Serendipitous Surprises

     Last week, Lionel and I were invited to participate in a red dress charity hash run. This event intrigued me for several reasons. First, the proceeds raised from the run would help children with rare diseases attend summer camp. Second, the run would be conducted while wearing a red dress. Third, it would be a hash, meaning we would have to unveil the running route by finding markings on the ground to uncover which way to go. I knew the day would be fun, but I didn't anticipate just how enjoyable or coincidental it would turn out to be.

     For the run, instead of purchasing a red dress, I dove into the innards of my wife’s closet. Here, I adopted a “do first, ask forgiveness later” approach. The dress was fitting for Christmas, being bright red and made of …. wool.

      On the way to the run, I explained the concept to Lionel. “So basically, there's going to be a giant rabbit, called a hare, and we need to try to catch it. It will leave clues for us.” Lionel, who could listen to a full day's worth of kids detective stories in one go, had his eyes gleam at the mention of clues. This would be our first run together since the marathon, and he was fully onboard with the premise.

     Before the race began, a very sweet lady brought Lionel a children’s sized red dress. Lionel, who was worried he might be disqualified for not having one, eagerly threw it on before announcing to the world that he was ready to chase the hare. Now, you might be wondering why participants need to wear a red dress for a run. It was explained to me that on typical hash runs, participants don't wear red dresses, but it's a long-standing tradition in each hash group to organize one annual red dress charity run.

     The origin of this tradition dates back to a hash running group in California in the late 80s. A friend visiting someone who was about to go on a 10k hash run was told to wait in the car due to her attire—a red dress and heels. Taking it as a challenge, she ran the whole race. The members of the hash group were so delighted that they invited and paid for her to return each year to run the trail in a red dress. Soon, other group members joined in, and the idea spread to other groups who used the unique run as a way to raise funds for charity.


     Now, what is a hash run? I had heard a bit about hash running from a Runner’s World podcast I listened to back in the summer, and the concept was also addressed in the novel Born to Run. As Michael, the hare, explained, the running route will have clues strewn about to guide the way. The trail can be marked with a letter "h" with an arrow or a circle of flour. If you see the letters "FT," it means a false trail, and you need to turn around and try another route. Whenever you spot a clue, you shout "ON ON" to let the other runners know you are on the right trail.

      Armed with instructions, our dresses, and our running stroller, we head into the blazing heat and began to run. Here are some things I learned about a hash run. It is much more engaging than the runs I had done in the past. For starters, you are constantly scanning for markings to reassure yourself that you are on the right path. Lionel, who usually focuses all his attention on a podcast during our runs, was on the edge of his seat, craning his neck to find the clues. Although he couldn’t see the "h"s, I would verbally say, "There is one on your right," to which he would shout "ON ON." Another intriguing aspect of hash runs is that they aren’t just races; they are social events. You spend the majority of the time chatting with fellow runners during the race. When paths diverge, runners take different routes and shout to each other if they spot any clues. Whenever we encountered a set of stairs, other runners would help me carry the stroller up or down. One of the beauties of hash runs is that the runners in front usually have to run more as they often follow false trails and need to backtrack. The slower runners can typically follow the "ON ON" calls of the people in front.

    After 12 kilometers, a lot of sweat, and some funny looks, we made it to the end of the trail. Hash runs are social events, and there is quite a lot of culture attached to the club. As Michael explained at the end, the Chengdu Hash Club is a drinking club with a running problem. At the end of every race, lines of large blocks of ice are formed. People who have “charges” brought up against them are then required to sit on the block of ice, sometimes needing to sing a song as well. What’s a charge? Well, there are specific rules for each group. In this run, people had to sit on the blocks of ice for: wearing hats, new shoes, shortcutting the route, and not wearing a red dress. Lionel loved the idea and voluntarily sat on the blocks of ice as it felt pretty good on the hot day.

     Afterward, I began talking with Michael, where a series of coincidences continued to escalate to unprecedented levels. First off, it turns out I had met Michael and his wife eight years before when I first moved to Chengdu. They were running a restaurant called The Lazy Pug that I went to several times because of the food, atmosphere, and wonderful service before they sadly shut down in 2017. Somehow, the conversation moved to biking, and Michael mentioned that he was going to ride halfway around Lake Michigan this summer. At which point, I asked him if he had ever heard of an event called RAGBRAI. Michael responded, "Have I heard of it? This year will be my seventh one!"

     At this point, I shuffle chairs and find a spot closer to him to gather more information about the event. I wanted to know about his sleeping arrangements for the ride. Seeking a bit of extra comfort, I had signed up with a charter group that offered private camping grounds with amenities such as drinks, shade, dinners, coffees, charging stations, showers, and towels. Although I had signed up the night before, I was mostly seeking validation for my decision from Michael. He said he had experienced various arrangements, from carrying his own gear to RVs, but he planned to stay with his favorite charter group, Pork Belly Ventures, which happened to be the same one I signed up for from a list of 20.

     Next, I inquired whether he already had a bike in the States or if he planned to ship his bike there. He informed me that he already owned a special bike made by a Tibetan craftsman named Abu. At that moment, I slammed the table and informed him that I would also be riding a bamboo bike made by Abu. It was at this point that Michael claimed he had to call over his wife to explain how incredible this coincidence was, so he shouted “XIAO HONG,” which, of course, is my wife’s full Chinese name also. Now I understand the importance of cross-training, as you never know whose path you may cross.