Finally someone spoke up.
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Leading the February hashing run, hasher
'hare' Scott Atiyeh of Allentown runs down an Allentown side street
bouncing a tennis ball with chalk on the road, leaving his path. Don Fisher/TMC |
Punctuality isn't a first-order attribute of hashing, a growing phenomenon, with some 3,000 hashing groups around the world and a dozen or so in Pennsylvania.
The point of hashing is primarily social: Groups of runners of varying ages, fitness levels, abilities and motivations get together to tell jokes, devise parody versions of popular songs, drink beer and run a course, which almost always includes stops at places where beer is available. At the end of the hash, participants sing bawdy songs and drink more beer.
One of the hallmarks of hashing is the nicknames. All experienced hashers have them, conferred by other runners. Quick-n-Little leads the Lehigh Valley hashing group. His name was given to him because he arrived at some hash events on a moped.
Quick, a counselor at an eastern Pennsylvania school district, asked that he be referred to only by his hash moniker, emphasizing the playful nature of hashing and preserving the jovial anonymity that is part of the hash sensibility.
A few others who have come out for the fun one February day also teach at public schools or universities.
To members of this group, running a few miles and drinking a few beers on a Saturday afternoon hardly seems a vice. No one is abusing alcohol, they emphasize. Few even get drunk. ''We need this kind of stuff,'' Quick says. ''People are way too serious. This is a nice way to lighten things up a little.''
The Lehigh Valley hash group is relatively new, having formed 18 months ago. An earlier incarnation, started around 1997, dissolved when the founder moved out of the area. The new group was born when Quick met a fellow runner during the 5K fun run at Mayfair, and the two decided to restart the local club.
Serious competition is definitely not part of the hash culture. In fact, there's an off-color name given to the runner who finishes first. If you want to win, or achieve your personal best, this is the wrong activity for you.
Hashing began in 1938, in a place called The Hash House in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; hence the Hash House Harriers club names. A.S. Gispert, whose hash nickname was G, is credited with founding hashing. He died fighting for the British in World War II, and to this day, hash groups around the world celebrate his February birthday. The jury is still out as to whether G founded the sport for fitness or as an elaborate excuse to drink beer.
At the Lehigh Valley group's monthly hash, all first-time runners, ''virgins'' in hashing slang, are given gaudy plastic roses. Everyone, virgin or otherwise, gets a ''Hello, My Name Is'' nametag. First timers and hashers with no nicknames are identified by their real first name preceded by a ''Just.''
At about 2:30 p.m., the group of about 15 runners, mostly men, form a circle on the sidewalk outside the Madison Inn. Members of hash groups in Harrisburg and Philadelphia have come to join in. One of the runners, Tour de Puke, leads the group in a set of limbering up exercises.
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| Participants follow the chalk path left by
'hare'. Valley Forge native Bill Moyer (dressed in red) leads the group
down Russell Street. Don Fisher/TMC |
''We could stretch, but that would be way too Type A,'' notes Tour.
Before the group embarks on its run, Quick reviews some of the standard hash trail markings by drawing them with a piece of chalk on the sidewalk.
With the limbering up complete, one of the runners, the ''hare'' in hash terminology, takes off.
With chalk and white flour, the hare will establish a trail the group must follow. There are no trail-setting rules. Some go through shopping malls, dumps or golf courses. The trail for this February hash includes a brief visit to the Allentown Farmers Market near its Saturday closing time, as well as a climb up a steep hill near Muhlenberg College.
Five minutes after the hare has departed, the group leaves, an unlikely collection of athletes rumbling down Madison Street toward Chew. Almost immediately, the group separates, as members look for signs of the trail.
The hare, Likes, is setting his trail by bouncing a green, flour-covered tennis ball every so often. Doing so produces a distinctive, round, white spot. Occasionally, he draws an arrow or makes a cross with a piece of chalk. The cross suggests the trail could go in any of four directions.
As Likes establishes the trail, his wife drives a car to the next ''beer check,'' which on this day is one of a series of Allentown taverns. In more rural areas, the beer check would be a place where a cooler of beer or water awaits.
When the panting runners enter the day's first stop, J.P. O'Malley's Pub in the 1500 block of Union Street, three pitchers of Miller Lite rest on the bar, each dosed with a small quantity of red food coloring, in keeping with the hash's ''Bloody Valentine's Day'' theme.
Drinking, while encouraged, isn't required. And no one is getting drunk. A few hashers even smoke cigarettes. If there is any simmering elitism among the athletes, everyone is keeping it well in check.
''Beer is definitely part of the hash, but it's OK if people don't drink,'' Quick says.
The mood at J.P. O'Malley's is relaxed. No one is itching to hit the hash trail again. There is some waiting involved, anyway, as Likes has set something of a classic hashing trap on the first leg of the run. He set the trail right up to, but not quite inside, the Hotel Traylor at 15th and Hamilton streets. A few of the thirsty hashers, minutes into their day's run, went inside anyway and ordered beers.
The hare is off again.
About 10 minutes later, the group follows and the hashing ritual is repeated at Lupo's on Reading Street and then at Greg's West End Saloon on Tilghman Street.
The bars are carefully selected, Quick says. ''We try to avoid places that are too fancy.''
The choices today are good because the atmosphere is relaxed, and the patrons and staff seem mildly amused at the group wearing colorful running togs, silly nametags and equally silly hats. Several wear the official Lehigh Valley Hash House Harrier T-shirt with its logo of a turtle and a hare captured in a suggestive pose and surrounded by a ring of single footprints containing the universal hashing motto, ''on-on,'' in reverse silhouette.
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| Hashers from the region drink in the Madison Inn prior to their hashing run. Don Fisher/TMC |
Quick marks the final hash bar with a figure, three joined H's and a large arrow on the sidewalk outside.
As the rest of the hashers wander in, some talk about the sport.
John Pearson, 48, of Catasauqua, says he likes the hashing atmosphere. A cancer survivor, Pearson started running as a way to work himself back into shape. Bicyclist Lance Armstrong, also a cancer survivor, is a role model.
Pearson wants to win two road races for his mother and uncle, both of whom are now deceased. ''Put that in the paper. I'm serious,'' he says earnestly. He sometimes runs with the Lehigh Valley Road Runners group, but says he enjoys hashing more. This is only his second hash and he has no nickname.
Bill Moyer, 50, who lives in Valley Forge just outside of Philadelphia, enjoys the camaraderie of the hash. He got his hash name, Wing Nuts, because he runs marathons, runs quickly and tends to run off trail extensively. Years ago, he ran cross-country at Southern Lehigh High School.
''No one figures that this old man can run,'' Moyer says. Besides getting to the final beer check first, he also has run a longer time than any of the other hashers. He missed the first two stops and only rejoined the group at Greg's West End Saloon. If this had been any other hasher, search parties would have been formed, and police called. But this was Wing Nuts, and he's known for doing this, Quick says. Hashers call this freelancing, or running your own trail. In hashing, this is OK.
Chris Kohan, a 30-something hasher from the central Pennsylvania borough of Marysville, goes by the hashing moniker Quarter Stick and is a member of a Harrisburg-based hashing group. He took up running to be part of a hash group.
''You can run a marathon, but what's the satisfaction in that? I guess you can get some personal satisfaction, but with hashing, it's definitely the beer. That's a motivation'' says Kohan. ''It's also like a big family. You can go anywhere and find hashers and it's like you're part of a family. You have a place to stay. We take care of each other.''
The hashers at Jabber Jaws have more beer because several have lost the true trail, as hashers call it, in a very big way. Eventually, however, the group reforms at the pub, with everyone accounted for.
Group members retire to the bar's empty pool room to form the hash group circle. All the virgins are placed in the circle's center and urged to drink beer — ''down-downs'' in hashing slang. New hashing nicknames are given with the inductees kneeling in the circle's center to have their name announced and a cup of beer dumped over their heads.
Finally, a series of transgressions are dealt with. These can include hashing crimes, such as losing your ''My Name Is'' nametag, wearing new running shoes or, worst of all, finishing first.
For more information on the Lehigh Valley Hash Harriers, log onto http://www.lvh3.com , the group's official Web site.
From The Morning Call -- April 11, 2005
Story glorified drinking, sent the wrong message
The article says that hashing was invented as an ''elaborate excuse to drink beer.'' Yes, the article does say that not drinking when hashing is okay, but later on it adds, ''Group members retire to the bar's empty pool room to form the hash group circle. All virgins are placed in the center and urged to drink beer …'' The statements are not only contradictory, but they also seem to say that drinking is okay. Drinking is not okay. Too many people abuse alcohol and by doing so ruin their lives and the lives of those around them.
I was convinced that hashing is not ''okay'' when I read that the hashers asked to be referred to only by their hashing nicknames. If this is an okay activity why don't they give their real names? The article also said many of the hashing participants were teachers or principals at schools. The same people who are held up as an example are drinking. What kind of message is this sending to their students? There are better ways to have fun than to run and drink on a Saturday.
Lydia Younger
Macungie
Run, Drink & Be Harri(er)
An insider look at the LV's secret club of "drinkers with a running problem."
Merge/MergeDigital
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Do you have to drink?
John Babb: Well, it's more or less about the chase and the experience. I mean, it doesn't have to be about the drinking. People enjoy socially drinking like they do anywhere else...
HEAR MOREHow much time is spent running vs. drinking?
Kari Pichora: From the time you begin to the time you end - and there's always like an after-party at the bar, not counting that - I would say most of it is outside running. When you stop at the bars in between...
HEAR MOREWhat was your first time like?
Pichora: It was fun, it was exciting. When I first walked in, everyone was just having a good time, drinking a beer already. I went there, I was never even at that bar before because...
HEAR MOREWhat do you wear?
Babb: Running clothes, some old shoes, some jogging pants. Some people get dressed up, and there's different themed ones, depending on where you are. If you go down to D.C. ...
HEAR MOREWho hashes?
Babb: All sorts. Pilots, teachers or consultants... it pretty much takes all kinds. I wouldn't say there's typically any discrepancy, I think probably the only biggest real thing that...
HEAR MOREWhy do you do it?
Babb: It's fun. A good excuse to go run, burn off some calories, and then go socialize. It's a good justification. And I really enjoy hanging out with them. Our hash group...
HEAR MOREPhone interviews by Gabrielle Salerno of Merge. Audio editing and production by Tucker Hottes of MergeDigital.
From the Scranton Times Leader...
'A drinking club with a running problem'
Is hashing a sport or a party or both, and does it matter?
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 "refuse engineer" who sees that your trash can is picked up weekly, or the barkeep at your pub.
Hashing doesn't care what your occupation 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, then 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 started 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 ate and lived.
Hashing combines running, walking, orienteering and partying.
Think: frat and sorority party for all ages of adults over a cross-country style course of about three to five miles.
A different "hare" is designated from a club (known as a kennel) for the weekly hashes.
(While there do not appear to be any kennels in the heart of NEPA, those interested in hashing are welcomed relatively short drives away at kennels in Philadelphia,
Nittany Valley, Harrisburg/Hershey, Lehigh Valley and elsewhere. A list can be found
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. NEPA has been used for courses.
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. ("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 Ð 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 risquŽ kennel song.
Hashers sometimes don't even know each other's real names.They are eventually awarded nicknames, often not G-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, Banged Up,
Rock Hard, Jaquar, Otey the Turk, Ribs, Bilbo, Frodo, Strap On, E=MC^2, Cause for Blindness, Salt Lick, Tastes like Chicken, Public Pisser, Jagerwhore, Wingnuts, Limp Noodle.
Brian Donovan, "grandmaster" of the Philadelphia HHH, goes by "SnakeNeck." He is
a 35-year-old engineer who has been hashing since 1991. (For more information on Philly HHH, log on to: http://www.phillyhash.com.)
"Hashing is about having fun with people you would probably never meet anywhere
else," he 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 having had a truly bad experience, even the time that he lost the
trail and spent three hours trying to recover from that.
"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 apres (party). I had to chug a beer for my mistake, but I would do it again."
At some more free-spirited parties, females who choose not to chug can elect to "take
the option" by flashing their breasts.
Men don't escape at some parties, either, being asked to drop clothing or sit on an ice
block bare-butt.
David Reese, a 58-year-old computer consultant, has been hashing for 12 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 50-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, Cause for Blindness explains. "It's not training, but it can be quite a workout" she 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 Thad Will, 32 of State College, whose nickname
is Pork Screw, but you can call him Porky. He 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.
Will: "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: ÔBeer.'"
Will 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 Ôfastest' 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?
Will: "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.
Will and fellow members of the Nittany Valley HHH (log on to: http://www.nvhhh.org/postnuke) 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 39-year-old chef in State College, likes the activity so much that he plans to introduce his son, now 8, 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 with the Nittany Valley kennel 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!
Chiusano has been with the Nittany Valley kennel for the past seven years and says he will continue to be part of it as long as he stays in this area.
"That's the nice thing about hashing. You can go anywhere and still be able to hash with some kennel."
Kennels will converge on State College in August for the Nittany Valley HHH's annual weekend that it hosts. The theme this year is "Hasharettaville" a mix of Caribbean and Jimmy Buffett. "It's a three-day event and will draw close to 125-150 people. Pay one price and eat, drink and (who knows) for the whole weekend," Chiusano explains. He turns 40 in November and says he has never felt better in his life.
Perhaps hashers have indeed discovered the "feel good" secret of life?
Briars and beer!
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