Bless Those Hashers!

I ran with the Lilongwe Hash House Harriers last night. The HHH are a worldwide club – “Drinkers with a running problem” – and a nice point of familiarity that you can find in almost nearly city around the world. Most weekly runs consist of a track that has been laid with flour earlier in the day, with various checkpoints and dead-ends along the way. At the end there are silly songs, mockeries of various people for no good reason, and – of course – plenty of beer.

Last night there was a big group of about 40 people. The run started off in spurts; for the first few checkpoints we would run for 3 minutes and then wait around to regroup for another 5. But eventually we got into a good running rhythm. Jimmy was running in the front pack with some guys who were showing off for each other, while I was stuck somewhere behind in no-man’s land. Eventually I decided to try to bridge the gap (I won’t deny simulating Paul and Phil Tour de France commentary as I did so) and caught them. The last 15 minutes felt like a hard tempo run with other people around to push you. Which was, fantastically, exactly what it was.

Another thing I like about hash runs is the people you meet. Last night during the run I met a guy who had just spent 14 months in Iraq working on a democracy project; he was vacationing in Malawi and on his way to Nigeria. (“Yep,” he joked, “Democracy in Iraq, check. Now it’s time to move on to Nigeria.”) He told me about running in Baghdad around Sadaam Hussein’s palace with an armored tank and four guards. “Sure beats the treadmill,” he said.

I also met the veterinarian who lives down the street from us. I had seen the sign outside her clinic but, because of the big walls with barbed wire that we live behind, had never seen past her gate. She is British but has been in Malawi for 12 years. She told me that there is a group that does long runs every Saturday morning – “with a big breakfast afterwards.”

If I can’t have Magnolia Café, maybe it’s the next best thing!