Yes, we think we are a running club (of sorts). But we get older, or injured, or just lazy. And we become walkers. We are not running through the country side anymore, we are traipsing. Sometimes we even traipse through the towns and cities. Of … Continue reading Traipsing through the Terrain
Some people wear their heart on their sleeve, Hashers wear their slogans on their back or chest.
Join us on a run.
It’s easy: Run (or walk). Drink (beer, wine, or water). Laugh. And shout:
……………………………………….
Yes, I am. Looking at all the hashing paraphernalia I’ve got with my name on, there is no other conclusion:
But our big weekend is looming. And the weather looks very wet and windy. So, although I will see myself like this:
I will probably look more like this (hazzled about sorting things for 300 runners and revellers):
Nevertheless, I am still hoping for this (and by Monday I will probably feel like this):
FOWC with Fandango: Stalwart
……………………………………….
Whenever there is a major Hash House Harrier event, we get a t-shirt as keepsake.
That’s one way to combat the overflow:
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge: Keepsake
.
.
..
I really am. And I started early. I was in primary school when I learned a poem about a starving, freezing sparrow in winter. When I was called upon to recite a poem for Santa Clause, I chose this one:
Children, I am the sparrow. Children, I am shattered. ...
It brought the house down. My family has never allowed me to forget this occasion.
This is me quite a few years later. I was dressed as half a cardinal, half a rabbi and I officiated at a catholic-jewish hash wedding.
Our running group shouts “on on” to communicate.
But sometimes it just too long, too steep, too hot – too much! We go on strike!
The Ragtag Daily Prompt: Purist
pictures imperfect blog 