Run #56, The Royal Farm Run -Rehashed

Having publicly mocked Push Up for his previous run report, I inadvertently volunteered to write the next one, so here goes. Run #56: The Royal Farm Run, notable for its lack of farming or royalty. Sheep-shagger and Deep Throat were our hares and failed to clearly provide an address nor a landmark that my taxi driver could recognise. Some people might wish to remark that I was late, but I prefer to think of myself as starting early, especially as I was yelling On-On at the taxi driver! (not that it helped…)

Despite some trouble finding the start, once the hounds were assembled, we set off at a decent pace considering the heat and mosquitos that we were desperately hoping to avoid. Special mention goes to Cunning Linguist for unusual running attire, and also Slow Phuk for realising 600 metres into the run that it might have been a good idea to bring some water like everyone else. The pack quickly found ourselves climbing stairs to our first RG where Sheep-Shagger would have had us kneeling before a statue that bore a striking resemblance to himself.
Fortunately, “Kneel Here” is not an officially recognised hash command (outside of naming circles) so we were all quickly On-On’ing our was towards the summit. This was also the point where the pack encountered Tit Man who had decided to walk the route due to a previous injury, proving to all that doctors know less than they claim, and excuses are for the weak(looking in your direction here Doggie Style…) While we did not reach the summit, we did find ourselves close enough and presented with a magnificent vista. So good in fact that Hentai decided to return to the stragglers and borrow a camera as they had clearly stopped making any attempt to climb further.

The trail then wound itself casually down the mountain, before a sharp turn (which Phone Box and I missed, much to our chagrin several hundred metres later) into an area that could charitably described as a mosquito convention. So bad was the constant buzzing that a RG was completely skipped so that we could continue to run and present less of a target.

The final stretch was relatively flat and uneventful, and a circle was formed to celebrate and to give the old ladies a chance to stare at a hairly laowai with his shirt off. A box of Tsingtao Light was quickly consumed (which given that is seems to be the same strength as the normal Tsingtao should perhaps just be called “Tsingtao Honest!”) and the crew were off to Heifeng Street for dinner and the usual shenanigans.