The phrase 'deer camp' means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. For my family, it means every year during the first weekend of deer gun season in early November we assemble at the farm for a weekend of hunting, eating, and shooting the bull. With each passing year I realize that the hunting part takes a back seat to everything else. Each one of us is escaping his 'reality' in order to go off the grid for a weekend of bliss.
This weekend was my poorest in a long time in terms of training. I got a workout in on Friday morning before we left, but I barely managed 20 minutes of running on Saturday before sundown, and 8 1/2 miles on my normal long run day, where I'll usually run almost twice as many miles as that. Yet, I couldn't be happier. After a long day of hunting outside sun-up to sun-down, I have zero motivation to change into running clothes, go out into the dark, and run a sketchy prairie road to the section line to the county highway. Remember, this isn't a city where the streets are nicely lit for you. When the moon is not full and shining, you can't really see the ground beneath your feet. Combine that with bumpy, muddy, pot-hole ridden roads, and I think I'd rather stay inside and eat far too much of our perfectly crafted high-protein cuisine of venison, eggs, potatoes, and onions (and that's exactly what I did).
I talked with a teammate recently about a certain high-pitched buzzing that I get in my ears when everything is silent. When I'm outside in a place devoid of human noises and there isn't too much wind, all I can hear is the buzzing in my ears. I feel genuinely sad for him for not experiencing that before, because it is a magical sound that I search for. People in a conversation about why in h-ee-double-hockey-sticks I run as much as I do, the question occasionally pops up jokingly, "Well what are you running from?" [this is followed by some kind of expectant expression, as if I should have expected this question or something] I realized this summer that I AM running from something- noise. Cars, trains, people, buildings, airplanes, sirens, ...the list is endless. Living in Grand Forks sometimes hurts because I walk out the door in the morning and I'm immediately slammed with noise, ruining what might otherwise be a peaceful sunrise. Sometimes I almost feel enclosed.
And that's the wonderful thing about deer camp. No matter what's going on inside, I walk out the door and I see the stars, I hear the wind, and that's it. The world is at peace and I can breathe fresh, crisp fall air. I really have come to believe that everybody runs from something, but people who spend time in the country feel the same way, especially at our deer camp. Work, stress, obligations- all are deserted for a weekend of what some might call 'a dream'. Whether it's seeing the sunrise while sitting in a shelterbelt watching deer come running by; whether it's walking not-so-stealthily through a forest of cockleburs; whether it's watching shooting stars zoom across the light pollution-free night sky; whether it's sleeping in a place where no one will disturb you; whether it's watching deer swim across the river, fleeing the pushers, and keeping your gun on 'safety' the whole time; whether it's sitting around and talking about whatever is on your mind without worries of judgement; and whether it's running down a valley just to sit by a creek and listen to nothing while sweat steams off of your body with the sun setting- this is as close as life will get to 'reality'. I guess now it's back to the 'dream world' that involves writing papers, filling out schedules, meeting obligations, trying to get enough sleep, eating a lot less food, and writing more papers. Until then, I reminisce about the kind of quiet that I flee from. What do you run away from?
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