A Hash of a Race in Pattaya

Hash House Harriers pride themselves as being for ‘drinkers with a running problem’, so some of my readers might be surprised to know that I’ve never enjoyed one of their events until now.  I Scroogled for running clubs in Pattaya and came up with PH3, a quick look at their web site and I found the invitation: When in Pattaya come join us for a little running, then a drink in one of our hash bars. How could I refuse?   A couple of emails later and on Monday at 3pm I was on the local Bhat Bus to Pattaya Soi 13 and the meet-up point for the Harriers.  I had been informed that the run would take about an hour and had loaded my rucksack with a change of clothes and water, both for drinking and a post race wash.

Parks of Pattaya

Despite, their reputation for being heavy drinkers, I found them to be a rather subdued lot as we boarded their, less than luxurious, coach to take us to the race location.  Numbers were lower than I had expected with their weekly newsletters indicating that they usually have about 50 participants.  We stopped outside of Tesco on Sukhumvit Road and picked up some others and when we reached our destination at the Chinese Graveyard, there were others, who had arrived either by motorbike or car, awaiting us.  I joined in a queue behind a pick up, which, as I had deduced, was for registration.  I paid my 350Bhat and then joined with the others in a circle as the Ring Master, a 6’4 bald German, who looked like a cross between a Sergeant Major and a rugby lock, introduced me and the other two Hash virgins to the others.   

The pre-circle team talk.

A short briefing on how the route could be identified by looking for pieces of white paper, either tied to tree branches or bushes, or simply strewn on the ground and we were sent on our way.  Well we might have been, I wasn’t sure, as the ring master pointed to his left and said ‘I believe the start is over there somewhere’.  Those around me started to walk towards where he was pointing but I could see that there were others ahead who were running.  I started my Garmin and chased after the front runners, still not sure if I was now racing or warming up.  Not much later we stopped at a ‘check point’ and I reset my Garmin, thinking that this was the actual Start.  Two paths lay ahead and although I initially thought that those running down them were looking for a last pit stop before the race, I soon realised that the runners had lost their way and were trying to decide which route to take.  A cry from the right, indicated that a runner had spied a paper marker and we headed after him accordingly.  However within a minute we were lost again and I followed a tall athletic looking guy as he made his way through the long grass and bushes.  He cried out “Bees” and those behind me asked what the cry was.  “Effin’ Bees”, I replied, as I led them on a slight detour away from the offending honey makers.  The next obstacle was, what appeared to be a dried out Well.  As I climbed down and up the other side, some others, perhaps correctly, decided that this was not the route and headed back towards the check point. 

I continued behind the front runners and we soon found the elusive white markers again.  The route took us through long grass and between young trees and bushes as we headed towards the edge of a small airfield.  I copied the front runners, yelling out every so often, so that those behind could follow me.  We got lost a couple more times and at one point had to retrace our footsteps and join the others, many of whom were walking.  The fable about the tortoise and the hare came to mind, as I made my way past the majority of participants, as I tried to keep the front runners in sight.  We were on an undulating narrow path, when the guy immediately in front of me tripped and fell.  I helped him to his feet and returned his cap to him, before taken my opportunity to overtake him, of course.  

The route continued through some heavy undergrowth, where I managed to catch another runner before hearing a cry of “barbed wire”.  The person who had laid out the course, had warned us of the barbed wire but not only did he said that it was well marked with white paper but he also said that it was near the end of the run.  Garmin revealed that we had been running for about 20mins, rather than the 60mins that I had been informed about.  Once over the barbed wire, the route joined an old dirt track and headed back towards the Start.  I presumed that to add some distance to the course, the route would head straight up the hill and then turn left back to the Start/Finish.  However a cry came from behind me, which I took as telling me that I was going the wrong way and I cut back and headed for the more direct path to the Finish.  I arrived at the finish some 22mins and 39secs after starting and had covered a total of only 1.94miles.  Apparently the run was supposed to be much longer.  I placed 4^th out of 66 and waited to thank the runner behind me before heading over to the drink station.  Another pick up with about half a dozen crates of ice containing a mixture of water, iced teas, soft drinks and of course ice cold beer.  I restricted myself to the non-alcoholic options, accompanied by fresh fruit, until the sweat had stopped pouring out of my body.  I headed behind the bus and used my water for a shower before changing into my dry clothes and rewarding myself with some San Miguel Light.  I chatted with my new running buddies, who came from Germany, Norway, Australia, New Zealand, France, England, Scotland, the USA drinking beer, as the light faded and the Ring Master assembled us into circle formation. 

I’m afraid that the next part, which seemed to drag on for ages, was all a bit too Public School/Rugby Club for me, with overtones of Land of the Flies, as various Hashers took their turn in the centre of the circle, in true Jack like manner, and nominated their fellow Hashers to pull their trousers down and sit ‘bare assed’ either on one of the blocks of ice, or in the bath tub of melting ice cubes.  For their humiliation, they would be rewarded with a free glass of beer as and as they sat with their cheeks freezing, their buddies sung about “how they were no use to anyone”.  It was this kind of behaviour, which had made me avoid the more traditional rugby clubs, during my playing days and my distaste for it had not changed over the years.  Of course the newbies were not to be spared from the ritual and I, like the others, took my initiation without complaint, as for the umpteenth time the others recited their little ditties.

Time to try the bucket for 'Dodic'

I must admit that I was pleased when the beer ran out and we made our way back to Pattaya.  That said, there is a lot of work that goes on in ensuring the transport; the course; the beer and other refreshments; a raffle, with some excellent prizes, including a microwave oven; and of course in providing two ice blocks and an ice bath.  Indeed if you are into that particular form of post run entertainment it would be hard to beat and to be honest all of the guys seemed to be decent enough blokes.

Some of the 'Blokes'