RUNNING
Ottawa Hash House Harriers combine exercise with the bizarre By Thom Barker
Ottawa. Winter. Enough said. With a wicked, skin-chiselling wind whistling through Westboro, itʼs no wonder nobody is venturing far from home. But wait! Whatʼs with the congregation of intrepid souls in running gear and a wacky assortment of reindeer horns, elf hats and other bizarre attire? Must be Monday. Itʼs the Ottawa Hash House Harriers, the “drinking club with a running problem.” Neither rain, nor sleet, nor alien abduction shall stay these hashers from the swift consumption of their precious beer. Roger “Delhi Belly” Barliszen— the Religious Advisor (RA)—calls the huddled pack to disorder so one of todayʼs “hares” can explain the trail markings to the “hounds” who will follow in pursuit of beer. Irreverent and lewd comments drown out instructions provided by Larry “Wong Way” Wong. Amid shouts of “On On!” and a cacophony of horns, whistles and sundry noisemakers, the “pack” is off looking for the trail marked in red paint and yellow chalk. Todayʼs pack is 25 strong, fairly typical for an Ottawa hash. Every level of running expertise from marathoners to walkers is represented, as well as a couple of people already well on their way to tomorrowʼs hangover. www.OttawaOutdoors.ca
We havenʼt gone more than half a block when we find our first checkpoint in the trail where action is required. A regular check, marked by a circle, means the trail could go in any direction. We wind through the neighbourhood, criss-crossing Churchill Avenue, sidling down the loading bays at Hampton Park Plaza and end up in someoneʼs backyard with the best kind of check of all—a beer check. Our other erstwhile hare, Sarah Buyers, is there with a freshly tapped keg. After a quick drink, weʼre back on trail with another chorus of “On On!”, the internationally recognized clarion call for being on trail. It allows the slower hounds to follow the faster ones without worrying about finding all the marks or solving the checks. It is very bad trail etiquette to call “On On!” when youʼre not, and transgressors will be duly noted by the RA and subjected to “punishment” later. Even a group that flagrantly defies most societal niceties has its standards. Clever hares will keep the pack together by laying false trails that trick the front-runners into doubling back and allowing the lagging walkers to catch up. When we reach Island Park Drive, we find another check designed for keeping the pack together—a circle with an
“H” inside it. This is a “hash hold,” known in some hashes as a “turtle check.” Completely unknown in many hashes, it is used frequently in kinder, gentler Ottawa. The hash winds through city streets and parks, a couple of ravines and through urban forests along the Ottawa River Parkway. There is a liquor check at a hasher’s home for shots of schnapps and a subsequent beer check at a Richmond Road pub. Then the trail circles back to another hasher’s house for the “on-after” or “on-on-on.” Trails are not always so innocuous. In my own hashing career, Iʼve almost stepped on an alligator in a swamp near Houston, stowed away on a Boston subway, negotiated a treacherous cliff face off the coast of Washington state, and got lost in some seedy New Orleans back alleys. Injuries are also not uncommon. Iʼve seen a broken ankle, a dislocated shoulder and plenty of nasty gashes. Every couple of years, news circulates through the hashing community of things far worse— including hashing-related deaths. Hashing may not be for the faint of heart. And itʼs not for the easily offended! Coarse language, lewd songs, sacrilege, even nudity are not out of place at a hash. Nothing is sacred.
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