This is a snippet of the scene where Jeanne Stewart runs naked along a river in Oregon.  “The Last Time I Was Me” is on sale, on kindle, for $6.64.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=merino+dyed+wool&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Amerino+dyed+wool

 

I was hesitant to run naked.

It is not something I can say is in my comfort zone.

It is not something I’ve done before.

I had told Emmaline and the others at anger management class that I would do so.

Now, the first thought racing out of your mind might be that being a naked woman outside your home isn’t safe.  You might also say that a naked woman running alone alongside a river isn’t safe. You might further say that a naked woman running alone by a river, at night, is asking for trouble.

You are right.

But, you see, I had agreed to do it to take me off my path of anger.  As life did not seem especially precious to me, I was feeling a little reckless.

So I had pancakes for dinner at the café with a bunch of chatting, cheery townspeople who somehow soothed my soul, and listened to Donovan sing his favorite three opera songs, dedicating them to his “secret love.” Afterward I promised to come to a retirement part for Bill Brayson on Friday night and a bowling tournament on Sunday.

I tried to ignore the warm gush in my body at these invitations. I was very rarely invited to do anything in Chicago except to get more work done, find more clients, and deal with artsy creative types who insisted on doing yoga in the hallways, brought their giant dogs to work, or hummed when they got nervous.

I did not share with my newfound friends my further plans for my evening.  Around 10:00 that night I pulled on sweatpants and my sweatshirt and headed to a private place along the river. Here, I could still see the trail, but there were no homes.

The rays of the full moon slanted through the trees. It smelled like pine and river water and wood and I sucked in a deep breath.

I took off all my clothes and put them in a small back pack. I retied my tennis shoes. I do not consider wearing tennis shoes as breaking the rules.  I knew I should feel embarrassed standing there naked by the rushing river, but I didn’t.  In one avenue of my mind I realized I’d lost my marbles.

I don’t have huge boobs, so it didn’t bother me that I would be bopping along without a bra.  I looked up at the star studded sky again, catching a glimpse of the full moon. It was clearly a wild night for werewolves and weird women on wacky quests of self awareness.

Overhead an owl hooted and somewhere on the other side of the river another owl hooted back.

I shifted my backpack and started into a slow jog.