Well, after 3 weeks on the road, out of Florida, doing nothing but riding
at Big South Fork and near Asheville, NC, I wish I could say it's been a real
pleasure to get back home and rejoin the lively discussions here on Ridecamp and
on AERC Member's Forum. But, alas, after reading about the Pan Am ride,
the discussions on eliminating competition in endurance, Stagg's article in EN
that states we really don't know what causes some of these metabolic problems
during a ride (slow riders seem to get this problem as often as top tenners),
and one personal attack after another flying in the direction of Texas, I think
I might have come home too soon. Our world, it seems, is about to
change.
The truth is, if we take away the awards, take away the competition, we
might as well call ourselves the American Competitive (na, that word has to go)
Trail Conference. Make that the American Non-Competitive Trail
Conference. Actually, we might as well disband altogether, because, I do
think the whole thing will fall apart if we get that carried away with
ourselves. Members will stop renewing their membership and the numbers
will dwindle to nothing. Humans need to compete. Horses may not need
to, but, they sure seem to enjoy doing so and it's one of the many things that
bond us together with our horses. Take that away and our sport will
die.
I had a bad experience at Big South Fork a couple of weeks ago during an
endurance ride. I was riding my daughter's horse, Wind Star War Cry.
Check out Endurance News and this horse, with my daughter riding, is 2nd or 3rd
in points in the Southeast, riding as an adult even though she's only 14.
You'd think this horse would do OK with me on him, GOING VERY SLOW, on the
trails that were challenging, but nowhere near the difficulty one would find at
Leatherwood. In fact, some of the trails were quite level and fast, even
though we didn't travel that speed.
The horse seemed perfectly fine, we trotted, walked, trotted. Some of
the LDers caught up to us and passed us by. War Cry and I were in no hurry
to get to that first vet check 20 miles away from where we started. I even
got off him a few times to let him eat some nice looking grass growing along the
trail. What a fine, fine, day, a magnificent day to be alive! To
ride without a competitive beat in our hearts, to chat with folks, to enjoy life
as much as is humanly possible.
We were about 4 miles from the away vet check, I was off of him, letting
him eat, talking with a few riders who went by, most of them asking if
everything's OK. "Everything's fine," I would reply, "absolutely,
positively fine." And, it was. Or, so I thought.
I was talking to one lady, about how great the trails were and what a
lovely time me and my horse were having, when War Cry just went down. He
went down so silently, so nonchalantly, I didn't even notice it until the woman
I was speaking to pointed it out to me. I freaked out totally.
My terrific day had just come to an end. No warning, no idea what the
problem was here, but, I knew there was definitely a problem. So, I got
him up and we proceeded to walk back to the vet check area. Must have been
3 miles, took me forever traveling on foot, I even considered dumping the saddle
along the trail or carrying it myself. The horse looked fine, not
sweating, not warm to the touch, heart rate was low, you would never know
anything was wrong at all except for the fact he went down. And, his
appetite was there, he still stopped and ate grass, which I let him do along the
way.
Well, to make a long story short (yea, that will be the day you do that,
Howard), we finally get to the vet area, Duane Barnett is there as a crew person
but he listens to War Cry's gut sounds for me and tells me he doesn't hear much
of anything going on in there. The last time Duane said this to me at an
endurance ride was about 4 years ago with Dance Line, and, the memories
from that experience just about cause me to lose consciousness right there on
the spot.
Man, not again! I cannot go through this crap again. I'm not
emotionally equipped to be able to handle this sort of thing. It's my
biggest nightmare, right up there with the one where I'm in prison and the
warden is that woman from North Georgia.
I won't drag this out, we get to the vet check area, War Cry is eating like
there's no tomorrow, the vet gives him a shot of banamine at my request, and, 10
minutes later, gut sounds are there, the horse is fine. But, I am
not. And, I may never really be again.
This sport is tough. And, to try and make it sound like running fast
is what is causing horses to get into trouble is just an easy answer for some
who must have answers to unanswerable questions. The truth is, that is not
the answer. This can happen to anyone's horse at a ride, at anytime,
under any circumstances. The whole experience is driving me nuts, and,
believe me, I was almost already there before this happened.
The only answer is, I got lucky, if you can call it that. War Cry
gave me a clue. He told me, directly, about as directly as a horse can
tell a human, that something was wrong. And, this colic episode was about
as mild as one can get, but, when the vet tells you no gut sounds, on top of the
horse going down, you will freak out and wonder why on earth you attempt this
sport at all. And, please, don't some of you try and tell me this had
nothing to do with the sport. Yea, I'm sure it was all just a coincidence
that this happened out while riding in an endurance ride after doing 17 miles
with a lot of other horses traveling by.
I'm not trying to scare anyone off from this sport. Not at all.
I've analyzed this thing quite a lot and have not come up with one concrete
thing that might have caused it. But, I will say, my love for this sport
is beginning to dwindle. I am concerned that so many of ya'll are not
aware that it can happen to you. And, your horse might not be as talkative
to you as mine was to me if it does. You might not catch it until it is
too late. Take it for what it's worth. For me, I'm seriously
considering taking a very long time off away from the sport I love, but, does
not seem to love me back in return. The horse must always come first,
above, even the sport of endurance!
