Lest I forget all of the vagaries of the 3^rd run this semester – the actual 33^rd Winter Wednesday run, let me convey to you that it started, centered and finished just like any other run. But it was not like any other run. Unbeknownst to the hares, David and Rasheed, it was the modus operandi for the start of this season being just one week after the summer. After all, the marathon runners, particularly those who did not run had to have a mid-week extension of the muscles, just to see they were still there, or to trip. Well, no one tripped, but several may have asked whether they were going blind, especially in the beginning. The hash started by the Indian, no its is not Thanksgiving yet, not the American Indian, the Indian Indian. That is on the south east corner (rounded corner) of Union Square. Only I couldn’t find any Indian, so I waited with the fiddler inside the station. You see, it was cold, on top of it. Having reached the start in a foul mood, it could only get better, for me that is. Every one else started in a perfectly good mood. Draw your own conclusions as to where they went next.

You see, these hares split the trail and ONE of them decided to do double marks. Concluding that no school teacher’s chalk could be that faint, I intimated to my running partner that it was their wrists I had to test. Even this ruse did not elucidate which of the two was responsible, but Rat shit as he is known elswewhere confessed of his own free will. You never know with these seasoned hashers. Had he ever set a trail before? It was actually quite good and imaginative in the crossing parking lot domain, once one actually made it south out of Washington Square. But a great sigh of relief was breathed when we realized we were only going to have to do half of the trail like this, even though we knew full well it would be twice as long. That was of course at the first normal (single) mark we saw.

From there trail bandied southwest making it eventually to the cold windy river, but not before tricking us into thinking we were going to Antartica by doing a classic loop right the way round it. This scribe and downdowner did not, “thank God” in the words of one hasher, get that far, finding the Hyatt a convenient place to phone in. It turns out most everyone else phoned in also.

Onin was great – a place we haven’t been in in many moons and certainly not at night although we certainly talked (e-mailed) about it enough: JEREMY’s under the Bridge. It really is much better at night than either on Sunday or outside and the fish/seafood and chips were slightly more refined than usual. Dave brought his Road Runner friend who knows the owner – the kind never to be seen again and we were all very happy to see Alison and Kosovo Christina back. Particularly as the latter complimented us on what great people the Wednesday nighters were, “you could really talk to them.”

Some of us lusting unbeknownst to the Hare after a Cumberland sausage dragged Dave on to the North Star only to get him so hungover the next day he still remembers it – and he didn’t even have to drown out the shame of those pufta marks!

You guys did a great run – I never remember what to write after three weeks, and on top of it, it is my policy to save paper and never write more than half a page. Being it was so cold, I actually sold all the sweatshirts I brought on top of it.