Ahh, Lititz Hashing.Wankers gather at DOAS humble abode where a hare explains things to the virgins and the pack is off for a typically circular orbit of this town of 9000 souls.

There is something soothing about a DICK ON A STICK hared or hosted trail - you know it will be boozy, you know it will be A-A and you know there will be good food, beer and tubbing.

 But something was up for Reading Hash #678 as EVERYDAY and LICK HER ONLY arranged not only a hash trail  but also a road course for "some runners".

 Pulling into Hensley I quickly saw that there were two distinct groups of people milling about:

·        hashers - talking, laughing, drinking beer, scratching themselves 

·        runners - serene, no beer, stretching, wearing high tech specialized running clothing

 Not only were there runners - there were MANY runners.  Runner of all ages and levels of physical beauty who  shared the common bond of  healthy cardiovascular systems and low BMI's. 

 Pictures of fitness, these running creatures, these so called road runners, looked upon the hashers as beings from the darkest corners of the Earth. 

"Yuck, look at them and their disgusting names so proudly worn on necklaces".  Most of them avoided the golden nectar like it was a purple concoction being readied by the Rev Jim Jones deep in a Guyanese jungle compound.

The day before the hash I attended a circus and before the show I wandered about - examining the strange sights and creatures.  I decided that I would do the same thing in DICK's back yard - wishing I had a notebook to jot down my impressions....

There was a young maternal bimbo, who several years ago ran an EVERYDAY trail and had a great time, but who now wouldn't have touched a hasher if there was a million dollar available as the reward.  She had obviously evolved beyond hashing.

One attractive female runner was openly craving a beer but said she would be "upset" with herself if she did because she was on a high-tech diet that involved massive planning and eating 6 meals a day - none of which included malted beverages. Sounds like fun to me. Not.

A few of the runners expressed obvious scorn for my large silver-clad drinking vessel although one smiled when I told her would make a great server for Gatorade, Pedialyte or Powerade - that was language she understood.

I saw a runner make accidental contact with a hasher as they passed by each other. Before you could count to two she was in tears, grabbed a portable bottle of Purel and was frantically scrubbing the spot of skin that had touched the heathen.  She was sobbing, "will it come off?, will it come off?".

Meanwhile, most of the hashers didn't notice these things as they were too busy beating a path to the Lager keg and the pizza tables.

There were still a few runners left (most having departed to get in bed by 9PM for their next day's 4AM pre-work 20 miles runs) when hashers started getting naked and plopping into the tub.  I don't know what their reaction was because by then I was numb to it all.

There were a few hybrid types - hashers who also can morph into the world of moisture wicking synthetics and personal bests.  Applause to LICK HER ONLY who refused to stop drinking Jack even though many of her pavement pounding peers were obviously shooting x-ray vision beams at her for being so thin in spite of those calories. EVERYDAY ASSHOLE is well known for being able to exist in both worlds and even coordinates runs for them.  He is such and everyday asshole that he can get away with it.  DICK ON A STICK will run 30 miles just because he is bored but everyone knows he is a true hasher plus its his house and you won't find me badmouthing anyone who is nutz enough to host wankers.  DEATHWISH may have running ability but he is FAR more of hasher than ANY potential he might have as a runner.  Even though he did ID himself to the runners with just his nerdname.  EWE BANGHER (or however its spelled) is an old time hasher who seemingly has left the flock to do silly Type A things like run 100 mile r*ces. Even though he didn't have the sense to keep the 100m event shirt in the drawer he did have the sense to turn it inside out.

EARLY WITHDRAWAL is a born hasher who just hasn't learned to give up running yet.  Maybe some day he will. Two words: Jim Fixx.

Maybe the funniest thing of all were the running bimbos who harbored unspoken desire for the hashing men. You could see them  as they struggled to come to terms with the newfound burning in their loins - lingering in the background - lustfully eyeballing us as we refilled our vessels, uttered profanities and openly pissed in the bushes.  For some, it may have been their first interaction of real men- the type of virile manly studs who would have no problem saving the day by pummeling a panther to death if one had jumped into DICK's backyard and tried to drink the beer.  These bimbos knew that their menfolk would probably be recreating the George Costanza birthday party fire scene from Seinfeld - running away from danger without regard to the fact that the beast might eat the women and children and suck the keg dry.

Yes, you sinewy bimbos - we ARE real men.  We walk around nekked at times - our large..... mugs and vessels ready to do down-downs at a moments notice - not afraid to release our testosterone onto anyone who will accept it.

With that I issue an invitation to them to  HASH. You won't have to tell anyone or leave your weekly distance shenanigans.... just attend a hash and let your hair down. In time we will give you a hash name and your lifetime-subscription-to-Runner's-World-magazine comrades won't even have to know.

Oh yes, there was a hash trail in there too <insert hash trash from someone who ran the trail here> and JUST SHANE got named <insert the hasher formerly known as JUST SHANE's new hash name here>.

Thanks to the RH3 and visiting wanks who attended and help moderate the seriousness level of the evening.

Congrats to our newly named wank.

May DICK ON A STICK always fling wide the doors of his casa - welcoming the sane and insane alike.

ONON,

OVEREXPOSED