When I was a young boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old... my family moved from the city to an acreage with lots of trees, ponds, horses, etc. I remember one Spring day I was out exploring in this wooded area with no one around for miles. 

I don't know why I was compelled to do this, but I took off all my clothes and ran through the woods as fast as I could... weaving between trees, jumping over logs... dodging vines... until I was completely out of breath and my heart felt like it would just run away on it's own. I didn't feel any pain from my feet crashing over twigs and stones, nor did I feel any pain from the scratches in my skin. Just running wild and free without a care in the world. 

Then, I ran all the way back to where I'd left my clothes... felt embarrassed and ashamed. And never did it again. 

That... was a mistake.