also overheard mentions on the hash of Victorian churches, white running shorts, fireworks, sweaty cleavages, Donald Trump, road cones, mud, sore feet, the desirability of running up mud-slippery hills and absent hashers.
Anyway, the most important thing on the hash was the ending with the magnificent collection of yummies on display at Casa Roz ‘n Roger - which was truly staggering (a bit like the over-indulgent hashers on the run) which almost undoubtedly undid many New Year’s resolutions before they had even begun.
Many thanks for raising, yet further, the usual high standard of hospitality!