Word: primal
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While the mass of undergraduates wishing to catch a glimpse of naked classmates grace the Yard during Primal Scream, students stuck studying in Lamont Library can still get their share of nudity...
...whether I look back four years from now, or 40 years from now, there will be one accomplishment that I can cherish forever, that nobody can take away from me. Eight for eight. Barring a gross last-minute leg injury, I will run naked in my eighth consecutive Primal Scream...
Like 500 homeruns or 3,000 hits, eight for eight is a milestone that many have sought but few have achieved. I will be joining a select group, and I will be forever proud of my achievement. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, Primal Scream is not about my individual nakedness—if it were, I might go to section nude—but about the collective experience. I could never have done eight for eight as a solitary runner, but only as one among many in a huddled mass of naked flesh...
...true heroism occurs not in May, but in January. After all, it is in the winter runs where we separate the men from the boys (though in the extreme cold, all males appear like boys). Indeed, Primal Scream in the winter of 2004 was so cold, for many frightful moments I prayed for my extremities—all of my extremities—to thaw (I wonder, do those with anteaters fair better than us circumcised folk?). Despite that intense pain, I still rank that cold January night as one my finest hours...
After the glory of the winter run, the spring edition is always somewhat of a let-down. The May Primal Scream is more of a formality than a real event. Before the spring run, the screams are half-hearted, and primal veterans are rather bored (though not bored stiff). Still, on May 19, I will run, for the eighth and final time...