The ride itself was much like the decade we’ve competed together.
Moments of ups, downs, pride, embarrassment, laughter, impatience, disheartenment and renewal.
My friend Joanie, a complete non-horsey type, decided going to Canada with me sounded like “an adventure” so I set off in the early morning hours on Saturday to go pick her up and head for the border.
I had several moments of cursing and frustration when trying to fuel up in town and finding that the nozzle would not reach the auxiliary diesel tank on the back of the flatbed and having to back the trailer out of the truck fueling area to the “auto” diesel island, some distance and at a sharp angle from the original. I haven’t hauled the rig for several months so this was not the ideal way to get re-acquainted with my backing up skills.
Ned, never patient in the trailer, helped me out by screaming his fool head off (really, at 16 years of age and after HOW many miles in that trailer?!) and kicking and pawing such that it sounded like he might come through the wall at any moment. I do believe that at some point I yelled “Knock it the F(*$ off!” in my most horse whispering bellow.
I did get fueled eventually, and out of the fuel station without hitting anything, and picked up Joanie and her German Shepherd, Sundance, who gratefully was a mellow traveler and lovely camper. Joanie was absolutely stunned by the size of the rig and the fact that *I* drive the thing.
The border crossing was smooth except for the apparent necessity, by both nations involved, of installation of additional concrete barriers here and there, and the choice to repaint lines and fill potholes in the most ridiculous locations on a holiday weekend, necessitating a lot of really careful driving, and in one case, the need to back up the rig and “re-try” to get around a concrete barrier after paying a toll.
The weather at camp was all over the place — breezy, then raining, then the sun peeking out, then cool, so we enjoyed the afternoon under the awning and having a visit from Janet, who was just down the road (an hour and a half!) coaching Amelia through her second level debut. Terrific to catch up.
I told a couple of Canadian chums, including our favorite ride vet, Stan, about the Decade Team thing, and Stan winked and said we’d “get through” in a conspiratorial sort of way.
The forecast called for hot and humid and dry, not ideal when the footing on these trails has been deteriorating over the years. In the past, they’d been what I would call perfect footing, hard-packed sand with a firm base, but now they’d become churned and eroded and really deep in many, many spots.
Ned was absolutely full of himself, screaming regularly from his paddock. He has always considered himself the Equine Welcome Committee and I had to reassure Joan that he really would shut up during the overnight hours.
And yes, he vetted in with his penis dangling. Of course. <rolling eyes> Sigh.
As we were tacking up the morning of the ride, Stan popped by to warn me that the heat index was in the dangerous range. It wasn’t hot (56 degrees), but very humid, and the sort of weather that might tempt someone to over-ride the first loop without realizing how warm their horse had become, and how little their sweat was evaporating.
There were two loops for the ride, each ridden twice, each roughly 12.5 miles long.
Ned warmed up far more gentlemanly than I had anticipated, and we got to ride with a number of our Canadian friends on the first loop, but never with any for more than a few miles. Ned kept up a very manageable pace, rather rateable, and actually working in a nice frame with only a couple of yeehaw leaps to remind me that he was indeed all that and a bag of chips.
First loop done in 1 hour 23 minutes. That was about right. CRI was 15/13 and he was all As.
After vetting I simply put him in his paddock where he ate and then gleefully rolled in the sand he’d churned up overnight. Filthy but happy. I only sponged off the necessary areas before retacking so I’m sure we were quite a lovely sight heading out on the second loop. (He did that at every hold, and went out of every vet check largely ick-colored.)
At the start of the second loop, we got caught up in a pack of five or six horses, heading along at a healthy clip, and I stayed to the back of the group. While I tried to convince Ned to stay about seven or eight horse lengths back, we had to negotiate, and mostly ended up about four lengths behind. To say that we both ate a lot of dust would be an understatement. It was gross. (This further convinced me that Tevis will never be on my Bucket List, as the dust there is legendary. Ack.)
I finally pulled Ned out of the vortex of this group at a water stop, and we came in at a much more sedate pace. About 1.5 hours on this loop.
I blew it on this pulse in. Pulse parameter was 64, and I cooled Ned down to 60, which happened rather quickly, then headed to the vetting area. There we had to wait behind that pack of horses who came in just ahead of us, standing in the sun, for 5 or 6 minutes, until one of the vets was available. His pulse was 65. <rolling eyes> Big horses like Ned tend to hold core body heat, and as they stand around, it comes to the surface, their heart rate goes up, and kaplooey.
I cursed myself, headed back to the trailer for more sponging, and when we re-presented, he was 52. (Now THERE was ten minutes of our ride that we wouldn’t get back!)
Duh. Operator error all the way. Joan offered to trot Ned for the vet and did a valiant job. Yes, Ned dangled his penis. All day. Every trot out. (No need to ask; he’s Ned. It is what it is.)
Still all As, and metabolically fine, though we had lost the middle of the pack gang we’d had for company on trail with my pulse down SNAFU.
As I told Joanie, the third loop is always the worst. Ned hates repeat trail, the sun was up and it was HOT, and now he had no one to chase. Sure enough, Ned trotted along in a demoralized way for most of this loop. I know Ned, and this was not physical, this was mental, and as Joan suggested, who knows whose demoralization was feeding whose?
Finished the loop up in 1:45, twenty minutes slower than the first time around when I was riding with the handbrake on the entire time.
This time Ned met the pulse but failed the CRI, 15/17, so I told Stan I’d bring him up to be rechecked before heading out for the final loop. I was feeling a little punky myself, took a little extra time to drink and eat and soak my head and to cool Ned, and his recheck CRI was 15/13, good enough to go on. Did I mention it was hot? And humid? Ick.
I promised Stan (hahahaha) that I would not try to catch the front runners on the last loop. (In truth, they were due in for their finish in the next twenty minutes or so.)
Last loop. I changed from my treed Solstice to the Bob Marshall treeless, as this is what Rachel rides in and what she’ll ride Ned in if we do the 100, so I want to get his back accustomed to it again. I hate the saddle, I equitate in it horribly, but I have to say, a bit of change was rather nice.
Ned jog-trotted the first couple of miles, and then we were caught by Wendy Macoubrey, who is an FEI Canadian rider, a long time friend, and just a sweet, fun person. She was riding her young horse and had a junior (Charlie) riding her veteran FEI horse, Meriah, and Meriah had had a weird day of getting warm and inverted (which means respiration rate exceeding heart rate) so they’d spent extra time in the hold. Like me, Wendy was not enjoying the heat, so we vowed to one another to take our time and take care of all of ourselves on the last loop.
We reminded one another to drink, took lots of walk breaks (especially in the deep sand and on the downhills), took turns leading (which allows the following horses a mental break), and spent a long, long time at the water tubs, cooling the horses and soaking our heads. Wendy cooled Charlie and me by soaking us repeatedly with water from her electrolyting syringe and we laughed our whole way into the finish. Ned’s fun meter was back in working order. Yippeee!
The trail was marked for the CTR with each of the last five mileage markers (“5 miles to go”, “4 miles to go … “) so at each marker we celebrated, whooped, patted the horses and reminded them it was the last loop, and everyone was re-invigorated. It was a lovely way to finish the ride.
We came in 17th, 18th and 19th and did lots of whooping to celebrate our Top Twenty finish (there is no such thing) and then Wendy bragged to the timers about Ned’s Decade Team accomplishment, which was very sweet.
Led Ned in the last 1/10th mile or so, took the time to really cool him down, and presented him for his completion where he was all As.
Stinky hugs all around.
Ned looked fantastic. I was really impressed since he was ready for neither the heat and humidity nor the deep sand. He was STARVING and settled in to eat and drink and then rest, occasionally screaming a joyous greeting to some horse or another coming in off the trail.
I, on the other hand, started to feel unwell. I’d really been careful about eating/drinking and getting my Gatorade in, but I had a similar episode after the MD ride, lightheaded and dizzy, and suspected low blood sugar. Snarfed a couple of Oreos (no doubt recommended for all endurance athletes) and felt a lot better. Had a shower, puttered around, headed down for the ride dinner, where we sat (in the sun) eating.
The whole damned feeling came over me again. Not heat exhaustion, as I’ve BTDT. I spent a few minutes sitting with my head between my knees, then Joanie and I snuck back to the trailer where I spent some time lying on the LQ couch, sipping (sweetened) ice tea and eating a couple more Oreos. My blood pressure tends to run low (despite my substantialness) so I suspect that I got dehydrated/low sugar enough for it to crash a bit.
Joan took great care of me and force fed me water until I was peeing every ten minutes it seemed and I bounced right back. Ate some more salty stuff, but missed Awards, not wanting to get faint again when I walked up for my completion award. (I would NEVER live that down; bad enough to have a horse with a fifth leg, don’t you think?)
The Canadians, who are SUCH partiers and so incredibly hospitable, came and found me and encouraged me to come drinking with them (oh dear, so NOT a good idea!) and then delivered a pomegranate martini to me, so I could enjoy that before retiring for the evening. I sipped it alternately between water gulps (thanks Joanie!) while watching Ned stand around in his ice boots.
Some day I am determined to party with the Canadians. Seems there is always a drive the next morning, or a ride to be done, but someday I will hang out and let loose and I have a feeling it will be note-worthy! (And then some.)
Packing up and driving home the next morning was blissfully uneventful, and I was home by noon, where Ned marched up the driveway and out into the paddock. The best thing is watching them settle in and no doubt tell the other horses how phenomenally they won the ride — Ace and Ned were nose to nose, chatting, and then Ace sniffed him all over. Could surely smell the rock star essence on him, right?
Rich has a home blood pressure monitor, so I’ve been checking mine since I got home. It’s running decidedly low, 97/77, 88/62, and this has been when I’m feeling just fine.
I’ve been doing a little digging on nutrition for endurance athletes and will experiment with some changes before the 100 in five weeks. I cannot bonk mid-ride and expect to get through the thing. I have a feeling I am going to have to super-hydrate and do more carbs, possibly fruit and fruit juices (going to try V-8 Splash) and even some crap carbs like Oreos, and do a little less of the protein I typically do (cheese, nuts). This light-headed thing is new to me, although I am the first to admit I’ve felt like crap from time to time during the last half of a 100. I emailed the 100 milers’ group and they suggested this sort of metabolic thing often happens during perimenopause, so I wonder if losing my girl bits has triggered some of it (although I do have my ovaries, sorry if TMI).
This is all rather irritating to me, as I never got fatigued on the ride, actually was able to focus on my equitation throughout, and am not even sore, unless I sit for too damned long, and then it’s just a little stiffness. So I am feeling rather fit, other than the near-fainting shit. LOL
Ned is feeling grand. His legs are tight and cold, he looks rather ripped, and his back is absolutely rock solid.
All we have to do now is some speed and hill work alternated with rest, and we will be primed and ready to go for the 100 in five weeks. And oh yeah, do some heat acclimation for both of us.
Ace is owed a long conditioning ride, so I am planning that for this weekend, and then he goes on the same program as Ned.
I wore a pair of past-their-prime riding tights this weekend, and Joan took some photos, revealing some bulges and horrifying lumps and general lardgeness so I am also going to work on dropping some tonnage before the 100. Ace doesn’t need to carry that. The sad tights (hell, they rode up my leg from UNDER my half chaps, can you say spandex long gone?) went in the trash. The photos are soon to follow, LOL. For the 100, I will be wearing a new pair of smooth-the-bump tights and maybe Spanx. Kidding.
All in all, a lovely weekend!
Thanks for reading. All photos, credit JT Charleson.
–Patti
P.S. For our Decade Team Interview — http://enduranceintrospection.com/wp/finally-our-decade-team-interview/
Thanks to Karen Chaton, for conceiving this wonderful tribute to longevity in our sport!