By
J.S. Newton
Staff writer
The
temperature is hovering around freezing. But there
they go again, running through snow and sleet.
Some
wear shorts. One wears a Viking helmet -- horns
protruding from the top.
 |
Staff photo by Marcus
Castro
Carolina Trash Hash House harriers go down a
hill together in freezing temperatures as
they follow a trail through Waters Edge. |
It could be 105 degrees or minus 5
degrees. Every Sunday, you will find these runners
out making their weekly round. In their 848 Sunday
jaunts -- through swamp, mud, thickets and even
chilly Fort Bragg lakes -- the Carolina Trash Hash
House Harriers have yet to cancel a run.
‘‘We’ve
even run under Fayetteville, through underground
cement pipes,’’ said Richard Cancellieri, a
30-year-old Army specialist. ‘‘We call them
chug runs. You are in water up to your
waist.’’
The
Carolina Trash Hash House Harriers is one of many
Hash groups throughout the world. The group mixes
running who-knows- where with beer drinking to create
an off-beat social club, whose only goal is to have
fun.
Their
annual events include red-dress runs, in which all
the runners -- men and women -- wear red evening
gowns of their choosing. Runners frequently get
prizes for unusual achievements, like a rubber ball
for the biggest whiner. Or awards for the Hasher who
gets the most cuts and abrasions.
After
all, achievement among Hashers is measured in
stumbles and giggles -- not timed victories.
Where
Hashing all began
Rumor
has it, the tradition of traipsing over hill and dale
was started in Kuala Lumpur in the late 1930s by A.
S. ‘‘G’’ Gispert .
He
became a member of the Federated Malay States
Volunteer Reserves, which trained on Mondays. He and
many of the other expatriate Brits on Kuala Lumpur
were housed in barracks in the Royal Selangor Club
where they would often discuss starting a running
club.
About
December 1938, Gispert persuaded nearly a dozen men
to follow his inaugural trail run, according to The
Harrier Page, a Web site that gives the history of
Hashing.
Gispert
suggested the name of Hash House Harriers in mock
allusion to the mess at the Selangor Club, where many
of the Hashers dined.
The
runs were on Monday evenings after reserve training
and were followed by refreshments of Tiger beer, the
Web page says.
Gispert
never got a chance to see his club blossom. He was
killed defending Singapore from Japan on Feb. 11,
1942.
Maj.
Chuck ‘‘Squirt’’ Adkins, a
43-year-old Hasher, says the U.S. Air Force formed
the first U.S. Hash House Harrier club in 1973.
Adkins
is a quartermaster with Fort Bragg’s 1st Corps
Support Command.
He has
been on Hash runs throughout the world. One was with
a group of Dutch soldiers stationed with the
Multinational Force and Observers in Egypt.
‘‘They
ran through the desert,’’ he said.
‘‘That was pretty fun. It was about 105
degrees.’’
The
Carolina Hashers group has runners from all walks of
life. But many have a military background.
Their
runs are just that, runs. Not races.
‘‘Race
is a four-letter word,’’ said Dave Bullen,
who before he began working as a county employee was
a Fort Bragg soldier. ‘‘We don’t use
the word ‘race.’’’
About
90 percent of the group have military ties of some
nature.
The
group has a loosely enforced set of guidelines.
‘‘There
are absolutely no rules,’’ Cancellieri
said. ‘‘Only traditions.’’
The
runs are done in typical British hunting fashion. A
‘‘hare’’ sets out 15 minutes
before the rest of the runners, called
‘‘hounds.’’ The hare drops off
clues in the form of baking flour. On Sunday, the
flour was mixed with colored drink mix so that it
would stand out in the snow.
The
hounds must follow the hare’s path. Along the
way, the hares place cold beer at designated check
points.
They
also try to throw the pack off their scent by laying
down false trails.
And
just as a wild hare runs through prickly bushes and
hops across creeks, so do the runners.
The
hare can take them anywhere, runners say.
One
time, the course took them on a quarter-mile swim
across Mott Lake on post, a Hasher said.
‘‘Everybody
had to swim for part of the trail,’’ said
Sgt. Pete Walther, a soldier with the 1st Special
Warfare Training Group.
‘‘Part
of the point is just to see how messy you can
get,’’ he said.
‘‘Sometimes
the medical folks come in handy,’’ said
Cancellieri, a.k.a. L.C. Smurf.
Not to be confused with Bullen, a.k.a. Stinky.
Runners
who set a trail just once get a nickname, given to
them by the rest of the group.
Runners
also carry whistles to keep from getting lost. They
sign in at the start of each run in a log book.
‘‘If
somebody is missing, we will go back and find
them,’’ Bullen said.
Capt.
Francis Park, a staff officer with the 82nd Airborne
Division, said he enjoys Hashing. His nickname, which
he did not choose, is too profane to print.
‘‘It’s
a neat way to meet people,’’ he said.
‘‘And it’s a good reason to actually
get out and run.’’
© The
Fayetteville (N.C.) Observer