Before You Run

A decision is not really a decision unless it is made by the one doing the deciding. Decisions are often hijacked by one of at least two forces. Either an unruly mob sweeps someone up in a frenzied cloud to "just do it", or a cantankerous moralist browbeats someone into "doing the right thing" on their say-so alone. This column is an attempt to avoid both.

As someone who attended the Naked Quad Run his freshman year, and lived in a West Hall quad his sophomore year, I have gotten to see the NQR inside and out, as it were -- though I have never actually run. But despite being a simple observer, perhaps I can still help those out there trying to decide on the perennial Tufts question, "Should I run the Run?" Everybody's got to make their own choice of course, so I am not going to tell anyone what to do. But everyone should know just what they would be getting themselves into. Here are a few observations that, while perhaps obvious, tend to be obscured in the run-up to the Run.

You will be very, very cold. This is often underestimated. Our bulky clothes and puffy jackets deceive us as to how hard the frost can chomp down on bare flesh. You can test this yourself in the days ahead. Perhaps do a test run around the house after Thanksgiving, when the turkey has knocked everyone out. During the run, if you fall down or cut yourself (as several do) you will find the cold ground unforgiving and the night air just biting all the more. After the run, unless you have carried them with you, you may have to hunt around for your clothes. You will most likely lose at least one article of clothing. After a run, the basement of West looks more like the basement of Filene's.

You will be photographed. There is just no doubt about this one. Someone will capture you on their digital camera. While you may be drunk, many of those watching you will be quite sober. And they will be armed and ready, as I was as a punk freshman, to get good shots.

Do not let the run fool you into thinking you will be in perpetual motion, too fast to be seen. Corners can only be taken so quickly, and the larger crowds gather there to watch the slow-down. Nor does the run always go so smoothly. Traffic is traffic, and if someone gets backed up, everyone gets backed up. The mad-dash streak is at times reduced to an awkward crawl. And there you are, naked, strolling by minor acquaintances and grinning townies. Even if you are too quick for the naked eye, the unblinking camera can still catch your naked tush.

Not only might you enter someone's "special collection", there is a chance you will make it to the public domain. A movie of the 1999 NQR was, three years ago, making the rounds of the file-sharing network on campus. Whether this movie or any others are still circulating, I do not know. But considering that digital cameras have only gotten cheaper and more popular since then, the chances are good.

You will be buck-naked. Too obvious? Sometimes the most obvious is slowest to sink in. Who do you usually take off your clothes with? Most of the time we will not even think about it unless it is someone we trust. Even close roommates do not casually walk around naked at home. No, we usually carefully guard our nudity, because to be naked is to be vulnerable. Lovers understand this especially. They naturally go off to secluded places, just the two of them. In private they disrobe. Deep intimacy makes them feel safe enough to reveal their whole selves to each other.

To be nude is to hide nothing, to hold nothing back. When you are naked with one other person in an intimate way, you are (even without realizing it) sending a powerful message. You are saying, "I want you to be so close to me that I will not allow any barrier between us; even if I have to be my most vulnerable, I want you to know that you are worth more to me than any possible humiliation."

The vulnerability of nudity is what makes it such an awesome gift. This is, incidentally, why married couples can have such powerful sex lives. They do not need to hold any intimacy back, because they do not have to worry about being laughed at or cheated on or thrown away - there is no audition here. The permanently married can be vulnerable with reckless abandon. Because of this, to a husband and wife, their partner's naked body is a truly beautiful thing.

But in the sticky, sweaty basement of West and among the teeming crowds outside, the naked human body is just -- a thing. What could be a precious gift to a lover becomes a public give-away, free for all. You do not get to choose who sees you naked. Either while tightly packed in the basement with 200 naked bodies or hopping around in front of 2000 clothed bodies, you can be sure that someone you know, someone you do not know, and someone you wish you did not know is going to get a good long look at you.

There are other things about the run that could be noted, of course, that occur with varying frequency -- broken bones, gropings, fire alarm pulls, and the like. But the universal elements have been covered, hopefully well enough to provide runners with a decent informed consent.

So, should you run the Run? The discerning reader can no doubt predict what my recommendation would be. For those still undecided I will leave one last thought. Given that this year the Administration is co-sponsoring a "Nighttime Quad Reception", it is quite likely a few Administrators will be present at the Run (perhaps on an NQR Trustee Observation Deck?) So before you run, ask yourself this question: Do I really want Dean Bruce Reitman to see my privies?

Jack Grimes is a senior majoring in Philosophy and Political Science. He can be reached via e-mail at grimes@tuftsdaily.com.

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