The toughest part of writing a weekly column is the “What the hell am I going to write about” syndrome. Usually, this involves staring for hours at a blank screen thinking, “Hmmm … cellophane. Could I say something about cellophane?” This is not nearly as much fun as it sounds.
A good column topic is intriguing, timely and, most of all, not likely to elicit reader email with the subject line “Why don’t you get a real job?” Sometimes I don’t manage it.
But today finding a topic is easy. It’s March 15. Which means it’s the Ides of March. Which means it’s also the International Association of Hash House Harriers’ Roman Toga Race. This is a really big day.
Some readers may now be asking, “What’s this Ides stuff?” “The Hash House who?” or “Why don’t you get a real job?” (Mom, stop sending me these emails).
The Ides of March is the day Roman emperor Julius Caesar was stabbed to death by a group of his closest colleagues. “Ides” denoted the 15th day of any month with 31 days. In months of only 30 days the 15th was called … um … likely, the 15th.
In modern times, the Ides of March is known for: 1. It being difficult to convince a politician to go for lunch; and 2. The Hash House Harriers’ toga race.
The Hash House Harriers society began in 1938 when some young British soldiers decided they needed a physical fitness regime that would: a) help them get rid of their hangovers from the weekend before; and b) help them acquire a good thirst so they could hit the beer again.
They started weekly harrier races. I looked up “harrier” in the dictionary and it said “to be harried.” Excellent.
The rules of harrier racing go: One person starts running. Everyone else tries to catch them. There is no designated finish line. Basically, the game ends when someone says, “Right then. Who’s for a drink?”
On March 15, global Hash House Harrier societies gather in Rome, put on togas and run past the spot where Caesar was stabbed. Then they all go out for a drink. Their motto is, “I mean, why not?”
So, fellow citizens, let us, too, honour Caesar. Let us don bed sheets (mine are plaid flannel but I think it still counts) and runneth past city hall. Or maybe just hoist a glass with friends. Your choice.
Happy Ides of March!
