Scribe: Sen
The weather looked ominous as we arrived at the well-ran site. A few hashers stayed in their cars, napping in the rainy afternoon with mouths gapping wide. It certainly didn’t look encouraging but then, we fearless hashers were never fearful of whatever Mother Nature threw at us. This rain won’t bother us and we will go through the run, or will we, for my mind was still fresh from that Wednesday hash not too many weeks ago when we all had to abandon the run, not because of the weather but for one particular co-hare. And today, we had that co-hare! And it was the same site!
The run started like any other normal run, foreplay before the main thrust, circling the perimeter of the forest plantation before we stabbed further into the deep. We passed a car that was stuck in deep mud, the driver and his passengers cussing at their misfortune and at the same time looking at us with bewilderment; panting hashers passing them by and not offering any assistance!
In less than five minutes, the heavens opened and it chucked down with rain. The first check was quickly broken but not before we had to wade across a torrent river. As we went deeper and deeper into the forest, the rain got heavier and heavier, blinding our vision and slowing us down considerably. The second check took a bit longer to break and we were straining our ears above the rain patter for callings from the front runners. The running paths have by now become running rivers carrying with it our precious paper trails. At the third check, we were stranded for a good 20 minutes. Immediately, I thought of the co-hare! By now, we all looked like chickens waiting to be slaughtered, our tee-shirts had become our skin and navigating through gushing water that came from every direction was becoming a life hazard. Restless, the crowd soon scattered lest they become victims of a freak mudslide.
A series of white and red plastic ribbons led a few of us to a rubber plantation, an opening and a tunnel. There, a distinguished silver-hair Englishman dashed into a tunnel and disappeared in a flash of lightning. Instinctively, a French mademoiselle and I went through the tunnel and at the end of the tunnel, we saw our first precious paper trail after more than half an hour. A few hundred meters through light foliage brought us up onto a knoll and another check. A wide valley lay in front of us and the elusive silver-hair Englishman suddenly reappeared at the other end of the valley but disappeared again just as quickly. A path ascended steeply up to the right of the valley and a Dutchman with a Spanish name looked hesitant as he climbed the path. After a few seconds of hesitation, he waved and the check was broken.
By now, we had on us a few extra kilograms as we collected mud on and in our shoes. The rain had abated by now but not our misery. The jungle path had become so soggy it was akin to running on cement paste. The last check presented some difficulty and clear crisp howls of ‘On-On” were soon heard reverberating in the rubber plantation for only the first time at today’s run. A couple of checks later, sights of civilization appeared and then that familiar iron crossbar at the top of a hill. At exactly one hour and 45 minutes, the first runner checked in, sparring the hare an automatic toilet seat and maybe a 10-weeker. One by one, we staggered in, like human prunes. I enjoyed the run overall and it would have been a cracker of a run if not for the weather. As steam emanated from our hot bodies and crimson red blood dripped down on some white pasty legs, I suddenly felt a tingle. Damn those leeches, why can’t they leave my crotch alone?!!