It has taken me a number of months - All of June and July and most of August,
in fact - to screw up the courage to write this note.
Some years ago, I purchased a four-year-old mare for endurance. She was
built a little upright and a bit light in the lower limbs, but I felt she had
the mind and the heart - and the wonderfully huge feet - to make an elite
endurance horse. Based on the knowledge I had gleaned from fellow riders,
articles and books, I decided this mare should be brought along slowly with a
goal to have her ready for strong competition by the age of 10.
She competed in a couple of slow 50s each year as a five, six and
seven-year-old, moving up to her first 100 at the age of 8. She was tired
andleg-weary at the 88-mile point, so I decided to pull her.
The next year, she competed in two more hundreds, the first in 20 hours and
the second in about 14, finishing strong and happy both times. Our next attempt
was at the Ride over the Rainbow FEI ride in 2001. Unfortunately, we spent a lot
of time getting lost and finally pulled at the 96-mile mark - having done well
over 110 miles in reality, with a sore and swollen fetlock on her off fore.
I decided then that she needed a break and should be bred to a good stallion.
She produced a phenomenal filly on June 18, 2002.
Early this winter, I put the mare back into training with plans to prepare
her for some serious competition in the season ahead. Finally, I thought, we
were going out to win. At the very least, she would earn her 1,000-mile blanket
(Endurance Riders of Alberta).
On May 28, immediately after a lovely recreational ride with some
neighbours, she suffered an aneurysm, collapsed and died.
The spectre of this gorgeous mare's sudden death will haunt me as long as I
live. I believe now that I was riding a ticking time bomb.
Her death raises a question that I would like each of you to think about when
you're passing judgment on other riders.
What if my beloved mare had collapsed during a ride? Would you have then
labelled me a killer?
