for Floppy to assist in finding what turned out to be a painfully obvious trail. After another meander through the wood we came to
a 'near beer', and eventually found the check at a bird lookout just off Mann road, in back of Layritz Park. 
It is lonely far out in front: A hash in the country from the perspective of a triple FRB. Layritz Park is in the deepest part of Royal Oak. Always seems that way when you're running late. I threw on the first pair of shorts I've worn outside this year - hey, it's spring, and about time -, two layers of Dryfits - the top layer being my brand new VH3 400th Run shirt, my runners, and rushed out the door with a half eaten protein bar - that was lunch.
I thought it was a great run. I love it when it's long, wet, and dirty. Washing the mud and other stuff off my shoes was like doing the dishes after a party; a fond reminder.
Let's start at the beginning. I came late, so I didn't have to wait too long before we got moving. It was not the warm spring day I was hoping it would be, and it had just started to drizzle. I believe there were 15 of us, including a handful of walkers, all congregated in a small corner of a park full of opening season junior league baseball players. After the RAT fumbled his way through the formalities, he introduced Jody, a friend of Shrink, and Eric the Snatch's lovely wife, Raedene. Then the hares took over, did their bit, and we were soon off.
It wasn't long before I found myself off on my own getting strange looks from local residents of Layritz Ave and Glyn Road, probably wondering why this runner was crying out 'onon' - probably thought I was looking for a lost pet. On one run last year, after being asked 3 times if I had lost a dog, I finally gave up explaining, but rather said to the 4th person, "not a dog, but have you seen any hares?". Eventually just listened, and not hearing anything from the rest of the pack, I give up shouting 'on on'. It reduces the number of strange looks.
Of this lot I think Eric the Snatch is about as fast as I am, and it doesn't take him too long to catch up. He was even the lead FRB for a good time.
It was a wonderful and varied route. The flour soon took us through brambles, across muddy fields, and up a hill to a panoramic view in the
vicinity of Royal Oak. Then down through the parking lot of Camosun College. Then up Interurban a short distance, to Hector for a 3 kilometer
undulating country road-run to Logan park. Following close behind a rider on horseback, we dodged evidence of their passing, and cut through
Logan Park to come out onto Viaduct. This took us back to Interurban Road near the Horticulture Centre of the Pacific. Here some masterful
flour placement slowed Eric and me down long enough to allow the pack to catch-up. That led us along more rustic paths through woods to two
more viewpoints over looking the large duck pond near The Centre. Eric and I again led ourselves astray at the technology park, having to wait
for Floppy to assist in finding what turned out to be a painfully obvious trail. After another meander through the wood we came to
a 'near beer', and eventually found the check at a bird lookout just off Mann road, in back of Layritz Park.
The trail had that wonderful quality of having hidden mud in grass, and in one part the distinct farmland smell of cows and horses. After a rather damp beer check it was a relatively short road and woods run back to where we started.
I know some harriers thought the run was a tad long. Jackoff commented it was a 'training run'. My estimate was we covered about 6.5 to 7 KM. I am not sure if it was the weather, mud, or length that earned it low marks at the end of the run. I heard a 6 out of 10, a 3, and Highbeams gave it a score of -3 out of 10. I gave it 10 out of 10. My only misgivings with long runs, is that they sometime lead the harriers to spread too far apart, and at some points this FRB actually looks forward to hash halts, because without them it soon gets kind of lonely. It's times like that an FRB starts to find his own delays, taking the least likely routes, or to even explore off-flour, even falling behind knowing that's no big deal to catch up.
We had a reservation to make and, given it was a long run, we tried to hurry religion along. Eric the Snatch was renamed Beaver Fever. Eric the Snatch being a temporary name, and Beaver Fever being most appropriate given his imaginative, but painfully courageous, recital of poetry at the 400th dinner. Unfortunately I never got to sample what he might have been smoking then, but it must have been good stuff. A second rare name 'addendum' was given to Hot Nuts. Hot Nuts showed a lot of hash fortitude making it to the beer check to find that the beer had run out and not getting all upset about it. Not only that, on his recent journeys in Managua he successfully defended his wallet from no less than three prostitutes intent on mugging him - so he says. The last fellow I knew who had this happen to him at least got mugged afterwards - if you know what I mean - which did little to impress his wife. Hot Nuts is now officially Hot Nuts el Puta Nero. Our best translation is Hot Nuts the Hosebag King.
Finally I should report that on this run we did receive - well, found lying on the ground - a ransom demand for the return of our sacred Wanker's Cup. In the fullness of time I am sure there will be development on this front. I wouldn't be surprised if the scallywag who has taken the cup inherits the same such karma that the cup itself has had over the last few years.
On-out
Strokealone