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Run #168 - Wednesday 29 September 1999 | |||||||||||||
I arrived on time to find a sorry gathering of alcohol influenced creatures hanging at the normal meeting place, which normally is dominated by activity of more erotic character performed by more or less local expertise with office two avenues to the north. At this time since no Harriets were available the more needy started fondling themselves but were stopped when the circle was called. The acting C.I.C and Ayatollah (read Foggy) called the circle and tasks at hand were delegated when suddenly the Hare started to give detailed descriptions of the run and the marking of the track. This, in my experience is never a good start on a run. Does it indicate the complexity of the run, the Hare's dementiatic character or does he simply believe that we are stupid. As it turned out in this case he thought we were stupid. I'm really not the best man for this job since I reach "runners high" after 30 yards and everything that happens after ... is just a blur. I registered however that the run included a crossing of a fjord into unmapped territory. I thought there was a rule against entering the outer protectorate of Bergen. One feels slightly unsecure of the local inhabitants. [Hey - I live there!! - Ed] Still, in regions, cannibalism and general abuse are common. I tried to push these worries in the back of my mind and focused on keeping visual contact with the pack. In this I succeeded almost all the way. Well into the run I suddenly was lost. I was confused since the Hare cunningly made us pass the House of God. I thought I saw the Lord and a couple of nice females of my species. As a result I made one (only one) wrong turn, I ignored the marked check-back since it was followed by a white cross. It must mean something I thought, and carried on in a state of religious shock. Of course it did not mean anything and I found myself lost. Running alone in this part of the City with a bow tie is not easy. I started singing the songs of the local football-team hoping that this could explain my funny ways. This of course resulted in more attention since my dialect disclosed that I'm not of their kind. People thought I was making fun of them and became violent. Exhausted as I were at this stage, I were on the brink of giving in, but as a last resort I threw myself into an ally and were met by a hash search party that piloted me safely to the drinking stop. After this I was safely guided through the remain of the run and we all arrived safely to the ON-INN.
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