[RC] Endurance, Carolina Style: Part Twelve - Howard Bramhall
Life is an adventure, and, if you're not currently experiencing one, you
ain't doing endurance. At least not the way I do endurance. Up the
mountain we went, 40 or so riders ahead of us and 3 or 4 behind. The poor
woman who happened to be riding the horse in front of America did not know
what she was in for today. I noticed she wasn't carrying a crop or
anything that looked like it could be used as a weapon of mass destruction
against us, which made her as safe as any other unarmed combatant to
follow. On the first curve, America tried to pass her horse, on the
inside, as we went up and up and up.
I pulled him back, put his face very close towards the adjacent mountain
wall, and yelled out, "No, not today." He glanced back at me in a manner
that told me he wasn't happy with my decision, but, I did keep him from nudging
the woman's horse in front of us like I knew he wanted to do. Mountain
trails are not a safe area to play "butt tag," and not too many riders enjoy
this game.
I found that if I let the woman ahead gain some ground on us, America would
fly into a brisk canter to catch up to her horse, even on those steep
hills. If I stayed very close to her, he would follow the gait her horse
was in, which was usually a walk or a trot, depending on how things were going
up ahead. For the first 3 miles or so, there was a gaggle, one of the
reasons I don't enjoy riding in the rear; reminds me too much of a busy traffic
intersection where you get to experience many red lights. Stop, go, stop
and go again, but not too fast. In this situation your horse does a lot of
walking, which is great considering the climb we were doing, but the horses do
get too close together, and America wasn't the only one who enjoyed
snuggling. The mare behind us was breathing down our necks.
I pulled America off the trail, at a spot where it was kind of a lookout
area (couldn't see much because of the low flying clouds), dismounted, and
we had a chat. I pointed to the drop off side of the trail and told him,
"We don't want to go near there, OK?" His head followed the
direction of my hand and America's eyes looked off towards where I was
pointing. He then looked back at me and shook his head yes, as
if in agreement; I was glad his response was so positive. I found
myself hoping he was saying to me, "Drop off bad, very, very bad."
What he was really doing was throwing his head around, asking, "Hey, didn't
you see that horse go by us? We need to get going here." Yes, in the
heat of battle, I do talk to my horse. Last time I mentioned this to my
therapist, she pursued the matter rather vigorously. She was particularly
interested in my horse's response to my questions, for some reason. "So,
does the horse answer your questions verbally, or is this some sort of
telepathic thing between the two of you?" she would ask. I knew giving her
the wrong answer to that tricky question could get me committed.
I let every rider go by us, except for one. Tim, doing his first 50
(to choose Leatherwood as one's first 50 takes an amazing amount of grit),
a rider from NC I had met via the Internet and, in person, for the first time,
at Sand Hills. Tim seemed to want to be the very last rider (I'll have to
tell him about that special T-Shirt), so, he and his horse tailed us for
awhile. There was a touch of rain, a drizzle really, and my glasses were
constantly fogging up. I was lucky to see the ground. Blind, deaf
and dumb, atop a lunatic who wants to run, it's the only way to do endurance up
here in the mountains of Leatherwood! Endurance=life=adventure=today might
be a good day to die.
I made America hug the safe side of the trail, away from the edge.
This was my way of reinforcing the idea that "drop off bad, very,
very bad." My goal was for us both to survive this ride, no matter
how many, or how few, miles we completed today. The climb continued; my
horse was breathing heavily. After each climb (they seem to run in
sections here) I would stop and let El Whacko catch his breath. We were in
no hurry today and I kind of liked the idea of distancing ourselves from all
those riders ahead of us. Might take us 20 hours to complete this 50 at
the rate we're traveling. Don't laugh, I know a fellow Floridian who was
out here over 8 hours when she attempted the 25 last year. "So, Lisa,
I guess there's no point in going through the vet check since your time limit
ran out 3 hours ago," I said to her when she came in. She, obviously,
wasn't in the mood, at that particular moment, for my type of humor. Her
response to me cannot be repeated.
The trail leveled off for a little while, but, sooner than I wanted, the
climbing, and descending continued, with the climbs becoming more and more
challenging. The trail narrowed and the degree of the incline
increased dramatically. This was the wicked yellow trail, the worst of the
three, and, I'm glad we're getting it out of the way early.
I figured this might turn out to be a very long day for me and
America.
