Shopping List

I have a big day coming up. A day that required a visit to my local running store, the local package store, my neighborhood supermarket, the town hardware store, and a women’s clothing store. Oh yea, for those of you that live outside of Massachusetts, a package store is an establishment that sells alcoholic beverages, also known in some parts of the Greater Boston Area as the ‘Packie’. A few of you may be scratching your heads trying to figure out what I am up to and how many laws I intend on breaking.

I got myself into this mess. Since I’ve been married I’ve never once made a shopping list. I always felt confident I could easily remember 8-12 items, who needs a list? I mean, how hard can it be to remember a few items, the supermarket is only 1 mile from my house and I have a great memory. I could easily recite my training log from June of 2008. But inevitably, whenever I enter my local supermarket the smell of cookies being baked somehow magically erases at least 5 items I vowed not to forget. And once I make my way to the bakery and sneak a few bites of these warm cookies, I then forgot a few more of my items, leaving me to wander aimlessly around the store filling my cart with organic carrots and chocolate soy milk when I should be buying eggs and bread. But I digress. When I said it was my fault, it was my fault; I mean I did leave my shopping list on the kitchen counter.

My wife is great; she doesn’t care if I leave my underwear on the floor next to the hamper. She knows I have horrible aim. I always leave my sweaty socks on the floor in front of the washing machine and somehow these smelly socks always end up being washed and somehow placed in my dresser draw. I could leave any of my bikes in the porch for a few days and not hear a peep from my wife. But leave something on the kitchen counter, and bang, I will hear about it. Well this day is so important to me that I didn’t want to forget an item so I crafted a list. Here is what was on my list: Wool Socks, 40lbs of Flour, Chalk Paint, 2 bottles of The Knot Irish Whiskey, and a Red Dress. It took my wife less than five seconds to give me ‘The Look’ after reading my list. She then came out with the gem, “What the hell are you doing and do I want to know?” OK. for all you Harriers out there…………What am I doing?.....................Yes, you guessed it, I am participating in my first Hash Run.

In a nutshell, Hash Runs usually occur in the woods or out of sight from the general public, by a group of friends looking to have some fun. It generally involves drinking and eating before, during, and after the run. There is running, singing, exchanging of clothes, and tons of surprises. Here is a brief history from the Hash House Harriers website: 'Hashing began in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in 1938, when a casual group of British colonial officers and expatriates began meeting on Monday evenings to run, in a fashion patterned after the traditional British paper chase, to rid themselves of the excesses of the previous weekend. After meeting for some months, they were informed by the Registrar of Societies that as a 'group,' they would require a Constitution and an official name. A.S. Gispert suggested the name 'Hash House Harriers' in homage to the Selangor Club Annex, where the men were billeted, so named the 'Hash House' for its notoriously monotonous food. The final word, 'Harriers,' refers to the role of those in the chase, where the 'hare' was given a head start to blaze a trail and mark his path with shreds of paper, and then pursued by a shouting pack of 'harriers.' Apart from the excitement of chasing the hare and finding the 'true' path, harriers reaching the end of the trail would be rewarded with beer.'


For those of you who met me, you must have figured out that I am VERY good for the economy. I have virtually every gadget, and every piece of specialized gear and clothing needed for running, swimming, cycling, hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, and weightlifting. I have my own dresser that specifically houses my athletic gear and wear. It is the biggest dresser in my bedroom and it is stuffed to the gills. I have my own running sock drawer (running socks only, my dress socks and daily socks are in my other dresser), a running shorts drawer, a running tops drawer, a running pants drawer, a performance underwear draw (don’t ask), a gear draw (GPS, Ipod, FuelBelt, Yaktrax, reflective vests, etc..), a swim-wear drawer, a weightlifting gear drawer, a running winter hat and gloves drawer, and a Tri-wear drawer. I know I have issues.

It has been years since I found an activity or sport that I didn’t already have all the needed gear and equipment for. I was very excited to go shopping for the following needed items. Ok, here is a breakdown of my shopping list:
Gore Tex Socks- I am sure there will be some running through rivers and streams
Flour- To mark the course
Chalk Paint- To mark the course after we run out of flour
The Knot- To drink during the ‘water stops’
The Red Dress- Ok, here is where I may loose a few of you, I am wearing the Red Dress

Please keep reading, I am not a cross dresser, not that there is anything wrong with that. ‘Newbie’s’ or first time Hash Run participants are encouraged to wear a red dress to their first run, and I am not going to be the ‘Newbie’ to piss off the Hash Run Gods on this matter. I checked my wife’s closet; I didn’t see any red dresses. We have been married for over ten years, and the ‘Lady in Red’, somehow turned into the ‘Lady in Jeans and a Sweater’.

I had a plan, I would hit the package store first and pick up The Knot, I would then go to the supermarket and get the flour (and cookies), then off to the hardware store for the chalk paint, then off to the running store for a pair of Gore tex socks, and finally to the Mall for a Red Dress. The first four stops were executed flawlessly, but I had a few issues at the fifth stop.

I entered the first women’s clothing store I came across at the local Mall. My plan was to look like the cool husband strolling into a store to buy his wife a sexy red dress for their anniversary. I figured I could pick out a dress by myself, hold it up and gauge if it would fit me, bring it to the register and then ask for a gift receipt. Like the Guinness guys say, Brilliant!!!!!!

Wrong, I wasn’t more than 20 feet inside the store when a hot, blonde, I’m guessing 21-24 year old, salesperson came up to me to ask if she could help me. The only words I could muster were “Yes please” I played it cool, because I am cool. After at least 10 uncomfortable seconds of staring at her, I finally informed her I needed a red dress for my wife. I fully expected her to take mercy on my and point me to the red dress section of the store. Instead, she said “Follow Me” and like Pavlov’s dog, I did. Kind of like when runners find 5k’s too short, well this walk to the red dress section was too short as well, if you know what I mean. Would it have been inappropriate to ask her to slow down so I could enjoy the view for a few more seconds? I said thank you and informed her I would check out the dresses. She told me she would stay with me and help me pick out a dress. She also mentioned she could answer any questions I had. Believe me, I had some questions. Now normally, I wouldn’t mind a hot blond salesperson staying with me to answer questions, but I didn’t need ‘Commission Woman’ near me while I picked out my Hash Run dress. She asked me what size dress my wife wore and I froze. With quivering lips, I responded “I think a 30 waist”. Damn, wrong answer. I couldn’t keep this going; I was buckling already, there was no way I was going to pull off this caper, so I came clean. I said, “I’m sorry I lied to you, the dress isn’t for my wife, it is for me”. I fully expected the hot young salesperson to start laughing at me, but no “Commission Woman” must have sensed easy cash.

I explained to her that I was a runner and I had this thing called a Hash Run coming up where the men wear red dresses while running in the woods. You guessed it; she had a very puzzled look on her face. I needed a new approach. I decided I needed to prove to her that I was a runner so I pulled up my pant legs, showed her my legs and said “See look at my legs, they are shaved, I’m really a runner.” Damn, what the hell am I doing, I must be an idiot, oh yea, I am and idiot. I am not as smooth as I was in college, man, times have changed. The shaved legs demonstration definitely didn’t work and she started to look at me weird. I then blurted out, “I’m married, look at my wedding ring”. As I was holding my hand up, I then realized I wasn’t wearing my ring because I just got off an overtime shift at the Fire Station and I never wear my ring at work, way too dangerous. Great, things are really working out just as I had planned I finally said, “I need a dress that I can run in and preferably a dress that wicks moisture”. She started to laugh and surely figured out that one, I had no game, and two, I was too stupid to be a cross dresser.

Yes, Mercedes (not her real name, but I figured if I threw in a stripper name a few of you knuckleheads would get a kick out of it) did help me pick out the perfect red dress. I bought a sweet mid calf length, poly synthetic fabric (wicking), red dress. No, I didn’t try the dress on in the dressing room, but yes, I do need a drawer for my new Hash Run gear.