投稿日: Jan 12, 2019 2:3:47 PM
Scribe: Crusader
Hares: Sweetie, Fullerair and Dragon Fly
Cast your mind back to 2008: the year that “Breaking Bad” first hit your television screen; the year of the Beijing Olympics; the year that America elected its first black president; and the year of the global financial crisis, the so-called “Lehman Shock”. But all of these pale into insignificance besides an event that occurred in Japan: yes, you guessed it, that was the year the Hayama Hash, the “brainchild” (if that’s the right word, given the lack of grey cells of its flounders) of Sweetie and Fullerair, was delivered, kicking and screaming, into the world.
How did this come about? I remember receiving an e-mail from Sweetie, asking me how to start a Hash. Sadly I have no copy of my reply, but my advice was simple: spread the word, buy lots of beer, set a trail and hope people show up. Our two intrepid heroes showed uncommon good sense in actually following those words of wisdom, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Fast forward ten years, to Zushi station on the last Sunday of November. An enthusiastic crowd of runners had assembled for what the Hares had advertised as a “celebration of some of the best trails run over the previous ten years”. Those of us who know the Hares instinctively grasped what that meant: they had been too bloody lazy to bother to scout any new trails, and would be unashamedly recycling the same old, same old.
Sweetie then stepped up to the plate to tell us what we had in store. The Gettysburg address was 272 words delivered in two minutes; Sweetie by contrast would still have been driveling on at nightfall if the more impatient members of the company hadn’t cut him short. If there is one universal law of Hashing, it is that the more the Hare tells you how wonderful his trail is, the crappier it is guaranteed to be.
And so it turned out. Off we went at last, across a railway line, into a road on the right and into total confusion. After scouring the neighbourhood the remnants of a trail were eventually discovered, and we headed off in the direction of Hayama. Of novel features there were none: as we all feared, same old, same old. The marking (as usual) left a lot to be desired: there was seemingly no shortage of arrows, but they were hidden in the most unlikely places and were almost impossible to see, particularly when running directly into the bright afternoon sun. (One couple walking their dog must have thought that I was deranged, since I passed them at least half a dozen times as I ran back and forth trying to find some indication of the trail). The one unusual feature of the trail was the Eagle/Turkey split, where the Hares took the Eagles up that notorious hill to Hayama Church, only to send us back down again to join the Turkeys. (Why some runners chose to ignore the fact that the FRB was heading down the hill and headed up to discover the checkback for themselves beats me; they were even proud enough of their stupidity to paste a photo on Facebook. Go figure!)
After that the trail wound its way through the backstreets of Hayama, interrupted only by a beer stop chez Fullerair. From there it was a brisk trot along well-worn H4 paths, before we swept majestically past Morito shrine to H4’s spiritual home on the Hayama sands. The Hares had thoughtfully laid in a stack of beer and other goodies, and the party gathered steam as the DFLs dribbled in. We were blessed with some fairly spectacular autumn weather, and Fuji-san was clearly visible across the way for all to admire.
When the beers on the beach had finally been drained, those who had managed to sell their kids or their kidneys or to take out a second mortgage on their houses moved across the road to a typically up-market eatery. (Yes, this is the “Lifestyle Hash”, with pricing to match!) There the (excellent) food was laid out in courses on a narrow counter, for Hashers to indulge. Showing a speed never witnessed on trail, wave after wave of the assembled company of vultures made every offering disappear more quickly than David Copperfield would have done, and still came back screaming for more. The restaurant’s meagre beer supplies were soon exhausted, but (incredibly!) there was only a muted chorus of disapproval and the staff and the premises lived to see another day.
The highlight of the evening was undoubtedly the presentation from our very own Poet Laureate, Santa Maria. Sadly much of his work of genius disappeared into an alcoholic haze, but I am happy to recall snippets for posterity:
‘Twas in the year 2008
That Sweetie said to his old mate,
“I’m putting on a lot of pounds
My Rita says I’m far too round.”
Fullerair at once replied,
“You’re right, and I am just as wide!
There’s only one answer, I do surmise,
And that’s to take some exercise.”
Then Sweetie fondly reminisced
How once a week he would get pissed:
“Way back when I was but a youth
I joined a club of runners uncouth.
A debauched bunch, noisy and brash
The group was called the Tokyo Hash.
To work up a thirst they first would run,
By God, they had a lot of fun!
The beer it flowed, and flowed and flowed
On Tuesdays my brain, it would explode.
Why don’t we steal that simple notion
And set up a Hash beside the Ocean.
In Zushi or Miura or Nissan’s Oppama?
No, let’s base it in prettiest Hayama!”
And so the Hayama Hash was born
And promptly took the world by storm.
The skeptics thought “This cannot last!”
How wrong they were, it’s proved a blast.
The runners come from far and wide
And leave immensely satisfied.
Once a month they get together
Come rain, come shine, whatever the weather.
To run the roads, the paths, the trails
And then to down a lot of ales.
The “Lifestyle Hash” it’s sometimes called,
It holds its followers enthralled.
Ten years we’ve gamely strutted our stuff,
But that is nothing like enough.
There’s more to come, the fun’s just started
Let’s head out into seas uncharted.
And so we yearn for ten more years
Of splendid runs and untold beers.
“On! On!” is what all Hashers cry,
Or, since we’re in Japan, “Banzai!”.
On! On!