read between the runs

as i sit here having just consumed my 24th hotdog in 72 hours, i feel it is fitting to reflect on a history of hotdogs while camping. and while i may not be anywhere near the echelons of joey chestnut or takeru kobayashi, i do feel as though i have unique insight into the topic. 

what comes to mind when you think of hotdogs? i’ll list a few:

• baseball
• bonfires
• fourth of july
• ketchup and mustard
• grilling
• my sister chewing on a half eaten one when i was in third grade

okay one of those may be quite specific to my life, but i assume the rest resonate with the majority of consumers. hotdogs are a universal experience, the great connector of humanity. and to me, the time that hotdogs are the most appropriate are when you’re gathered around a bonfire with your bestest buds with nothing but light, darkness, and questionable meats to bring you all together. 

i’ve spent the past four days out in the woods of huntsville enjoying solitude, trails, books, and of course, our reason for being here, hotdogs. one of the first things i knew i would do when i scheduled the trip was eat six hotdogs a night for my dinners. apart from that, running, and reading, i was flexible to anything else that happened out here. for some reason, it just doesn’t feel like camping if there aren’t hotdogs involved. and the scary thing is that each time i go camping, i seem to eat more hotdogs than the previous trip. i need help.

to be transparent, i’m not fully aware of where this notion that hotdogs were a quintessential component of camping came from. it’s not like i’m heavily relying on childhood memories of roasting weenies out on the road with my family or with the cub scouts. i never did any of that. and the first time i went camping i didn’t even have hotdogs, so it’s not from there either. i would guess that i’ve been conditioned by society to imagine that a camping trip involves hotdogs, and if that’s the case, consider the the proverbial pavolv’s dog because i ate that up. i feel empty on a night by the fire or in the tent if my tummy is empty of those sweet glizzys. 

apart from our two recent hotdog parties, i don’t really get any dog action, so that makes these pastoral trips even more special. we’ve gone to a few restaurants who specialize in hotdogs, and while that’s always fun, the trips are infrequent. the hustle and bustle of everyday life just doesn’t scream hotdogs like other times do for some reason. but that’s probably a good thing considering the vigor in which i eat hotdogs when i have them.

without any crowdsourcing of details, informal interviews, online research, or deep thought given to the topic, i have compiled my thoughts on why hotdogs just feel right when you’re camping.

the obvious rationale is their shape combined with the manner of their cooking. it’s easy to toss three packs of glizzys in the cooler because they’re perfectly compact. and there simply aren’t many things that you can skewer on a stick, prod into a fire, char, and then eat with the hope that it will still be delicious. hotdogs are one of the exclusive few. when you poke that thing, you don’t have to worry about it crumbling off or the heft of it being too much. it’s almost as if they were designed for primal consumption.

next is how customizable hotdogs are; and i’m not just talking about toppings wise. when you throw that hotdog into the fire, each person has the agency to determine just how long and low they want their dog cooked. some like theirs burnt, others simply warmed is desirable. with this boon, not each person’s meal needs to be cooked exactly the same, allowing for customization of the eater’s experience to match personal preference. this only adds to the broader appeal.

and then of course there are the wealth of toppings that shine atop a hotdog. there are the classics: mustard, ketchup, relish. but one need not stop there. any manner of condiment (think mayo, sriracha, or ranch) and be called upon to elevate the hotdog. then there’s the solids! onions, chili, cheese, bacon, jalapeños. truly whatever you want on your dog, you can bring into the wilderness. so again, hotdogs gain favor in how individualized they can become. two people may both enjoy hotdogs in vastly different ways, and both can be accommodated on a trip in the woods. this is a far cry from many of the pre-arranged meals that others may bring camping. and what’s great is that none of the aforementioned toppings demand much space for packing. they’re all easily packed according to whatever weenie whims one has.

last, hotdogs are just universally liked and revered (though not necessarily for their contents). name me a person who doesn’t like a hotdog and i’ll name you a liar. when camping, an activity where many people are predisposed to discomfort, it can go a long way to reintroduce a creature comfort back into life. knowing that you’re on a long hike, or surrounded by mosquitos, or hotter than balls, but that you have hotdogs to lean on at the end of the day can help one stick through the days trauma.

i’m not sure how much sense any of this makes. it feels like a bunch of cobbled together thoughts without a distinct direction, but i really just wanted to chat to myself about hotdogs and maybe learn about myself on the way. i think i did that.

never underestimate the dog.

do great; be happy