By It's Too Soft (4/2/2003)

Hey Hashers,

After witnessing what has to have been hashing equivalent of a Debacle of Biblical Proportions, I have taken keyboard in hand to write this brief (hey, it's shorter than that damn trail) hash trash about what will henceforth and forevermore go down in hash history as:

Manhole's 2003 Rolling Meadows Almost Half-Marathon Death March Hash

(somebody please make note of this for the 2004 Hash Ball Awards... do I see a Bill January Award nomination here?).

The day started off well with some great weather, partly cloudy and in the 40's as the pack sauntered out of the somewhat oddly-named "Stadium Sports Club & Pizza" in scenic Rolling Meadows (where there are no longer any rolling meadows anymore given its almost complete suburban development). But we found out by experience (multiple times I might add) they do still have dollar drafts.

The chalk talk should have been nominated for the Guinness Book of World Records for its sheer length, ominously foreshadowing the trail to come. To be fair, the hare warned the pack numerous times that the Eagle Trail after the Turkey / Eagle split was "a very, very, sh*tty *ss long trail". However, coming from someone other than Rhotan, this was summarily dismissed as pre-hash propaganda.

One interesting twist (which ended up adding even more length to the trail!) was that you needed three marks to be on trail after a split, essentially making each split a two-way check. Credit will be give however for the fact that the hare herself was responsible for making 5-6 virgins come, quite busy eh? And we even had a visitor, Hot Lips, the GM from Grand Rapids. We were also informed of various pieces of "Paleolithic underwear" which would be "imbedded" on trail and the finder would have to wear. Finally, on out onto trail.

The trail first headed into the hare's apartment complex which can best be described as populated by individuals of "diverse economic backgrounds", then proceeded into an office park where the trail included a never before seen "pole shimmy" which I passed on as the hash's "imbedded correspondent" - didn't want to risk damage to the infamous hash camera. Then on to what would become the staple for this trail, pavement pounding on neighborhood sidewalks. This was not a good start, as seeing the proximity of the start to the massive Ned Brown Forest Preserve, this hound chose to wear his Timberland off-road shoes which are not recommended for running half marathons.

As the running continued the temperature seemed to rise and neighborhood "lemonade stop" appeared, where several young entrepreneurs somehow confused $2 worth of lemonade for the pack with $20 the hare claimed to have purchased. That or this was a conscious effort to improve gross margin profitability.

Then, more pavement pounding and finally the dreaded water crossing under a viaduct below Route 53 where I learned that compounding my tragic mistake of wearing off-road shoes for a largely on-road trail, waterproofing works against you if you TOTALLY SUBMERGE your shoes (they keep the water IN!) and ran the next few miles carrying much of the water crossing with me. Coming out on the other side we saw that Learning to Blow had risked becoming our first Coalition Forces On-Trail Casualty of War by crossing Route 53 (a real six-lane divided highway like I-94) to avoid getting his shoes wet. Duh, your shoes will eventually dry, but being flattened by a semi at 65 mph is pretty much guaranteed to ruin your entire afternoon.

After nearly two hours on trail, hashers were beginning to wonder if there even would be a beer stop and Stilletto Slut coined this trail "A Campaign of SHOCK and AWFUL".

While looking for a bag of "Paleolithic Underwear", Horn-E nearly climbed a tree to retrieve a plastic garbage back full of empty beer cans & trash which is understandable, because when placed in plastic bags, empty beer cans EASLIY be mistaken for lingerie. When the trail turned back towards Algonquin Rd., Mudsucker and a few female hashers said "f*ck this" and headed back for the bar. History will remember this as a VERY smart move.

Then, as we approached one of Rolling Meadows high schools the trial marks became rather sparse and then flat out disappeared, apparently because there is a flour, chalk, and drywall rationing shortage in progress because of the war in Iraq, and to help set more trails around downtown Baghdad.

Fortunately for rest of us, the hare reappeared to point us in the right direction and eventually we started seeing marks again. However, due to the sheer lack of checks and circle backs, FRB's like Virtual and Yer Anus, the latter of whom was further confusing things by frequently marking checks in the WRONG DIRECTION, were completely out of sight and the pack soon became spread out over an area LARGER than Space Shuttle Columbia debris field.

Many, many more miles of pavement pounding FINALLY brought the pack to the (only) beer stop at the hare's friend Barb's house where we quickly assaulted the beer, water, food, MRE's, IV's, and other supplies necessary to avert our imminent death from exhaustion and exposure. Fortunately, the abundance of good beer (Guinness, Harp, Fosters, and several brews in gallon-sized cans) helped assuage the frazzled pack. After settling down a while, we also realized it had gotten very cold outside and hashers huddled around an tiny outdoor fireplace in an attempt to avoid adding hypothermia as an additional cause of death no top of exhaustion and dehydration.

Preparing to depart, the pack was utterly flabbergasted to learn that the on-in was still yet another TWO AND A HALF MILES away at which most of the remaining pack elected to auto hash it back to the on-in leaving a handful of masochistic idiots like me to supplement this "impromptu marathon training" by running the last leg of the trail which, fortunately, was mercifully direct. And only Dick 'n Cider tried to pants the hare as she set live trail back to the on-in. If the rest of the pack hadn't just run 11-1/2 miles we would probably have ditched pants-ing the hare and gone straight for an open-field tackle.

Back at the on-in, the scene was one of sheer carnage, and even Manhole herself admitted that "MAYBE A TRAIL THAT TAKES SIX HOURS TO SET, JUST MIGHT BE TOO LONG". Really? Total elapsed time on trail was well over three hours, about an hour LONGER than it took Khalid Khannouchi to complete the entire 2002 LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon last October.

Circle-up was soon called with Speckle Bird as our Religious Advisor and where not nearly enough down-downs were administered to the hare for her 12 Mile Death March trail. Note to Manhole: a half-marathon is only 13.1 miles... where was our last mile? Then FRB's like Yer Anus and DFL's like Rhotan (who showed up late at the on-in, and of all people, MISSED the Death March!) were also called.

There was also a Second City multiple naming where Just Ken was named Pen*s Grigio (in deference to the Pinot Grigio - well, ok, wine.. I don't remember what kind he brought to the Mokena hash). Note he also ran home and DROVE to the beer stop. Stuff like that could get you one of those truly special hash names like C*m Dumpster, but oh well. Just Roger was named Mucous (mucus?) Aurelius, in deference to bleeding snot onto fellow runners. There was not however enough down-down beer for all the auto hashers who rode back from the beer stop so that folly was quickly let pass.

and the entire library of 2003 hash pictures can be found at (note: NEW URL):

http://www.chicagofourth.com/Homestuff/Pictures/Pictures03_hhh.htm