Within it all Thames Hare and Hounds became the beating heart of the ‘amateur’ bastion behind cross-country running. Soon after inaugurating, Walter Rye had the club pull out of national competition to preserve the integrity of the gentleman-amateur movement. And when attendance dwindled, it was a resurgence and recapitulation towards a dual club-meeting between Oxford and Cambridge on the Common (believed to be England’s second-oldest club cross-country meeting, behind the English National Championship) that brought the club back to prominence and helped to preserve membership through the 20th century.

Molden claims that about 50% of current club members come from these two esteemed Universities, and names like Brasher, Chataway and Bannister confirm that the Oxbridge tradition has held strong in the years since. In fact, Chataway’s recount of his connection to the club (and subsequent commentary), serves as a wonderful insight into Thames Hare and Hounds through the years:

“My first acquaintance with Thames Hare and Hounds was an unhappy one. I had won the University Race, which was a nice surprise. But then came the dinner. I wore my father’s dinner jacket, which was too big for me and had rather obviously seen better days. Our hosts were grand and immaculate and mostly very old. Could these people have really spent time sloshing around in the mud on Wimbledon Common? What was I doing there?

One of the old and immaculate rose to his feet and gave a speech — witty and elegant — praising me for my victory and eventually presenting me with a handsome silver rose bowl. And then the moment of horror. Clearly I was expected to reply. I stood up. Everybody looked at me. Absolutely nothing came into my head. An eternity passed — slowly. I just said “Good night.” and sat down. Everybody was very nice. But the humiliation lasted for days. I just wished I had not won the race.

The story continues of the club’s remarkable evolution from a fierce and increasingly isolated defender of the worst sort of amateurism, determined to preserve an enclave for gentlemen, safe from tradesmen and others likely to be contaminated with professionalism, into a successful running club.

There is no doubt about the credentials of older members, who shine in veterans’ races. The old hip baths and jugs of hot water in the pub attic have given way to modern showers. Most remarkably of all, women have been admitted. If I had forecast that at my first dinner, the speech would have been even more of a disaster.

At a recent Olympics, Julia Bleasdale became arguably the most successful distance runner of either sex in the club’s hundred year old Olympic history, finishing in the first eight at both the 5,000 and 10,000 meters. So the club has modernized, yet it is still not exactly like any other club. There is still a streak of eccentricity. It is not every running club, for example, that has a Carver and Commissary General.”