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Belly Dancer was out of town, so surely he couldn’t influence Anything on her run? She’d teamed up with Cumalot, and promised us no more than 5km in the hare brief, but we know hares lie – check out the attached scouting report stolen from her GPS. Particularly pay attention to the 24km per hour speeds that she got up to – did you think Anything was that quick?

Anyway, I drove over to the run site (alone), and mentally prepared myself for what was in store – it was the same runsite of an ill-fated run where nobody got more than about 500m in as the trail got washed away… Who was the hare for that? Oh yeah – Belly Dancer! I anticipated a route up the temple steps but we were pointed back out the entrance. I set off at my usual pace hoping to get to the first check first. Sooner or later as I was ‘looking’ for paper Brown Finger breezed past me showing off to a young lad Caligula. After 1.5km we still hadn’t hit a check. I thought about Graven Image, who has a policy of never running before the first check – hah! Brown Finger had set a blistering 5min/km pace at the start, so GI must be a long way back!

The first check was a “V” check with the false trail heading straight into a hedge! wtf? Nobody was tempted as we continued on the main trail. Finally we cut off the trail – no check, no obvious paper, just some hunting around when the trail ran out. We headed to the hills, grumbling and moaning and the pace abruptly slowed as we scrambled along leaf covered trails trying not to trip on the rocks. I hit a couple of checks well and found myself with Chuckie at the front checking at a circle. We found the out trail within 100m instantly, but started checking up into the hills… CW gave up quickly and headed back to run in – I was more determined and killed some time scrambling around on the mountain in the hope of finding some paper. Brown Finger was even more determined, and claims he found some paper, but the most determined was Humperdick who found trail on his own and to his credit was the only hasher who came in from the right direction.

Time for a circle with Anything as GM. Interesting! I enjoyed it – for the most part she spoke slowly enough so we could understand her! Then it was on on to town and that lead to a Belly Dancer sized hangover this morning!

What we should have done:-

It’s not like I run a website that’s designed to let people know when and where the runs are… Yet somehow I managed to set off from home after the run had already started… With Matty fresh out of hospital I was released from parental obligations and for some reason thought I could still get to the run – Even as I arrived and threw my keys in the general direction of Lung La, I figured I was 6 minutes late and it wouldn’t take long to catch back up with everyone… It seems I made a massive misjudgment – fortunately I got the right day, but I was 36 minutes late setting off and I suspect I just missed the first running getting back in…

Still having not done any exercise for over a week, it was good to get the legs moving, and I was about 1.5km in before I realised my efforts were futile, beyond getting some exercise before the beers. And so I did! It was an interesting experience following the checks that had been “kicked out” and getting a feel for how confusing it must be for the DFLs trying to figure out what to do. I came across pristine circles, and at least one had a beautiful pile of small paper, lovingly cut into squares by our committed hares, and placed under a small stone for protection. Our hares had dreamed of a time when those pieces of paper would be released and allowed to spread their message through the nearby countryside to guide lost hashers. Sadly Mr Poo couldn’t be bothered, so even half an hour off the front of the pack I found myself searching for trail – which is a whole lot harder when alone!

Heading towards the hills, the earth was scorched – I sniffed and realised that Brown Finger had been through here, running so fast he’d literally set the trail on fire – not figuratively. The trail paper was burning as I leapt (lept / leaped) over smoldering ashes until I hit the remains of a circle on fire. The flames appeared to be pointing in a direction away from where I knew the beer would be sat waiting (and by now cold), so I bailed out and cut back towards the A bucket. More fires to navigate before I was safely back on the out trail, and back at the bucket.

We sat, we drank, we sat, we drank, and then someone pointed out that perhaps Humperdick should start the circle. Reluctantly we got going, with RA Mr. Poo drafted in to co-ordinate things and to my mind it was a good circle.

And here’s what Graven did…

Let me see – reasons NOT to go to the run – the fact my legs were screaming in agony after this morning’s run, the fact Kwazi Moto was the hare, the fact the run was freaking miles away, the fact that it was in a similar area that Kwazi had monumentally fucked up haring, oh and did I mention the minimarathon this morning that meant I spent much of the day lying on the sofa having kids scramble all over me…. Reasons to go to the run – Sleeps on It called and suggested we shared a ride. A few nanoseconds later I was changed and ready to set off.

We set off on the new Sankampaeng road until we saw a sign – it seems it was an original concept to look for signs and simply follow them to the run site (Humperdick). As it happened some way into the middle of nowhere we stumbled upon Chilly Pussy and Sweet Pea as they came back the other direction saying they’d ran out of signs. I called the hare and within moments the problem was resolved and we were safely at the runsite – admittedly the route out was a lot less arduous than the way in, but there must have been a reason even if Kwazi wasn’t letting on.

The hare brief was an elaborate explanation of what circle checks were, and we were set off with a noticeable reluctance amongst the usual FRBs. Frozen Dick took his chance and stormed to the front, only to be denied by Snail Trail and Anything. This was just the start of Anything’s surge to greatness – it seems she is back putting effort in and leading the way at the front again – it seems money is her motivator ever since a little bet with Frozen Dick!

We went up, we went down, we went through some fields, just following where Anything led us with her unique ability to spot the tiny pieces of paper that were hidden among the weeds. She came to an abrupt stop at the river crossing, but was still one of the willing few to get our feet wet with Kwazi’s deviousness. Finally my legs gave in, and I started short cutting the shortest route back to the beer. It might have been easier to follow the trail, but it was heading ominously towards the hills.

The circle was a protracted affair with everyone taking their turn to punish the hare for his evil actions. There was little uptake on the On-On-On so it was time to head home. I’m sure there was something more to this story… Anyway, I’m now watching a film adaptation of “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. In my opinion, that book was excellent and by a whisker then 2nd best piece of Russian literature I’ve ever read, but then it would be tough to beat “War and Peace” by Leo Tolstoy which I’d highly recommend to anyone who has time to kill while travelling around Europe on a train. Anyway, that is a slight digression as I feel the need to point out that this cinematisation is a crime in itself which should be punished as without reading the book it makes no sense at all. Indeed I would go as far as suggesting that Horny Monkey should be their executioner forcing them to kneel and sit in the ice soaked mud as punishment for simply following the trail – welcome to the Happy Hash! 😀

Wot I did:-

(Courtesy Brown Finger)

I woke up this morning feeling a strange sense of release: muscles like jelly, waves of nerve-end
tingles still surging up and down my body. Only a dream, perhaps, but one so powerful and so
ecstatic in its subconscious reality that I was still experiencing the exhilarating afterburn of my
physical connection to it, lying there on the bed, wide-eyed and nakedly awake. Yes, a dream, but
I was hoping that just maybe it was also a divine premonition and that my dream would become
reality at this afternoon’s hash. After all, Sleeps with Anything was the hare . . .

The songthaew arrived at the football field in good time, and as we waited I became increasingly
astonished as a rare assortment of Chiang Mai hashers assembled in their droves. And forming
gracefully apart from the gregarious male assembly, just as I had foreseen in my dream, was an oasis
of calm, quiet, and demurely beautiful hash girls shimmering in their skimpy, brightly coloured attire,
ready for the run, or just simply to laze about in the balmy afternoon sun to chat, or to gambol gaily
through the trees as they gathered in the abundant foods of the forest.

And so the ever-more-gorgeous hare called us to the brief and explained that the run would not be
a long one because of the exertions of the Saturday outstation. Quite what such exertions had been
I could only imagine . . . And then she said that she was a lazy hare and had set only circle checks,
but by then she could have said anything and it would have sounded to me like the most profoundly
exquisite poem that had ever been articulated throughout the entire history of womankind. Oh my
god . . .

Well, I can’t remember much about the run because I was daydreaming about my dream and its
striking similarities to the hash so far. Would it play out all the way to its gushing climax?

I do, however, recall Chuck Wao. Now he was definitely not in my dream and I hope he never will
be, for then it would no longer be a dream but a nightmare – one of Freddy Krueger proportions,
no doubt. As we headed in the direction of the lakes and hit the first check on the trail, I invited
the ever-fitter (not a euphemism) CW to chose his direction, and I was extremely satisfied (no, no!)
when he said “I’ll go this way – we always go this way!” which turned out to be completely the wrong
way, and when we next came upon each other (no! no! no!) he had received his just desserts for
being an arrogant asshole in the form of a sprained ankle, or so he claimed . . .

Now the other thing I recall about this run is the distance between the circle checks and the
continuing trail. It was getting longer and longer (no comment!), until we came upon one at the end
of the run that must have been close to 200 metres. This is not a criticism of the hare – she is way
beyond the realms of such an ugly word. No, it all worked out perfectly. Chuck Wao went the right
way, but didn’t go far enough. It took the dour determination of Dog Shit and his expert knowledge
of the local terrain to show us the way. But wait, there was to be another “twist” in the Elm Street
saga. From nowhere, and with his “sprained ankle” miraculously healed -no doubt through a soul-
selling pact with the devil – Chuck Wao sprinted into the lead only to be thwarted by the hare’s trail
that suddenly darted to the right, up a low embankment, and into the football arena where the hare
and the other non-running girls were waiting with open arms, and very little else, to greet us home –
well at least that is how my dream would have had it.

So, did my dream become a reality in the end? Well let me tell you, it came pretty damned close, but
the one major difference was that it was all happening to someone else and not to me! Yes, it was
supposed to be me sitting on the ice with all the girls standing around in a very tight circle hurling

abuse in my direction. But it wasn’t me; it was that lucky bastard Human Excrement. Needless to
say, I wasn’t about to hang around to find out whether what followed on from that point in my
dream became a reality for HE. I fled the scene before I broke down in tears of frustration, leaving
HE to his fate. So next time you see him, ask him what happened to his sorry ass in the infamous
circle of wild dreams and sordid expectations!

For me, apart from my obvious disappointment, the Sunday hash continues to provide memorable
hashing experiences. The hare done an amazing job of setting a trail – which turned out to be in
the region of 6k – that had the FRBs running in their own circles for about 55 minutes, which was
great fun and engaged the brain as well as the muscles. Watching Chuck Wao in a state of frustrated
bewilderment was a wonderful sight to behold. And it was encouraging to see such a large number
of hashers. Maybe it was because of who the hare was. After all, who could possibly resist the many
and varied delights of another Sleeps with Anything hash?

I say, long live the Sunday Hash and may it long survive the political differences of the Chiang Mai
hashing community.