Nude Day Running Adventure

The smell of coffee roused her from her morning grogginess.

Rachel Gray stood in her kitchen, mug in hand, dressed in a long night shirt and frayed pink cotton panties, and nothing more. The tile floor felt cool against her bare feet. She thought about the day ahead.

She had taken the day off work. It was Wednesday, July 14, and she had her own special reason for taking the day off. She had not shared that reason with anyone else.

"I'm going to get naked today," she said softly, into her coffee.

"What'd you say, Mom?" said Aaron, her son, loping into the kitchen unexpectedly behind her.

"Nothing," Rachel said, glad Aaron had not heard what she had said. Her hands shook, and the coffee almost spilled. That was close. "Just talking to myself."

"Whatever," he replied. Rachel noticed he gave her a quick, furtive look like he was wondering whether Mom was losing it.

Rachel knew she had a habit of talking to herself. She had always had the habit, but she had been exercising it more since the divorce from Stan, her ex-husband, a year earlier.

Rachel refocused her attention away from her plans and toward helping Aaron get ready for the day. She made Aaron's breakfast, the usual: cereal and sausage and orange juice. Half an hour later he was out the door and on his way in the family car to a friend's vacation home at a lake two hours away. The trip was to be a post- high school graduation celebration for Aaron and his friends. Aaron would be there for several days with his buddies. Rachel didn't even want to think about what they were going to do, but she had no doubt it would involve alcohol and debauchery. The less she knew, the better.

With Aaron out of the house, Rachel realized that the nest truly was empty. When Aaron left for college, late in August, she would be all alone in the big house that she'd taken in the divorce settlement. Stan, a wealthy real estate developer, had bought a new house -- an even bigger one -- in another part of the city.

"Time for Mom to have some fun," Rachel said to herself over a second steaming cup of coffee.

Today was the first day of Rachel's new life on her own, and it just so happened to be, of all things, Nude Day. She hadn't even heard of Nude Day -- had no idea there was such a thing -- until she saw something about it online two weeks earlier.

Rachel wasn't a nudist, or an exhibitionist, for that matter. Other than skinny-dipping once with friends in college, she'd never been nude in public. Stan would never approve of anything so brazen and inappropriate. It might jeopardize his reputation, which he prized above all other things, except maybe his Aston-Martin DB11.

But Stan was no longer in the picture, and her son was gone for several days, and Rachel keenly felt a new sense of freedom to do things differently.

It would start today.

"Game on," she said out loud, no longer concerned about anyone overhearing her.

Rachel pulled the night shirt off her and tossed it to the floor. Then she shucked off her panties. She stood nude in the kitchen.

She wanted to see herself. She walked from the kitchen to her bedroom, and she stared into the full-length mirror on the wall and critically appraised her nude body.

Rachel knew she was an attractive woman, with a slender but curvy figure maintained by a healthy diet and regular exercise, but she was at an age -- 42 -- when the confidence of youth had begun to retreat before the uncertainty and doubt of middle-age. She felt, acutely, the pull of gravity on her body. She had noticed a gray hair or two. She checked her skin frequently in the mirror for signs of cellulite. She wanted to push back against time's steady forward march. She knew she couldn't control or prevent the future, but, damn it, she could celebrate the present.

Rachel walked across the carpet to her dresser, opening the drawer that was stuffed full of her running shorts and tops. Rachel ran five days a week. She was one of those runners that valued style along with high performance in their workout clothes. She knew just what she was going to wear today -- at least for a while, she thought, smiling to herself. Today's outfit pushed Rachel's comfort zone. She had bought it online only a week earlier, and she had never worn it in public before. The shorts were form-fitting, with a mere 2-inch inseam that barely contained her ass. The top was a mere sport bra. Both bra and shorts were baby blue, matching her eyes.

Rachel had seen other women running in similarly skimpy outfits, although most of them were younger than she. Rachel had never dared wearing something so revealing. Stan would have thrown a fit. But that was then, and this was now.

She pulled the little shorts up her shins and thighs, taking the time to enjoy the sensual feel of the slippery fabric on her bare skin. She wore no panties under the shorts, and when they shrugged into place on her hips, she felt the slick snugness of the material between her legs. Looking at herself in the mirror again, Rachel noticed that the shorts were so snug and the fabric so thin that a faint indentation formed between her legs -- a camel toe, that's what it's called, she thought. It wasn't so noticeable as to be scandalous, but it was there, nonetheless, and it sent a thrill of pleasure up her spine to know the shorts would show her off that way.

Next, she pulled the bra over her head until her breasts settled into it comfortably. Rachel had never run in public in just a bra before. It provided enough support for her C-cup breasts, but just barely. It exposed a surprising expanse of cleavage. Anyone bothering to watch her run today would be exposed to more jiggling than Rachel was accustomed to show.

Rachel bound her straw-brown hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie. She slipped ankle-high white and blue socks onto her feet and laced up her brand-new ASICS running shoes.

She looked herself over again in the mirror. She approved of what she saw. She felt bold to go outside in such a skimpy outfit, but she had to admit to herself that she looked good.

It was time to start her run.

She set the house alarm and stepped out the front door, locking it and leaving a key under the mat.

Beyond the front door lay the tony, leafy, suburban glade of Laurel Lane, lined on both sides with spacious houses built seven decades before. It was one of the most desired places to live in the city. Rachel turned left at the end of the driveway and began running at a slow pace. Her limbs were still stiff, and she would take a few minutes to warm them and loosen them before hitting her normal running stride.

Right away, she saw, in the porch on the house next to hers, her neighbor Walter, an elderly widower who said little but seemed friendly, if perhaps at times a little pervy in the way he looked at Rachel overlong across the property boundary. She waved at him as she ran by, and as always, he said nothing, but he gave her a thumbs up and a big smile.

A little farther down the block, she saw another neighbor, Mary Millstone, walking out the front door to her Volvo in the driveway. Mary was the street's self-appointed snoop and gossip monger. Rachel groaned inside. Mary was the last person she wanted to see her in the new running outfit. But there was nothing she could do about it, and, sure enough, Mary looked up from her car keys toward Rachel's lithe, scantily clad figure.

"Hi, Mary!" Rachel called in what she hoped was a soothing manner. It didn't have the desired effect. Mary's jaw dropped and then her eyebrows and lips knitted themselves into a disapproving scowl. Obviously, Mary did not believe Rachel's scant attire met the high standards of Laurel Lane.

Well, screw you, Mary, Rachel thought, smiling to herself as she thought it. She felt the delicious thrill of newfound freedom and boldness. Her life was taking a new turn, even if its only manifestation so far was a new running outfit.

With Mary and Walter behind her, Rachel picked up her pace, and after two more blocks she turned left onto Sycamore Street. The thick tree cover of Laurel Lane gave way to sunlit pavement. No clouds marred the blue summer sky above, and Rachel's skin warmed quickly.

A few more blocks later, Sycamore Street ended at a park next to a river. The river meandered its way through the city. Many years earlier the city's planners had wisely set aside large parcels of land along the riverside as wild areas, to remain undeveloped. A multiuse bike and pedestrian trail known as the Rivertrail followed its banks. It was Rachel's favorite place to run. Because of all the land left wild, one could run through the heart of the city along the trail and yet think one was in a riparian wilderness.

Rachel ran through the park until her path joined the Rivertrail. She turned right, to follow the trail downriver. Now her run really had begun.

She picked up her pace, and she ran with quick, confident strides. The hour approached late morning and the temperature rose fast. Thick stands of trees and shrubs rose all around the trail, sometimes offering shade and sometimes blocking the view to the river. Scents of licorice, lemon, and sage wafted through the air. A faint breeze kissed her skin and whispered through the leaves overhead.

After a time, Rachel left the Rivertrail for a skinny dirt trail heading toward the river. The surface was uneven, and the dirt was soft, slowing her pace. The forest canopy and shrubby understory grew denser, and soon Rachel no longer could see the Rivertrail. The dirt trail on which she ran soon hugged the river shoreline.

This was a side trail Rachel had run many times. For whatever reason, few others ran on it. Rachel always savored the feeling of isolation from people she got from running along this tiny trail. It also provided almost limitless opportunities for exploring the nooks and crannies of the river that most never saw.

Ahead of her, after running ten more minutes, Rachel finally spied what she was looking for: an island in the river. A slow-moving channel of water maybe 50 feet wide separated the island from the shore next to which she ran. The island stretched perhaps 200 feet from one end to another, and she had no idea how wide it was, having never seen the other side. Dense brush covered it, but in the middle of it was a little sandy beach, and beyond that an opening in the plant cover. On some earlier run, the date of which Rachel had long since forgotten, she'd gotten it into her head that it would be interesting to explore that island. But she'd have to swim there to do so, fighting 50 feet of steady river current.

Rachel had decided to explore the island once and for all, today -- in the nude. She would strip her clothes off when no one was around, hide them in the bushes, and take off for the island. It would be her own personal Nude Day adventure.

But not quite yet. Rachel wanted to run farther, to a park two miles down the trail, hydrate at the drinking fountain, and then turn around. Her adventure would begin on the way back home. It would feel refreshing after sweating under the increasingly hot sun.

Having scouted out the location, Rachel returned to the Rivertrail.

Ahead, a man ran along the trail in the opposite direction, closing the distance with her fast. She guessed he was somewhat younger, maybe early thirties, and he was good-looking. He wore nothing but running shorts and shoes and a sport watch, and his shirtless body was leanly muscled and lacquered with sweat. Rachel looked into his dark eyes, which were scanning her body up and down. On another occasion Rachel might have been annoyed at his ogling, but not today. That was the whole point of wearing her running outfit, wasn't it?

She smiled and said "Hi" as he approached, and he replied with a mumbled, breathy "Morning." As he passed, Rachel turned, checking him out from behind, and she caught him doing the same to her. Both smiled, embarrassed at catching one another in their mutual ogling, and they ran on.

She passed several people as she ran downriver, and she caught many of them -- all the men, and even some of the women -- checking her out. One of the women, who looked to be about her age, even said, "I wish I looked good enough to wear that!"

"You do!" Rachel called as the other woman sped by going the other way.

Rachel smiled to herself between increasingly fast breaths. She felt alive bounding along the trail in such a skimpy, revealing outfit. It was the first time she'd warn such an outfit, but it wouldn't be the last.

The sun continued to rise, along with the temperature.

At last, she entered the park. Wild grass and shrubs gave way to a well-mown expanse of lawn and stately elm and oak trees. Ahead, twenty feet off the trail, a drinking fountain beckoned. Rachel made a beeline for it and slowed her pace.

Beyond the fountain, Rachel observed three young men on bicycles. Two wore t-shirts bearing the name of the local state college. Their hair was unruly, and their shorts were frayed, and they looked bored until they noticed her, when the eyes on all three went wide.

That's when she recognized one of them -- Jeremy, an acquaintance of her son who had graduated in the class ahead of him the previous year.

"Mrs. Gray?"

"It's Jeremy, right?"

"Yeah." He didn't seem to know what else to say. He stood slack-jawed, obviously not expecting to find his friend's mom in a form-fitting and skin-baring running ensemble.

"What are you up to?" Rachel asked.

It took a few seconds for Jeremy's words to form. Obviously, the sight of Rachel had made an impression.

"Uh, not much. We're going to go across the river and ride some of the dirt trails over there." He pointed vaguely in the direction of a bicycle bridge across the river at the edge of the park.

"Sounds fun. Pardon me, but I have to hydrate."

Rachel stood closer to the fountain, bent over, and started drinking. She couldn't help but notice that out of the corner of her eye the three young cyclists gathered to the side of and behind her, presumably lining up to get a drink but obviously checking out her spandex-clad rear.

Even so, she took her time, in part because she was thirsty but also... because she liked the attention. She soaked it up. Although she couldn't see the young men's three pairs of eyes, she had no doubt about what they were fixed on. She drank heartily until she'd had enough, then slowly stood up. From the looks on their faces she could tell they had enjoyed the show.

Instead of resuming her run back Rachel decided to tease them a little. She put her hands against the big trunk of a nearby tree and did some calf stretches. Her calf muscles didn't feel sore or tight and she didn't need to stretch, but she was having too much fun with showing off to stop yet.

Out of the side of her eye she could tell that the young men were sneaking glances at her, trying but failing miserably not to be too obvious, while they took turns at the drinking fountain. Finally, she stood up away from the tree, stretched her arms, and turned to run back.

She knew she was pushing the envelope, and maybe a bit too far, since Jeremy and his friends might talk about her, and her son Aaron might hear about it. But today was about taking some risks. She shrugged It off.

"Have fun," she said to the three young men as she ran by them.

From behind her she heard Jeremy call out, "Looking good, Mrs. Gray!"

"Thanks!" she said.

She ran swiftly upriver on the Rivertrail, eager to reach the destination for her adventure. She passed more runners, and she enjoyed the attention she got from the men. Her exposed skin tingled.

She ducked right onto a dirt side trail and before long saw the island ahead.

She slowed to a walking pace and looked in every direction. She saw no one. Sometimes people chose to run on the narrow, twisty dirt trail rather than the paved Rivertrail, but not too often. Even if they did, the dense greenery between the trail and the river probably would obscure their view of a naked woman swimming to the island, unless that's what they were looking for. She would be taking a risk -- which was, frankly, part of the point -- but not too big of one.

Rachel turned right onto an even smaller path, nearly overgrown with wild grasses and bushes. In a few paces the little path gave way to a small dirt bench at the river. It was a spot she'd found on a run before this day, and she'd determined that this would be the spot to start her adventure. It was a secluded spot, a small crescent in the shoreline where the water was still and calm. It lay shrouded on every side by tall trees and dense bushes. Unless someone knew where this spot was and traced her path, which was unlikely, no one could see her.

She looked across the span of the river that lay between her and her destination -- the river island. She had chosen this particular spot to launch her adventure for two reasons. One was that the foliage of the island shielded her from view by anyone on the opposite side of the river. The other was that it was perhaps 70 feet upriver of the beach on the island for which she would swim. She knew the current, although mild in this stretch, would carry her downriver, and she couldn't afford to let it carry her past the island where she would be exposed to the view of anyone on the other side of the river.

Rachel looked in every direction once again, and she listened carefully. She neither saw nor heard anyone. It was time to start.

She started with her shoes, unlacing them deliberately, peeling them off her feet, and placing them, with a sock in each, under a willowy bush by the riverbank. The damp soil under her feet was cool and pleasant to the touch.

Next, the bra. She peeled it over her head, and her breasts sprang free.

She had done it. She was topless in public. Sort of public. She wondered if she could get arrested if a sheriff's deputy found her like this. Probably not, but he'd almost certainly demand that she put it back on.

Rachel had no intention of doing that. Instead, she slipped her shorts down her legs. She picked up the shorts and the bra and draped them over the top of the bush over her shoes, so the sweat in her clothing would evaporate and they would dry out.

She removed her scrunchie, too, and put it in one of the shoes.

She stood, at last, completely naked by the riverbank. This was her Nude Day celebration -- the beginning of it. She felt free, naughty, and adventurous. The feeling was new and exhilarating.

Rachel tiptoed down the bank and beyond the river's edge. The cold water lapped over and chilled her feet. Dappled sunlight filtering through the trees over lit her body in patches.

The cold water gave her pause, but only briefly. She was determined to see the adventure through. She waded forward. She gasped, a little, at the sting of the cold water on her skin, but she didn't let the cold stop her. She gazed ahead at her destination, the little beach. She would have to swim vigorously to ensure getting to it before the current swept her past it. Rachel was a good swimmer, and felt confident she could do it, but a hint of uncertainty gnawed at her. Getting swept by the current past the island and exposed to people on both sides of the river would be an awfully bad idea.

She plunged forward and immediately commenced a strong, fast freestyle stroke, lifting her head every few strokes to get a bearing on where she was.

The water was colder than expected and the current was stronger than she had estimated. The chill of the water tweaked her nipples and nipped at her vulva.

Lifting her head above water halfway to the island, she saw it being swept past her faster than she expected. Uh oh. She redoubled her kicks and strokes. She could see her landing spot -- the beach -- and though she drew closer to it she wasn't sure she could make it. Downstream of the beach thorny vines crept all the way to the shoreline, and it would be difficult to make a landing there. If she couldn't land, she'd get swept passed the island, naked, in the exposed part of the river. She couldn't let that happen.