Seldom have I been quite as smugly organized before a ride: over a week before I was due to leave my water tanks were filled and I'd wrestled the 100 lb hay bag into the trailer. On Friday, I even managed to depart only an hour and a half later than planned, which for me is the equivalent of leaving on time. 

So when we started getting ready for a quick pre-ride the afternoon before, why exactly did I have the following thought process?: "Hmm, I'm wearing shorts - can wear those on the horse - just need my helmet and to change my shoes. Now where did  I stash my riding shoes? Hmm... I have no memory of stashing any shoes... Oh cr*p" and I discovered that the only shoes I had with me were the Teva sandals currently on my bare feet. <sigh> 

Good start.

Lemmon Valley is just north of Reno in a big open area of mountainous BLM land. It's a simple two and half hour drive up I-80, over Donner Summit, and into Nevada to get to the ride. It's almost worth going just for the trip up there - the mountains were still very snowy from the storm we had at the beginning of the month, but it was in the mid 70s and the sky bright blue.

Learning Not to Dawdle

After lamenting on one of the lists that I'm on that I was having trouble completing rides at more than a dawdle, Crysta Turnage emailed me and offered to "pace" me at Rides of March since she'd pretty much got 6 mph completions down now. Her horse, Sinatra isn't your classic endurance horse: he's a sturdy sabino of indeterminate origin. From photos of him, I thought he was huge, but when I got up close I discovered that he's barely 14:2hh (as Crysta puts it “8-weeks out on a trim on hardly-used shoes”). He almost looks like a mini-Clydesdale But an endurance pony he is - having just completed 20 Mule Team 100 a few weeks before. Sinatra doesn't have a fast trot, but they are a steady team - so I knew that if we could do the 6 mph pace it would be nice and consistent.

As luck would have it, Crysta is friends with Dovie Pickering who lives a couple of blocks from the ridecamp and she happened to wear size 7½ (I wear a 7), so I was able to borrow a pair of tennis shoes from her. Thanks Dovie! We also ate dinner at her house that evening, which was delicious. Double thanks!

We did our four mile pre-ride, and apart from the "lack of shoes discovery", I also found that my legs weren't terribly impressed by the idea of riding in sand. We don't have sand at home, just red dirt, so when we got back, I shortened my stirrups a hole (the last hole on the leathers). This upward motion of stirrups has been a regular thing and this adjustment would put them four holes higher than how I was riding around Christmas-time.

Another friend, Renee Gonzalez, had come down from Eureka to ride a borrowed horse, so Roo and I spent the evening hanging out with her - Roo diligently helping her mix up electrolytes by sticking his nose in her lap at regular intervals.

The Ride Start

Ride morning dawned crisply and I was thankful that RM opted to delay the start of the ride until 7 am because of the recent time-change. I slithered out of bed at 5:30, gave Roo yet more LMF/BP/carrots, and retreated back to my trailer to do the yoga stretches I'd promised myself I'd do. The spare floor in my housie isn't that big, but I was able to kind of wriggle around and get something done and was very grateful for my new catalytic heater that was on its maiden voyage.

Roo has been suffering from loin rubs all year and I'd gotten Tom Clark at Skito to make him a new pad with slightly thinner inserts and cut to suit the Barefoot Cheyenne treeless saddle I'm riding in. Unfortunately, this new pad only arrived a week before the ride and I was only able to take it for a quick spin up and down the road to make sure it wasn't going to be completely unsuitable. I sent my old pad to the first vet check in my crew box in case I need to switch it out, and went against the cardinal rule of endurance riding: never try anything new at a ride.

Before tacking him up, I completely covered Roo's loin area with talcum powder - I was very nervous that, although up until now he'd never been sore, 50 miles of rubbing might make him tender.

Contrary to usual ride starts, I didn't lock my helmet, HRM, or Camelbak each in turn in the trailer, and was only about five minutes late being ready. Some of the delay was from trying to put on velcro-ed splint boots in woolly gloves. 

Of course, Roo did his standard "Let's stand with our head level with Mum's body so she can't get her foot in the stirrup" stance when I attempted to clamber on from the fender of the trailer. It's not that I can't get on from the ground, but I tend to ride with a relatively loose cinch, and the foam on my Skito pad hadn't had a chance to smoosh and limpet to his back yet, and I didn't want to start off with the saddle all squiff. Luckily, head-vet Susan McCartney was walking by, so she held his head and my stirrup - and we were off.

...nearly literally, as it turned out. 

We came around my trailer and Roo caught sight of a horse jumping up and down in its pen (I'm assuming its buddy had just left on the 50) and reacted in the time-honoured manner by rearing, leaping sideways and spinning. Normally something as mundane as that wouldn't phase me (given what he's capable of), but I was wearing my spiffy new lycra tights - the same slippery lycra tights that I'd considered very carefully during purchase: did I really want to go that direction knowing Roo's ability to spook violently when faced with a scary twig or patch of dark undergrowth? I reached down to grab a chunk of mane to steady myself, only to grasp thin air - I'd braided up his mane the night before and had a flashback to the part where I stopped braiding one hunk earlier than planned "just because", which now meant that my hand-hold was the air between braids. Ack. I had one of those "bum, I'm going to fall off before we even get to the start" moments, and then he opted to go forwards (in a very airy- forward manner, but forward nevertheless), and we pranced down the paved road to the start.

The First Loop

We minced down the side of the road for a few minutes before picking up the trot and he started to settle down. I'm sure Sinatra's calm demeanour helped a great deal, along with the short hill, and the subsequent sand, meaning he had to work quite hard to keep up his discreetly accelerating trot to try and catch the group ahead of us.

Crysta told me that she'd consider that section "deep sand" and I did my best to quell my "ack, I trotted in sand" paranoia. The trail became more hard packed and we went up and down a series of short hills. Within five miles or so, we hopped off for a steep downhill that ended in sand, and I was very glad of the gaiters I'd borrowed from my husband. They were larges, so looked a bit like poofy ankle covers on my feet, but did the job admirably, keeping grit and small rocks out of my shoes.

At around eight miles, there was a water stop and the boys drank like real endurance horses. Right after the water stop, we staggered up a vertical hill - passing a brave man who'd gotten off and was leading his horse up. As we slugged up the hill, I watched my pad and saddle slipping further and further back, despite a tight breast collar. Having not used this pad before, I started to wonder what would happen when we went back downhill again - would just the saddle come forward, leaving the pad sticking 8" out the back and necessitate an annoying stop to sort it all out? As it turned out, once we started down again, the whole saddle + pad combination slid forwards again, so it wasn't a problem.

We continued along the ridge, before dropping down into a tunnel-like sandy wash. I love these washes in the desert - as dry streambeds, they wend their way around rocky outcroppings and dodge bushes.

At the end of the sandwash were local photographers, Bill Gore and Renee Baylor, who cover many of the West Region rides. 

The wash let out onto a flat plain with almost perfect footing and we decided it was a good place to let the pones stretch out a little after the twisty, sandy trail, so we cantered for a short while. I decided to take some pictures, so was riding one-handed, hoping that Roo didn't pick this moment to put in one of his spooks, but he was a good boy and only swerved slightly around an ant-hill.

In the distance, at the end of the plain, we could see some range cattle making their way along the dirt road. They were heading the same way as us - the vet check being at the local cow watering hole. I'm not sure Roo has seen cattle before, as he grew a little anxious and did his best to hide behind Sinatra's butt, but he got used to them and stopped gawping after a few minutes of trotting alongside them.

Vet Check #1

The first vet check was at 15 miles and we had a 30 minute hold. Both pones were at criteria (60) within a minute or so of arrival and Roo was happy to see both the water and the copious supply of carrots and hay provided by RM. Crysta put out some feed in a pan for Sinatra, who ignored it, instead settling next to the 50 lb bag of carrots. Roo didn't care - it wasn't his food, so it was obviously delicious, so he finished it off. I downed a bottle of Ensure from my crewbox (I put a small cooler in there with some icepacks and that stops stuff getting tepid) and sucked on a Gu. Roo was vetted by Dr Rob Lydon and pronounced good to go. 

And all too soon, the 30 minutes was done with. Right before we left, I dosed Roo with a small amount of e-lytes. I've given up making elaborate mixes with applesauce after figuring out that with that much salt in it, you can't even taste the applesauce, so you might as well just stick them in a syringe, suck up some water and squirt it in. He looks slightly irritated for a moment and then carries on with whatever he was doing.

Off we set along a hard-packed dirt road heading uphill, leaving the hold only 5 minutes late.

Loop 2

This uphill was the dreaded Microwave Hill which in reality is only a climb of about 1,000', but the road up is very exposed and the day was starting to heat up. (note that the total elevation gain on this ride was 5,900').

We trotted the first two and half miles - me making sure I was staying on my right diagonal. I have a tendency to switch myself unconsciously over to the left side when travelling over rough terrain. Even if I start on the right, every time I hit uneven ground, I'll hover for a few steps and end up back on the left again. During vet-in on Friday, I took Roo over to see vet Marcia Smith who rides Roo's mumma - AM Sands of Time. She hadn't had a chance to look at him properly before and the first thing she noticed was that his left shoulder is more developed than his right. She kindly suggested that "perhaps it was just how he was standing", but he was standing pretty square, and I know that I favour that left diagonal, so I suffered a flood of guilt at how bad this habit had evidently become. Must try harder to use even diagonals. 

Of course, it wouldn't work to go over the top, either, so I had to consider how much would be 'good for him' and how much would be 'too much', given the fact that the right side wasn't as strong.

As the grade got steeper, we slowed to a trudge. Roo has only been with me since last September and he came from a relatively flat area so I've been doing lots of hillwork with him. He's still not very impressed by the concept, though.

Sinatra, on the other hand, is a Nevada horse - they specialize in trotting up these long, gradual climbs, so he was still quite happy to continue at the original pace, but Crysta considerately slowed him so we wouldn't get left behind.

Near the top of the hill, RM had put out two water troughs, which were very much appreciated. We went through a NV gate - a few strands of barbed wire, held taut by a loop over a post. These things can be hard to wrestle with if you have a horse in tow, for fear of having the wire bounce into him, but if you have a companion to lead him through, it's much easier.

After finally cresting the hill, we hopped off again for the steep rocky downhill on the other side. Again, I was grateful for my gaiters and Roo was grateful that I was finally off his back <grin>.

Sinatra took advantage of the slow pace by detouring over some dead tree limbs to try and scratch the itchy parts on his woolly, sweaty body. Crysta told me she had to force herself to stop when she was clipping him earlier in the week as it was so easy and he would have ended up totally bald. 

When the trail started up again for a short bit, I took advantage of a handy mounting block-like rock and clambered back on again. The trail was singletrack and sandy. We travelled through a burn area of skeletal trees, continuing down the hill (Roo going in for a daring overtake and opting to trot down part of the hill, which I wasn't thrilled to do). We passed a few "coops" - wooden constructions that the local hunt use to jump to get over the barbed wire fences. Ack. Rather them than us. Roo regarded the coops with great suspicion - they are no doubt storage vessels for lurking eye-pluckers.

Water Stop and a Speedy Loop

Finally we came upon the water stop at 22 miles. Once again, there was plenty of cold people-water, horse water, carrots, and hay, and the pones tucked in. We stayed for about ten minutes, and when we set off again I left my plastic water scoop behind to retrieve when we came back around next time. We'd be able to move out on this next section and I didn't really want it bonking behind the saddle the entire time. 

It was indeed a fast section - apart from the short stretch at the beginning which was newly cut singletrack in amongst the sagebrush, the rest of the loop was basically six miles on very hard-packed roads. Half-way along, there was a pond to drink from, but Roo was intent on worrying about the construction debris from the pipeline they were laying in the vicinity. There was another wire gate to negotiate, a downhill stretch (once again, Roo demonstrated his downhill trotting skills - I'm sure they're very good for his legs, not), followed by a gradual uphill canter. Roo did great on this, considering he's not had much practice. I was somewhat worried about him overdoing it, but when we got back to the water stop again at 28 miles, he tucked into the hay again with no signs of looking pooped which I was really pleased about.

Back Over the Hill

I retrieved my scoop, tipped a little water on his neck (although it was breezy enough that any sweat dried quite quickly), let him eat for another ten minutes and then we set off again, back over the Microwave Hill, heading for the second vet check. He did good on this climb, given how steep it was, and in no time at all, we were back at the wire gate next to the water troughs near the top of the hill.

Once again, Roo went into his downhill trot and checking the GPS, I realised he was travelling at 9+ mph. Ack, time to slow him down. 

In the last few miles before the vet check, my left knee started to whine slightly. I've had problems with my right knee in the past - in 1999 I had to stop riding for a year and subsequently have knee surgery - but my left knee has never had a problem. I suspect that the shortened stirrups were taking their toll. In retrospect, if I'd been smart, I would have dropped my stirrups again after the first 15 mile loop when the worst of the sand was done with, but it didn't occur to me at the time.

Roo nearly gave me a cardiac arrest about a mile from the vet check when he suddenly took a couple of really lame steps, but it must just have been a rock that he picked up in his foot, as the second I was preparing to jump off, it cleared and he was fine again.

Vet Check #2

This vet check was at 35 miles and we had an hour hold. Once again, both horses were down to 60 within a minute or so of arrival. We stripped tack onto a rain poncho that Crysta cleverly had stashed in her crewbox (ooh, must get me one of those!) and I let Roo eat a little LMF and beet pulp. 

After five minutes, however, we agreed that we'd rather vet them straight away, so they could have a proper rest without interruption for the rest of the hold, so I towed him over to see Marcia Smith. The unfortunate side effect was that Roo got a "B" on gut sounds. Was he eating? Oh yes, if I let him. And he also got a B on attitude, not being terribly interested in trotting out (he was sound, just a bit lethargic). I suspect he just wanted to eat and was pissed that I'd dragged him away.

Once returned to his food supply, he ate solidly for about 30 minutes before taking a nap. I took advantage of the lunch provided by RM and snagged the last turkey and cheese sandwich in the cooler, much to the consternation of the lady behind me who wanted another one <grin>.

Roo stayed asleep while I tacked him up again. The wind was blowing pretty hard (this is, afterall, Nevada), so I put his pad on first, then shook about 5 lbs of talcum powder into the back area by lifting the pad slightly to stop it all blowing away.

Once again, shortly before leaving, I dosed him with e-lytes and this time Crysta opted to do the same, even though e-lyting makes Sinatra sulk.

And again, all too soon, the hour was up.

The Last Loop

We again left about five minutes late, which wasn't too bad. And as it turned out, we left at the same time as the lady who I'd snatched the last turkey and cheese sandwich from. 

As we picked up the trot with the lady behind me, she asked "What's that nice smell?... don't tell me, not only did you steal the last good sandwich, you smell good too??". Crysta trotted behind me and began to laugh - it seems that we were trailing clouds of baby powder behind us as we went.

The ladies set off at a canter and Roo picked up his trot to 10+ mph, hoping to keep up with them. After a minute I reeled him in a little and Crysta and Sinatra caught us back up. Crysta commented that he just doesn't have that fast gear... but that said, he never seemed that far behind and would catch us up pretty quickly if we pulled ahead. As I suspected before we even started - steady and consistent definitely gets the job done.

I'd taken some Tylenol at the vet check, but my knee was still whiney, so at the first of three water stops, I jumped off and dropped my stirrups a hole. That helped for a short while, but the pain came back.

We trotted on and off, when my knee would allow, and I worked on posting off my thighs. If I took my foot out of the stirrup and stretched my leg out, it still hurt, but strangely, if I pointed my toe, the pain went away altogether. I'm guessing I'd irritated the illiotibial band, as the pain was mostly on the outside of the knee. Fumbling around in my pommel bag, I found another Tylenol and gulped it down with a bunch of water.

Either the lower stirrups were helping, or the pain killers were, because as the loop progressed, I was able to trot more and more, which I was relieved about because I didn't want to slow Crysta down too much (no fun at all, volunteering to ride with someone only to find they become incapacitated and can't move out).

The last loop went up a valley behind the hills which blocked the wind and it got quite toasty for a while, but then we came out on some rocky singletrack and the wind was back to cool us. There was a stretch through some sagebrush, and then we returned the rest of the way on fairly level dirt road. 

In the last mile or so, we passed Dick Dawson on his 22 yr old horse, JS Bach, who has coming up to 3000 miles, including ten 100s. He doesn't look much like he's slowing up much (Dick, or the horse <grin>). His wife, Carolyn, was riding Orzo who'd been "retired" from Dabney Finch to take it a little easier - and he didn't seem ready to do that, either.

And then we were done. 

We crossed the finish line at 5 pm on the dot, both pones moving out really well in the last mile. Roo had been dragging a little, but perked up when he recognised the end of the trail, and picked up the pace on his own accord. 

We'd done what we set out to do - finishing with a pace of just under 6 mph - and without blasting along or making the horses tired by overdoing it. Roo was a little tired, but not dull-looking and his appetite was still very good and I was very proud of him - once again he stayed cheerful all day and took the activities in his stride without any fuss. He's such a good boy.

Many, many thanks to Crysta and Sinatra for putting up with us and pacing us so beautifully. 

We again vetted with Rob Lydon who said that Roo looked a little asymmetrical in the back end and I figured he was entitled, given how lopsided I'd been riding for the last loop of the ride to try and save my knee.

Rob also gave me the interesting news that he could hear a slight heart murmur in Roo's 48 heart rate. Huh. So basically, I might finally have a horse that won't immediately go lame, but he's going to drop dead on me. Ack. ...don't think about it.... don't think about it... ...don't think about it.... Rob didn't seem terribly worried, so I shall endeavour to do the same (hah, fat chance, there).

Putting the Pone Up

Roo got yet more food - he seems to think endurance rides are a fine opportunity to get to eat large amounts of food without having to share with your herd siblings, which was OK by him.

I persuaded my friend Renee to wrap his front legs (if you act pathetic, people will sometimes do stuff for you <grin>) after I'd poulticed them.

Later that evening, we took a hand-walk around camp, and visited Renee again - this time he got to sample apples and mandarins and look pointedly at her friends, in case they were deliberately witholding goodies from him.

At 1 am, he woke me up, but I was a bad mommy and tucked inside my housie with the heater running on low all night (there was frost on my crewbox outside), I couldn't face dragging myself out of bed. At 4 am, I did get up, however, take him for a stroll around camp, and give him yet more goodies before collapsing back into bed to sleep until 7:30. At that point, I let him out in the arena in the center of camp to run around, but Sinatra had gone home and he was lonely, so spent most of the time standing next to other horses around the perimeter.

Tailgate Incident

Everything had gone a little too smoothly (footwear problems aside), so it seems it was important to the endurance gods that I not have too much fun. On the way out of camp, I'd put my bag of manure in the back of my brand new truck and driven it over to the dumpster. I dropped the tailgate, dragged the muck bucket out, wrestled the muck bag into the dumpster, carefully put away the muck bucket into the trailer and set off to drive the two blocks to Dovie's house to return her shoes. As I turned onto her street, there was a banging, jarring from behind me and for a moment I thought that Roo had fallen down in the trailer. I slammed on my brakes and ran back - glancing at the tailgate as I went past and noticed how it was no longer hinged to the truck bed... in fact it was now dangling off the back of the truck, held on only by the support wires. With a long-bed truck, there isn't room between truck and trailer to make sharp turns.

Uh oh. 

Patrick's going to kill me.

This truck didn't even have 2000 miles on the clock yet and I'd trashed yet another tailgate (I remodelled the one on the old truck by setting off with the gooseneck in the bed but not hitched on the ball and the tailgate up). <sigh>

Home Again

Unloading Roo around noon at home, he strode out of the trailer very cheerfully. I unwrapped his legs and they were nice and tight. And his loin rub? Not sore in the slightest - either the new pad does the trick, or the copious amounts of talcum powder did, or both.

And Patrick didn't kill me over the tailgate. :)

Photo: Bill Gore