05 November 2005
32. Can't Sleep? Write Random Pimpage
Darkside H3
Two and a half hours had passed. My quads were aching from the unrelenting fight through the swamp. I saw blood oozing from places I didn’t even know could bleed. I picked a large thorn out of my throbbing arm and threw it to the ground. It fell to the expanse of poison ivy below. There was no way out. Backward, to the left, to the right, it didn’t matter. The only logical move was to keep following the marks. So many marks. Two hours and thirty-one minutes of them. The stream offered no relief from the evening heat, because it soon turned into more shoe-sucking mud. Was that a leech? It didn’t matter at that point. The mosquitoes had already done their work. More briars and a quick dodge of some barbed wire led to more poison ivy. This time it was chest high, and so fresh, I could almost see the oil. I stepped away. So many steps. Two hours and thirty-two minutes of them. I laughed when I saw the check. I laughed because at that exact same moment, the evening had taken the final remnants of light and hid them from me. And I laughed because I thought it would quiet my inner screams. I had reached the point beyond pain and beyond exhaustion. I had finally reached the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
The winter months can be the worst. You start in darkness and end in pain. The only thing that keeps you warm is your wildly pumping heart. You pray that you don’t snare the hare, because you’ll end up cooling down in an environment that resembles the inside of a refrigerator. As long as you keep moving, you’re OK. Hit a creek? Keep moving. If you get out in a minute or two, you might still be able to feel your feet. Either way, you’ll be back in the creek sooner or later. Is it more like a freezer outside? Pray you brought extra water to the end, because you’ll need it to thaw your frozen shoe laces apart. When the ice-cold beer tastes warm, you know you’ve hit some cold weather. And when you barely have the strength to pop the top, you know you’ve just finished a Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Three hours can be a long time for anything. Even sex. Of course, you can also spend three-plus hours hashing. Think of both as Enjoyably Long. Both sex and 10-mile trails require massive amounts of energy to complete. Both may also find you sweating and needing liquid. Sometimes, you’ll find yourself in inhospitable terrain…
Gook… questionable fluids… groaning… some like to do it with the lights out… some like to see what they’re doing… some shout... some do it in silence.
If it was really good, you’ll be laughing at the end and craving more. If it was bad, odds are you stopped early and can’t wait to tell the others about the disappointment. Either way, there’s nothing like it. It’s the orgasm of hashing. It’s the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Really good runners can get in 26.2 miles before three hours is up. So why can you only squeeze in 10 miles of hashing? Because it’s freaking difficult. You’re not just out there pounding the pavement. You’re out there tearing briars off your body and clawing your way out of muck you only thought existed in movies. There is poison ivy and barbed wire to dodge. And sometimes, you’ve got to talk your way out of run-ins with cops or rednecks with shotguns. You lose precious minutes navigating creeks, working checks, and trying to find where you dropped your damn flashlight. And it doesn’t matter how many times you do it, picking ticks off your body just takes a while. Of course, there’s always the beer stops. Those can really make the time fly by. Now, do you really think people who hash 10 miles sit around at the end and talk about accomplishing something as profound as crossing a finish line after running 42K? No. But there IS a marathon of hashing, and it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s called the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
God was in a good mood the day he created hashing. He was drunk the day he created the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Most Hariettes will say they like girth over length. Well, Darkside Harriettes really like length. Because there’s no point in doing an enjoyably wide part of trail if it’s only 6 inches long. Even 10 inches isn’t long enough. Try 10 miles. It takes a lot to satisfy the girls of the Darkside. And hares… they might even come if you’re a good enough lay.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
The debate over the use of flashlights will never go away. Do they hurt? Do they help? Do you need a halogen, or is a little L.E.D. good enough? And do you buy one you hold, or one you strap on your dome? If this is the type of stuff you worry about, then maybe you need to find something that will take your mind off it. Many people find doing a 10-mile trail does the trick. After about 8 miles, you suddenly stop worrying about a light source, and start focusing on simply finishing. Because that beam won’t do you a bit of good if you don’t have the energy to move another step. Some people say you have to be a little dim to run 3+ hours through terrain that was never meant for humans. Well, you’ll never know how bright you are unless you try. The best part is that no matter how bright your light is, you’ll still be on the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Two and a half hours had passed. My quads were aching from the unrelenting fight through the swamp. I saw blood oozing from places I didn’t even know could bleed. I picked a large thorn out of my throbbing arm and threw it to the ground. It fell to the expanse of poison ivy below. There was no way out. Backward, to the left, to the right, it didn’t matter. The only logical move was to keep following the marks. So many marks. Two hours and thirty-one minutes of them. The stream offered no relief from the evening heat, because it soon turned into more shoe-sucking mud. Was that a leech? It didn’t matter at that point. The mosquitoes had already done their work. More briars and a quick dodge of some barbed wire led to more poison ivy. This time it was chest high, and so fresh, I could almost see the oil. I stepped away. So many steps. Two hours and thirty-two minutes of them. I laughed when I saw the check. I laughed because at that exact same moment, the evening had taken the final remnants of light and hid them from me. And I laughed because I thought it would quiet my inner screams. I had reached the point beyond pain and beyond exhaustion. I had finally reached the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
The winter months can be the worst. You start in darkness and end in pain. The only thing that keeps you warm is your wildly pumping heart. You pray that you don’t snare the hare, because you’ll end up cooling down in an environment that resembles the inside of a refrigerator. As long as you keep moving, you’re OK. Hit a creek? Keep moving. If you get out in a minute or two, you might still be able to feel your feet. Either way, you’ll be back in the creek sooner or later. Is it more like a freezer outside? Pray you brought extra water to the end, because you’ll need it to thaw your frozen shoe laces apart. When the ice-cold beer tastes warm, you know you’ve hit some cold weather. And when you barely have the strength to pop the top, you know you’ve just finished a Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Three hours can be a long time for anything. Even sex. Of course, you can also spend three-plus hours hashing. Think of both as Enjoyably Long. Both sex and 10-mile trails require massive amounts of energy to complete. Both may also find you sweating and needing liquid. Sometimes, you’ll find yourself in inhospitable terrain…
Gook… questionable fluids… groaning… some like to do it with the lights out… some like to see what they’re doing… some shout... some do it in silence.
If it was really good, you’ll be laughing at the end and craving more. If it was bad, odds are you stopped early and can’t wait to tell the others about the disappointment. Either way, there’s nothing like it. It’s the orgasm of hashing. It’s the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Really good runners can get in 26.2 miles before three hours is up. So why can you only squeeze in 10 miles of hashing? Because it’s freaking difficult. You’re not just out there pounding the pavement. You’re out there tearing briars off your body and clawing your way out of muck you only thought existed in movies. There is poison ivy and barbed wire to dodge. And sometimes, you’ve got to talk your way out of run-ins with cops or rednecks with shotguns. You lose precious minutes navigating creeks, working checks, and trying to find where you dropped your damn flashlight. And it doesn’t matter how many times you do it, picking ticks off your body just takes a while. Of course, there’s always the beer stops. Those can really make the time fly by. Now, do you really think people who hash 10 miles sit around at the end and talk about accomplishing something as profound as crossing a finish line after running 42K? No. But there IS a marathon of hashing, and it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s called the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
God was in a good mood the day he created hashing. He was drunk the day he created the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
Most Hariettes will say they like girth over length. Well, Darkside Harriettes really like length. Because there’s no point in doing an enjoyably wide part of trail if it’s only 6 inches long. Even 10 inches isn’t long enough. Try 10 miles. It takes a lot to satisfy the girls of the Darkside. And hares… they might even come if you’re a good enough lay.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
The debate over the use of flashlights will never go away. Do they hurt? Do they help? Do you need a halogen, or is a little L.E.D. good enough? And do you buy one you hold, or one you strap on your dome? If this is the type of stuff you worry about, then maybe you need to find something that will take your mind off it. Many people find doing a 10-mile trail does the trick. After about 8 miles, you suddenly stop worrying about a light source, and start focusing on simply finishing. Because that beam won’t do you a bit of good if you don’t have the energy to move another step. Some people say you have to be a little dim to run 3+ hours through terrain that was never meant for humans. Well, you’ll never know how bright you are unless you try. The best part is that no matter how bright your light is, you’ll still be on the Darkside.
Please join us (dd/mm/yy), when the quest for beer reaches its monthly extreme.
Dark. Long. Hard.
You’ve been warned.
# posted by L&F @ 6:04 PM 
