Reebok has an interesting commercial for running gear airing these days. It cuts between pairs of runners who are jogging slowly enough to carry on conversations. The copy urges us to “run at the speed of chat…run easy.” I suppose Reebok is trying to differentiate itself as the anti-Nike — don’t kill yourself! have some fun! — and while some “real runners” have given them flak for this approach, I will come down on the side of Doctor Mama: running slowly can be good for you. I would even buy their shoes if I made those kinds of purchasing decisions based on the cuteness of the commercial and not on how well the shoes fit my double-wide feet. (Sorry, Reebok. I wear the same Asics as 80% of the running population. Seriously, look down. Everyone has these shoes.)

I have very ambivalent feelings about running with other people. I am always very nervous about falling behind on group runs, and I really like to have the option of speeding up or slowing down at will. My nervousness is kind of like a debilitating form of stage fright. A few years ago I joined a running club, and on the days when a run was scheduled in the evening I’d be half queasy all day just thinking about it.

On the other hand, the most fun I’ve ever had running was with company. Just yesterday morning, I did the first five miles of a seven-mile run with a friend, and the time just flew by. In high school, I sometimes begrudgingly allowed my teammates to push me much harder than I would have pushed myself, leading to amazing endorphin highs. And then there was the Hash.

I started running with the Hash House Harriers in Tunisia. One of my friends in the State Department invited me to a run in Carthage, a beautiful town on the coast famous as the seat of Roman civilization in North Africa. At that point in my life, I would have attended a sewing circle or revival meeting if beer were served and English spoken. And both beer and English were promised. So I went, and I was amazed.

The Hash, which bills itself as a “drinking club with a running problem,” puts on orienteering trail runs. The trail is set by the “hare” before the run, and the runners have to follow marks on the ground (chalk or flour) until the end. The runners gather at the start and disperse in all directions until one person finds an arrow; then all the runners gather together, following the arrows until the next checkpoint. There are sometimes false trails, so if your arrows disappear you need to return to the checkpoint to look for the real trail. Sometimes there are beer stops mid-way, so you might stop and chug a beer and then run on. There are always beer stops at the end. Has virgins (”new boots,” in the parlance) are expected to chug a beer in one gulp at the final beer stop; what you can’t finish, you have to pour on your head.

(Yes, chugging a beer in public while wearing running shorts IS about the most culturally insensitive thing a female could do in a Muslim country. Why do you ask?)

Anyway, with the trail markings and the people and the beer stops and the uncertainty of how far you’re going, or even where, a Hash run is just about the most painless way to crank out five miles that was ever invented.

So when I moved back to the States after the Peace Corps, I joined the Chicago Hash, but it was not the same. I found that US Hashers were a different breed. The Hash has a tradition of raunchiness, a tradition that was held in check by the State Department crew but expressed full-force by the Windy City hashers. It involves off-color “hash names,” ribald drinking songs, sexist attitudes and jokes, etc. Typical frat-party stuff. Unfortunately, the Chicago hashers were committed to these traditions with a humorlessness that bordered on fascism. For example, one guy refused to answer me when I called him by his real name; at the Hash, he would only respond to his Hash name. A special tribunal threatened to kick me out of the club when I refused to follow the rule requiring runners with new shoes to drink a beer out of one of them. The singing of multiple rounds of mildly dirty songs was an officially sanctioned and even enforced post-run activity.

I am not a prude, I don’t think (of course, does anyone ever stand up and say, “Hey! I’m a prude!”), but all the non-running stuff was very tedious, and eventually I decided I was too old for a “Hash name” and the nonsense that went with it. I do miss the runs, though. Is there a Hash out there where you can run under your own name? Maybe I should start one.