Yesterday, I went on my first hash. These are common across Asia…Never heard of it? Neither had I. Let me explain.
A group of runners meet at a set point. Two ‘hares’ mark a course with blobs of flour and chalk symbols. The chasers go off a set period later to chase the hares down. There is a short and long course, so that everyone finishes around the same time.
I love running, and at home consider myself fit. So this is
perfect, right? The organisers tell us the course is 11km. I laugh inwardly – 11km?!
I do that in about 47 minutes on the flat. Easy peasy.
Wrong. After 1km on roads, we hit scrub-filled hillside, and
climb one false peak after another. At points, I clamber on all fours. We ascend
1500ft in 3km. This picture shows the highest point…where I stop because I physically
cannot go on as well as for the view.
After the high point, we plunge into jungle – scrambling over
rock formations, running bent over through bamboo fields, branches whipping at
my face like some Vietnam film, balancing on walls of abandoned villages in
lieu of paths, picking through streams.
Two and a half hours later, I was no longer laughing. I was
chowing down on humble pie, having seen wiry old men and tiny Asian ladies
leave me in the dust. So that’ll show me, you’d think – no more hashing.
Oh but what I forgot to mention - it is a) addictive and b)
involves unlimited beer. Next hash on Wednesday and another booked for Sunday…
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