“Out of the forbidden depths of that ever-so-popular swimming resort, Commonwealth Lake, arose a new species of sapiens. Roaming this sphere in search of mischief and the perfect female specimen, the DIRTY HALF DOZEN (+3) continue to preach their will: ‘Do unto others before they do unto you.'”
Most friendships don’t last forty years.
This one did.
It started on the cross-country courses of junior high school in Beaverton — a group of kids who discovered they had more in common than just running. By the time they were seniors at Sunset High, they already knew what they were building. A brotherhood. Hood to Coast, the races, the decades of showing up for each other — all of it grew from what was already there in 1987.
One Origin. Many Chapters.
The Dirty Half Dozen never stopped at six. What started as a tight group of junior high runners grew into a 40-year ecosystem — overlapping circles of friendship that expanded across decades without losing the original DNA.
Some people are in one chapter of this story. Some are in all of them. The DHD never had a membership card — it had a culture. If you were part of it, you know it.
Before the race, there was the friendship.
“The race simply gave them a reason to keep gathering. But the reason they kept gathering was each other.”
Distance running attracts a certain kind of person. Someone willing to run hills in the rain, comfortable with quiet effort, who finds something in the suffering that others don’t see. When that type finds each other early — in junior high, on a cross-country course in Beaverton — something forms that is hard to explain and harder to recreate.
By 1987, the yearbook photo was already showing who they were. The sports coats worn ironically over running gear. The favorite albums propped up for the camera. The VW Bug. Nobody was performing for anyone they cared about impressing. They were just being themselves, together. That is how you know it was real.
Hood to Coast started in 1986. Forty years of racing followed. But the race did not create the brotherhood — it joined it already in progress.
Read the Full Origin StoryThe First Shirt.
Before there was a website, before there was a 40-year tradition, there was a shirt. The original DHD shirt — made by the group, worn with pride, now framed on a wall in Oregon.
Written in marker: the names. The same names that ran together, showed up for each other, and built something that has now lasted forty years.
Some of these shirts still exist. This vault is where they live forever.
Enter the Vault
The Vault
Four decades of history. Every chapter. Every branch. All in one place.
Were you part of this story?
Every person who ever ran with us, drove a van, cheered at the finish line, or just showed up — you are part of the DHD universe. We want your stories and photos in this vault.
Submit Your Story or Photos