A drinking club with a running problem
Submitted by dtomko on Tue, 2006-08-01 20:02.A drinking club with a running problem
Half-sport, half-party, hashing is all about fun
By Ryan Alan
Philly EDGE Correspondent
They could be your doctor in Bucks County, that smartly dressed executive in Philadelphia, your Montgomery County accountant, your neighborhood librarian, college prof, or – say it isn’t so! – your boss.
They also could be the housewife next door, the guy who asks if you want fries with that burger, the hostess at the corner restaurant, the “refuge engineer” who sees that your trash can is picked up weekly, or the bartender at your pub.
Hashing doesn’t care what your occupation, age, or, for that matter, anything else, is.
It just asks that those who participate come equipped with a sense of humor, an open mind and a spirit of camaraderie.
So, what is it?
It’s easier to experience it, than it is to explain it.
It’s been described as a running activity for “the fit, the unfit, the misfits,” as well as a “drinking club with a running problem.”
It’s also for walkers and those who partake only in non-alcoholic beverages.
Mostly, it’s an entertaining way for men and women to make new friends and de-stress from a crazy week.
This is not a NEW marriage of fitness and fun. Hashing, an update of the traditional English school game of hares and hounds, is an international movement begun in the late 1930s when the British occupied Malaysia. It’s said that a group of expatriate runners, hoping to hasten their hangover recovery from the weekends, met on Mondays to run it off.
Jay "Hops" Hopkins, editor of Half-Mind Catalog, an Internet hashing magazine, explains that a wise pub owner began meeting them at the end of their runs with beer in his car trunk, inspiring the combining of the two activities.
“Hash House” was the original runners' nickname for the Selangor Club in Kuala Lumpur where many participants ate and lived. Hashing combines running, walking, orienteering and partying - think of a fraternity and sorority party for all ages of adults over a cross-country style running course of about 3 to 5 miles.
A different “hare” is designated from a club (known as a kennel) for the weekly hashes.
(Regionally, kennels can be found in Philadelphia, Reading, the Lehigh Valley, Harrisburg/Hershey and elsewhere. A list can be found at www.hashinpa.com.)
It is the hare’s duty to mark a creative trail, usually employing flour, through woods, streets and other terrain, for the “hounds” to follow.
Those best at reading the markings get to the beer/beverage stops first, socialize with those who catch up, and then continue to the completion of the run. (“BN” is a favorite sign on some courses, meaning: “Beer Near.”) Then the fun really begins at an after-party, where the participants talk about their experiences, harass the hare, eat and – did we mention, drink?
Those accused of committing “hashing crimes,” real or imagined, such as wearing a running shirt, new shoes or negotiating the course too adeptly, can be asked to drink from those shoes, a bed pan or lead an often risqué kennel song.
Hashers sometimes don’t even know each other’s real names.
They are eventually awarded nicknames, often R-rated, by members, based on their personalities, actions or other factors. The general rule is: complain about your nickname, and you will be given a new one that you like even less.
Here’s a sampling from the Philadelphia Hash House Harriers (HHH):
Dipshit, SnakeNeck, Puff the Magic Dragon, Handjob, Harass, Cousin It, Booby Trap, Licks His Own, Subhuman, Riverman, Chile, Papsmear, Speedbumps, Hard-on, Banged Up, Public Pisser, Jagerwhore, Wingnuts, Limp Noodle.
(If you’re at the Phillies game Sat., Aug. 12, some Philly hashers will be disguised as baseball fans in section 416, in the first three rows of the upper deck along the first base line. It’s the annual Philadelphia Hash House Harriers Tailgate and game. Their fun begins at 5:30 p.m. at Wachovia Center parking lot’s section C-2.)
Brian Donovan, past “grandmaster” of the Philadelphia HHH, goes by “SnakeNeck.” He is a 36-year-old engineer who has been hashing since 1991.
“Hashing is about having fun with people you would probably never meet anywhere else,” Donovan says. “I have found that you often have to choose your words carefully when describing the hash to someone. It's not for everyone, but I think everyone should try it at least three times.”
Typically, the Philly group will hash in Montgomery, Delaware, Chester, Bucks or Philadelphia counties.
“Occasionally, we will make it across the border and venture into New Jersey. Mostly people are afraid they won't make it back though,” Donovan quips.
He claims to never have had a truly bad experience, even the time that he lost the trail and spent three hours trying to recover.
“I was all alone, it was hot, and I had to fight daylight,” he says. “But I had a great time when I got to the (party). I had to chug a beer for my mistake, but I would do it again.”
At some more free-spirited parties, females charged with “crimes” who choose not to chug can elect to “take the option” by flashing their breasts. Men don’t escape either, and are often asked to drop clothing or sit bare-butt on an ice block.
David Reese, a 59-year-old computer consultant, has been hashing for 14 years. He is drawn to “the running/adventure and the partying, the people too,” he says.
The occupation of those people?
“Who knows,” says Reese, who is known to Philly kennel members as “Cousin It.”
“Cause For Blindness,” a 51-year-old university secretary who prefers not to use her real name, says she earned her nickname the old-fashioned way: “doing something stupid at a bar.”
This Philly hasher likes the feeling of accomplishment after successfully negotiating a particularly challenging trail. That can include, she says, dealing with what hashers refer to as “shiggy,” which she describes as “anything you'd rather not have to run through, like mud, briars, rocks, water.”
Hashers vary from those who walk all the trails to some who also compete in marathons, “It's not training, but it can be quite a workout” Cause for Blindness explains.
Bottom line, hashing is what you make it, she believes.
“If you come to have fun and get exercise and quench your thirst with some beer, you will,” she says.
Tell someone you’re into hashing and most people look at you kind of funny and think you’re doing something illegal, says Pork Screw, 33, of State College, who works in finance and has been a hasher for six years.
“I usually just smile at them and let them believe what they want. It's just easier than explaining,” he says.
Part of the fun is that sometimes it can get downright silly. The DC kennel holds an annual event in which participants, male and female, don red dresses and hash through Washington.
“I was there with 1,000 other hashers. We were all running through DC in red dresses. ‘Civilians’ would come up to us, asking what cause we were protesting and/or marching for. We answered: ‘Beer,’ ” Pork Screw says.
He sees hashing as both sport and social event.
“However, the sporting part is not the running, but rather trying to find the beer on trail. I get no pleasure from being the ‘fastest’ person on trail,” he explains.
“The greatest satisfaction I find is when I have run the least of everyone, but found the beer stash on trail first! This is what we like to call short-cutting.”
What degree of fitness is needed to be a hasher?
Pork Screw: “You need to have a working arm and elbow, enough so that you can drink a beer.”
You also sometimes pay a physical price for that beer at the end of the trail.
Pork Screw and fellow members of the Nittany Valley HHH kennel have hashed in Black Moshannon Forest through a waist high swamp, through drainage tunnels under State College, and two feet of freshly fallen snow in the woods.
“If you don't get dirty, wet, sweaty and bloody, it's not really that much fun,” he insists.
The attitude of the hash is very "tongue-in-cheek," he adds. “Anyone who takes personally anything we do and/or say has significant identity issues, and probably has an inferiority complex. Our intentions are not malicious in any way, shape or form. Anyone who believes otherwise has never stopped to talk to us, and does not understand what we do.”
John Chiusano (aka. Saltyballs), a 40-year-old chef, likes the activity so much that he plans to introduce his son, now 9, to it when he is old enough.
“I like the exercise, the scenery, the laughs and of course the memories,” he explains.
He has run on Pennsylvania’s Freedom Trail, hashed down the middle of Interstate 80, in caves, in the daytime, at nighttime. For a hasher, it appears, any time is the right time.
“The nice thing about hashing is you can go anywhere and still be able to hash with some kennel,” Chiusano says.
Kennels from Philly, Reading and elsewhere will converge in Lock Haven August 24-27 for the annual hashing weekend hosted by Nittany Valley HHH. The theme this year is "That ‘70’s Hash."
“It's a three-day event and will draw close to 125-150 people. Pay one price and eat, drink and (whatever) for the whole weekend,” Chiusano explains.
He turned 40 last November and says he has never felt better in his life.
Perhaps hashers have discovered the “feel good” secret of life?
Briars and beer.
If you hash…
Philly Hash House Harriers
www.phillyhash.com
Lehigh Valley Hash House Harriers
www.lvh3.com
Reading Hash House Harriers
www.readinghash.com
