How I envy you Augustus (recent blog "Naked Run, No Bother") and you all in the UK that have the "mostly" legal right to go about your essential daily rituals unencumbered by unnecessary accessory. Our law on these matters in the US in most places is a twisted and silly mess. None the less, like you, I do go out and run naked whenever I find a promising opportunity. Things like weather, time of day, season, etc all conspire to keep most people off of my favorite running trails occasionally. I have come to favor trail running in the woods because of the solitude that it allows me, though infrequently the alignment of the stars that allows me to do so entirely naked. Perhaps because it is prohibited fruit for most of us here, myself included, I cherish all the more, the opportunity and total immersion within my very being that running naked allows me. However there are times when I wish that nudity was legal here in the US in some way as in the UK, so that I might go out and run naked more freely, in the hopes that people might occasionally notice me, while not being in their face, and come in time to realize that running naked is an entirely natural thing to do.
Four days ago I found myself out on what was expected to have been a quick two mile jaunt after a particularly frustrating day, nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly not naked. It was late in the day, when I started out from my house wearing just my Running Kilt, a cut off fleece sweatshirt and VFF toe shoes. The temps where hanging in the high 40s F, dusk was coming fast, it being depressingly close to the Winter Solstice already. At this time of the year people in my part of the world don't venture forth very far afield when it is late, cold and dark, so these woods were likely to be mine alone on such a day. And so it was. With the breeze dropping to nil, I was completely naked and picking up my pace a bit by the time that I had covered my first hundred yards down the trail and beyond sight of the road from which I had commenced. By the time that I reached my usual turn around point at the AMC camp by Ponkapog Pond, in the Blue Hills public reservation, I had long since settled into a serene and easy rhythm. Something from within caused me to turn right at a particular trail junction and commit to a loop trail around the pond down which I have not been in quite some time, energized by the prospect that this move would add another spontaneous and carefree four miles to my naked run. Darkness quickly overtook the fleeting dusk and emboldened me to continue on, free as I was of any artificial encumbrance following what is ordinarily a popular dog walk and equestrian path. With my night vision kicking in strong, instinct and perhaps a form of subconscious echo sensing which I have come to rely upon when running in the dark had me not only staying on trail, but dodging the rocks, and lumps of dark matter (gifted from passing horses) with no particular difficulty and rejoicing my my stroke of good luck to have found this moment. As I rounded the western end of the pond and turned to stare back across the quiet waters, a big full orange moon obliged me by rising magnificently from the eastern horizon; the sky, stars and moon doubled before me in the mirror surface of the pond. How could life be better? A seeming far too few moments later, though three miles further, having totaled some six miles of naked bliss, I arrived back at the trailhead from which I had commenced, and alas had to cover for the three hundred remaining yards down the road, to my kitchen door where I immediately removed said covering and rustled a steaming cup of hot chocolate to further nurture my state of total contentedness, the indoor/outdoor by the window now registering 68F/36F respectively.
Are we not all born to be naked? Were we not born to run? Thanks Augustus for bringing such moments to mind here in your thought provoking recent blog on the topic of naked running.