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Run #140 - Wednesday 5 May 1999 | |||||||||||
 The Too Few Checkpoints! RunThe real hard-core BH3s had just finished their usual warm-up rounds at Trappen pub when the pack gathered at the usual place, the car-park just below Abominator and Dr. Butt's place in central Nordnes. Fungus the Hare soon joined us and made it clear that this was also be the starting point of the upcoming run. Bubbles, Yogi and Bubba (increasingly pregnant), Abominator and Dr. Butt, Smokie soon joined our little group (Foggy Glasses, Backtracker and the aforementioned Fungus the Hare). Abominator brought with him a newly acquired horn, apparently from time to time to be used as a substitute for the familiar on-on. Smokie was appointed Hash-horn, and after some ear-shattering rounds of practice he was generally accepted as such. Fungus was presented with the Hash-shit, for probably having laid a good run. "On-on this way" was called, the horn sounded, and the run was under way. When we reached the green lawns of Nordnesparken, we were already working up a good sweat after having conquered a number of Nordnes' narrow alleys. The assisting RA (Foggy) had done his bit, that is to say the weather was perfect. We therefore had the pleasure of watching a number of rather well equipped young women, all of them wearing a bare minimum of clothing, and no doubt eager to replace that winter paleishness with a nice tan. This was of course an obvious spot for a checkpoint, but the hare had failed to grace us with one. We still had to run a bit further, uphill of course, before we got the first of the sort in sight. Yogi had for some strange reason climbed a tree in which he chose to regain his breath. All too soon everybody was present and accounted for. "Check it out, one way" - the hare was eager to get us on our way. On-on was called, the horn sounded, and we were off in the general direction of the usual place for a drink stop. When we run in central Bergen, that is. I won't bore my readership with details from this rather uneventful part of the run, other than to state that we unsurprisingly ended up in the aforementioned pub. A well-deserved refreshment later the run went on to even more central parts of our fair city. As we ran along Torvalmenningen Foggy suddenly had obvious difficulties. Slightly forward-bent, drivelling, a strange look in his eyes. He had trouble breathing. He could barely talk. But eventually Backtracker managed to make some sense of his garbled words, and his attention was drawn towards a couple of VERY well equipped young women with VERY minimal miniskirts. Foggy remarked that elderly married men probably were not plagued with the kind of problems he was experiencing at the time. Being a well-brought up chap, he then remembered that when one have a conversation, one is supposed to make eye-contact with the conversee. Miraculously, he managed to take his eyes of the miniskirts a brief moment and glance in Backtracker's direction. The subject was promptly dropped. The trail took us once again in the direction of Nordnes, and a checkpoint and a couple of check-backs later the ON-INN was called. The pack made their way to Yogi and Bubba's place, where the nosh was to be taken. The circle was called and down-downs administered. The beer master had done his job as usual, so everybody had a beer or two while the food was prepared. The meal we had this evening deserves a mentioning. Oven-baked salmon, spiced to perfection, served with potatoes, mushrooms and cucumber salad made with sour cream. The "steinsopp" was handpicked by Fungus, who also had supplied the salmon. Foggy does not eat fish, but everybody else agreed that this was the best hash-nosh EVER!!
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