Running topics are once again taking a back seat as my mentor directs me to write about my experiences as I’m prepared for a future role. This is a continuation of the previous post in which I turned getting dressed in the morning into a show for the woman who lived in the apartment next door.

The woman who took over the lease next door to me was every bit as pretty as the woman who’d just moved out. Tall and thin with black hair, she was in her early 20’s. I found her very attractive.

She was a co-worker at an insurance agency with the former tenant, and she had visited her once before when I did my thing in front of the window. However, when she moved in, she put up a wall screen that covered most of her window. My interpretation was that she wasn’t interested in my morning shows.

In addition, another woman in her mid-30’s often came over first thing in the morning. I later learned she was yet another co-worker at the insurance agency. So attractive was she also. I really liked having such beautiful women right next door. However, I thought she was there to provide support to her friend and co-worker, and possibly to dissuade me from doing my thing.

It was surprising that mentor did not push me to disrobe while the two were there. I noticed small signs that I was misinterpreting, but being the cautious person I am, I didn’t act on it.

One afternoon I was at my window when my attractive neighbor came outside and went to her car to get something. It appeared this was a ruse because the way she carried herself, and her self-awareness told me she’d noticed me inside my place and knew I was now watching her. It was time.

Somehow, I immediately got up over this, and loosening my belt, I returned to window view fully dressed save a flag pole rising well above my pant’s waistline.

In no time she came out the door again and did the same as before. I interpreted this (correctly), as an invitation to resume my morning shows.

As before, I so enjoyed disrobing and presenting myself in various ways while the flag pole was up. Another idea mentor provided was to use a hole that I had cut in my pant’s pocket and use it as an exit point.

Though I couldn’t see through my neighbor’s sheer curtain, at times while performing close to my window, as I kept myself shielded from being seen by anyone else, she often strolled slowly past another, uncovered window. Oh, I liked it when she did that.

Like the previous tenant, she had a guy, and he worked out of town often. Though I chatted with my pretty neighbor on occasion, like before, it was typical neighbor-chat, and there was never any discussion of, or interaction beyond our morning ritual.

Also like before, as time went on, mentor pushed me to take more risks. There was an occasional evening try, but when her guy came home as I was about to disrobe one evening, mentor allowed me to abandon that idea.

One morning, mentor suggested my neighbor was usually up well before my regular start time, and I should do something special. I did not want to do this, but as always, I was compelled.

I opened the curtains in my dining area which faced my neighbor’s kitchen, and with the sun still not up, I was well-illuminated as I prepared to climb atop the dining table and stand on my knees without a stitch of clothing, flag-pole up, to dust the light fixture.

As I was atop the table, taking my time to get every speck of dust, my neighbor’s grandfather walked into view in the breezeway between our places. His eyes wavered slightly as if he’d seen me peripherally and wanted to look directly. I don’t know how much he saw, but I immediately climbed down and went into damage control.

My neighbor’s grandfather came over occasionally to check on her, and I’d talked to him on a previous visit. He was likeable, and I’d told him I’d watch out for her. As you can see, I did more than watch out for her.

The grandfather left, and later that morning as I took out the garbage, I unexpectedly ran into my neighbor. I figured she’d been watching and saw the whole thing, so I wanted to apologize for trying such a stunt. However, when I said I was sorry for this morning’s near disaster, she looked perplexed. Turns out she saw nothing. She had slept late.

I quickly changed my tune, making up a story about a friend who had stopped by and then drove recklessly as he left, jumping the curb in front of her apartment.

As the next few days passed, no one knocked on my door or confronted me about what happened. Apparently I dodged a bullet again.

This wasn’t the only incident in which I was caught in the window. In each case, instead of being allowed to do the sensible thing and refraining, mentor again compelled me to continue the show the next morning as if nothing had happened. I know this caused some grief to my neighbor.

After a few months, her lease was up and she moved out. An elderly couple from Kentucky moved into the apartment, and they often brought over a slice of freshly baked homemade pie that was very delicious.

Enough time has passed that it’s apparent I escaped mostly unscathed, as far as know, and up to now. I feel an attachment to the women next door because I saw traits in them that I admired, and despite my behavior, I think they’d still say I’m an okay guy. Though we were separated by two windows and several feet of concrete, there was an intimacy in our morning ritual, and I wished there was a way I could have talked to them more often.

If you missed an earlier, much shorter post, My Daily Stress, I explain why I must do these things and who mentor is.

This is a continuation of the previous post which has nothing to do with running. My mentor has instructed me to use this platform to tell about my experiences as I’m prepared for a future role.

In the last post I wrote about undressing in front of a window in my living room so that I could be seen by a young, attractive woman who lived in the next-door apartment. I didn’t think it wise to do this, but mentor easily compels me to do things against my will.

This undressing quickly changed from just changing my clothes to putting on a show. Sometimes I was completely without clothes, other times I wore loose pants that I allowed to slowly slip down. I often did trivial tasks like watering houseplants or dusting and then interrupt my work by swinging back and forth, presenting myself with a side view, or just standing to allow my neighbor to witness the hands-off, full stage of growth from relaxed to not relaxed.

Sometimes while completely undressed, I pressed my body against the window. Often I’d stand close to the window and move my hips back and forth, mimicking a pendulum-like musical timing device called a metronome, pictured below.

Photo by Vincent Quach.

Along the way, my neighbor gave me signs that she liked my daily show even though I couldn’t see her because of the sheer curtain covering her window. My reluctance when I started doing this turned into enjoyment. It was exciting, and at times it hit me how wonderful it felt to be parading around naked and doing all these things as a woman willingly watched. The term “sexual object” is usually applied to women and can have a negative connotation. For a man, however, it’s very gratifying. A couple times, after especially erotic “performances”, my pretty neighbor came outside and waved good-by to me as I left for work. It melted my heart when she did this.

However, our occasional, passing conversations were of the typical, neighborly type. There was quite an age difference between us, and in addition, she was tight with her boyfriend. This put a damper on any talk of what was going on, or of anything happening outside of my morning activities.

As the weeks passed, I became less enthused to continue. It seemed to me it was becoming old hat for my neighbor. However, mentor pushed me to continue and take increasing risks. I started disrobing after coming home from evenings out which I was in no mood to do. It was also very risky because the boyfriend was there. A bunch of times I was forced to do these evening performances, and I’m so lucky I was not seen by anyone but her, as far as I know.

Also, whenever I stood close to the window, I was visible to several residences. I always monitored the outside environment when I did this, but someone could be looking out their window, and it might be hard for me to notice. One morning this happened, and I noticed too late.

In a residence across the street, two women were watching and they retreated when they saw me look their way. I immediately stopped my performance and made sure I couldn’t be seen by them. However, a short time later, a vehicle pulled up in front of my neighbor’s apartment.

The guy eyed my place before getting out and knocking on my neighbor’s door. She stepped outside and they talked for a few minutes. She had an expression of deep concern the entire time. She did not smile or appear at ease. Was this guy a plainclothes policeman?

He did most of the talking, and it appeared she was giving short responses to whatever he was asking. In the end, he returned to his vehicle and drove away.

I’ve written before that it’s my nature to be cautious. After something like this, of course I’d cool it. But the next morning I was back at it, directed to do so by my unrelenting mentor.

Eventually the boyfriend got an out-of-state job and the woman next door moved away. With all the risk-taking I did, I’m so thankful there weren’t any big negative incidents. Involving my neighbor also put her at risk, but I’m so grateful for her divine attention and her care in keeping our arrangement under wraps.

I thought my days as a performer were over. However, the next tenant in the empty unit next to me was another tall, young, single woman. My next post will describe what happened as my performing career unexpectedly continued.

For readers who wonder why I am doing these things, and who “mentor” is, it can be found in a previous, much shorter post, My Daily Stress.

I’m called upon once again by my discarnate mentor to write about experiences as I am prepared for a future role, so another vacation from running topics.

As I’ve mentioned before, I must do many things that I would not choose on my own. Often there is a sexual aspect to this. I’ve written previously about a sexual fantasy in which I disrobed as a young, attractive woman watched and how it became almost 100% accurately manifested in reality fairly recently.

In this case, a tall, young woman with bouncy blonde hair moved into the unit next door and had a good view into my “apartment”. I was working outside one day and she came up to me and introduced herself. She was friendly and out-going.

Not long after this, as I got dressed one morning, mentor instructed me to do so in front of the window. I did not think this was a wise idea, nor did I the next morning when I was told to do so again. However, both mornings I stripped off everything I had on and then quickly put my clothes on. Because of a sheer curtain on her window that allowed her to see into my place, but prevented me from seeing in, I did not know if she saw.

I was given a break for a few days, and one morning after returning from a run, I dawdled getting into the shower. Without any input from mentor, I happened to notice signs that the woman next door and a visiting friend were monitoring me, expecting that I’d be changing.

I was grateful this happened because of the risk I’d taken. It told me that my undressing had been noticed and without any apparent negative reaction which was hugely important because the following week I would be sent to the window again and do more than just change my clothes.

For a few months, nearly every morning before my work day, I “performed” in front of the window. Knowing that I had a receptive audience, and receiving small signs along the way signaling approval, I came to enjoy doing this.

However, mentor pushed me to do things that involved greater risk, and it turned out that others caught glimpses of my performances. In the next post, I will continue with this topic. For readers who haven’t read a previous post, My Daily Stress, I explain why I must do these things.

With the Super Bowl coming up, the editorial board and staff of I Must Run Everywhere (me), decided to do a post about the close relationship of football and running. In addition, to commemorate the Seahawks vs. Patriots game, I carried a football on my run today.The two sports have many interwoven aspects. Football branched off as a distinct sport over a hundred years ago, but because of their shared background, many phrases pertaining to football have their origins in running. This is easy to see in the below comparisons.

First and 10. / First in the 10K.

His pass try fell incomplete. / He passed the guy with big feet.

First and goal. / First is my goal.

He passed 45 times in the win. / She passed 45 runners to win.

He finished off the win with a quarterback sack at the end. / She finished up the run a quarter mile back of her friend.

He appeared in court, knees on floor and said, “Let me have bail. I won’t run, Judge Tinner” / He appeared at Courtney’s door and said, “Let’s bail on our run and go have dinner.”

I was starting running back in the football game. / I started running back and my foot got lame.

If winning $50 sits well with you, answer the following question which has answer clues embedded: Name the major race held in early March in the Snake River Canyon in Eastern Washington which covers 13.1 miles.

My answer, River of Snakes Half of a Marathon was so close, and my disappointment at losing out on $50 is shown in the below photo.

If you guessed Snake River Canyon Half Marathon, you are right. Congratulations! Well-known quiz show host Sprint McDowell is delighted to award your winnings. Just download the app, Cash for Me, tap on the envelope Sprint is holding, and a slot will form on your screen. Your $50 will be dispensedMany Spokane runners make the two-hour drive to Wawawai on the Snake River for this flat, out-and-back race. Click here for race details.

I refuse to participate because of a bad experience I had the one time I entered. I spent a lot of money traveling to Hawaii instead of Wawawai and drove myself crazy looking for the race starting area.

The course record holder is Evan Sims, an acquaintance and member of Spokane running clubs, who ran 1:07:06 in 2012. This is a per mile pace of 5:07. I am sure Phidippides, the originator of the marathon would be delighted knowing what a very fast pace Evan ran.

However, Phidippides would cuss and do body slams in his grave if he knew race organizers regularly cut his race to just half the distance after he paid the ultimate sacrifice completing the first marathon.

Evan, who’s in his 30’s, believes he’s in his peak running years, and it won’t be long before he starts slowing down, so he’s running lots of miles in a try to break the course record. I talked to him last Thursday and he’d already run 90 miles for the week, and he doesn’t take any days off. Evan is shown leading a race in the below photo.

However, all Evan’s work could be for naught if it’s a gusty day. This has happened to him at this race before.

I award gold stars to people who perform random acts of kindness and amazing achievement. After a person has earned 10 stars, they receive a certificate. This accomplishment is so difficult, that only two people (Jill Cameron of Frederick, MD and myself) have ever done it. If Evan achieves his goal, I will do something I’ve never done before – award a certificate even though he’s well short of ten gold stars.

Good luck, Evan. May the above certificate soon be in your hands.

As a student at Spokane Falls Community College, I once finished a solo morning run and was about to shower when a young woman walked into the building.

The facility at Spokane Falls had a classroom at each end and men’s locker rooms in the middle. A single corridor ran the length of the building so if you walked into one end, you could see all the way to the other end. There were doors that could block this uninterrupted view, but they were always left open by the custodial staff, and besides, the classrooms were little used. My locker happened to be in the row that was part of this corridor.

The locker rooms are below the grandstand seats which overlook the track and field facility.

When the woman walked in, she saw me undressed, yet walked across the empty classroom to the entrance of the locker room and asked me if this was where the class she was looking for met.

My track coach, who happened to be nearby, heard her and gave directions to the correct building. He closed the door for me, not commenting at all about what just happened.

On another occasion I was the last person to leave after a later than usual afternoon workout when another young woman walked in the same way as the incident I just described. I was caught completely naked.

She was the instructor of an evening exercise class, and after closing the door, reopened it a moment later as two female students behind her looked in. I was still not dressed as we discussed start and ending times for her class and the track team workout.

In both cases these women were not shy about initiating an interaction with me despite my undressedness. Had the roles been reversed, I would have gone out of my way to avoid them, not because I wanted to, but because I’d feel like I was intruding upon their privacy.

As these two incidents show, some women, chancing upon a guy who is revealing more than normal, may be inclined to take advantage of it.

It’s natural for women to reveal especially attractive parts of their body to draw attention from men. Unfortunately, there’s no tradition of men revealing attractive parts in the way women do. If men dare take this step, they also have to be especially careful because of the long history of men using their power to dominate women.

If a man wants to use his body to attract women, he has to do it in a non-aggressive and non-threatening way. By putting himself in a position of vulnerability and allowing the woman to be in a safe place, it can work.

I have found a way to do this, however, I was compelled by my discarnate mentor, and it was not something I would have thought of on my own.

As I mentioned, since there’s no tradition of males dressing in sexually suggestive ways, it was quite stressful being out in public this way, and it has taken a long, long time for me to become comfortable.

In the next post I will go into detail about this, and include a photo of myself to show exactly what this sexually suggestive dressing style Iooks like.

Sexuality and running may seem like remotely related topics, however I’ll be working on a way to mesh the two in the next few posts.

My “consultant” has advised me that my absurd and wacky posts are getting old, and it’s time to explore a new avenue. Since it’s well known that sex sells, I should focus on edgy, racy, risqué posts.

I’ve been a little worried about this because some suggestions have been made, one of which is that I need to put myself in the middle of the action. This will be a challenge as I must reveal some things about myself, and as well, word it in just the right way so instead of being revolting or offensive, it’s entertaining and interesting.

Previously I delved in this topic when I did a couple posts about running fantasies which actually were sexual fantasies. If you click on the link I just provided, you’ll read about a fantasy in which I’m disrobing as a very attractive woman watches from her apartment window.

Often fantasies require a set of circumstances to come about over which you have no control, so it can seem unlikely for them to come true. However, in the case of this one, the situation and details related to the fantasy actually took place fairly recently. It was very nearly a 100% accurate manifestation of thoughts that I had several years earlier.

So in the next few posts I will attempt to convey experiences and situations in a delightful and jolly fashion that will make even the most moral, family-oriented, church-going, straight-laced person say, “Aw schucks, that’s no big deal.”

And to myself I say, “How am I going to pull this off?”

I once was involved in a scheme to provide false information to a large daily newspaper. The scheme was brilliant, and I was never caught.

This plot went on for most of a summer. Despite facing an experienced, veteran staff of journalists, introducing the doctored facts into the newspaper reportage was quite successful. Not once was I questioned, nor was there any hint of suspicion.

When I was in high school, there was an all-comers track meet put on by the Spokane Parks Department every Wednesday evening during the summer. My best friends, Dave and Mike Dixon, often entered with me.

The field of runners was small, and we usually had no trouble winning the races we entered. After the race, a guy recorded the times and names of the winners. The next day, the results were printed in the sports section of the Spokane Spokesman-Review.

Being a little mischievous, we saw an opportunity to have some fun with this.

One week I took first in the mile and said my name was Marty Miler. A fellow competitor, amused about this, commented on how apropos my name was. However, the next day, an editor must have thought it was a misspelling because the name was changed to Marty Miller.

The Dixons and I continued our weekly mischief, and we were delighted whenever the goofy, made-up names got into the newspaper.

One week the three of us and another friend formed a mile-relay team. Around this time, the world mile record, held by Jim Ryun of the U.S., was broken by Filbert Bayi of Tanzania. Not long after, John Walker of New Zealand broke it again. Another top runner, Marty Liquori of the U.S., was also running great times.

Only the last names of the winning relay team were printed in the paper. We won the mile relay, but to avoid being obvious, we changed the first names of the milers I just mentioned. Anyone following track and field would have caught on, even with the changed first names, but apparently the result-taker was not a track and field guy.

The next day, the Spokesman-Review reported that the team of Ryun, Liquori, Bayi and Walker won the mile relay.

It’s the only time in Spokane history that four of the fastest milers in the world came to town to make stars of themselves at the parks department all-comers meet.