These Three
On Friday, driving between meetings, I listened to Science Friday on NPR. The interviewee was quadriplegic and the recipient of new technology that permits human thought to direct a robotic arm. This individual had been damaged by a stroke rather than an accident, but the horror of her situation struck me in a manner that such stories usually don’t.
I can’t say exactly why. It’s not as though I don’t know the risk I take every time I ride. All horsemen do. Endurance riders, especially, consider the danger of our regular pursuit in which we set out at speed, for many miles, over unfamiliar territory — often alone.
I pondered this yesterday, astride Acey as she cantered along a dirt path 10 miles from anywhere another human was likely to be that day, or perhaps for many days. If I fell and was badly injured, I’d face a hell of a challenge getting to help. That’s assuming I was able to help myself at all. But I went anyway. Again. I do it all the time.
To get where we want to go — today, and in the larger scheme — we must have faith. Faith in our riding, fallible though it is, to keep us astride a stumble or spook. Faith in our training to stop or turn or rush our horses as needed to avoid unexpected hazards. Faith in our and our horses’ good sense, good instinct, good decisions. Faith in the people we told we’d be back by 4:00. We must have faith.
We must have hope. Hope that today will not be the day of the freak accident, because they do happen. Hope that if it doesn happen, it won’t be too bad. Hope that our horses’ minds and ours align today, so we can hear each other. We must have hope.
We must have love. This is the Do it Anyway. Do it when we are tired. Do it when we are afraid. Do it because we know there’s a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, which we may or may not ever reach. Do it because we aren’t content until it’s done. Do it because the land is rough and the wind is wild and the sky is endless clouds and blue and the mane is soft and tangled ’round our reins and the hoofbeats and the heartbeats swell and we wouldn’t take away the danger if we could, because this is what we love. This is what we do. We must have love.
I believe it was the Corinthians who first read the words: And now these three remain ~ Faith, Hope, and Love. And the greatest of these is Love.
Recoveries
Consolation has been on anti-inflammatories for 2 days now, and she is a much happier horse. Her whole aspect is brighter. She’s relaxed and no longer suspicious about being handled. Her skin is still strange (a bit crinkly under the haircoat, with those strange black flakes) in the affected areas, but the heat, swelling, and tenderness have vanished. Because the saddle area is all clear, I’m going to go ahead and try riding her this afternoon. Stay tuned.
Acey is moving right along toward her first endurance ride. On Sunday, we did 11 miles at a decent race pace of aboaut 7 mph (for beginning distance accumulation, obviously, not winning) in the sandy hills near Adrian. I like this route because it includes 3 sustained climbs for strength and an interval effect when taken at a steady pace, plus long stretches of gently rolling hills that can be trotted with only a couple breaks to walk down steep grades.
Monday afternoon, her legs were firm and cool and her eyes bright, so we saddled up for a speed ride. The maintainance road for the irrigation canal a mile from In the Night Farm makes a perfect track: packed-sand footing, no traffic, nearly flat for a good 6 miles, and a few duck fly-ups to keep things interesting. I like to use this route for the occasional evening trail ride, but it’s even better for sustained, fast trots and extended canters.
Garmin was busy charging, so I didn’t get to record our actual speed and distance. I’d guess we travelled about 7 miles at an average of 10-12 mph — not bad for a 13.1 pony. That that was our cruising speed, though. The workout was periodically interrupted by Acey’s need to ogle the cows and calves populating the BLM land on the opposite side of the canal. By the end of the ride, she was pretty much over it, so hopefully that won’t be as much of an issue next time.
Acey consistently surprises me with her recoveries. I’m going on perception here, but she never seems to get really winded, and she has plenty of spring left to offer just minutes after finishing a hour of effort. I should hook up the heart rate monitor so I can watch what’s really going on.
Power Pony
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
This is the creature I plan to ride today. (Wish me luck.)
Okay, so Acey doesn’t behave like that on the trail. She does, however, bring an enormous amount of enthusiasm to her work. She has the let’s-go-see-the-world! attitude that I’ve missed ever since Aaruba retired. Her walk is a march, her trot is speedy and smooth, and her canter…oh, she has the most adorable canter. Remember those little quarter-fed, mechanical horses outside grocery stores? It’s like that, only 1,000 times cuter.
I took her out yesterday for a brief hack. She’d already put in her 30 conditioning miles for the week and didn’t really need more (ha!), but there was a break in the weather and I wanted to test a hoofboot change. We’d just walk a few miles. Right?
Riiiiight. Instead, Acey strapped on her jet packs and took me for a flying trot across the countryside. Maybe I should have taken her to do the LD today at Tough Sucker, after all.
Actually, I gave that idea some serious thought yesterday morning. It would have been a last-minute thing, but how hard is it to pack for an LD with the hold in camp? As it turned out, I couldn’t get a farmsitter. Which is okay, because it’s hard to stomach forking over $150 or so in ride fees and diesel to do what is basically a conditioning ride.
Which remindes me, y’all did see the blowup over on Ridecamp about Endurance vs LD and the need for new AERC members and the possiblity of shorter, introductory distances to draw more people to the sport? Wow. All I can say is that I totally agree with those who say that LD (let alone trail rides) isn’t endurance. Of course it isn’t. The thing is, I think most LD riders know that. For various reasons ranging from physical limitations to personal interests to training requirements, some people want to do LDs. Some want to take advantage of the opportunity on rare occasions, others want to have fun on the trail without the worries and strains of endurance-length rides. And their fees inarguably subsidize the longer distances. What’s not to like? (Well, there’s the LD racing thing. But that’s a post for another day.) And I don’t know about you, but I still remember when 25 miles seemed amazingly, impossibly far to ride. Sure, it doesn’t seem like much now, but it did then.
Anyway, the way Acey behaved yesterday, I rather wish we were saddling up for that 25 today! We’ll probably do 14 or so miles right from the farm instead, then go climb some hills tomorrow. No point in rushing. (You hear that, Acey?)
Blackjack: An Adventure in the Cards
It was a ride full of questions. Most of them sounded pretty much the same: This way, or that way? The good news: We had all day to find out. The bad news: There wasn’t any water.
I booted all four of Consolation’s hooves. Packed some complete feed pellets and trail mix. Tossed an extra water bottle in the truck. We were on our way to Adrian, to climb the big hill and trot across the flat, then turn left instead of right in search of the long trail around Blackjack.
(I didn’t have my camera along, so these photos are from May 2011 rides in the same general area.)
It’s a loop I rode once before, about a year ago, in the opposite direction. I remembered rocks, lots of climbing, and a distance of about 25 miles. The day was sunny, pleasantly warm, but complete with a nice breeze to help keep Consolation cool in her partially-shed winter coat. Tufts of green grass sprouted beneath the tall, dry wisps of last year’s growth. The trail stretched endlessly ahead.
I expected the first 6.5 miles to be slow. The trail in this section undulates over a series of very steep hills — too steep to trot up safely, for fear of stressing a tendon or ligament. I rode up each hill at a walk, then dismounted to lead Consolation down, up and down, over and under… It took forever, but what a workout for the pony!
Finally, we completed the “weightlifting for horses” section and broke out onto a long, gradual uphill slope with decent footing. Consolation seemed quite relieved to be trotting again, and carried me eagerly up and away across the range. Before long, we arrived at a landmark I remembered: a barbed wire gate stretched beside a yellow cattle guard. So far, so good.
A half-mile later, the questions began. We arrived at an intersection of the sort of dirt roads that wind across Oregon’s BLM range, travelled — some much more than others – by an assortment of ranchers, hunters, ATV enthusiasts, and yahoos I’d like to beat soundly with their abandoned beer bottles. The road we were on curved south. The other led north-northwest, roughly the direction we’d eventually need to go in order to circle back toward our rig.
Hmm, I thought. This way, or that way? According to Garmin, we’d only gone 9.something miles. It seemed too soon to start looping back…so we took the southbound track. It meandered uphill and down, through another gate…
Uh-oh. I only remembered one gate from that other time. But then again, I was never sure that I’d actually ridden the whole Blackjack loop before. Consolation felt strong and the day was young, so we proceeded through the gate and into the wild yonder.
We paused occasionally to crop grass — “GU” for horses and the only moisture to be found – and watch herds of mule deer and pronghorn bound away from our approach. Cattle dotted the hills. We trotted and walked and trotted some more. I kept one eye on Garmin’s map feature and the other on landmarks, trying to evaluate our position and hoping for another intersection, at which time it would surely be right to loop north.
The only intersection we found was a battered track that led to the crest of a hill and faded into nothing. From the top, we inspected the vista for signs of a return route. Nothing presented itself, but the land is so crumpled and broken that one wouldn’t necessarily see a path even if it was there.
Back at the bottom of the hill, I wondered again: This way, or that way? Backtrack, or carry on? Oh, what’s life without a bit of adventure? We carried on. And on and on and on. Clear out to the massive, cross-country powerlines that we’d seen from a distance and that I knew were not the same ones that run roughly parallel to the Owyhee River and that, if followed, will guide a lost rider back to Adrian.
Not that we were lost. I had a pretty good idea where we were. The problem was, I had no idea whatsoever whether I would be able to find a passable route to get where I wanted to go. I decided that if we arrived at the big powerlines and didn’t find an intersection, we’d turn around.
Lo and behold, there WAS an intersection under the powerlines! Granted, our new path was a mere pair of tire ruts winding over rocky ground toward the Owyhee canyon, but it led us northwest, than north, than north-northeast. The right direction! The breeze kicked up a notch into full “wind” mode. Consolation sensed the turn toward home and picked up her pace to match. Garmin pegged us at 15 miles.
Trot, trot, trot. Slow to pick through rocky sections. Pause to stare at more deer. Things were looking just about how I wanted them to when our road vanished. It simply petered out into a barren tumble of rocks and sagebrush.
I looked this way, and that. I looked at the rough country ahead and the long road behind. I looked at Garmin and I looked at my horse. We could backtrack and log several more tough miles just to get back to the spot were we were 15 miles from the trailer, or we could pick our way cross-country and meet up with our previous track that lay a couple miles east. This way, or that?
Cross-country it was! Consolation protested my demand that she walk carefully down into a ravine, then up the other side where small, black boulders sprouted like mushrooms. We crested that climb to be greeted with bad news: the next ravine was more of a canyon, with steep rock sides and no guarantee of safe passage.
Back down the rocky hill we trekked, to the bottom where an east-west cow trail meandered. If the cows could do it, we could too. We wound through the windswept ravine. Rounding one turn, we shared a mutual spook with a cow and her brand-new calf. Still wet and flopping around it its first effort to stand, the black baby and its mama needed some space. Consolation and I gave them a wide berth and circled back to the cow trail, which led eventually to our prior path.
Whew. Now there was no question. It was time to backtrack. And so we did, up and down, back through the second gate to that initial intersection. Here, we had another choice: Turn northwest and loop around Blackjack as planned — hoping not to take any more wrong turns — or follow the known path home, over all those slow and brutal hills.
We turned. Why not? We’d been out only 3.5 hours, it was a bright afternoon, and both Consolation and I were still having fun. Besides, who in their right mind would want to backtrack across those nasty hills?
Not that I expected the remainder of the Blackjack loop to be easy. It was, as I expected, long and rocky and home to plenty of long climbs and descents. I dismounted and ran beside Consolation down the long hills, a practice she seems to enjoy and for which I want to personally be in shape when the ride season arrives.
Eventually, we met up with the familiar powerlines and followed them most of the way back, though we retained a sufficient sense of adventure to explore a few more cow trails that crossed the familiar area we normally ride. Might as well! A fresh bit of scenery never hurts, and this is the time to do it, before the weather gets hot and the rattlesnakes come out.
Garmin called it a wrap at 26.24 miles in 5:32. Figuring in the 10% error for hilly terrain, I reckon we actually logged close on 30 miles. A week of work, done in one fell swoop — and good thing, because our first week of daylight savings time is supposed to be washed with wind and rain.
This morning, Consolation is bright-eyed and frisky. Her legs are tight and cool, her appetite strong, and her water tub much emptier than usual. I gave her a bit of alfalfa for breakfast, in addition to her usual mound of grass hay. She earned it.
Comin’ on Strong
Well. Consolation seems to have her aerobic capacity back.
I took her out on the road yesterday, figuring on spending a couple hours covering 12 miles. Her Majesty had other ideas. She offered speed, and I took her up on it. We cantered up all the hills (for what they were worth — total elevation gain was only about 650 feet), trotted down them (I’ve taken to doing a lot of running alongside her for this), and hand-galloped some level stretches. We lost one hoofboot to a torn gaiter (oops) and backtracked to recover it (hooray!)
(Dirty, but pretty anyway.)
She switched her tail as sweat trickled down her legs, pointed her nose into the wind and asked to go faster. (No thanks, Lady, this is fast enough.) I pulled her up now and then, made her walk or jog a few hundred feet, and 14 miles later she was still full of blood and air. I handwalked her the last quarter mile, watching her P&R drop like a stone down a well.
Equine fitness is truely fascinating, is it not?
Today, we’ll go much slower. We’re going to meet up with Karen Bumgarner just across the Oregon border and try to find our way from Adrian to the Owyhee River. I think the whole trip will be 25 miles or so. Eat your breakfast, Lady!
Lioness
March, already! She arrived shaking a mane of snow that blew in the dark and oblitered the freeway lines as I drove to the city. It seems like all I do is work, lately, but the legislative session is (fingers crossed!) more than half over. On weekends, I can peek beyond the confines of Outlook and power suits to glimpse endurance rides on the horizon.
I’m hoping for an early start this season. Our area’s first ride is the Owyhee Tough Sucker Part I, to be held on the first full weekend in April. I think there’s a good chance of Consolation being ready. We finished several back-to-back 50′s last year, the most recent at the end of October, and the weather cooperated such that I kept on riding right up until mid-December.
At that point, I decided to give Consolation some time off while her new Stonewall was built. We experienced a couple delays in getting just the right tree for her, so the saddle isn’t here quite yet, but in February we started putting in a few miles on the weekends. She felt bright and strong, despite some “huffy-puffies” due to dimished aerobic capacity, which is the aspect of fitness that comes and goes most easily. That capacity is rapidly improving despite irregular work, thanks to my schedule and some furious windstorms that drove mountains of tumbleweeds against the fences and sent great sheets of metal from the neighbor’s barn roof cartwheeling across the countryside.
This morning, the dawn is cloudy but relatively warm. Remains of Thursday’s snow still lie in the shadows, drenching the trails. I suspect my planned, 25-mile route around Blackjack will be too slick for safety, so I’ll settle for some shorter rides around here.
Maybe I’ll even take a few pictures to post as my desktop wallpaper. I could use a reminder that “this too shall pass.”
100%
I rode Consolation on the flats Wednesday. There’s an unbroken stretch of irrigation canal that winds between cow-dotted BLM land and vast wheatfields, where the footing is good and there’s no traffic or downgrades or fences to distract us from pure, exhilirating effort. It was Consolation’s first test on familiar terrain since I returned her to work after her spring weirdness.
I’ve suspected for a couple weeks now that she is back to normal, but it was hard to evaluate given that we’ve been riding in such different environs. To be positive, we needed to ride in one of our old haunts. Conditioning-wise, we also needed the kind of long, brisk trot that we can’t always do out in the hills. Wednesday was the day.
I was a little nervous. What if she wasn’t better? What if the balky, jumpy, witchy mare from our last ride along the canal resurfaced? What if I was wrong, and we wouldn’t be ready for Cheap Thrills after all?
I needn’t have worried. Wednesday’s ride was the flight of spring all over again, complete with ducks, but without the muddy hide or rain. We blasted through 12 miles at 10 mph, and at the end Consolation was still full of air and offering speed. It was just the ride we needed.
So, what was her problem? It’s hard to be sure, because I was too interested in finding a solution to waste time being methodical and scientific. I tweaked several factors at once, at least some of which must have been the right ones. My best guesses:
- She was footsore. Most of a month off, with careful barefoot trimming and vigilance against thrush in the wet weather, followed by rides on trails instead of gravel, could have addressed this. Her hooves have certainly done some remodeling of late.
- She was marish and/or magnesium deficient. The more I think about it, the more I believe this was an issue. It helps explain why Consolation exhibited some similar behaviors last spring. After a month of magnesium supplementation, she is no longer cold-backed or girthy, and her attitude has improved dramatically. I also tried a sample of Mare Magic that I had sitting around, and she seemed to benefit. I’m now awaiting a shipment of bulk raspberry leaves from HerbalCom. (At $20 for a year’s supply, how can I go wrong?)
- She was bored. Consolation isn’t a huge fan of trailer rides, but she’s learning to relax, and she surely does seem more intersted in workouts when we use them to explore new trails.
Now, if only I can remember all this and apply it next spring, perhaps we’ll be all set.
Nerd in Paradise
It’s here! My Garmin Forerunner 305 is here!
Actually, it arrived in the middle of last week. I spent some time reading the instructions (!) and, happily, encountered no difficulty using the device for the first time yesterday. So far, my favorite feature is the “auto pause,” which stops the timer when we stop moving, so grazing and photo breaks don’t skew our average pace. I haven’t tried the heart rate monitor yet; I’ll read those instructions next.
According to Garmin, we went 16.13 miles yesterday at an average speed of 4.6 mph. SLOW. However, we climbed 3,000 feet and descended them again, so there was plenty of walking in the mix. Consolation is an excellent downhill trotter, but there’s no point beating up her joints by conditioning that way. Also, I gather that GPS is not entirely accurate in hilly terrain, because it measures as the crow flies and doesn’t account for the extra distance resulting from altitude change (though Google searches fail to confirm this absolutely). The variance estimate I hear most frequently is 10%.
The software that turns rides into maps, charts, and graphs is fascinating. I’ve entered Consolation and Acey as “users.” Let the nerdfest begin!
Canyon Climb
Last one, I promise! I’ll stop posting ride photos for a while after this, but I had to share.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
These are from Consolation’s and my climb out of the Owyhee River Canyon at Snively Hot Springs. The trailhead (if you can call it that; the closest thing to a trail was an occasional cow path) is a little more than a hour’s trailer ride from In the Night Farm. Leaving Ironman to fly fish on a flooded river bank (good luck!), Consolation and I started up a creekbed, swung west, and began our climb.
It was slow going and very technical in places as we leaped up rocky ledges and picked steep, winding routes among small boulders. Between ridges, we threaded our way through gnarled sagebrush, trotting when we could before reaching the next, steep climb.
Surprisingly, it took us just two hours to reach the rim and find our way back again, sometimes with my feet braced in stirrups tilted to the points of Consolation’s shoulders as she navigated the downward slope. Boy, was I glad to be secure in my Stonewall, on a horse that responded to light cues so she could have all the rein she needed!
I’m guessing the whole ride was less than 8 miles, but believe me, it was a workout. Consolation is resting now, having put in 45 miles last week, and so my attention swings back to Ripple and Acey…
Canyon Rim
This is from yesterday’s ride. We started at the bottom of the canyon, by the river, and picked our way up to the rim. Who needs a trail when you have a great horse?
More photos to follow, when I have time to process them.
Climbing
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Consolation and I took another ride on Saturday, again in the hills overlooking the Snake River. She went barefoot this time with no problems; in fact, the previous days’ rainstorms had left the ground extra soft. It was slick in places, but mostly quite managable because our soil here is so sandy.
We climbed the Big Hill, which really is quite big. We spent 26 minutes going up it (walking and trotting) and 38 coming back down (walking only). Once on top, we followed a fairly level trail to an apparent dead end at a rock quarry, then doubled back cross-country and picked our way down a very steep hill, switchbacking our way to a dirt road that ran through the valley below. The road led us back past the quarry, now well below it, and to a winding wash with steep sides and footing swirled by recent runoff.
We trooped through the wash, Consolation all prick-eared enthusiasm, then charged up a long hill so steep that I clung to her mane and felt my heels tap her stifles as she climbed. (Check out the photos taken from the top.) Next, we circled back to the summit of the Big Hill and made another loop similar to Thursday’s.
All this time, the sky grew darker and more beautiful. It was ominous indeed by the time we descended the hill. The first raindrops hit the trailer just as we arrived. Consolation was hungry, but clearly still had plenty of “go.”
We rode pretty steadily for 4 hours, pausing occasionally to graze, trotting all we could but slowed frequently by slick footing and steep descents. I’d guess we totaled around 18 miles. (If my Garmin would hurry up and get here, I could know for sure!)
I could get used to this hauling-out business.
Decision
Wow! Am I ever glad I wasn’t in ride camp last night. Southwest Idaho was slammed with 40 mph winds and pounding rain all evening and again in the wee hours. The first thing I did this morning was hurry to the window and make sure all the ponies remained secure in their paddocks.
I’ve decided not to take Consolation to the ride. She seems all right, but between just coming off a period of NQR behavior and a month’s rest, I feel more confident waiting until next time. A new ride, Cheap Thrills, No Frills!, will be held in the Owyhee Canyonlands in late June. That’s what we’re shooting for. (I’d love to haul down to Strawberry Fields in mid-June, but I have a business trip that week; also, as a friend pointed out, Utah may not be the very best place to travel with our horses right now.)
I’m disappointed, but at peace. I am also determined that this is the year I’ll get at least one more horse legged up — preferably two — so all my plans aren’t riding on a single mount. More on that soon.
Meanwhile, I do feel comfortable putting Consolation back on the conditioning trail. Our new pro-fitness, anti-boredom campaign starts today. I’m on vacation, the dawn is crisp and bright, and we’re going exploring!
Ironman and I went on a trail-hunting excursion recently, literally hopping in the car and heading for the hills, and found quite a few exciting possibilities. Some look like they’ll offer stunning scenery and technical work, which Consolation enjoys, and all feature the big climbs we desperately need.
I know, I know. I’ve long resisted hauling out for conditioning rides because it takes so much time, and I have so many horses needing training at home. I can get more done in a day if I condition right from my driveway. However, I’ve reached the limit of fitness Consolation can achieve without more challenging trails. Besides, she’s bored. Time for me to suck it up and trailer her to new and better places!
I’ll take my camera.
…Which reminds me, I did order a heart rate monitor with GPS! My shiny new Garmin 305 with V-Max Adaptor Kit will arrive in a few days. (Psst, they’re on sale with free shipping at The Distance Depot!)
Torn
Oh, geez.
Consolation looks good. She feels good. And Fandango is this weekend. I’m actually considering going for a slow 50. Considering, debating, wrestling, wrangling… What to do? Is she ready? Better to wait?
Reasons to go:
- A month ago, just before she went NQR, I’d have said she was ready. We’d enjoyed a couple 30-35 mile weekends and one 28-mile ride. Horses don’t lose much conditioning in a month, and Consolation’s rest has been active (turnout plus 30-60 min. of light exercise most days, ranging from handwalks to ring work to hacks). Also, I know my own tendency to worry overmuch about conditioning.
- Her body condition is excellent.
- Her hooves look good, her boots fit, she’s landing decidedly heel-first, and I got her some comfort pads just in case.
- Her attitude is normal. She plays and bucks at liberty, and is relaxed and forward (not fast, but that’s standard for her) under saddle.
- Nothing was ever really, definitely WRONG…just Not Quite Right…
Reasons to wait:
- NQR is still NQR. It matters. Consolation seems back to normal, but I haven’t tested her on a real conditioning ride. I wish I had one more week to experiment, but I don’t.
- We’ve done a total of 20 miles of “conditioning” in the last month – two 6-mile rides and one 8-miler. Everything else has been very light activity. Also, I’d like to have climbed more hills with her before her first ride of the season.
- She’s still acting hypersensitive when saddled. This is not uncommon for her and doesn’t disturb me terribly in and of itself; nevertheless, it’s worth considering. I can’t locate any back pain, but it could still be there, or it could be be ulcers, or it could be just “her.”
- EHV-1? It seems quite unlikely that an exposed horse would be at an endurance ride and that any given horse would perish, even if there was an exposed horse present. On the other hand, all the ponies all share water troughs, have the same vets’ fingers in their mouths, etc. All things considered, I don’t think this is a good reason not to go.
So. What to do? I’d like to do the ride for the fun of it, and for its conditioning effect on Consolation. There’s no reason to miss it if taking it on won’t do any harm. But I’m perfectly willing to wait until the next ride (June 25) if that’s safer and wiser. Wish I knew…
Thoughts?
Just for fun, here she is modeling her new rump rug.
The Flight of Spring
This morning, before sunrise, my farm floats in a pocket of air between two seas. The clouds above roll wavelike and dark, the valley below is gray with mist. Up close, I can see the buds on my apricot tree, bright against a backdrop of emerald pasture. The horses have buried their muzzles deep in piled hay. Consolation’s coat is splotched pinto with mud.
Yesterday saw Idaho’s first endurance ride of the season. I didn’t go. Consolation isn’t quite ready, her conditioning having been delayed by my injury in January. But we did ride. We rode in the morning in a floodlight of sunshine that poured through the horizon ringed with clouds. The day was tank-top warm, dotted red with robins and tulips. We trotted 17 miles at a medium pace, the kind that features a looped rein and stops to graze and a happily wandering mind.
Not so last week! One day we set out early under leaden skis, goaded by the scent of an oncoming storm. The wind had crept into our bones, and when we hit the perfect footing of the irrigation road, I leaned in the saddle and Consolation flew.
To ride this mare at speed is to ride a bird. She is so smooth, so quick, that I marvel at the vast, slick network of muscle and bone that bounds beneath her coat in perfect, mindless effort. Our canter shifts upward into hand gallop, The thrust of her quarters races up her back, along the reins, through my seat, down to her flashing hooves again. The oxygen in our nostrils, our lungs, our blood, feels endless. We lean on the curves, change leads on a shy, watch a harried pair of ducks fly up from the canal again, sure we’ve come to hunt them down.
It is the kind of ride that cannot be partaken alone. Both partners must be there, fully present in body and mind, in spirit and soul. Each becomes less that the other might make her more.
And then we are home, and the rain arrives, and I bring hay and blankets and rub the sweat from her hide. She leans into the brush, content, transformed from raptor back to mare, almost pony, a little treasure in my care. I rub her crest and stretch my other hand to catch the rain. In a few weeks, it will pass. Summer will be upon us. And we will ride to meet it.
High Gear
Twenty days have passed since I first stepped back aboard Consolation, post-injury. Despite craziness at the office and an astonishing panoply of spring weather conditions, we’ve put in several good rides each week. My hip, though still noticeably sub-par, is getting stronger by the day.
So is Consolation.
Between winter storms and my recovery time, she enjoyed a 4-month break. I wondered how quickly she’d come back to endurance fitness. So far, I’m impressed. She’s already lost the huffy-puffies of our earliest sojourns, her attitude is bright, and she’s sound and solid every step of the way.
And, she still has her turbo thrusters! You may recall that, after two years of sloooooow trotting, Consolation finally discovered SPEED near the end of last year’s endurance season. In fact, I worked my tush off trying to rein her in on our last day at Owhyee Canyonlands 2010.
After that race, I decided that if Consolation wanted to flip a speed switch at rides, she was perfectly capable of conditioning at a brisker pace, too. Enter the dressage whip and “power trot” sessions…and finally, FINALLY, our average pace ticked upward.
And then, winter. Long rest. Would she remember, come spring?
Well, let me tell you: Not only does she remember, she wants to trot fast! She wants to canter! We’re focusing mostly on LSD work, obviously, but our “L” is longer than I expected it to be this early in the season, and our “S” isn’t nearly as slow as it used to be.
Now, if we can just get a few days without rain, we’ll haul out to the nearest stretch of BLM land and motor up some hills. Va-room!
Tamara Baysinger
