[RC] Endurance, Carolina Style: Part One - Howard Bramhall
I promise to not make this story entirely about the
war, but, I must say, it did become a big part of my twelve day quest in the
Carolinas. Both arenas, endurance and the military, were part of who I was
and what I have become. And, there they were, intertwined on television
and just outside the door of my "Yellow Submarine."
The one connection I did make between the two were that they were both
serious and quite intense. I found it ironic that I was sitting there,
inside my vessel, watching it all unfold, wearing my 2nd Combat
Communications ball cap, that was part of my uniform (it's the
only part, besides my boots, that still fit) when I was in the
Air Force, and my Leatherwood Endurance T-Shirt with the American Flag
on the sleeve. My past, my present, and, hopefully, my future (the
endurance portion, not the war) were all with me that first night
in South Carolina.
The next day I saddled up American Spirit to check out the condition of the
trails at Sand Hills. I ended up walking him away from the barn because of
the danger associated with horse separation. The way the other two
horses were acting, along with America, you would think I was taking him
out to be executed.
Once the barn was out of sight, I mounted the horse I had completely fallen
in love with (somehow that doesn't sound quite right). I was planning on
riding America the next two Saturdays with our goal (OK, it's my goal) of
finishing 105 miles in two days of competition doing the sport I enjoy more than
any other. My goals were set high; this was the first time I
would attempt back to back endurance rides, with only a 6 day break, riding
the same horse. And, I knew that Leatherwood, which would be the
second leg of this endurance marathon, would be the most difficult thing I had
ever done before on the back of a horse. Sand Hills would be the fist leg
of our journey with the final goal of completing the one ride that I do believe
is the toughest 50 miler in the country: Leatherwood, the extreme
endurance mountain challenge that seems to go up and down, repetitively, for the
entire 50 mile ride. Flatland, which is what my horses are used to,
is not part of the equation at Leatherwood. And, for once, I'm not
exaggerating.
America is great out on the trail when it is just he and I, alone, with no
other horses in sight. This is quite a different matter when we attend an
endurance ride. He becomes "El Whacko" whenever he sees a group of strange
horses in front of him and acts like a thoroughbred race horse who will be
turned into dog meat if he does not win the race. No matter how much I
assure him that this will never happen, that I just want to finish the ride with
both of us in one piece, he never seems to believe me.
Even though I had brought along a map of the trails provided by the State
Park, somehow, after an hour, I had gotten completely lost. This place is
huge and goes on and on forever. I decided to let America try and find our
way back to the camp grounds, letting him make the decision on which way to turn
when we came to an intersection. I'm amazed, with logic like mine, that
we're not still out there. Eventually, I did spot something that
helped: a big ole sign that had the name of the campgrounds and provided a
directional arrow. Yes, my life does, sometime, resemble a
cartoon. Note to self: Study the map tonight during the commercials
while watching the war. I plan on riding one of the other horses
tomorrow.
As we got closer to the barn, America picked up the pace and started acting
like he does at the start of an endurance ride. His canter became a gallop
and I found myself pulling his head to the side to keep him from running out of
control. We then did our slalom run, side to side along the trail, like a
skier coming down a mountain (this is much safer than going completely straight
down the hill wide open). I can hear some of you saying, "Howard, you and
that horse need some serious dressage lessons." You're probably
right, but, to be honest, I like this horse just the way he is. He was
meant for me and I was meant for him, even if he has yet to realize that
concept. Two peas in a pod with the most common thread between us being we
are both just a little bit crazy.
