NOTE: (What is up with this nut and his notes?) Here's the deal. If you read this, you agree not to ever, in your lifetime or mine (whichever comes first), call me a horse killer, potential, past, or present. If you cannot refrain from the one thing that angers me to the point where I want to actually do that to you, then delete this immediately and go bother someone else. You may call me a moron, an idiot, a total loser; I'm not trying to shut down your need to express yourself. It's just that those of you who use this term against me, since, number one it's the furthest thing from who I really am, number two, you've never met me or seen any of my horses, and number three, it makes you, in the words of DAFFY DUCK: " Completely DISPIICCCCCAAAAABBBBBBBLLLLLEEEEEE," I really don't think I'm asking too much here. If you read on, that's the deal. Otherwise, take off and go pound some sand. Part 4 (& Happy Thanksgiving, btw) These thoughts, and others, run through my head as I continued brushing the coat of my "other" best friend. I say other, because Dance Line is up there still, in a special place in my heart (yes, I do have one). I miss not riding him in endurance but he and this sport were just not meant to be. I don't normally try to give anyone advice since I know absolutely nothing about this fantastic sport called endurance, but, Dance Line did teach me one thing and I'll pass it on. This is, literally, from the horse's mouth: "Train with a heart monitor. Know what is going on inside your horse as you prepare for an endurance ride. No matter how quickly you get down and check him with your stethoscope you'll never really know what is happening inside your horse's heart, in the trot, canter, or gallop, until you ride with a heart monitor. This knowledge in invaluable." Somehow, I see endurance, especially how it's performed down here in the flat, low lying areas of the Southeast, as being the right sport for America. I'm seriously thinking of testing him out at this ride tomorrow. I know, with most horses, this would be too soon, too early, a complete and total violation of training an endurance horse for one or two years before you attempt such a thing. Heck, I've met riders who truly believe any rider who top tens, in either the 50 or 25, is not only going too fast with their horse, but should be banned from the sport entirely. They reluctantly make an appearance to the awards ceremony, after the ride, and I think the only reason is so they can get their T-Shirt. Yes, there are radicals amongst us. Save the Whales, protect all of the trees and only walk your horse, with an occasional trot, for 50 miles. If these folks had their way, endurance will one day be banned in America and Competitive Trail would be the only form of long distance competitive riding allowed. A few more dead horses occurring at endurance rides, because of being ridden into the ground by their riders, and their dream will become our reality. I am aware of all of this, and, yet, here I am, Howard the Hypocrite, actually considering traveling at a pace I've never gone before in the 50 miler. And, me, a six pack short of being a heavyweight rider, who should never ever think such a thing. America nudges me, and I feel him telling me, "Forget those foolish humans, they don't know me, they don't know you. We can do this. I never tire. Let's play the game the way it was meant to be played. You know you want to and it's what I was put on this earth to do. I was born to run." The ground at Hahira is flat and fast. Nice trails and a lot of dirt roads with no road traffic whatsoever. I believe the Linahans have some sort of agreement with their neighbors on ride day, because it's a rare occurrence when you have a vehicle on any of the dirt roads, used as part of the trail, to slow you down. With me and America, this is a good thing. My wife, Erica, won't be riding at Hahira. Her horse has a minor hoof problem in the right rear and she has decided to give the horse some time off. It might not only be the horse, it might really be my wife who needs some time off from riding with the likes of me. I get a little hyper at an endurance ride lately; it kind of takes over my persona for that week-end. I think I make my wife nervous. Erica plans on volunteering at this ride and that's exactly what she ends up doing. Jen, my daughter, and I have had some serious discussions on what we were going to do, without her mother as a sponsor, on ride day. Jen will be 14 years old in less than a month, she has almost 700 miles and I will allow her to ride, unsponsored, when the time comes. This will eliminate the problem of me having to find another sponsor for her at those rides when I get pulled, which happens more often than I'd care to admit. With all this in mind, I asked Jen not to follow me and America as closely as she normally does at the other rides. We both agree that if El Whacko takes off at the start, like I know he will, to ignore me and just run her own ride. Somewhere, down the trail, I will slow the horse down and even turn him around, if necessary, so she and I can eventually ride together. Sounds like a good plan, I don't think we're violating any of the Junior rules by doing this, but, it turned out to be totally unnecessary. Now it's ride day. There is only 48 or so riders at the start of the 50 miler. Much less than last year although the Limited Distance Ride does have almost a hundred in their start. Gee, that sounds like fun. Almost fifty in the fifty is plenty for me and America. I find myself glad I went out on the trails the day before ride day. I don't think America had ever experienced the change of coming out of the woods, from a narrow trail and, suddenly, entering a wide open farm field. Yesterday, he started bucking, in the gallop (is it even possible for a horse to do this?) the first time we had this experience. I do believe the horse just wanted me to stop trying to slow him down; he needed to run faster than the gusty wind, and if he had thrown me he would have done exactly that. Without me on his back, America could be cantering, or most likely galloping, through your neighborhood this very minute. Look, there he goes, faster than a locomotive; watch him run, see him fly. With his new found freedom who knows how far he would go or if he would ever stop running. We ended up covering at least 15 miles the day before ride day to get the pre-ride bugs out. This horse is loaded with bugs. The adrenalin is pumping, with me and my horse, as we warm up before the start on race day. It's a toss-up as to which of us is the most nervous. I check in with Nancy, she says HI to me (I do adore this woman), and she yells out in a voice that everyone recognizes immediately, "Two minutes to start." I wonder if she realizes what a stomach crunching, mind boggling rush I get from hearing her say that. Nancy is too cool! And, we're OFF! Jen is behind me, but once the run in on I don't have much of a chance to look back. We take off with the front runners, but still have more than ten riders ahead of us. It's a gallop. And, we hit deep water, very soon from the start. Not one horse slows down. Me and America get completely wet and I think we soaked a couple of riders as we pass them. This, without a doubt, is the most dangerous part of the ride. I'm pulling back so hard on the reins, if one of them breaks, someone will have to scrape what's left of me off of one of these trees.
Get more from the Web. FREE MSN Explorer download : http://explorer.msn.com
|
