ONLINE ONLY: Bare it all, IU

Cool breeze kissing, caressing every part of your body. Your muscles flexing, bulging with every stride. The insecurity of not knowing who’s watching mixed with the total carelessness of the moment. The strangely comforting feeling that comes with knowing that if you get caught, you’ll have no excuse. You’ll have no way out, but that’s the way it should be.  

Streaking.

The word alone evokes the finest emotions in even the most bashful of people.

I feel no shame in saying that I love, adore and am quite fond of being naked. Any of my true friends will vouch for that.

I sleep ... naked. I get my morning glass of orange juice windows wide open ... naked. I’m writing this column ... naked.

I think it is fair to say I like being naked every once and awhile. So, by the transitive property, I must like streaking because it involves being naked.

This fact is only exaggerated when the summer rolls around, when I leave school and step foot on my home ground.

In my original habitat, summer and streaking go together like peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. And if you’ve never had that combination, they go together pretty well.

When you go on a naked run, it brings with it memories that can never be forgotten, even if you would rip your eyes out with a rusty fork in order to forget them.

One of my friends has broken the top of his foot, no more than 50 feet from my house, on a naked run. Another has nearly been run over, escaping just as his naked body leapt over the hood of some poor soul’s car.

Naked runs can vary in length. From the 100-meter dash down the driveway and back, to the 5k all-out, true American naked run.

Weather has no bearing on whether a naked run can take place – in my opinion, the wetter, the better.

A naked run can take place on any day of the week, ranging from “The Hump Day Horserace” to “The Saturday Sausage Streak.”

Naked runs do not discriminate based on sex. Men and women can run in their birthday suits, holding hands, singing old show tunes.

Also, time nor place holds any authority on naked runs. Whether you do it in the dead of night in a graveyard or Sunday morning, making sure to make long strides in front of churchgoers, the fact still remains that naked runs exist for one reason – to be free.

Free from all the stress the day has brought you. Free from an environment that brings out the worst in you. Free from social norms you don’t agree with. Free from everything.

There might be some consequences – like misdemeanor charges or guys having their lady friends see that they’ve come “short” of expectations – that you risk during a naked run. Isn’t it all worth it in the end?

Think of one time you’ve been truly unhappy when you were naked. If you came up with something, then I’m deeply sorry for you because I know I haven’t.

Let go. Get naked.