GERA Classic Revisited: Part 5

[Howard4567@aol.com]

I make some coffee, sit down and try to relax, eat a couple granola bars, no 
greasy bacon and eggs this morning, and mentally plan out my ride.  Turns out 
I have no plan.  Haha, big surprise there.

Actually, my plan is to finish.  I know Rebel has to follow another horse or 
I'll end up walking the entire 50 miles.  I once spent 6 hours on his back 
doing a measly 25 miles (got lost) on my first real mountain ride at 
Leatherwood, NC, a couple years ago.  This is where I learned Rebel does not 
like to pass another horse after he gets tired and, till today, it was the 
last time I rode Rebel in endurance competition.  

I look at my watch, it's quarter to seven, time to mount and warm up.  You 
can hear the other riders doing just that, some of the horses clomping up and 
down on this large concrete pad that is down the road from my campsite.  I 
love the start of these things; maybe, cause I know it's when and where 
there's the most danger, the most excitement, with more to come.  If there's 
a better place to be than this, right here, right now, I have yet to find it. 
 

I relish being a participant here, not just an observer, and, to me, 
experiencing things like endurance riding is what life is all about.  It (to 
experience) is why we are here.  If you agree with me, clap your hands, three 
times.  You'll feel something (yea, my other hand).  Let yourself go and 
clap; join my silly world for a moment (I won't keep you any longer than you 
can handle).

We trot up and down this area right before the starting point, say hello to 
one another, I even have a few people yelling my name, or a word or phrase 
that attaches itself to me (Beer guy, Shorty, Trouble Maker).  Some are on 
foot, Jackie, Bernie, Randy and a couple others who are doing the 25, which 
starts an hour later than the 50.  Jackie says something about my appearance 
and asks me in a Motherly fashion, "Howard, you look like crap; what time did 
you get in last night?"  What is life without friends?  

Speaking of friends, I spot that woman from north Georgia.  We pass each 
other a couple times but neither one of us says Hello to the other.  
Evidently, the chasm between us is too great for either to cross; I tell 
Rebel not to follow her horse today (her horse's number is 23).  Knowing that 
she's the defending champion from last year I don't see this as much of a 
problem.

Michelle is on a beautiful new horse she's breaking in for the Arab 
zillionaires.  She has a good eye for horseflesh, and this tall Arab fits the 
bill for any endurance rider.  He's young and jumpy, but Michelle handles him 
quite well. When I get serious about buying an Arabian for myself I will ask 
for Michelle's help.

There are not that many riders here at the start.  I guess about 40 or so.  
Roxanne is in line and so is Jean, both from the great state of Florida (if I 
keep saying this, sooner or later, one of you will believe me).  I don't spot 
Nina or Debbi, but I'm sure they're here, close to the front.  I stay in the 
back trying to figure out who Rebel and I will tailgate on the first loop.  
Rebel is poised for battle, his head is bent at the poll (he rarely does 
this) and he's attempting to do Dance Line's version of the goose step.  If I 
stuck out my right arm (Seig Heil) and started singing "Ich liebe 
Duetcheland"  people near by would discover I had totally lost my mind.

Nancy, the eternal clipboard lady, does a count down, and we're off.  Since 
I'm at the back I don't see the front runners, but we all go at a quick trot 
and then it turns into a canter.  Our first loop is the orange one and it's a 
trail I did not go on yesterday.  

After a few miles on a wide dirt road, covered with man made tiny rocks 
(large silver dollar sized), I fine Roxanne and follow her.  Rebel is used to 
being behind Rocky's horse and it shows.  We keep a good pace; the air is 
cool and crisp.  I think some sort of cold front blew through last night; 
it's not near as hot as it has been the last couple of days.  The Weather 
Goddess likes to watch Endurance runs so she cooled things down.  She has a 
great view.

The first loop always goes fast.  You can't help but notice how many rocks 
are on the trail.  Rebel doesn't trip too badly but he does hit some exposed 
tree roots that are on a couple of the narrow goat trails here.  He catches 
himself, better than usual, because he is pumped up and the hills on this 
ride have him using his back end, something I noticed him doing yesterday.  
He and I are both ready for anything today, even though my head still 
sometimes pounds (yes, I know I did this to myself and every throb is a 
reminder).

I stay with Roxanne the entire first loop.  We're in the middle of the pack, 
maybe further back than that.  We pull in to the vet check area and I spot 
Nina. She's heading out already for her second loop.  Ten bucks says she's in 
first place or damn close.  She should be representing us in France for the 
Nationals, another ride going on today; no one can really touch her or her 
horse at the rides I've seen her run.  Marry her Duane.

There's no line at the vet check.  I get Todd, my most favorite vet in the 
entire world, the man who saved Dance Line's life, and I flatter the guy as 
usual.  I can't help but remember that night in SC as I watch Todd check 
Rebel's gut sounds.  Except this time Todd says A plus in gut.  Damn if that 
yogurt isn't working so far.  I wonder what Susan would say about my yogurt.  
I'll have to reread her endurance article on metabolics; I can't remember if 
she was pro yogurt or not.  I do remember she said to feed your horse often, 
during the ride, and this we do.

I take Rebel over to our campsite (notice, it's ours now, not just mine; you 
must bond with your horse in every manner possible to ride in these things) 
and he eats.  He eats beet pulp, yells at me when I need to add some more 
grain, hay and gets to relax.  I do take the saddle off right away at the vet 
check, sponge him upon my arrival, and don't resaddle until right before we 
leave, usually ten minutes or so after our 40 minute hold time.  

I notice something at this ride.  When I sponge Rebel, and I soak his back 
and front, everything but the rear end, after a short while his body seems to 
absorb the water.  I rarely have to rake him to get the water out of the 
saddle area before resaddling.  What's up with that?

Anyway, we retack and go.  I check out with Nancy, time keeper 
extraordinaire, and hit the blue trail, the one I'm a bit familiar with.  
Roxanne is at the bridge, but not really waiting for me.  The bridge is 
tricky and her horse doesn't want to cross it alone.  I'm with another rider, 
Patsy, who I later realize manages that SC ride.  Small world in the 
endurance community.

Patsy leads the way across the bridge.  Michelle comes up from behind and 
joins our group, with her horse still acting young and feisty, but under 
control.  Horses are such magical creatures; if I've learned nothing else the 
last few years I've learned that.  

The bridge crossing was exciting.  Very high off the ground and the horses 
realize this.  Rebel does well but, if I was doing this alone, I'd be walking 
him across.  Not a good place to trip; the floor of the bridge is made of 
railroad ties with areas higher than others by the depth of these large, deep 
planks of wood.  If it starts to sway I'm getting off and walking him across.

After a few miles past the bridge, we decide we're lost, missed a turn 
somewhere.  Patsy gets out her map (I gave mine to Marie to make points) and 
notices that we were supposed to get off this road right after crossing the 
bridge.  I then realize that Cleon, the ride manager, told us that at the 
preride meeting last night (don't miss the turn right past the bridge), and 
he was very clear on it.  haha.

We backtrack, find our error (it was well marked) and go the right way.  I 
don't mind making that mistake on a 25, but on a 50, trying to get your first 
completion, it does add some frustration to your ride.  Roxanne says we did 
an extra 3 miles, I say 5.  Anyway, we added to our ride.

The blue trail is much prettier than that orange one.  Still has lots of 
rocks, but it's not bothering Rebel.  We're not using pads, I later regret 
this, but I do use a concoction of turpentine, iodine, and vinegar for his 
hooves.  In my illusionary world, this is working.  So far.  "We don't need 
no stinking pads!"  

The views are gorgeous along the blue trail; there's one place where the goat 
trail parallels the river, or a tributary of the river, and it's lovely to 
look at.  I find myself wondering if the front runners even see this.  Nina 
would probably say she does; I'll have to find out tonight.

I've renamed this ride Bedrock.  Since the rocks here are manmade I would 
like to see what the dinosaurs would do with them.  Probably eat them for 
their mineral value.  Fred Flinstone is working overtime here in Georgia.  
"Hey, Wilma!"   We fly through the blue trail, Roxanne and Patsy constantly 
chatting, Rebel and I just tagging along, quietly bringing up the rear.  

We get into ridecamp, and I notice no vet lines again.  Superior ride, when 
it comes to that part of it.  And it's still not hot. Thank-you Weather 
Goddess, hope you're enjoying the run so far.  I look at my watch and the 
time says 11:30.  Lunchtime, after I get Rebel through the check.  We do, and 
it's a piece of cake.  Gut sounds still an A,  A minus this time.

I take a long time eating.  So does Rebel, who is alert and lively.  I have 
one beer, thinking of that old phrase, "the hair of the dog that bit you."  
I'm weak, what can I say?   I eat well, but not heavy.  Left over steak is 
the meal of the day.  I pop another two aspirin, headache is still there but 
not as bad as when we started.  We're late leaving the check again.  By 
twenty minutes this time.  I just want a completion here, a 50 mile 
completion, my first.  I wonder why getting it means so much to me?

We leave alone, nobody in front to follow.  Rebel doesn't want to leave, 
there are a few people sitting at the finish line, so I get off and walk him 
by.  I can't believe the finishers are coming in this early, it must be the 
25 milers.  The dreaded orange trail, filled with rocks, is the one we go on 
for a repeat.  Rebel decides the rocks are bothering him now so we go slow.  
I hope we find a rider up ahead soon, or we're toast.  

As Rebel tiptoes through Bedrock along the dreaded orange trail (too many 
rocks), I find that I should have listened to the experts and put pads on 
this guy.  You can do a 25 without them, providing your horse has good 
hooves, but not a 50.  And ride management did suggest them, along with a 
breast collar, which is absolutely necessary here (I do have one on Rebel, 
just in case you were asking).

Watching Rebel dance between rocks makes me think of Tiny Tim, and that awful 
song he used to sing, "Tip toe Through the Tulips."  I replay him singing it 
and he and Miss Vickie getting married on the Johnny Carson Show.  That 
marriage lasted almost as long as my first one and had about as much chance 
for success.   Hallucinations can set in on that third loop and it does with 
me.  I hope I don't start seeing munchkins on the trail with a bow and arrow 
aimed in my direction (Ally MacBeal).