[RC] Endurance, Carolina Style: Part Eleven - Howard Bramhall
The predawn morning sky was overcast, the clouds were low. I
drove over to the barn to feed the horses early, it was 4:30 AM. Phil, the
nicest guy on the face of the earth, had lent me his jeep for most of the week
when someone (me) told him that I kept pestering folks for a ride
here, a ride there. I won't say much about Phil in my story because some
of you might think that such acts of kindness or class are figments from my
imagination (and, where you would get that idea I can't imagine), that such a
gentle hearted person does not exist in today's world, but, I will say one thing
to him, and, say it directly: "I can't thank you enough."
The weather reminded me of what it was at last year's ride, the mist, the
low clouds floating over the mountain tops, not being able to see the a glimmer
from the morning sun. It wasn't raining, at least not yet, but you could
literally see the moisture in the air. I spotted Abbie, running to and
fro, but, always, taking the time to say hi to anyone she saw, including
me. Abbie seems to know everybody's name, and, I mean everybody. She
is always asking how you are doing (and meaning it), if there's anything you
need (and meaning this too); it's quite overwhelming if you ever get
to watch her in action. True kindness and caring are such rare
commodities, yet, here at Leatherwood, they seem to flow in abundance, like the
rivers and creeks which are everywhere. I must live here to find if I can
get some of it running inside of me; like waving to a stranger when you
pass them in your car, it's the only way to be.
I fed my three horses, making sure to add the extra stuff (all legal, of
course) to America's feed that I have come to do before, during, and after an
endurance ride. My plan was to take this ride one loop at a time.
It's how I do most of them, but, here, I really did not expect to finish the
entire 50 miles. And, to let America know that we were going to do things
differently, we were going to start out in the rear.
Speaking of "in the rear," I just remembered a story one of our illustrious
AERC Board members told at this year's award's dinner, which was the climax of
the convention. She was speaking about another Board member (I'm not
mentioning any names here), a male rider, who, evidently, comes in last at most
rides he attends. The speaker went on to say that she thought it would be
a very clever idea, in honor of this position, to make out a T-Shirt for the
turtle award to anyone who may end up coming in last place at the ride she
manages. Her idea was to mail it to them, after they won, because it would
include the person's name on the T-Shirt. The words on the T-Shirt would
read, "(Person's name) likes it in the rear." Those words would be on the
front of the shirt and on the back would be a close up picture of the rear end
of a horse.
I didn't do that story justice, and, for those of you who were there,
please forgive me. The speaker was just hilarious; it's one of those "you
had to be there" moments. Needless to say, we have some very talented
Board Members. The woman who told the story does not live anywhere close
to my region, but, one day, before I die, I do intend on going to her ride just
to hear her give that pre-ride talk (it has to be a hoot). And, like
Leatherwood, I also intend on bringing in the rear, although I'll try very hard
not to win that particular T-Shirt.
I tacked up America adding a breast collar for those mountain climbs to
come. Riders were already warming up their mounts; the clip-clop sounds of
the shod hooves hitting the paved road and parking lot surrounded the
barn. I do so love that sound.
America started acting up because of "horse separation." I could hear
the incredibly loud rebel yells coming from War Cry as we headed away from the
barn. Anyone walking near War Cry's stall would have wished they had worn
ear plugs this morning. He really can break an ear drum if you're too
close. His sounds, when not expected, have scared the life out of me on
numerous occasions.
Visibility was very low, with the mist in the air. Nancy, timekeeper
of the South, announced five minutes to go. I checked in with her, said
Hello, then, it started to pour. I dismounted and walked America to this
covered area, used for barbecuing, away from the barn. By the time Nancy
yelled out the trail was open, the rain had subsided, and the riders left in a
controlled start following the horse and rider who were doing the
controlling. It was a brisk walk although some horses were trotting in
place. I let them all go by and then remounted America.
America did have all 4 shoes on; I had found the ride farrier on
Friday morning. America, as usual, wanted to pass all the horses in front
of us, but I held him back. At this ride I had not forgotten to wear
my riding gloves (baseball gloves, actually) and knew I would need them.
Because most of the horses were walking, America sort of behaved
himself. That was until we were released and began that winding,
narrow, no passing allowed, mile climb to the ridgeline. Let the
adventure begin!
