Where I wore my running shoes

I don’t really remember how I ended up associated with this race – but I feel like it must have been associated with World Naked Cycling Day or something. I probably posted a pouty tweet because I didn’t know that naked cycling was a thing until after the naked cycling day when someone asked me if I was going to be running naked. At first, I laughed – whilst I may love being naked – well, when I run, there are lots of jiggly bits (not related to those bits which you normally keep under a bathing suit). I do not have a thigh gap, so I wear compression shorts to keep my thighs from chafing. I wear a compression shirt to avoid chafing around my shoulders and armpits (and to avoid nipple bleeding, which, alas, is a very real thing).

Running naked – well, it just sounded painful.

But I was intrigued.

So, last year, I signed up for the Wiggle, Jiggle, & Giggle – a 5k race hosted at a nudist resort a few hours from my house. I raced on a cold day where it was threatening to rain. I raced having no idea what to expect, or where I knew anyone. I had an absolute blast. I had such a good time that I started to clear the weekend on my calendar for future years, just to make sure that I’d be available to run the event, year after year.

This year, my second time running the 5k (I also ran their 7k trail run last year – this time, bringing a friend with me, as well as meeting several of the friends I made in my first race), I went looking to push myself.

With running, I’m kind of in a weird place, as of late. I have a very limited window in which I can run – and, weather permitting, I take advantage of said window as much as possible. While I should use my running window to make myself faster – that involves lots of work, and planning, and monitoring of your pace, and fartleks, and I can’t think about fartleks without giggling, and I can’t run faster when I’m giggling¹. So, I’m running, and I’m running consistently, but I’m also, kind of, running aimlessly. I’m taking in good audiobooks, and I’m enjoying the scenery, and I’m making myself sweat, and I’m racking up mileage from Pokemon Go Adventure Mode, and I’m giving my eyes a break from looking at a screen all day – but I don’t know if I’m making myself a better runner. Heck, I only ever see my pace at the very end of my run (if I set my app to give me updates at regular intervals, I start thinking about my current pace WAY TOO MUCH, and usually end up losing track of my audiobook²).

As I’m running aimlessly/haphazardly, I’m also running, most days, at least a 10k, and I’m in a constant battle to get my body trained to the point where I can “just up and run a marathon.” By this, I don’t have a specific time in mind – I simply want to make it so that, if I was handed a free entry to a race, I could run things in the morning, give myself 20-30 minutes to hydrate and change, and then go about my day as if I had run “just another run” that morning. I can do that with a half-marathon. I cannot, yet, do that with a full.

But here I was, planning to push myself, running a distance that I never, ever run.

And doing so in my birthday suit.

A quick note on being at a clothing optional resort – “being naked” becomes normalized about 30 seconds after you end up in a place where many are nude. Some might be wearing some clothing. Some might be wearing a lot of clothing. Many might not be wearing anything at all – but it’s not like the 12-year-old me getting his hands on a porno mag, where I just *stare*. It’s naked – it’s a fact. It’s absolutely not sexual. It’s all quite natural.

And, quite enjoyable, if I’m being honest with the 3.5 of you.

Typically, when you run a race put on by a professional group (like Pretzel City Sports who put on this race, they put a sensor in your racing bib which is read when you cross the start and finish lines – oftentimes along the course, as well, just to keep track of where people are (and to try to ensure that nobody is taking shortcuts to the end). But, when running sans clothing? There is no place to put a bib. So there is no sensor. If you’re looking to win – you’re aided by starting first, as there is no such thing as chip time.

While they handed me a bib, that simply was packed along with the race t-shirt. My number was printed, in sharpie, on my right leg.

Anyway, as I have no strategy as to “how to run hard” for a distance that I seldom ever run, my early plan was to simply follow several of the people with whom I’ve raced, previously, and with whom I thought I could keep up.

But several seconds after the starting whistle, I lost track of all but one person I recognized. So I paced myself right behind this person.

The course was quite hilly – incredibly hilly. And it became apparent to me that this person with whom I was pacing, well, he might be faster than me on a straightaway – but I was outpacing him, considerably, on each climb. So I passed him. And I lost track of everyone, aside from some butts way off in the distance.

Then I passed this guy who was just shouting out numbers – and I realized he was sitting at the one-mile mark. I was one mile into the race.

As I said, I don’t train for this distance. And I seldom ever run this distance. But I do know that, during my best ever 5k, I ran an average of 6:32/mile. This was a near perfectly flat course, with ocean breeze filling my nose, after I had been traveling all day. I just sprinted without thought and made it to the end.

Here, I knew I had to navigate some serious hills. And was only a third of the way done. So I eased up, just a bit. And immediately started running downhill.

One of the reasons I so enjoy cycling is that, after an uphill, there is always a downhill . . . I coast. I rest. I catch my breath. I use the wind against my skin to dry my sweat. I recover.

Running? That doesn’t happen. When you’re my size (6’3″, more than 200 pounds), downhills are HARD. I need to pull WAY BACK for fear of my upper body positioning itself too far forward & my knees then trying to bend the wrong way. Downhills suck.

And, during this big downhill? I was passed by many. I should have taken stock to see if I recognized any of the runners who left me in their dust, but the first runner to pass me was wearing a hot pink sports bra, and had a very cute butt . . . and while I can say that the whole naked thing was normalized and non-sexual, and I mean it . . . it also doesn’t mean that I didn’t appreciate a fine form passing me³.

After the big downhill came a pretty steady up-hill, and I passed many who had passed me on the downhill.

And then I passed the guy calling out the times, and he called out 13:47 at the two-mile mark (yep, we did some looping). So I had slowed – but not considerably, but I felt I could keep my current pace to the finish.

So I went down the great big hill. On the steady uphill, I put one guy in my sights. I knew I was in the top-tier of racers, but had no idea whether that meant the top 25% or 10% or 2%. The woman with the pink sports bra, I never did see again, but I felt like I was “racing well” and that the chances that I might take home an award were high.

And, of course, if I finished ahead of the guy in front of me, those chances would increase.

But I never did manage to make up the ground ahead of me. I had some kick at the end – but so did he. He finished seconds ahead of me.

Then I heard from the people tabulating the results that I was 8th overall.

I finished second in my age group⁴.

I had a blast.

I still have no idea how to run a 5k.