Living or working in a post-industrial space that is aesthetically pleasing but functionally annoying space is de rigueur in my life these days. Which is some wonky foreign language for, "That is the way it is, so suck it up and live with it."

Which is basically what it means to hash in NYC on a cold rainy Sunday in February when the start is so far into the Bronx that one is closer to Pelham Bay than Times Square. But don't tell Crofty that. He thinks that Van Courtlandt Park is about 10 miles long. Probably due to previous runs in the Bronx where it seemed that Van Courtlandt Park was ten miles long.

At any rate, I sucked it up and made my way to the 4 Train and followed it north to Kingsbridge. Cause that is what hashers do. They go forth in search of trail and beer because they are hashers. Yep that is what hashers do. Yep. Anything for a beer. Yep. Anything. Yep. Right. This is real high on my list of things to do. Running in the Bronx on a cold wet rainy day for a beer. Sure... Right... Sign me right up.

Well, I wasn't the only hasher without a TV and nothing better to do. So at 3pm last Sunday, when I got off the 4 train in Kingsbridge I found a small number of well dressed hard core hashers standing at a hash start in the subway station.
Yep. In the station. We chatted and chatted. A few more hardy souls trickle in. Stories of the previous day's New York AGM at Beth and Andy's guesthouse were told. It sounded wet and cold. Chris shows up from Westchester. He reports seeing the hares on Kingsbridge in search of dry socks. Yep dry socks. There is a moment of silence as we look longingly at the entrance to the South Bound 4 Train. Sarah, who we all knew had dry clothes, tries to build a consensus for heading south. Leslie admits to having dry shoes and dry socks. And she successfully resisted numerous bribes and a bidding war for the socks.

Fortunately for Leslie, the hares arrived distracting the pack from her dry socks. After a short intro and more chatting about the NY AGM where we discovered that hares were out late the previous night at the Woodlawn Cafe (yep, that cute little bar at the end of the 4 Line with the huge pizzas). This, of course, led to more speculation about the finish. A few pleas for the location of the on-in, a couple of offers to help with the bags, a none-to-subtle comment about taking the train north.

Finally, the hares restore order and after instructing us to leave our bags in the train station (hint, hint) they send us south in search of trail. After a short conversation about hopping the next northbound train, we find trail and begin wandering along the streets of Woodlawn in the Bronx. We quickly warmed to the task. The new terrain and the well marked checks kept most of the pack together. Finally, at the chicken/eagle split the wimps (four guys following Sarah where ever she went) headed straight to the on-in. The rest of us went around the ended up on a wet and soggy shiggy trail around the Mosholu Golf Course. There was briar and poison ivy (and yes it can cause problems in the winter too.) And a lot of cold water. Yep, no shortage of cold water. Finally, we exit the shiggy north of the golf course and come into the welcome sight of the end of the 4 Train that is next to the Woodlawn Cafe, our on-in for the date.

As I have been a bad boy and didn't manage to get back to this until late in the week, I don't remember much of the festivities at the on-in. It was warm. Which made all of us very happy. Sarah seems to have started a trend and Andrew and Bob among other brought real clothes to change into. We had two plungers, so JM's Peter and Roy awarded Pierre and Andrew separate Asshole of the Week awards. And Pierre and Ellen came to the far reaches of the Bronx for beer and hash companionship, skipping the running part.

There are some cryptic notes in my Visor that I don't remember writing. But hopefully, they mean something to someone. Sort of like lost and found comments. So, I'll end with them. If you figure out who they belong too let me know. I am sure there is a lost joke in there somewhere.

· If I were running this trail I probably wouldn't.
· Ed and dangerous liaisons
· Ellen and no one knows her name.
· 9:55 pm
· The hard core, minus 2 civilians left the Woodlawn Cafe in search of breakfast and meaning on the 4 Train.
· Sarah got the ears. Andrew wanted them.
· Fireman Bob kept going on and on about the bartender, Yes, Bob she was very beautiful. Going back soon?
· Ellen paid me a lot of money not to repeat any thing that Andrew said.
· Mount Eden Ave. Some thing about a mount and an Eden with Eva setting the run that just begs the question, well, questions that are sometimes best left unasked