A drinking club with a running problem

On Friday my roommate talked me into hashing with him. No, that didn't involve a pipe or rolling papers. A hash is sort of like a race in which you must follow clues laid out beforehand in order to get to the end, which is always a pub where there is free-flowing beer and pizza. Hash clubs have Hashes weekly or biweekly for the purposes of exercise, socializing and drinking.

I met my roommate at 7:00 at night on the corner of 96th and Central Park West for the annual flashlight hash. After the requisite bitch slapping to determine which of us was going to use the fancy flashlight flashlight (the flashlight was mine, but the idea for the hash was his) he snarkily informed me that the race was actually 5 miles, not the 2 miles he had initially told me. Since it has been quite a while since I have done any cardio excercise, I knew it would be painful. About 30 or so people showed up and the organizer called for all the "virgins" so that he could explain to us what the different clues meant, so that we could navigate our way through the race. There were check marks, chalked arrows on pavement, toilet paper wrapped around trees, ketchup (organic, we were told) arrows in the snow, etc.

The organizer pointed us in the direction of the first clue and we all began running, directly into Central Park, with our flashlights lighting our way. Through the fields, over the hills, in the tunnels, under the bridge, we ran, looking for marks indicating the way to the next check point. Every time we would reach a check point the trail would stop, and we would have to send people in all directions to pick up the trail. The trail was picked up after finding 3 consecutive clues in any direction. The person who found them would shout, "found 1," "found 2," and finally "found 3!!" and then everyone would abandon their own searches and follow him to the next check point. The most colorful clue along the race was a mark "YBF" chalked on a pavement meaning You've Been Fucked, which would indicate that all the clues we had been following since the last check point were incorrect and we all had to go back to the last check point and look again for the correct direction.

About halfway through the race I got really tired running through snow covered hills, stairs, and icy paths in my sleek, fashionable and now soaked pumas. My calf muscles were giving me a sharp pain with every step I took and I really wanted to stop. Luckily, the group invariably slowed down at ever check point to look for where the trail would pick back up, and I used these opportunities to rest.

The race took us through Central Park, up into Harlem, up an impossibly long and icy staircase in Morningside park, through the campus of Columbia, over to Riverside park, and finally ending up in a beer joint on Broadway and 132nd, where there was an open bar of about 30 different beers on tap. Pizza was ordered and songs were sung. Participants were roasted and one was made to drink beer from a sneaker. The two "virgins", myself and another girl, were brought up and everyone sang dirty and slightly insulting songs to us while we chugged beer. My roommate had tripped somewhere along the race, so he had to come up and take a heap of abuse from everyone while he chugged beer.

All in all, it was fun, especially the beer part. It was a really great way to socialize with people you've never met before with no agenda other than to have fun. I need to get back in shape with running. I really liked it and want to do it again.