The year: 1999.
The setting: a brisk, monotonous October evening at the 32nd house, slightly South and East of Boulder central.
A lone man by the name of Francis, cheeks nestled comfortably within the well-worn groove of chair, sits idly, unblinking orbs boring far beyond the pages set before him. The textbook, Traditional Theists: the Essays, is a visual apparition, existing without substance, momentarily and thoroughly ignored. The man’s grip…tightens. A vein, scoured across the left side of his temple, pulsates to a hastening beat—the book…. rises, slow at first and then quickly his arms cock back ready to hurl the time-gluttonous beast against the wall… but, closing it, he softly rests it upon the table. Instead, our man grabs the phone, finger stabbing vehemently across the keypad. “Sandoval…. get the ass on over hayre! …… You’ll find out…hurry!”
Nose still cherry-red from the nipply trek, Sandoval enters, his eyes widening from the words produced by Francis’ face. His musculature begins a violent tremor, six pack bottles clinking, as Francis pulls out a foot-long butcher knife from beneath the text. Again his arm elevates, Gin Sue steel glinting menacingly and then all at once he grabs the head flips it jabbing a two-inch slit up hefty pumpkin ass! Sandoval releases a shriek, acquires his own metallic Sharpie and surgically disembowels another orange sphere.
A couple hours and sixers later the pair find themselves, respective pumpkins in hand, lurking in the dark behind a residential string; soccer field island oppressive in its quiet, solemn suburbia. Independent and simultaneous, they peel first shirts followed by trousers, boxers and each sock. Standing stark and tall, chests out, perhaps a wee bit shriveled the very naked men re-adorn themselves, proud and magnificent as they slide comfortably inside their organic, slimy crowns. Facing the length of green turf, kneeling side by side, the chums allow their massive headdresses to fully feel gravity’ plumpness—it’s all they can do to resist the top-heavy forward flounder—yet they’repoised, three-point stand ready. Old school style, “On your marks…… get set….. “GO!” And they’re just fuckin’ off, poor visuals through lantern face, 20 lbs. of orange flesh thrashing atop their heads, the boys weave and stumble, legs pumping, vocal cords straining, childhood resurfacing through glory of the old fashioned foot race . . . and so the magic began.
From these humble and courageous beginnings, the Naked Pumpkin run began to grow. Two participants exploded into eight, eight into twenty-five. Word spread far, flung forth mightily upon the wings of exhibitionary spirit. What was originally just a group of friends turned into its own community, a community tied together by the excitement and camaraderie of participating in something new…. something greater. Sheltered in the womb of South Boulder, it planted its roots deep in the hearts of all who ran. But even the most beautiful creature must eventually be set free and in 2002 the Naked Pumpkin Run found its way to the infamous University Hill.
2002: Three feet of snow coated the intersection of 13th and College as the first guardians of pumpkin-derived nudity ran through. Struggling to stay upright, these stallions charged through the crowds, shouting and stumbling from pure exhaustion… and pure exhilaration. And the crowds exploded in delight as the radiant Naked Pumpkin Runners kept coming, strung out and separated over more than a block. Forty-five Naked bodies flailed in every direction, falling and sliding over the snow, and running! Running! Running!
2003: Snow again and ice encrusted streets. But in spite of this a grand new venue. One can only imagine the sight as scores of naked yet pumpkin clad souls poured out through the intersection of 11th and Walnut (now ninety strong!) They begin to turn down Walnut, but exibition manifests and they flock to the left, charging for the biggest prize of all, Pearl Street. Charging through the Halloween crowds, pedestrians shriek with overwhelmed delight. The shear volume of this run is enough to drive on down the icy road, to push hard enough for even veteran runners to collapse, and hard enough still to inspire them back to the chase with cuts, smashed pumpkins, and all. You see, the body can fall while the spirit sores! And on they pushed, the biggest, longest, most public run yet. And to top it off (this was most unplanned, I assure you) they slowed to stop at the base of the city courthouse. That now deflated symbol of social control and expression repression was swamped by the Naked Pumpkin Run, communal and creative love vessel.
2004: Snow and rain conspire yet again. And in concert with the beautiful forces of nature, the run continues to thrive. Now over a hundred, the mighty Pumpkin Runners once again charge down that Pearly Street, toward the Pearly Gates of that heavenly lightness of being, manifest, here on Earth. Meanwhile the practical and aesthetic combine into true art. Pumpkins more creative, easier to wear, the addition of handles becomes common. On bodies arrive messages of the political. With these messages and the still growing art of pumpkin running, the Princes and Princesses of Pumpkin-ness once again decended on the steps of the courthouse to celebrate and revel in freedom re-taken.
2005: Picturesque fall evening improved as twenty runners come from the West on Pearl Street. A small crowd, yet on a Monday night not unexpected. Yet as they near the typical evening crowds at the Pearly Gates of 11th, the transcendent intentionallity becomes all too clear. Fifty runners from the North and fifty from the South also appear. Three runs converge at a point and move in concert toward the East. What was once twenty runners, became one hundred and twenty in mere moments! Creative chaos ensued as Pumpkin Running gods and heroes ran in circles of freedom and self expression. Meanwhile, in both Denver and Chicago, small bands and pumpkin runners gathered for the first time to haunt the streets. Though small, the quality of these runs demonstrates their potential to rival the Boulder Run in the near future. With the majestic convergence in Boulder and the birth of at least two new runs, the Naked Pumpkin Run has indeed become the Renewed Nude, RE-NUDE. Hundreds of runners from accross the nation found new ways to express their beautiful individuality in 2005 and in doing so gave the Naked Pumpkin Run new life. It has now been released upon the world, an arguably sovereign community of hope, joy, and revelry. And now, among scores and scores of fellow runners, YOU too shall become a member of the historic, annual and very Naked, Pumpkin Run!
2006: A crowd awaits in Downtown Boulder. Several hundred spectators eagerly anticipate a Halloween tradition. They line up, facing west, and wait. Then, from behind, eighty glorious runners catch the crowd unaware. They run through, turn right and begin to fade into the night. But no sooner than the crowd had taken its fill of pumpkin delight, dessert arrived. Forty runners rounded the corner ahead and quickly decended into the madness. The crowd let loose a cheer of excitement and the first run got sucked back into the spotlight. Two runs now converged in the public eye, and having no plan, begin to run in a big circling mass, a vortex of loving exhibition. The run eventually fed back through the crowd and returned to the courthouse after covering the entire stretch of Pearl Street from 9th to 15th (and some blocks more than once!) Meanwhile, brave pioneers in Seattle launched a highly creative and successful first run, while rumors of runs in Chicago and Vancouver swirled about. This year was marked by new heights of creativity and beautiful chaos in Boulder and by the raise of the equally creative runners of Seattle. This would be a turning point in the future of the Naked Pumpkin Run!
2007: As Halloween approached, rumors swirled about. The Naked Pumpkin Run was revealed, early, and with mixed reviews. A sense of unease settles over Boulder with foul memories of riots and Halloween ruined. So when the night finally came, the expectation was ripe. Hundreds upon hundreds turned out to witness the specticle. And thus, the scene was set. From the top of a local parking garage, the trumpet was sounded, and down poured the largest Boulder run yet. One Hundred and Fifty spilled out onto the streets to the wild support of the crowd. Traffic stopped, people cheered, and Boulder was home, once again, to a large and chaotic (yet peaceful) display of vibrant creativity. Elsewhere in Colorado a small run near the University in Boulder and a three person run in Littleton made for a wonderful Colorado trilogy! Meanwhile, Seattle out did their performance last year by staging not one, but two six person runs. Their second run was a daring daylight dash through suburban Seattle. Around the country, other runs sprung up. With six people (including one joiner!) in Phoenix Arizona and another small run in Bloomington Indiana, new Pumpkin Runs were born amid much excitement. And rumors still float around about mysterious runs in Chicago and Boston. This year was marked by a noticable increase in size, creativity, and media attention. There is truly no telling where the Naked Pumpkin Run will find itself next!
For more harrowing tales of Pumpkin Running, click HERE.