GERA Classic ReVisited: Part Three

[Howard4567@aol.com]

The ladies saddle up and I do too.  So far I count about 8 with me tagging 
along.  Then we all start warming up.  Now for you men, being a solo male or 
even having one male buddy (I did, his name was Harry) riding with a bunch of 
women is quite humbling conversationally.  After I got on my horse I soon 
discovered we aren't gonna really gonna go out on that trail until we've 
socialized a bit with all the women who aren't riding right now.  So don't be 
in any hurry to leave or you might get, "Shhhhh, silly man. We'll let you 
know when it's time to go"  Women dominate here and you must acquiesce 
accordingly.

We finally hit the trail, split into two groups.  I stick with Harry, riding 
a Quarter with a western saddle that weighs 65 lbs at least.  And Harry wears 
blue jeans, no tights for this guy.  I haven't tried it myself but I suspect 
it's too hot to wear pantyhose underneath blue jeans today. Harry laughed 
when I told him about this aspect of endurance riding for some males.  Then I 
told him about the Jerry story (I was at that ride) where Jerry, wearing 
panty hose underneath, ends up in the hospital from a fall while on the third 
loop of an endurance 100 mile ride.  Jerry had just broken his collar bone 
(the horse was fine).   A male nurse, who shows gay mannerisms, removes 
Jerry's jeans (checking for lower injuries I'm sure) and sees the panty hose. 
 I don't have a direct quote from Truman, the hero of that ride who found 
Jerry and got him to the hospital, but I think the nurse said something to 
the effect, "Oh, my!  Look at this."  haha.  I love that story!

We're riding with Amy and a girl I don't know.  Amy, a Florida gal from the 
panhandle, friends with Jackie, Kim, and Michelle, is another rider who does 
very well in the 50 mile run.  And she's light as a feather, as are most of 
the women who top ten down here in the Southeast. Her horse is a grey Arab, 
mare, if I remember correctly.  Jackie and another girl I don''t know 
complete our 5 rider team.  Jackie's husband is a helicopter pilot in the 
Army and they are both very cool people.  

Jackie and the new gal's both have Arabs who don't like the order of their 
positioning.  To let the rider know their unhappiness they decide to lope 
laterally.  While loping laterally they also decide to arch their neck at the 
poll (it's showtime), letting you know they're ready for bear.  When they do 
this they completely block some of the narrower trails here with their body.  
 We go at a good pace and rearrange the pecking order on the trail, decide 
who's in the lead (not Rebel) and who isn't (Rebel).  After doing 5 miles or 
more I realize we are going farther than I normally like to go the day before 
a ride.  We make our way to the river, test the horses in crossing, and take 
a break.  It's hot, close to 90 degrees and it's not even 11 AM.  If tomorrow 
is like this I don't think I'm going to get my completion. 

I watch Harry's horse and the horse looks a bit tired.  He's handling the 
rocks very well (damn things are everywhere) but he's not in condition.  
Harry and his Quarter horse are doing their first 25 (Rookie horse, Rookie 
rider, haha) and if rideday is hot like this early in the day, his horse 
might get pulled at the first check.  I start thinking of Dance Line and how 
I wish I was riding him.  Rebel's ok, but he has a tendency to trip with me 
on him (doesn't do this with the kid on his back) and his gaits just doesn't 
come close to Dance Line's fluid movement.   I don't ever expect to find a 
horse who moves out better (to me) than Dance.  

Dance Line is home getting fat.  It's part of my plan to get his butt back 
out here.  He's put on 90 lbs and even his bony hips don't stick out like 
they used to.  Putting weight on a creature who is more body than he should 
be isn't easy, but he looks good and y'all come see him next time I bring him 
out to one of these things.

Anyway, the conversation during the ride kind of went like this.  The women 
talked, Harry and I listened.  Then Harry and I would drift back, out of 
earshot, and talk about the women.  Sometimes we'd give our own 
interpretation, not knowing if "she" was being sarcastic, funny, or serious.  
Women speak an entirely different language and there are always hidden 
entendres and secret meanings to find.  Most men don't do this, although I 
like to try once in a while.

We get back to camp, say Good-bye, good-luck, cya later, and I take Rebel's 
saddle off, sponge him again, and feed him some grain.  He's not a bit tired. 
 My kid has done well with this horse and he's in the best possible shape, 
surpassing my expectations by a great deal.  And he didn't trip at all during 
our ride out here.  Rebel likes the hills and he's found his hindquarters, a 
part of his body he doesn't use much in the flatlands.

I open a beer (my first mistake the day before a race) and make a roast beef 
and Swiss cheese on rye sandwich, with a combo of mayonnaise and spicy 
mustard.  Hungry?  I was.  And I probably had two beers with lunch.  
Hopefully, it wasn't three.

OK, I know some of you get upset about me drinking and writing about it so 
I'll try and explain.  I do drink too much beer at these things (part of the 
camping experience can turn into a party if you know who to hang out with.  
lol), and, after this ride, I'm going to try and adjust that nasty habit of 
mine.  I do not wish to infer that endurance riders drink a lot of beer at 
these things.  The serious competitors do not.  Please keep that in mind if 
you find reading about my drinking becomes a problem for you.  I'll try and 
make a point with it if you bear with me.

I wander off to Bernie, Kay, and Randy's spot.  Nobody here.  Then I spot 
Michelle, detacking, and walk over that way.  I had asked her if I could see 
her new trailer (I mean brand spanking new), with a shower, microwave, 
fridge, sink, oven, air conditioning, a sleeping area to die for, and many 
more amenities.  She lets me in and right away I feel the AC.  Her generator 
is running.  She walks inside with me.  Glad the wife isn't seeing this, she 
might get the wrong idea.

Michelle brokers with/for the Arabs and is damn successful at it.  I say take 
their damn money and run, although they have yet to buy one of my stories.  
haha.  Just keep in mind that the horse you sell will be the horse they get 
and I kind of like to think we Americans are the best riders and make use of 
our open space better than the rest of the world does.  Hey, we're the real 
deal when it comes to Cowboys & Cowgirls so we have a reputation to maintain. 
 So, don't sell them a National winner, sell them one that will only come in 
tenth or so.  

Anyhow, the damn trailer is beautiful.  Turns out Michelle kind of brokered 
her own horse (it's legal) and got this trailer for the horse, even Steven.  
haha.  Good for you Michelle!  Damn, this trailer is work 50 grand.  And 
there's a shower, with hot water,  and a toilet.  I don't enough time with 
Michelle to ask her about the Sheikhs, which I did want to do.

Kim and Kay knock and come on in.  Michelle serves liquids, no alcohol (for 
those of you counting), and we chit chat. I hang in there for 20 or so 
minutes.   After awhile I leave cause I'm just too tired to interpret the 
conversation spoken in Womaneze. I go into my tent, get out of my smelly 
riding clothes, and lie down.  Naptime has entered the building.

I wake, crawl out of the tent sleepy-eyed and see Marie sitting in a chair on 
my side of her trailer and she's reading a book.  I make a wisecrack about 
not thinking people from Tennessee could read, she gives me a look, and kind 
of smiles.   I smile back at her and invite Marie to have a steak dinner with 
me in an hour or so.  I bought my grill, and using it is one of the few 
things I feel confident in doing.  She surprises me and accepts the 
invitation.  I get busy with the grill and charcoal, wondering where the 
dinner conversation will take us tonite.

I get the grill fired up, sit down and have a beer (bear with me).  It 
doesn't take too long to heat up so I put a ton of steak on the grill.  I 
want to cook it all and save the left overs for the ride tomorrow (protein). 
I look up from the grill and see her walking her horse in front of me.  It's 
Nina G, with her beautiful Arab, heading my way.  She wasn't supposed to be 
here.  Nina should be in France, this weekend, at endurance's version of the 
World Cup.  Nina is that good, up there with Valerie Kanavy, and I know Nina 
will win this ride tomorrow if she finishes.

I hug her and almost cry.  I almost cry cause I know Nina has recently lost a 
brother and it was a tragic accident that took her entire family by surprise. 
 I won't talk about it here, all I want to say is God bless you Nina and 
Susan (Nina's Mom).  I love you both.

Nina is quite a talker and away she goes.  Marie is her conversational 
partner, as usual, I just sit back and listen.  Some of it is sad and I do 
lose a tear or two.  I'm just so glad to see Nina.  Duane, you marry this 
girl quick before some other guy realizes what an Angel this woman is.  I 
already have.

Anyway, time flies, and I burn most of the meat.  The fire was hotter than I 
realized and Nina and Marie had me memorized in conversation.  Nina goes back 
to her campsite, I get a hug before she leaves, and Marie goes and makes the 
other courses for our meal.  I salvage some meat that's not burnt too bad and 
we eat at my place.  My cooler becomes our table.