At the University of Michigan, the legendary Naked Mile took place on the last day of classes each school year.  I say “took” place because, as I understand it, the Naked Mile is no-more (thanks overly sensitive fun-killers).

Observing my first event, I saw things I will never forget; specifically, a naked man on a unicycle waving sparklers around.  My thought was “I want that to be me!”  Not the naked unicyclist, but a participant.

With sparklers!

Fast forward to the last day of classes my junior year when I suddenly remembered “The naked mile is tonight!” After much begging and the promise of booze (I’m sure at least a couple students ran it sober…maybe even three or four), I convinced my friends Melanie and Christina to run it with me.

The plan: go the bar, drink lots, go to the run, strip, run (yes, I’m using that term loosely), party (probably put clothes back on somewhere), go home, have memories to last a lifetime.  The reality: a weeee bit different, have memories to last a lifetime.

Before the run we wanted to hit the bar but it was full, so we ran to the market, picked up some peach schnapps and vodka and headed back to my apartment where we proceeded to drink all of it within 30 minutes. 30 minutes after that, I realized I was too fat to run naked.

I went over to my exercise ball and proceeded to do sit ups.  I kept repeating, over and over “Gotta get in shape for the run!  Gotta get in shape for the run!” (I was later informed that I was drunk off my ass.)

Getting fit for the Naked Mile.

I was then kindly reminded I could not get in shape in 15 minutes.  So Melanie, Chris and I wrote “Go Blue!” on our stomachs and “Kiss this!” with an arrow pointing down to what would be our naked buttocks, and we headed out the door.

As we made our way towards the start of the run, suddenly, I was down. I somehow sprained my ankle.  How could this happen?  There was no hole in the ground.  There was no rock to step on.  I was walking in tennis shoes, for goodness sake!  I couldn’t let this injury mar my opportunity to show my school spirit.  I didn’t really feel any pain anyway (yay peach schnapps and vodka!), so the three of us proceeded to the start, stripped down, and prepared for our mile of glory.

Best. Night. Ever.

The Aftermath:

My ankle was swollen and I could barely walk on it for days.  I also had to explain to the College Professor, for whom I babysat, that it couldn’t have been my face they saw on the news with countless others during coverage of the run.  I also had to convince the little girls I sprained my ankle “running.”  Best. Night. Ever.  A solid NO-TAKE-BACK