Chapter 5

Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry five: Climbing a construction crane in the nude with Yvonne

After I got to know her better and was able to share that part of her life with her, I was able to understand how important streaking was to Yvonne. It turned out that she went out to streak at least twice per week. It was more than just “stress relief”. Streaking was her secret life, an obsession that she herself could not begin to explain or fully understand.

The goal of Yvonne’s streaking was not exactly exhibitionism. The only purpose of her running naked was to run naked. She enjoyed the sensation of being nude outside and loved the feeling the cool night air blowing against her exposed body. She was not out to deliberately shock or offend anyone. She knew that people would see her, but she did what she could to keep that to a minimum.

With a lot of people streaking is something spontaneous, quick, and done with no planning. It wasn’t that way with Yvonne. If she was planning to streak through a new area, she always She always plotted her route ahead of time and scouted it out the day before, looking for places to hide and escape routes in case anything went wrong. She programmed coordinates into her cell phone to avoid getting lost, especially if she had to bail for a few minutes and move several blocks away if she was worried about getting caught. As long as she had her phone, she could easily find her way back and continue as soon as the danger had passed. She had to carefully plan her routes, because she loved to go to new places, take risks, and push the envelope.

She was totally not interested in short runs around the block or a quick dash through a park; not interested a quick five or ten-minutes and immediately putting her clothes back on. She was hard-core. She wanted to be out as long as possible, run as far as possible, and explore different places while being totally exposed. A real streak for her was never less than two hours and “didn’t count” if she didn’t go at least three miles away from her starting point.

The most important rule she set for herself was that she never took any clothes with her while running. She always started by finding a secure place to hide whatever she was wearing, completely stripped, and took off with nothing but her cell phone in her hand. As she put it: “If you carry clothes with you when you’re streaking, that’s cheating. The point is to have an experience that you got no choice but to finish.”

She always took a few selfies and at least one full-body picture of herself using the cell phone’s timer on each expedition. Usually the timed picture was taken at her turn-around point, the spot that was farthest from where she had hidden her clothes. She had long since learned how to set the phone so it would take good pictures, no matter how dark it was where she posed. But with me coming along, “Now I’m not gonna have to worry about setting the phone anymore. You’re gonna take the pictures.”

After that first night, I always went with Yvonne whenever she streaked. Streaking with her was the hardest thing I ever did, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. It was strange, with all the fear, pain, fatigue and excitement, I never felt more alive than I did when I was with her.

Yvonne was a much better runner than me. She ran fast and she could go miles without stopping. I still think she should have joined the track team. If she had done that, I know she would have been one of the District’s best long-distance runners. It took everything I had in me to keep up with her. There were times I got mad that she was in such great shape, but I couldn’t say anything. The problem wasn’t that she was too fast; it was that I was too slow. However, she was incredibly patient with me. I think it was because she was so grateful to have someone the share her streaking with that she totally ignored my bad running. And, over time, with all the practice I was getting, I did become much better.

Typically we’d run around 10 miles in an outing. Sometimes it was more. A few times we did 15 miles and were out nearly all night. She let me take breaks to get my breath back, then she’d take off again and I’d have to keep up.

Even though Yvonne was experienced and I could leave the decisions and planning the routes to her, I was always terrified whenever we set out. But then, as I struggled to keep up with her, I soon forgot about being scared or embarrassed, because I was so winded.

Yvonne took our streaking adventures to a whole new level three weeks after I started going out with her. Before we went out, I noticed her exchanging texts with someone on her cell phone. I could tell she was very excited about something, but she didn’t want to tell me what it was. I later found out she wasn’t sure until the last moment that we’d actually be able to have the adventure she was planning, so she didn’t want to let me know anything until she was sure it was going to happen.

We ran to Sutter’s Park through an alternate route that was longer, but avoided both the cul-de-sac and the open area along 97th streets. When we got to Sutter’s Park we found a shaded area and made-out for a couple of minutes. I was getting aroused feeling her hands on my body, when her phone rang. The picked up:

“So, Mr. Galloway, you’re gonna be there just by yourself tonight?”

I could faintly hear a man’s voice:

“Sure thing, Missy. I’m here ‘till six. Ain’t gonna be no one else here. And I got a job for ya, if ya’ll wanna do some climbin’.”

“Thanks! We’ll be over in a bit.”

“What’s ... going on...”

“Something awesome! We’re going to the Newberg Street construction site! Come-on!”

“A construction site?”

“Yes! This is gonna be epic!”

We went through the tunnel and cut north along some shaded streets with gated condo units on either side. There were cars parked along the sidewalk that shielded us from being seen by people driving down the street. It was strange to think, we were running only a few feet away from all those people driving by, and they had no clue two naked girls were running along the sidewalk.

We crossed a deserted street and ran along some construction fencing to a gate that was left unlocked. There were “No trespassing” signs posted every few feet, but it was obvious we were going to be trespassing. Yvonne lifted the latch and we went through. She led me to a workers’ shed, where an old man dressed in construction over-all’s was waiting. He smiled when he saw Yvonne, as though he was seeing a close friend.