Last night I finally went for a run with the San Francisco Hash House Harriers! It’s been two years since my last hash, in Boston. I used to go every week, and I’ve missed it.
For those unfamiliar with hashing, here are the basics:
- It’s not the drug, it’s a running club that does a lot of drinking.
- There are over 250 weekly (or biweekly) hashes around the world.
- Two or three people serve as the hares each week – they lay a trail with chalk and flour.
- The pack tries to follow the trail, running up and down streets, in parks, through buildings and construction sites – wherever the trail goes.
- At the end of the trail (or during, if it’s a long trail), everyone drinks beer and sings dirty songs.
There’s a lot more to it than that (lots of lingo and tradition), but you can probably guess why I think it’s fun – you get to run around chasing someone like a little kid, there’s beer, and you get to wallow in crude humor.
It also allows you to get to know a city like you wouldn’t otherwise. The trail last night went through West Portal, which I’ve been to twice at the most. We ran through a hilly neighborhood with beautiful houses, and then up a huge sand hill that gave us this view of the sunset:
It sure was something. I got home around 10:30, sweaty and happy and full of beer, and I got up again at 5:30 this morning for my first day of fake boot camp.
Fake boot camp was actually fun, once I was up and had some food in my belleh. We ran around the Exploratorium in the dark, and over to the Presidio, where we commenced doing variations on pushups and crunches for an hour. It was tough, but I’ve done worse, and it felt awesome to be outside while the sun was rising. Two classes a week will probably be my max, but given how amazing I feel right now (if it ain’t sore you ain’t working hard enough), I’m tempted to consider going for the four-a-week full-on schedule.
Ok, not really. But it was great, especially coming on the heels of a yoga class on Sunday night that made me feel totally nuts, in a good way. Right now I am like Gumby, if Gumby also had very tight hamstrings. Maybe Gumby and Pokey together? That seems about right.