It has now taken me one week to attempting to re-hash (no pun intended...you will find out why) what happened last Sunday, May 23, 2010 in the hills surrounding San Lorenzo de el Escorial. I was invited to be one of the "hares" in the "sport" of Hashing with Caroline, Annemarie and an American I had yet to meet, Steven. Now, simplified, Hashing is defined as "A group of drinking people with a running problem." (See www.madridhhh.com if you are really curious about the group here). This is an international running and beer drinking group and needless to say, it can get a little crazy. Caroline and Annemarie have lived here since September and got involved in it right away, and so last week was their turn to be the "hares" or the leaders who mark the trail and make false trails to try to throw the group off and mark the beer stops. Yes, beer stops...no water stops on these runs.
Since it was my first hash, I decided to go along as a hare and learn how to mark the trails. Ok, remember, that Saturday night I missed the bus, so I did not get home and to sleep until 4 a.m. Sunday morning. I was meeting Steven at the bus stop here at 845 am so I could take him up to Carolines and we could all start out together. Four hours of sleep and an impending 6 mile hike/run in the sun are not a good combination, but I was excited to do this, so I could handle that little detail. Carolines house is right on the forest line of the mountains here, so that is where we started at around 9 a.m. Hills, rocks, bushes, hills, thorns, cow pies, horse pies, STEEPER HILLS, mud, you name it were the theme of our trail. It was a beautiful day, we were all laughing, using the "stomper" to mark the trails, having good conversation. What could go wrong?
Well, for starters, you know how when you put on sunscreen it usually goes in the typical areas i.e., face, shoulder, chest, etc. Well, I was wearing my knee length running spandex of course and did not think about my calves. Not even a thought. Who does anyways?! So as the day is progressing, I am searing the backside of my calves all the way through three Martha Stewart shades of red into a hue that looked slightly terrifying the next day. At around 12:30, we split up so Steven and Annemarie could mark the starting point at the Arboretum. My gut immediately flagged this as a bad decision since Caroline only drew one map (which they got) and I have never been to the Arboretum before. Oh well, "I can figure this out! "Be a problem solver Erin!!" is what I thought to myself. Little did I know that my "problem-solver" attitude was about to take a nasty blow to the ego.
Caroline went to mark the end of the trail (it was a long way and I just did NOT want to run at this point) and so after I marked another false trail for her, I just figured I would find my way to the arboretum, following the markings. Easy, right? I got as far as the arboretum and upon entering, realized it is HUGE. All of a sudden the marking stop - I SWEAR! I start to back track and look around and have no idea where it went. So I just start walking towards the highway thinking I will find the starting point. Well of course there are a bazillion families picnic-ing (sp?) and I walk the ENTIRE circumfrance of this place two times. I probably looked like a walking borderline disaster, if not just plain effing creepy because I had the big read stomper marking stick with me too. I let out a sigh, sit on a rock and start randomly shouting "Caroline!! Annemare!!" but not very loud as I do not want to draw anymore weird attention to myself from small children. I absolutely can not find them. This arb is very dense, there are cars and people everywhere and I am lost.
Finally, I give up. I walk to the highway, leave that stupid stomper against a tree and hike my butt against crazy Spanish drivers all the way back into town. I do not know how long it was, but it was long. It was hot and let me tell you...trying to hop and cross a roundabout is not easy, nor do I recommend it. Ever.
I finally arrive home at 3:15 p.m., dehydrated, beyond exhausted, legs crispy and covered in dirt and mud and even some blood from scratches. I think I scared Silvia (my host Mom) with how awful I must have looked. I tell her the story and she actually ended up laughing with me because honestly, it probably sounded like nothing she has ever heard before. Sometimes I wonder what she and Alberto say in Spanish about me after incidents like this. Ah, Spanish ignorance is bliss in that case.
I take a shower, say "fml" until I start laughing by myself and fall asleep for 4 hours.
The irony of the whole thing is that all I wanted was a beer after getting lost. Oh well, next time :) And I WON´T be a hare.
No comments:
Post a Comment