Hares: Estrus, Bleeder, and Bob
Pull the Plug’s version:
Thanks to hares Estrus, Bleeder, and Bob for a great Full Moon trail last night.
It was a perfect night for a Full Moon Run. The air was cold, the moon was exceptionally bright, and the 55-degree water in the pool at the ending was refreshing. Before the run began, Cummi Bear alienated himself from a bunch of women who turned out be members of the Houston Striders. Thinking they were hashers he introduced himself as “Cummi Bear”, to which they were appalled and they quickly retreated from his presence.
The trail was approximately 5 miles long and led us through Terry Hershey park and the surrounding neighborhoods. The run ended at the poolside patio at Estrus’ house. Old Faithful and 8″ Crack were happy to be the only females at the run. They commented that it was almost like being at a PC run since the participants were mostly men.
The hounds complained loudly about the Bud Light and Coors Light beer provided by the hares, so Estrus broke out his private stash of Shiner Bock and all was forgiven. McPisser lead the circle around a propane heater where accusations ran from funny to lame to ridiculously lame. But since there was beer left the circle continued until Estrus invited us inside his house for warmer surroundings and a lecture on the virtues of HDTV.
As best as I can remember, the participants were:
Pull the Plug
If I remember right, the hares for next month are:
What’s wrong, Hashers? did a little cold snap kill your hashing spirit?
A miserable turn-out for an excellent run in perfect running weather from Estrus, Bob (with a putrid box) and Bleeder (do y’all see a connection between these three names???).
When I arrived at 6.45, it looked like me and Cummi Bear were the pack! And the hares were about to take off! I persuaded them to hang about for a bit to see if a few more hashers would turn up and eventually in drifted Hind Legs, Baby Huey on his “Not Christmas” visit, Pull the Plug and 8″ Crack.
And a large group of new boots, with a large female percentage, just down the parking lot.
So Cummi Bear went over and introduced himself: “Hi, I’m Cummi Bear”…
“Don’t you mean Gummi Bear?”
“No, Cummi Bear”, he replied. “Nice to see some new faces at the hash”
“Huh? We are the Houston Striders, here for our weekly 10 mile tempo run……”
Sorry, Cummi, all those cute female runners did not want to join us!
Anyway, the mini-pack took off, with word that we might be joined by Saran Crap on his mountain bike (“I’m training for an adventure race” was his excuse). We crossed Memorial, through the park to I-10, underneath at the bayou and then along the frontage road, going East.
Simple checks did not do much to slow, or split the pack until we got to just before the Omni Hotel, where Heartache ran ahead on the feeder to the corner of Eldridge, while the pack found trail North. H’ache cut through the foyer of the hotel and rejoined the pack in the parking lot behind, where we checked, with again H’ache going the wrong way, north towards the Reservoir, while the pack ran east along the North section of Dairy Ashford, parallel to the feeder.
H’ache (knowing Estrus’ style) decided to check out the damn Dam and ran up to the trail skirting it, while the pack proceeded east. H’ache proceeded his lonely run along the dam, going east, paralleling the pack, who could not be heard…..
A beautiful solitary night, but with confidence that Estrus would lead Bob up to the dam at some point….. Wrong! Reaching the drainage ditch half way between Eldridge and Dairy Ashford, where our kind Mayor put a nice new bike track. Still no trail, so time to regroup! Running down the ditch to Dairy Ashford and met up with a solitary Saran Crap, on his bike.
The pack were thataway he said, pointing back west. So obviously, only one way to go: south along the ditch to the Feeder and a check on the bridge over the ditch. We continued East to Dairy Ashford, with Saran Crap leading the way. Not finding trail, we surmised that the pack had gone under I-10 by the tunnel and we proceeded under I-10 by Dairy Ashford.
Saran Crap blasted off, with mechanical assistance, along the feeder road, back to the tunnel, leaving H’ache to fend for himself. So H’ache headed at an angle, SW, into the neighborhood, expecting to cut off the pack, and ended up on a dead-end street (aptly named Threadneedle Street), surrounded by apartments and BIG fences.
About to give up and run all the way back to the feeder when a kindly native popped up and asked if I was looking for the idiots running through the cemetery. Yes, how can I get there without running all the way back? Well sir, just go along this path, behind my building and there is a gate!
Ha, back on track! But on the wrong side of the ditch. No worries, just run to Memorial on the side of the ditch. Which was a success, as one solitary whistle in the distance informed of the pack’s route. An arrow was found at the corner of Eldridge and Memorial and trail was rejoined, never to be left again!
The pack was reunited on the banks of Buffalo Bayou, where we did a convoluted do-loopy multiple death crossing of the bayou and Eldridge (yes, at the exact point where hare Estrus laid trail and Anal 101’s dog got the chop from a car) and into the park on the south side of the Bayou. From then on it was a speed blast to the bridge, crossing it and heading north towards the start, only to veer off to the west on the trail through the woods, behind the office buildings and proceeded west on Memorial, then north through the subdivision to Estrus’s house.
Where we gathered on his gazebo, heated by the smallest propane heater we had ever seen. To be later joined by McPisser, who lead the circle, late runner Il Castrato and autowanker Old Faithful. We drank piss beer, made sundry accusations, attempted, but failed to name Bob, commented on the quality of Houston Hashers, who cannot handle cold weather, and elected hares for next month: Saran Crap, Cummi Bear and Old Faithful.