Dance Line ReVisits Goethe, Part Two

[Howard4567@aol.com]

Dance Line Revisits Goethe
by Howard Bramhall


AUTHOR'S NOTE (yea, Howard, like you're really an author):  I apologize for 
all my typo's and obvious mistakes while cutting and pasting and rearranging 
my sentences in Part One.  I seem to be getting blind in my old age (I refuse 
to get bifocals even though I know I need them).  Add a few beers while I'm 
attempting to write something, and it is lucky if I can come up with anything 
coherent. Not being able to see the letters on my itty bitty computer screen 
doesn't help me out either.   Anyway, I edited the mistakes I made at the 
beginning and, if you don't mind, let's just start over with Part One, 
edited, but not really revised and Part Two, combined.  I'm far from being a 
perfectionist (hey, it's an imperfect world so I feel I fit right in), but 
when I really screw up I like to at least attempt to correct it.

I am so damn happy today!  I feel like I reached a goal that I have been 
trying to attain all my life.  Dance Line, my beautiful, most wonderful, 
glorious, long neck'd, long back'd, 17 hand, sorrel, full blooded American 
Saddlebred, just completed his first 50 mile endurance ride!  I can't walk by 
this magnificent creature without giving him a big hug and thanking him for 
being so damn cool.  He lights up my life and is a big part of my family. He 
doesn't understand why I hug him so much, I don't think he knows what an AERC 
completion is even though I discuss it with him over and over again. And, as 
embarrassing as it is to admit, he is my best friend.  I don't make or keep 
human ones very easily.

We attempted one 50 mile ride last March, and he did finish the 50 miles, but 
we did not get a completion because he collapsed and almost died at the 
finish line.  Yes, I know I beat that story to death (pun not intended) but I 
just can't help myself.  "Let it go, Howard, let it go," some riders have 
said to me.  Well, that memory will leave me when it does, and until it does 
it lingers on.  In a past life I must have been an elephant because some 
things I never forget.

Anyway, it was all I could do not to cry at the awards ceremony last night 
when I went up and received recognition for finishing.  Helen, one of the two 
ride managers, even let me have a cool fly mask that should be large enough 
to cover Dance's face and ears, something I would not, normally, expect to 
receive for coming in 42nd place.  I even said a few words to the crowd 
(public speaking is not my style) and I didn't lose it but I'll tell y'all 
about that later (remind me if I forget).   Here's my story; I'll try and 
keep this one clean, but I'm sure I'll end up offending some of you.  I still 
have visions of naked women when I'm out there on the trail.

This ride was a Florida ride, my favorite state, my home, my life.  I wasn't 
born in Florida but I know I belong here and I will remain here till the day 
I die.  I've asked my family to scatter my ashes in the ocean, ten miles 
offshore from Daytona Beach when that day does come.  I want to continue 
swimming with the sharks like I've done most of my life.  All of what's left 
of me but one cup, which I want placed on top of where Dance Line is buried.  
I have visions of Jennifer carrying out this morbid request for me.  In 
addition to riding together, Jennifer and I go deep sea fishing, sometimes so 
far from shore you no longer can see land, on our boat, usually accompanied 
by our dog, a cinnamon chow named Taffy.  Everyone else in the family gets 
seasick.

One good thing about a Florida ride, for me, is I do not need to get a stupid 
health certificate.  My trailering journey would keep me within the confines 
of the heavily patrolled state border.  Another reason why I was happy about 
going to this ride was I was pretty confident that the woman from north 
Georgia, the one I'm no longer allowed to discuss, wasn't going to be there.  
Rumor is she thinks Florida rides are too far away and not worth the journey. 
 Either that or she was snowed in up there in the mountains.  A week from now 
is the first day of winter.  I haven't seen snow in over ten years since the 
Air Force sent me to Korea.  I have kids who have never seen snow.

The ride is called the Goethe ride and is in a State forest with the same 
name.  Goethe was my first endurance ride exactly two years ago.  I guess I'm 
no longer on my endurance honeymoon, but, man, every time I think of my first 
ride there it still brings back sweet memories (as sweet as chocolate covered 
cherries, my favorite).  Dance Line and I had done a fast 25 miles (I knew no 
better back then) and we would have top tenned if I hadn't gotten lost.  Now, 
I no longer even consider coming in the top twenty.  I never want to know 
what place I'm in during a ride.  Winning a ride is not my goal.  I just want 
a healthy horse when we're done and a completion is good, but a horse that is 
fit to continue is paramount to me.  I ride my ride with only that in mind.  
I'm not the same rider I was two years ago.  I actually believe that my 
horse, Dance Line, has added some moral fiber to my soul through our 
experiences together, especially with the sport of endurance riding.

After that first ride at Goethe I got the urge to write about it and tell 
anyone who would take the time to read my story titled, "Rookie Horse, Rookie 
Rider."  I just had to inform others about the exciting world of endurance 
because the experience was so new, different and special to me.  And so 
wonderful!  Even though I felt I pretty much sucked as a writer I went and 
wrote the story anyway and put it out there on the Internet.  I think it's 
still there on an endurance website appropriately named endurance.net. For 
me, Goethe was like your first lover, the person you give your virginity to; 
and you never forget her.

I had to miss Goethe last year; it just happened to fall on my wedding 
anniversary, and even though I had every intention on going, my wife had 
other plans for me and kind of put the hammer down.  I, reluctantly, gave in 
(like I had a choice).  My friends told me it rained there during ride day so 
I guess my wife did me a favor, but, missing the ride last year just 
increased my desire to be there this time.  And I was taking my daughter, 
Jennifer, and her horse, Rebel, with me and my giraffe of a horse, Dance 
Line.  Jennifer and Rebel have already completed three 50 mile rides, but 
this would be her first trip to Goethe.

We got there after a two hour trailer ride.  Only two hours, can you imagine? 
 The campsite looked crowded on that Friday morning, but I found an area, 
close to the vet check but not too close, and started backing up.  Truman, a 
regular at these rides was parked near where I wanted to go and I saw him, 
wearing his shorts and hanging out near his trailer.  I asked if it would 
upset him if I parked close by, knowing that he knew I was a dangerous 
camper.  He just rolled his eyes, looked up as if asking God if it would be 
safe, and then he told me, "Sure, no problem. It's so warm I can't see you 
setting your trailer on fire this time."

Now, someone had placed some empty buckets in the area I wanted to take so I 
went around the other campsites and asked the folks there if the buckets 
belonged to them.  They all said no, so I just moved the buckets and backed 
up my rig.  I've been through this bucket thing before and, from what I've 
learned at other rides, saving spots for people who may or may not show up is 
not legal.  Besides, I'm used to having people angry at me so one more added 
to the list is not a problem.

As I'm unloading the horses and setting up the portable corral a very big man 
approaches me and I have a feeling the shit is about to hit the fan.  I don't 
know him but I have a feeling I'm going to.  He starts in about saving spots 
for his friends, I admit to moving the buckets but tell him saving spots is 
not really legit. I had already unloaded enough stuff and was damned sure I 
wasn't going anywhere so, I dug in my heels, ready for combat.   Luckily, he 
buys what I'm selling, takes his buckets and moves on. I've made another 
friend.  Man, too easy, maybe I scared him off with my large 5'8" frame.  
haha.  Two years ago, as a Rookie, I would have packed up and moved on to 
another spot.

My daughter, Jennifer, now wears glasses.  There goes my hope of her being an 
F-16 fighter pilot (hey, remember, I am retired Air Force), though I'm pretty 
sure she's going to become an attorney.  She never shuts the heck up and will 
argue a point till she's blue in the face.  Tell me she's not qualified!  She 
just turned 12 but still looks like she's 7.  In fact, a new neighbor, who 
just pulled into camp next to us, Theresa, whom I found out is, also, a big 
time GATOR fan (her orange and blue headstall for her horse gave her away), 
tried to guess Jennifer's age and came up with 8, and then apologized 
profusely when Jen gave her a "look" and informed Theresa she's 12.

Jennifer informs me that some people are vetting their horses in and we 
should get in line.  I agree and we get the horses and take them to the check 
in area.  Dance is on fire.  He's making noises and prancing around like he's 
never seen other horses before.  I've already regretted not bringing a chain 
or using a bit because he's just making havoc with only a halter, making me 
dance around in circles like someone is shooting at my feet.  I know he'll be 
like this until after the first loop tomorrow; it's just his way and I kind 
of enjoy it,  but I do worry he and I, together, might hurt some innocent 
bystander and that would not be cool.

If you ever take two horses, who live with each other at home,  to an 
endurance ride you will learn that this bonding thing that takes place 
between them cannot be broken.  My two are like Siamese twins, with the 
connection being Dance Line's butt and Rebel's head.  Luckily for me and Jen, 
the vets seem to understand this and usually let us keep the horses close 
together while vetting in.  Rebel isn't that bad, he's older and better 
behaved.  But Dance Line can rear up on me if I don't catch it in time and 
scare the heck out of some people who want to know what kind of creature I 
have attached to the end of my lead rope.  Some must wonder just what the 
heck it is I'm feeding him. I'm waiting for a rider to demand a pee test from 
my horse at a ride because he does act like he's on something.   He is a 
piece of work and, some say, so is his owner.

Dance makes all kinds of noises when he can't see Rebel and it's starting to 
bother the vet who happens to be checking my Saddlebred for anal tone right 
now.  I think he might have even scared the vet a bit, I'm not sure, but we 
kind of got the quick check and then the vet told me to trot him out.  We 
were doing OK until I made that 180 degree turn and, as soon as I did, Dance 
breaks into a canter to get back to Rebel; the trot just wasn't fast enough.  
What a horse!

Well, next time my out of control giraffe will have a bit in his mouth at the 
vet check.  You'd think I would have learned by now since this seems to be 
our two year anniversary together, with a few breaks due to a tendon problem 
and a near Death experience.  Dance Line is only 7 so, maybe, he'll 
eventually grow out of this behavior.  Or, it could be he'll just continue 
emulating his owner and never really ever mature.

I'll fast forward to the pre ride briefing held on Friday night.  Y'all don't 
really need to hear who I socialized with and those stories seem to get me 
into trouble with the few friends I do have so let's just skip them for now, 
OK?  Anyway, a large crowd gathers around the food and the hungry people form 
a line.  I sit with Kim and Michelle, my OLE buddies from the panhandle.  I 
listen to them complain about how long it took them to drive down here.  They 
think they're in South Florida since it took forever to get here.  haha.  My 
Mom lives in South Florida, I know South Florida, and this sure isn't any 
South Florida I tell them.  "Shut up, Howard," says Michelle.  If I was 
younger, single and Michelle wasn't married, with kids, I'd have said, "Make 
me, Cracker," and ten bucks says we'd be wrestling in the dirt right after I 
said it.  And Michelle, probably, would kick my butt cause I know she's 
tough.  So, I did as she directed and shut up for a while.

The thought of wrestling reminds me of this couple I saw standing in line for 
food; I had never seen them before.  The man was a big burly type, looked 
almost like a professional wrestler who liked to hunt, and the woman was a 
tiny thing, maybe 5 foot two or so and a hundred pounds.  Anyway, what made 
this couple stand out so much was the girl has a shiner on her that was so 
dark it looked like someone had painted it on with black shoe polish.  Tina, 
an endurance rider sitting next to me, pointed it out, knowing I have a 
warped sense of humor.  After I saw it I turned back to Tina and said, "We 
sure do know how to treat our women down here, don't you think?"  I'm certain 
the lady's horse kicked her or hit her eye with his head, but if I were her 
husband/boyfriend I don't think I'd be out in public, sitting next to her, 
without making an announcement to everyone, "I did not hit this woman, my 
horse did it, I swear."  haha

After the food, Helen and Pat start out with the pre-ride briefing.  Helen is 
quite a talker and she gives us a little history of Goethe and how it has 
become a mecca for horses and riders.  Then, she introduces some of the State 
Ranger people who are there.  Helen says, "Without their support, this place, 
set up mainly for horses and riders, would not exist as it does today."  And, 
damn, if the crowd did not give these Rangers a standing ovation when Helen 
introduces them individually.  We all know what side of the bread our butter 
is on.

As Helen continued to talk about the Rangers and the Goethe forest I was just 
amazed at what they have done here.  I mean, this particular area has got to 
be the model for our country with regard to equestrians getting along with 
State or Federal authority types.  In most places they make it difficult, if 
not impossible, for horses and riders, but not here at Goethe.  The state 
people want you to come, no fees, and stay as long as you like.  You do have 
to get a permit, but you can get one with just a phone call to Helen or Pat, 
and it's free.  The campgrounds are really nice with running water, a wash 
rack, and a few other amenities.  I told y'all Florida was a cool state; go 
to Goethe and you'll find out Howard is right, for once.

The briefing ended quickly, the one thing the head vet did mention was the 
weather.  It was incredibly warm for this time of year, I think the high 
today was 80, and the same was expected for ride day tomorrow.  I remember 
seeing a Maine license plate on a truck parked in the campgrounds and my 
guess was they were going to have a very tough ride tomorrow.  I wasn't too 
worried since I had no plan on finishing the 50.  I had told just about 
everyone I was going to pull Dance Line after the third loop (35 miles) and 
pass my kid on to someone I knew so she could get a completion.  I just did 
not want to take any chances of history repeating itself concerning Dance 
Line's metabolics.

Now I did go visit a few folks the night before the ride, but I didn't drink. 
 Well, I drank a little, but I really did go easy.  I had no intention of 
making the mistake I did when I had way too many beers before a 50 mile ride 
at GERA last August.  After completing the ride, I almost passed out when 
Rebel and I came in eleven hours later after our start time.  Actually, I did 
pass out, from dehydration and I was pretty sure I had heat stroke.  

I forgot to mention they were doing a 100 mile ride here and it was the first 
time Goethe had offered that distance.  My mentor, Roxanne, was entered in 
this event (I think they're all nuts but you gotta respect them and their 
horses).  Her start time was 5:00 AM.  Michelle was, also, in the hundred 
along with my gal VAL.  I even got up the nerve to talk to VAL at this ride, 
but it was very brief and she has no clue as to who or what I am.  Haha, who 
does?  Man, would I like to pick that woman's brain for an hour or two, but I 
don't think that will ever happen.  Especially if anyone ever tells her what 
a big mouth I have.

One of the questions I would like to ask VAL would be about the ARABS.  And 
I'm not talking horses here, I'm talking people; especially the Sultans of 
Swing from UAE (United Arab Emirates).  I know she could answer my questions 
cause she does a lot of overseas rides and is on the FEI Board of Directors.  
I have a lot of things I'd ask Val; heres a couple:  Question #1:  Is it true 
they run their country like a bunch of Mafia Dons, betting amongst themselves 
for millions of dollars, one Don against the other, on their horses when they 
have endurance races (there it's not considered a "run") in their country?  
Question #2:  Are they or are they not a primary reason why the endurance FEI 
rides are so damn expensive and why a rider, unless he or she is rich,  has 
to have a sponsor to afford to enter an FEI endurance ride?  Follow up to #2: 
 Don't they want it that way (expensive) so they can sponsor you, have you 
ride for them (providing you have a great horse), and then they end up owning 
your ass and the ass you're riding?  

I have a lot more questions concerning FEI and the UAE, but I'll stop there 
(for now).  Maybe I'm off base here with the UAE and FEI (endurance).  I 
really don't know.  People talk, I listen.  It's just that the money thing 
scares me; I don't want it in any of the rides I attend.  Some riders tell me 
it's inevitable, it's going to happen.  I just hope we keep it away from the 
AERC rides I go to down here in the Southeast. Or just have it apply to the 
hundred mile rides.  Once money gets into the sport you get riders running 
their horses into the ground, because they need the bucks and, like it or 
not, some people will do anything for money. I don't want to be a part of 
that and my guess is, the riders who go out there just to achieve a 
completion and experience what endurance has to offer for the thrill, but not 
the victory, feel the same was as I do.  

Let's face it, money already is in our sport, but it's subtle.  Here's how 
you get into the money by doing endurance.  You ride quite a few (12 or more) 
endurance rides with a really good horse, do great, start winning, and get 
that coveted Best Conditioned (BC) award.  This goes on for six months or so, 
and you and your horse's name start coming up in the AERC stats as a 
toprunner.  Pretty soon you'll get that phone call.  It will be from a broker 
of one of the Sheiks and that magic question will be asked.  "How much do you 
want for your horse?"  I've heard figures that would knock you down if I told 
them to you.  They floored me when I first heard some of them.

See, I told you I'd probably offend someone with my story and I know those 
paragraphs I just wrote will get me into hot water with a lot of riders who 
have international aspirations.  Heck, it might even get me killed if I'm not 
more careful.  But for some reason, I think we, as AERC members, need to get 
it out in the open.  

Endurance News, the publication of AERC, has, recently, been covering this 
very subject.  From the President's message to Letters to the Editor, a lot 
of discussion has been going on concerning International Endurance and 
exactly where AERC fits into that aspect of endurance riding (right now we 
don't fit in very well).  We even have a separate part of the membership who 
join International AERC.  Very confusing and it's quite controversial.  I, 
for one, am glad it's being discussed, and if I'm dead wrong about FEI and 
UAE, I'd like to find out that I am.  

Anyway, enough of that, back to my story.