Today I’m running with no GPS watch on. I have no idea how far I’m running and I don’t know what terrain I’ll be running on. What I do know is that it’s going to be fun. It’s hash night.
I’m running along a neighborhood road, following dollops of flour thrown hastily on the ground by today’s Hare, who happens to be my husband.
The dollops of flower lead to a brick wall. There’s no way around it, there’s no way through it, but at about 5 feet tall there’s a way over it — with a little teamwork and some upper body strength.
Some of the runners around me hoist themselves over the wall and I follow suit. Madera runner “One Eye” asks another runner (whose “secret” hash name — like most — is unpublishable) to crouch down so she can step on him to make it over the wall. He obliges...