BELL LAP #43

THE RISKS OF RUNNING NAKED (August 22, 2001)

Every season has its annoyances, and for me summer has two--aggressive mosquitoes and phone calls from around the country, asking me (the phone callers, not the mosquitoes) if I know anything about the "Bare Buns Fun Run." I do--it's a 10K race at a nudist colony near my home town of Spokane, Washington. In some big telephone directory of "People Who Welcome Random Inquiries About Running," I must be the only person listed from the Inland Northwest. Naked and would-be-naked runners looking for BBFR information always seem to find me.

Callers are routinely disappointed at my lack of experience with the BBFR. A whiny, accusative "Why not?" is the standard response, as if all of us should be edgy for an opportunity to drop everything and run in the buff, surrounded by newfound buff buddies.

I get the same response during my travels, when I frequently run into runners who have flown to Spokane from all over the globe for a bare buns romp. They're eager--one might say too eager--to share details, like where you pin the race number. And they are even more accusatory than the phone callers about my apparent lack of familiarity with the event.

Actually, though, I'm not unfamilar with the BBFR. Every year I'm inundated with reports--written, televised, first-person. I'm as up-to-date as I care to be, although none of that information has aroused my curiosity enough to get me to the line. I'm all too aware of the risks.

Case in point: A number of years ago, a bunch of us used to get together on Sunday mornings for a long loop through the state park. One morning the top local high school runner showed up a day after winning the BBFR. We knew of his victory before he arrived, because he had been interviewed on the local news the night before, with computer-aided obfuscation to protect viewers during the dinner hour from the full measure of his masculinity.

Stewart (not his real name--his real name is Stuart) was eager that morning to share details of his prominence, or at least his victory. As we ran, he gave us a first-person account. He hadn't been embarrassed by the experience, but he had been surprised at the high level of competition in an event famous mostly for a dearth of clothing.

"I thought I'd win without much problem," Stewart insisted. "But I had to really work at it. The last half-mile I was just hanging on."

Indeed. Hearing that, most of us were soon stopped at the side of the road, gasping for breath between guffaws. For the rest of that particular morning run, and for untold runs since then, I've enjoyed showing running partners what Stewart looked like "hanging on" as he sprinted to the finish of the Bare Buns Fun Run.

And the point--assuming there is one, other than telling this story one more time--is that there's a good reason to wear clothes when you run. Nudists insist that clothing creates societal problems, and that nudity itself isn't sexual, provocative, or erotic (and this is supposed to get me interested?). But that doesn't mean running in shoes-only mode is risk-free.

By all means, run naked if you want. Some of you, of course, will need to hang on for dear life, but please enjoy yourself. Just remember the main thing you'll need to beware of. Not sunburn, whiplash, or even exposure to swarms of aggressive skeeters.

No, something much, much worse. Your running "buddies," and the stories they tell.