ridecamp@endurance.net: Fw: 100 miles

Fw: 100 miles

Becky Huffman (hhcc1@htcomp.net)
Sat, 10 May 1997 02:17:18 -0500

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> We had planned to ride 75 miles and stop (as there were no 75's
available)
> There wasn't a stop in camp at 75 miles and he was doing so good, we just
> kept going.
>
> This was the first time in my life that I had really ridden as far and as
> long as I wanted to ride. I put so much into caring for him that I
allowed
> myself to get dehydrated and exhausted, not eating or drinking. He loped
> most of the last five miles faster than we had gone all day.
>
> I thought giving birth (without medication) was the hardest thing I had
> ever done, but I have to say it was a toss-up after that ride.
>
> Hope you enjoy the attachment. For the record, he was running and
bucking
> on the lungeline later that morning when the sun came up, it took me
about
> 2-3 weeks to recover!
>
> Becky & ShadowFax
> (named after the Great Horse of Gandalf the Gray)
> hhcc1@htcomp.net
>
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Content-Description: Miles.doc (Microsoft Word Document)
Content-Disposition: attachment; filename="Miles.doc"

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=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00FIRST STAR TO THE =
RIGHT AND STRAIGHT ON 'TILL MORNING

1:59am; The young gelding moved down the narrow, wooded trail, alert, =
with a long, free stride. Not at any great speed, just a strong, steady =
trot thru the darkness. Suddenly, he jumped sideways, with a twist, =
landing in a sliding stop, eyes and ears frozen forward. But they would =
be safe, the suspected woods troll was actually a familiar embankment =
across the trail that meant only half a mile back to camp. He gained =
speed, his long trot became a soft lope, then an easy gallop as he =
crossed the finish line.=20

Sliding down from the saddle, the exhausted rider clung to his neck, =
wanting to laugh or cry, but unable to summon the strength for either. =
A few small tears trickled down, the only sign of the enormous pride =
inside. They had done it, HE had done it, traveled one hundred miles of =
trail. It was immaterial that they had almost doubled the time of the =
front runners, they had finished. He completed his first 100, galloped =
across the finish line and reached criteria almost immediately. She =
completed her first 100 clinging to the saddle as her 'colt' followed =
trail and brought them back to camp.=20

***

Their day had started at 3:30am, the light drizzle threatening to =
freeze should the temperature drop a couple of degrees. Anticipation =
from the rider overcame the confusion and anger the untried colt felt as =
a result of the unusual circumstances. Years of preparation and =
training would be tested, although the conditions were unforgiving, it =
was time. The competition was not the other riders, it would be the =
trail, the miles and the clock. =20

Trail opened at 4:00am. Darkness closed around them as the pack =
followed the leader at a flying trot out of camp to make their way under =
the thick canopy of trees that covered the trail. Gradually, the group =
moved away as one horse slowed, to carry his rider alone through the =
morning, at a pace proven to be comfortable for both of them. The early =
miles and hours had a sense of "Middle Earth", the rider would not have =
been suprised to meet a hobbit or an elf in the woods. Predawn twilight =
crept up and suddenly the sun seemed to shoot over the horizon, adding a =
sense of reality to the exhilaration of the challenge. Trotting into =
camp, the dew glistening in the sun, they were unbeatable, invincible, =
unstoppable. God had graced this earth with horses, riders, wooded =
trails, sunshine and moonlight, and this pair was taking full advantage.

The day began to blur. In and out of camp, up and down the trail, over =
the river and through the woods, they trotted and chatted and made up =
silly songs. They survived one hard lesson in particular, regarding the =
proper number of flashlights that should be tucked in pockets and fanny =
packs. And followed good advice, gathered in advance. Alone in the =
dark, in the woods, the clock ticking, but he was hungry so they =
stopped. He snacked, then they again ambled ribbon to ribbon, in the =
moonlight, towards camp. Then out of camp and back into the now =
familiar darkness.

In the last couple of years, they had done several limited distance =
rides of 25 to 30 miles, but he had only one '50' to his credit. That =
evening, at 60 miles, he got angry. "We should be done by now," he =
thought, and bolted down the trail, "she wants to ride - lets get =
mov'n!!!" They argued, her arms and back aching from the reins. =
Temptation was there to let him set the pace, he felt that strong, but =
they were barely halfway. Singing "Miles to go before I sleep," she =
insisted on continuing to follow their pre-planned strategy. By 70 =
miles, he had settled down, they were in for the long haul and he just =
jogged down the trail like a little tank. Invincible and unstoppable =
still, but grim determination had replaced much of the exhilaration that =
had filled the 'navigator'.

12:29am; At 90 miles, she sat in the middle of the road crying, =
claiming extreme illness, and trying to avoid the certain death of a =
particular horse due to founder or colic or anything. Ten miles just =
seemed so long as to be impossible. The trail stretched forever, like =
licorice taffy, almost unending. Camp sat somewhere beyond the =
limitations of imagination and physical capabilities. After a large =
measure of TLC, from an incredibly patient and understanding crew, they =
were again traveling down the road. =09

The entire universe shrank to center on the pair in the moonlight. =
Time stopped and the world faded into nothingness. They were running in =
a small ever-changing, pocket of existence. The rhythm of his hoofs was =
the heartbeat of that universe. Ribbons and trail appeared before them, =
and lost substance as they moved past. There was no thought, no pain, =
no emotion, only a nightmarish, instinctive drive to chase past each =
ribbon as it appeared. But perhaps that was only the perception of the =
rider, clinging to the saddle. The young gelding moved down the =
narrow, wooded trail, alert, with a long, free stride... =20

***

=20

=20

THE DAY had promised to be cold and wet, perfectly miserable, but at =
3:30am it was hard to tell what the next few hours would really bring. =
Chances are, it would be a lovely day for a ride. Every detail had been =
checked off the list. I had crawled out of my warm bag in my new =
trailer that was hitched to my new truck, slipped into my Miller's =
Nordic Warmtoes Riding Sneakers, saddled Shadow with his hi-tec Gel-Pad, =
attached his heart rate monitor and by 4am we were ready to ride.

4:00am; Conventional Wisdom was to stay with the other riders through =
the first part of the trail, the "TUNNEL OF DOOM," at least until the =
sun came peeking over the horizon, but it was not to be. We had trained =
to maintain a slow-but-steady trot and were determined to finish at =
least 75 miles. We rode with the group through several patches of =
woods, but the pace was faster then I was prepared to ride my 'baby' on =
his first hundred. At our slower pace we followed the wide, dirt road a =
short distance until we came to an ominous sign... "Tunnel of Doom II".=20
And so we traveled alone in the dark through the "Tunnel of Doom II," =
which really, was not so bad.

We trotted the day away, up and down the trail, in and out of camp, =
into the river and thru the woods, singing and chatting with each other =
when there were no other riders around. =20

7:05pm; Walking from ribbon to ribbon in the deep woods before the =
moon came up, (Lesson number "twenty-six" in the hundred-mile handbook: =
never leave camp without at least two good flashlights.) Shadow decided =
that it was time for a snack so we slowed down a little more, to a =
complete stop every few steps. When his 'tummy' got full, he moved into =
gear and took us back to camp. He had no trouble seeing in the dark and =
either was following ribbons or remembering the trail, because he seemed =
to know right where he was and exactly where he was going.

12:29am; At 90 miles, I was convinced that he was dying. Bo Parrish, =
Gerry Falgade and Shadow waited patiently while I sat in the middle of =
the road crying that I was sick and my horse was dying. Ten miles just =
seemed so long as to be impossible. After a little TLC, they helped me =
back in the saddle and sent us down the road.

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=00=00=00=00=00FIRST STAR TO THE RIGHT AND STRAIGHT ON 'TILL MORNING

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BECCA HUFFMAN=0BDon Huffman=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00=00
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