June 5 Trail recap from BBOT's perspective

OH3 #379

The trail from my perspective was essentially:

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck, hey, a Brewsky's."

Hand Solo always lays brutal trails. I know this. I have been under the weather for the past couple of weeks, and was therefore starting out in much-less-than-top-form. I know this, too. So why did I elect to participate in the June 5 hash? Because I am a hasher, goddamnit.

Also, because I was just elected RA, and I wanted to get that particular cherry-popping over with.

So I went, and I suffered.

The long and the short of it is that I finally crested a really, really steep hill which kicked my ass (and the asses of everyone else in the pack, but they recovered much more quickly). At several points on the hill, wheezing and whining and cursing silently because I didn't have the breath to do it audibly, I got light-headed and almost tipped backwards, which would have resulted in a long fall and possible impalement on deadfall sticking out at sharp angles. Upon reaching the top and collapsing on the pavement at the side of a major street, I contemplated the choices in my life that led me there, and began doubting my decision-making skills.

Once I had enough breath back to resume movement, I crossed the street and followed the pack through a parking lot. Off in the distance, I saw some packmembers climbing another steep hill. "Awww, hell no," I said. I looked to my left, and 20 yards away was a Brewsky's, glinting in the sun. A choir of angels was singing and blowing trumpets. Out of the side of my mouth I requested of one of my packmates that they send someone back for me once they reached the end of the trail. I didn't wait to find out if I was heard, but I assume so, because they did send someone back for me.

Later I found out that the hill I'd seen was actually a false trail, and had I continued on, I would not have had to climb it because they would have determined its falseness by the time I caught up. I did, however, miss the necessity of wading waist-deep through a creek some distance past it. Of course, I drank for my short-cutting infraction later, but the ability to forgo potential parasite infestation more than makes up for that.

Upon my arrival at the on-in, I officiated at my first official circle, and from all accounts I did a passable job. Then we adjourned to join up again later at the Jolleys', and there was hot-tubbing and pizza and camaraderie.

In the final analysis, I'm glad I went to the hash. However, I am also very glad I decided to recognize my limitations and have a refreshing iced tea instead of a disgusting trip through a creek. My faith in my decision-making skills is now restored.

On-on!

Bush Beer on Tap