The Original Drinking Club with a Running Problem

Hasher passed out in the wild. Note the nearly empty beer, the tall socks, the generally poor choice of habitat…

Okay, already! I have had so many requests to explain the Hash that I’m finally caving!

To be clear, I’m not talking about drugs or anything, I’m talking about the original drinking club with a running problem, the Hash House Harriers.  Note: This post is SFW, but only barely.

First of all, I’d like to disclose that I am not an expert. I haven’t been doing it very long (heh), I haven’t traveled more than fifty miles to do it (hehe) and I’ve definitely never done it outside the U.S. (not for lack of trying!). I am one of the least-appropriate people I know to introduce you to this topic. In a way though it’s kind of befitting since hashing has very little to do with being appropriate.

Second, I freely admit that I r*n drunk. In fact I’m drunk in a lot of the pictures in my Tr*ining L*g.

Like this one (bet you couldn’t tell).

Okay. So here’s your intro to the hash:

What is it?
First and foremost I should tell you the hash is not a running organization, and thus it has absolutely no place on a site called Salty Running.  Maybe on a site called Salty Women (get it?) or one called Salty Drinking or one called Salty Drinking With Salty Women…but not really on Salty Running. The hash is a social club whose organization is as loose as its women. It’s amazing we get anything done, especially since…hey, my beer is empty again…

I like to call this masterpiece “Progression of a Drunken Idiot,” from the 2012 C.U.H.3. Hashlympics, where I was D.Q.ed from the Slip ‘N Slide event.  It’s a great demonstration of the inanity that results when hashers become competitive with one another.

…What was I saying?
Oh yeah. Not a r*nning club. Nope. No sir.  If you decide to try hashing you should be aware that race-ism isn’t well-tolerated.  You’ll probably be made to drink for your 5k t-shirt or your brand new shiny r*nning shoes. I can’t promise what vessel it will be drunk from.

What’s really frightening is that it’s everywhere. You could even live next door to a hasher and never know it!  Lock up your liquor cabinet, ’cause there’s no registration list for this particular kind of perv. The Hash House Harriers pervade throughout the world from Argentina to Zambia, and there are hashes in most major cities across the U.S.

For a complete history of the HHH don’t ask me, I’ve been cozy with a bottle of Bourbon all morning.  And besides, it’s a long and terribly interesting tale that is better told here, by hashers more experienced than I.


All you need to know is the plunger was full of beer. And I drank it down down down down down down down down…

What happens there?
Sorry, virgin! If you’ve never hashed before you won’t learn any secrets from me!  You’ll have to try it for yourself to find out what it’s like…trust me, it’s better that you go into your first time with no expectations. Or at least low expectations.

One thing I’ve really come to appreciate about the Hash is that every kennel is a little different with its own local flavor and customs. Kind of like when you play Monopoly at someone else’s house and they tell you there’s no upgrading houses to hotels.  So I can’t actually predict what it will be like for you, since I don’t know where you are. Dig it?

No matter where you hash, all you need to know is this:

  • There will be beer.
  • You will have to find it, using strange marks on the ground.
  • There may be other adult beverages.
  • You should bring a little cash (how much varies; I’ve seen as little as $2 and as much as $25, sometimes the first time’s free, sometimes not…)
  • People will yell silly words that don’t make much sense to you. Go with it.
  • If you are easily offended by sex, alcohol, naughty words, bad smells, occasional nudity, lewdness, rudeness, silliness, the possibility of a doobie, stumbling through woods, fart jokes, water crossings, poison ivy, climbing fences covered in thorn bushes or general chaos….then sorry, the Hash is probably not for you.

For posterity, I should note that this is my 69th post on Salty R*nning.  Hehe. He. He.


Map to a bar, pilfered from Summit H3

How do I find one?
Just like you find anything, genius, you google it. Although in this modern era of ours the Internet has afforded even the drunkest among us the ability to create a directory. (Keep in mind the directory’s creators are hashers, so accuracy cannot be guaranteed.)  But there’s a nifty little map that’s fun to click!  I recommend checking the directory for Floridian hashes–you can pretend you’re clicking on America’s penis! Heehee!


Why on earth would I want to do this?
You know? I’m not sure. If it’s your kind of thing it’s insanely fun, so much so that you’ll feel like you found a new family, one that reaches across the entire world!  If it’s not your kind of thing then, well…you won’t like it. And that’s okay, because it means there’s more beer for us.


So yeah, that’s a thing I do.

And like I said, it doesn’t really fit in with the ideal of serious runners who are continually trying to improve themselves as athletes. It’s more a great way to unwind from that and have fun with a community of people who like complicating their pursuit of drunkenness (see map above).

I will say that some of the people I’ve met doing this are, in their spare time, r*nners.  Sometimes they even engage in race-ist behavior (what with marath*ning and the like).  Sometimes they even r*n without any beer involved at all…but mostly not.

In conclusion, I myself am a little confused as to what this article is doing here on Salty Running and I hope that you are too, because that would mean I’ve cleared things up a bit.  If that sounds contradictory to you then it was a job well done!


Cinnamon made Salty Running, takes lots of pictures and drinks lots of coffee. By day she's a camera assistant for films and tv in New York, and by night she's on a quest for zen in the 10k. Her writing is a mix of satirical humor, finding wholeness as an average runner, cheering for runners at all paces and more.

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  1. This post is pure genius. And the gif! KILLS me! So funny and it sounds like a lot of fun. It’s definitely not for me, at least not these days and I suspect hashers would find me terribly race-ist. But it really does sound like a ton of fun and full of interesting characters.

  2. Well…my inclination is that cross-“training” is a strong word, unless you’re talking about training your liver. The end game isn’t really running as much as it is to keep moving toward the beer. But many trails are walker friendly, or at least have walker-friendly shortcuts, so I’ve been able to baby my injury and keep on hashing.

    I will say that it’s a great way to make yourself get outside in inclement weather! The more complicated and ridiculous the conditions are on the trail the more fun I tend to have (this is common among hashers), so snow and ice and rain and soul-crushing heat aren’t really daunting at all, especially when I know other half-minds are out there with me.

  3. Stumbled across this story, and it really had me thinking. Does beer taste better when drunk from a plunger? Inquiring mind needs to know.