BMH3 Run report

AGM Run 1495, 14 November 2011
Location: Chonbuiri Motorway, Steak Baan Daeng
Hares: JMs The Senator and Spank Me
Scribe: Weedeater

It was a long day at work. The thought of leaving all the frustration, arguing and intrigue behind and skipping out early, appealed to me. It was a bit of a surprise then to hear that NO Meat was stuck in traffic and wouldn't be able to pick me up on time. As 5:15pm got steadily closer, I began to gnash my teeth and think about leaving without her dammit! At that moment she arrived, fuming behind the steering wheel and cursing somewhat volubly all the winkers on the road. We had to make it to the Run. This was the run of the the year, the 'fu*k o*f you Norsk* *astard, you're going down' Run.

We arrived at the car park and were quickly ushered in to a space the same size as a packet of peanuts. This wouldn't work and after 65 turns, gently shunting other cars out of the way, we elected to park outside the restaurant car park and about half a kilometer away. Frantically getting into my running gear with an audience of 3 little girls an old man and a goat, I finally made it to the circle to hear the Senator give instructions for the run - and that's when it happened....

I saw her. The most beautiful creature on God's green earth. A vision of pure loveliness. It was as if the fog had lifted and sunshine had pierced my heart like no sunshine had ever pierced it before. Before....all was grey. Now the colour was vibrant as I watched her hips sway, fully mesmerized by taught legs that seemed to up forever. I did hear the Senator mention something about water and getting feet wet, though I wasn't paying him any attention as this stunning creature tossed........her hair. The scented fragrance cutting through the sweaty body odour and noxious gases from the motorway - I could drink her in forever.

I lost sight of her in the crowd which brought me crashing to reality. Fighting to get to her side, I was forced to push many slower Hashers out of my way. I could see her ahead, graceful, her limbs gliding through the air, a slightly damp sheen to her skin. Who was she? I had to know! The pack hit the klong path at full gallop. After messing up at the motorway bridge, we turned around and soon found ourselves running along side the golf course. I could see her still ahead. A flash of red clothing, the thick lustrous hair streaming out behind her. How I would like to run my fingers through those tresses, whispering sweet endearments in her ear.

Up ahead I could hear the GM (may the devil rot his soul in hell) urging the target of my affections on with a lusty 'ON ON'. We danced over the muddy banks, we climbed over fallen trees, we rogered stray goats...until the paper stopped. "Hang on a minute", some soul uttered, "we came this way last week, the trail goes through this water and trees". We scattered about trying to find the trail, but I didn't care. I looked for the girl of my dreams. If I could lose all the other 'Herberts', I could have for myself. Disaster struck!! I lost the pack - good, but I lost the girl - bad!!!

I retraced my steps back to the edge of the golf course. In the half light, I saw her again heading on along the bank. No one else was around. I quickly followed her but she fast and elusive. At Krungthep Kreeta Road I was in hot pursuit, my legs pumping and heart bursting with the effort. If I did catch her, I doubt if I would be much of a threat to her chastity. But I had to have her, I couldn't bear the thought of losing her to some Dutchman or worse still....a Frenchman! I was panicking now. It was dark and I had run for about 25km and I had lost her. Dejected and rejected, I headed back to the restaurant, meeting Man Boobs on his way out on the run wearing nothing but his torch. I was too upset to talk to anyone about the girl. The memories would be mine and mine alone. I sank into my cup, the only bright spark on the horizon would be getting even with Pussy Virus - hah!!

I am sure it was a good run provided by the Senator, I confess that I missed most of it. Others, more sycophantic than I, enthused and regaled the merry throng with stories of how they narrowly missed death by golf balls. Surely these souls were excellent RA material. Where was the RA-in-perpetuity, no where to be seen. What a shame we were to miss his sparkling Aussie wit in the last Circle of the regime. As Spinning Dwarf now has to start repairs to his mansion in Bang Buathong, One must assume that he will once more be embezzling the Hash for another year. The Circle still hadn't started when we left at 11:30pm, so we sloped off for a 'quickie' confident that we wouldn't be called up for Hash service on the Committee.

Good luck to the next Committee.
OnOn
Weedeater Esq.

* * * * *

Scribe: Sexy Beast

AGM Run “14.11.2011”
“The average runner”, according to Lieberman et al 2010, “strikes the ground 600 times per kilometer” which can lead to “repetitive stress injuries”. But if you run off-road, especially on boredom combating tree-lined trails, green grass or sticky brown mud, you can expect the opposite – strengthening and shaping major muscle groups, bones and ligaments without injury not to mention good-feel endorphins release. Add a pack of same-minded people to your run and supply them with unlimited quantities of beer, oysters and laughter afterwards and you get yourself an exciting experience to remember for some time. This is what the running hash experience is all about and what this AGM 14.11.2011 run delivered. If some one asked to describe your life after the run, you would’ve probably replied by saying something like this: fun and adventure and more fun. There were no “puertorikan girls dying to meet you” in the parking lot but short of that, today’s AGM Run had all the trimmings and paraphernalia of all the things that make a hash and a hasher “through and through.” Hashing is the best. Ditching the hum-drum of the city is always fun and when we head out there, we’d meet in what can be described as a make-shift parking lot, or a lot, with wall-to-wall gravel - sometime its near a village but sometimes its in the middle of the jungle. I missed the briefing where the hare (xxx) would try in vein to familiarize everyone of the terrain to expect to minimize surprises, but there is always a surprise around a sharp turn. And that’s what happened as we left the parking lot. From a spacious lot to a narrow concrete bridge in less than you can count from 1 to 10 is what happened. The single-track bridge quickly came to a T and a check was placed there. Go right and you could get lost in a maze of wooden houses built on stilts. Go left and it what ever you could imagine because visibility was limited, it was getting dark, and forecasting meant activating your deep intelligence abilities, which under the circumstances meant go with your gut feeling. That meant anything and everything, and there was no middle way. So the pack split into two groups. One went right, into the maze, and the other went left, toward the unknown. Alice in wonderland did pretty much the same when she reached the Y in the road. You may remember from your kindergarten readings that the rabbit told her it did not matter which way she went. She just had to chose one and follow it until something happened. Something did happen to those who went right: they quickly realized their folly and came back. The others advanced way ahead of them. But since most of the frb’s where in the first group, the one that went right, it was easy for them to catch up and that included yours truly. There was a 90 degree turn after the tight bridge which lead to muddy creak full of, you guessed, murky water. You couldn’t jump right over it. some tried but in the end it was wading in it or get scratched up by thorny vegetation. Now you’re following paper again (shredded office white paper used to mark the trail - the false ones too). You stayed on paper for a kilometer then you found yourself on fresh mud ledge running parallel to an irrigation canal. Not only its was covered with thick fresh mud, you had to go through the branches of fallen trees if you wanted to stay on paper. After that you turned hard again and dropped to what appeared like a lawn, probably part of a golf course. That was exciting news for those who wiped out several time in the mud and got themselves entangled in the flatted branches. Another kilometer and the paper disappeared to us again. Now the frb’s scattered again and in the scramble the rest of the pack caught up. The search ended and we were on paper once more and once more, still, the trail lead us to a narrow concrete footpath that sliced through more wooden houses built over water, from which motorized access was excluded. The check was not too far from there. It would, perhaps, be hard to imagine how you would plan a false trail out of a t-junction that sat over a swamp. It was not complicated, it was a simple right or left, but as it turned out, right and left came in shades each progressively leading to a number of other turns. This time I guessed right; I took an acute left turn and was in the lead, for the first time, but not for long as a certain hasher got so anxious to buzz and be in front, she almost pushed me over and into the water. I let another follow her and trailed behind in third position, then in forth. It felt comfortable there. Now I could just keep a steady pace, which is how I usually like to run, and if we hit the soft again, I could increase the tempo a bit and maybe regain a faster position. Before you knew it, you emerged from the second maze and were back in the parking lot were the expedition started. By now you had traversed varying terrains; sloped grass, fallen trees, canals, which included drudged silt from the bottom of the swamp and beautifully groomed carpets of green grass. You had experienced diversity and excitement giving you a break from the hustle and bustle of city life. The run was shorter than usual, probably no more than 5 or 6 kilometers. There were some hard surfaces. I thought that was the reason as it was good to limit how much you ran on concrete or paved courses. Moreover, I thought, since we had to run through a neighborhood of locals who no doubt rarely encounter city slick farangs, it was wise to shorten the adventure, make as quick and inoffensive as possible. The locals were friendly but like everywhere else, they appeared sensitive to exuberance and ostentatious displays of wealth and health so, our trek began short of sunset and we dared not go through someone’s back swamp unless all the flip flops were visibly laid outside indicating everyone was inside. We did not run through a crowded talasot as we would do sometimes in Bangkok and those folks we passed by greeted us warmly and even told us when to dunk our heads to avoid low laying shrubs and wires. Running is a physical exercise you do while standing up obviously, like when children play, or the golfer and their doting caddies that we passed on the seemingly endless greens. The wet stuff that we had experienced in many parts of the city did not seem to have reached this community. Now you were sweaty and ready for the rewards and bounties of the run. were’s the beer, and food, is what’s on everyone’s mind now. Of all of the underdeveloped human senses, the sense of taste was probably the most developed and if the hash usually rewards that sense, the AGM’s hash offered what a gastronome would understand as an attempt to cultivate it. a cigar smoking gastronome himself, the AGM not only had all you can drink beer, but offered red wine and two types of oysters, steamed and raw. Blue cheese by the platefuls kept coming to the table too. And if that wasn’t enough to please your sensory qualities, he gave each one of the hashers a Cuban cigar. I did not light mine but someone was so happy with their newly acquired taste he hurried and lit the wrong end. Short of the circle, were just about everyone gets lynched to entertain the others, the experience is complete. You discovered, you tasted, you experienced. Now you’re ready for laughter and what’s more comic and soul humbling than seeing your friends sitting butt naked on slaps of ice in the middle of the circle for committing the most trifle of sins. you had to keep an open mind to participate. Its not dangerous but it’s a gig and a good gig makes good entertainment.

Bangkok Monday Hash House Harriers