Last Camp Post

I sit beside a cornfield, looking across the prairie pothole landscape. On such a warm day, the breeze moves hot air from one place to another, picking up the dusty air from wheat harvest and making a haze across the terrain. The sun is slowly setting off in the horizon, bouncing brilliantly off the valleys and sparkling through the haze. I look across from my spot and see all of the camp staff sitting in a circle, preparing for the evening festivities. It's our last night as a staff for the summer, and soon we will all separate ways, some to high school, some to college, and others to work full-time. This being my fifth year on summer staff, only one person here outranks me in tenure, that being my roommate who has worked here 6 summers. Another summer comes to an end. Because I am entirely unsure as to whether or not I'll be able to come back to the Bible Camp next summer, I reflect.

I remember the first time I came to the camp as staff was immediately after state track my senior year of high school. I mean, I literally left the Bowl in Bismarck, hopped into my car that my parents brought, and drove up to the camp for the weekend. That first summer changed me thoroughly. That summer was the first time I realized that God really did have the best intentions for my life, as I had always learned growing up but had never experienced. For the purposes of this blog however, my first summer at camp was when I truly fell in love with running.

I recall an evening, likely a Friday night after campers had left, when I was doing a 7 mile run. Now this was a long distance for me, because I spent the entire summer before my first year of college building up to 40 miles a week, which is what most decent high-schoolers run. It was a tought challenge for a guy who barely ever cracked 30 miles a week in high school! This particular night in late summer, the sun was setting on a beautiful day, and it was beginning to get cool out. The gravel road was quiet, and nobody was out and about. I was running on the tire tracks of the road to avoid the scratching sound of shoes on rocks, and I was bouncing on my toes to minimize sound. The result was that I was moving running and yet I could not hear myself. I sped up because of how amazing it was. I remember looking up and smiling, being thankful for something that wonderful. From that moment on, I was hooked on running in the country, where peace can come even from exercise.

I recall hot summer days where I would go for a run in the afternoon during my break prep time and would barely have enough time to stretch before I had to go pick up my campers. I would show up to the canteen still wearing my running shorts, with sweat still coming down my back. I'll tell ya- campers make quite a fuss when seeing a college-age male in 'shorty-shorts'.

I recall learning about how wonderful it is to stop sometimes during a run and just appreciate the quiet. Every now and again I would be absorbed in my thoughts and I would suddenly realize how quiet it was, so I would stop running and simply look and listen. Nobody was there to worry about me standing in the middle of the road, and it was bliss.

I recall learning about how terrible it is to stop sometimes during a run simply because the heat was overtaking me. I've learned many more life lessons from the days that I couldn't do it than the days when I could. The length of my prep time doesn't change, no matter if I can or can't get up that hill while the sun is beating me down. It doesn't matter if I get a sideache- I need to get back! I learned how to stay disciplined even when the day gets tough.

I recall the times where I learned how to be humble. There's nobody watching here. When I'm running, I'm on my own. It doesn't matter how fast or far I run- nobody cares because they can't see it and they don't hear about it. I get back from a run and the campers first question isn't how my run was, but rather what time supper is. Over the summers I've had some weeks where I literally cannot run my miles due to time constraints. I remember one specific week where I struggled to get in 20 miles in one week even though I was completely healthy. I was stressing out about it, but it was at those moments where I really had to put faith and trust in Him to provide for me whatever I needed if the track team at UND was a place I was called. So far every year he has in some way, and it helps me in my walk.

I recall the many days when life was made better simply because I ran. One would think that running is more tiresome than energizing, but I disagree. Not only does it give me a little boost for the day (no I don't use performance enhancing drugs- it's a figure of speech), but it allows me to so much more appreciate everything going on around me. I become more in tune with the weather, the scenery, my body in general, people around me, and everything else. I see when the boats come in; I see when the deer and rabbits are out; I get a feel for what all times of the day feel like.

It has dawned on me this summer how intimately connected running and working at a Bible Camp are to me. With one of them missing, I feel a hole inside of me. Camp has transformed me into who I am today- more loving, less angry, and more appreciative of all that I had been given, but it has also turned me into the runner I am today. I never would have predicted that I would be staying for another year of school to chase records and qualify for regionals, but God has the power to do that- don't ever forget that.

My last memory that encapsulates everything I've talked about has to do with my freshman year of college where I came into the cross country program fresh off of my first summer of camp. I would babble during the runs about camp and North Dakota and how awesome they are, and repeatedly I would be reminded to stop talking. 4 years later and I still can't. Praise God!

Have a Great Rest of the Summer!