looking back...

I wrote this nearly a decade ago and find myself looking back on it and wondering if it's really been that long, and where I've come since then, and where - dear godS, where I will have been 9 years from now.

It was written to the Oregon Hash House Harriers on the occasion of my return from Burnt Lips' wedding.

Lost and found on trail…

I’ve lost a lot of things over the last nine years; since that first fateful day, when Corrigan walked off a plane from Guam and into my office. I’ve been hashing ever since.

Along the way, I’ve lost countless T-shirts, hats, gloves, jog bras and socks. I’ve had several shoes literally sucked off my feet. I’ve lost my way more times than anyone can count.

I have to admit, I’ve lost some brain cells. Every once in a while, I lose my inhibitions completely. And in some sense, I’ve lost any and all innocence.

I’ve lost some weight and gained it back – only to lose it again. I’ve lost skin off the bottoms of my feet, skin off my knees, skin off my elbows and skin off my nose. I’ve lost my senses a few times. I’ve lost a few Sunday mornings.

I’ve lost some sleep; lost peace of mind in planning Texas Interhash; lost some of that coveted carefree pleasure at hashing when I was GM; lost my temper.

But in no way does that compare to my most significant loss: the loss of fear. Since 1992, I have traveled without fear, raced without fear, climbed Pike’s Peak three times (OK, I was scared, but I made it). I cannot tell you the value these experiences have given me. If I can run under ground, through swamps, across freeways, into the darkest woods, down waterfalls, up countless staircases, over fences and through the worst shiggy – well then I can do anything. And I have. I’ve moved across the country, changed careers, established a home, traveled extensively within my own country, loved, laughed, cried, broken my wrist learning to ride Mt. Bikes so I could do the Bike Hash and generally lost the fear of living.

Along the way, I’ve found a few things as well. I found a pair of perfectly good Teva’s on my car one morning after Texas Interhash. I’ve found T-shirts - lots and lots of T-shirts: Shirts I’ve cut up, shirts I’ve used to clean the car, shirts the dog sleeps on.

I found trash on trail I never would have expected to find. I have not found a human body, but have come awfully close. I have found that Meisterbrau is perfectly fine for down-downs. I’ve found that stealing Eugene’s rabbit was much more fun for me than frustrating for them – mostly since I still have it.

I found a use for all those pecans that fall in my yard. I found out that I can lead – with hard work and strength of will. I have found that freedom is not something I am ever willing to compromise on. I have found some of the most beautiful places in Texas, Arkansas, Colorado, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. I have found inspiration. The past nine years have brought excuses to fry turkeys, wear costumes, dress in drag, own a fuscia ball gown and keep bags of flour in my car at all times.

I’ve found out how to run a circle and still drive home legally. I’ve found out that silliness is invaluable. I have discovered exactly how many beers it takes to give me the drunken boo-hoos.

For all of this, the experiences, the things I’ve collected, the joy, I give the hash credit.

And still, there is one thing more precious and more important than anything anyone has ever gotten from anyone or any experience.

I have found you!

The friends I have made through the hash are truly the most vibrant and long lasting of my life. You have been my roommates, my lovers, my travelling companions, my coworkers, my drinking buddies, my confessors and my shrinks. You’ve run with me through the woods. You’ve shared my birthdays, holidays, significant running achievements and the discovery of who I really am and what this life means to me.

This last fall, we came together to celebrate the momentous (and not entirely predictable) occasion of Lips’ wedding. On that occasion, I was reminded of what you’ve meant to me and what has come of this grand hash adventure. I recently told a new hasher that everything good that’s happened to me in the last nine years is a direct result of the hash. And I mean it.

Thanks to Corrigan for starting me down the slippery slope. Thanks to Lips for pulling me into the family and making me a hasher. Thanks to each and every one of you for friendship and laughter, tears and pain.

I love you.

Mouthful