Before You Run Shirtless on Vacation, Check the Local Laws. One Runner Found Out the Hard Way.

I’ve recently become a shirtless runner, which is something I never thought I’d say.Until this summer, I was firmly committed to running in a tank. It didn’t really matter how hot I got or how disgusting said tank looked by the end of the run. Then marathon training ramped up right as New York hit the grossest part of summer, and somewhere along the way I finally started peeling it off.And you know what? I get it now.I have no evidence that my shirtless miles are any faster, but they certainly feel better. There’s also a weird little confidence boost that comes with it. Shirt off through the park, doing my thing, everyone else doing theirs. Very freeing. Very you-do-you.There is, however, one pretty major qualifier to my newfound nipple freedom. I still know where I am.Even as someone literally born and raised in New York City, I rarely take anything off until I’ve entered what I personally consider the running perimeter. Central Park and the West Side Highway are fair game, but random city streets are different. No one eating brunch outside needs my sweat flinging toward their eggs.Maybe that distinction exists entirely in my head, but bouncing half-dressed down a random sidewalk has always felt a little off-putting to me. Dare I say, sometimes a little performative.And if I have that boundary in the city where I’ve lived my entire life, I’m definitely more aware of it when I’m running somewhere unfamiliar—especially in another country.Mike Naccarella recently found that out while vacationing in Venice. According to the New York Post, he took his shirt off during a run and drew enough side-eye from locals that one man reportedly shouted, “This isn’t a beach.” Naccarella eventually learned that Venice prohibits people from walking around bare-chested and can issue a €250 fine for it.My first thought was less about the obscure Venetian law and more that he … didn’t even bring a shirt with him?By then, Naccarella was already about two miles from where he was staying. He didn’t want to continue that way after learning about the rule—and potentially having to pay up—so someone in his group bought him a T-shirt from a nearby tourist shop for the trip back, the Post reported.I also run when I travel, and half the fun is having absolutely no idea where I’m going. I’ll find some suggested route, start following it, and hope I don’t get hopelessly lost or discover halfway through that Google Maps has sent me somewhere humans clearly aren’t supposed to be.It was just this summer that I ran in Cormicy, France, a tiny town where my route started sending me through back roads and wheat fields. I had no clue whether I was on a public path or about to inspire the French equivalent of “get off my lawn,” so instead of testing international property law, I retreated and ran loops around the same few blocks until I hit my mileage.It was also during a record heat wave, with temperatures hitting around 110 degrees.Still, I kept my damn shirt on.The whole point of running somewhere new is that you’re somewhere new. I love getting to see a place that way, but I don’t want to treat every city like my usual loop just because I happen to be in my chicest workout clothes. If I’m unsure of where I am or what’s considered normal there, I’m probably going to be overly cautious.But the top still comes with me.Central Park can happily have my bare chest. But if I happen to be in Italy, the tank stays on and the €250 stays mine.Sean Abrams was the Senior Editor, Growth and Engagement at Men’s Health. He’s a former hip hop dancer who likes long walks on the beach and large glasses of tequila. You can find his previous work at Maxim, Elite Daily, and AskMen.