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We arrived back in the US last week. Spent a couple days with my parents in
Virginia, and then drove their 1988 Oldsmobile Touring Sedan (great car!)
across the country to Idaho. 2600 miles, watching springtime come and go as
we travelled west, snow in the Rocky Mountains, and then finally dropping
down into the Snake River basin, to the foot of the Owyhees, springtime
again. A nice road trip, nice way to transition back into the USA, after 4
months overseas - UAE and Argentina. Great adventures, good to be back home.

We have a ride to manage in 10 days, jumping from the Pan American
Championship, South America, into the next phase w/o a lot of time to spare.
I'll try to get the PAC story written - probably in bits and pieces, but it
will be hard to do justice to the incredible time we had in Argentina,
adventures and wonderful people that took us in and treated us like family.
The race was just a small part of it.

Anyway, here goes: Loop One. In the Dark.

Fear is a funny thing - once it gets a bite and sinks its teeth in a little,
it takes on a life of it's own. Totally irrational, and totally detached
from 'reality', it's all in the head. Very nasty stuff.

At some point during the week leading up to the PAC I became afraid. Afraid
of my wonderful gorgeous horse, although there was really nothing to be
afraid of. When I try to think back at exactly 'what' was making me so edgy
I can't define it. I was somewhat worried about staying on the horse (I came
off once when we first got to Pinamar, unprepared and riding sloppy when she
threw a little bucking fit - but if I had been attentive I could have easily
ridden through it), she was big and powerful and quite preoccupied with her
herd-mates (several travelled together)and a little prone to moments of
great exuburance, but very well trained, and ultimately manageable - I just
needed to Ride her, no sleeping on this talented horse.  And the the
logical/rational me wasn't really worried, I can ride pretty well, and once
the race starts the forward motion is all that there is, the silliness and
spookiness of the training rides disappears. Even knowing that, there was
still this stupid gnawing worry that would wake me early in the mornings
during the week before the race, and didn't entirely go away until after
that morning's training ride, when we unsaddled and put the horses back in
their stall. That's the wierd thing about fear I think, it doesn't make
sense - but it's hard to shake. I kept thinking this is ridiculous (and it
was). Probably hormones...

So for several days leading up to the start, I had this ongoing battle with
my head. We rode every day, and my mare was definitely 'race ready' -
pumped, strong, perfect for the event. And nerves on edge with the new
surroundings, the excitement, being stalled and fed 'race rations'. I had
ridden her a lot already - did a 50 mile ride with her 6 weeks prior (though
she was fat and unfit then) and trained her at Miguels in Buenos Aires a
couple weeks earlier. It was actually exciting to see her come along in a
fairly short time from fat to fit and start to realize what an amazing horse
she was. Miguel has been breeding Arabians for three decades, and bred quite
successfully for the race track before he became involved in Endurance. His
horses are fantastic - strong and spirited - and love to run. I feel so
lucky to have been able to compete on one of his horses.

One of the mornings we were saddling up again to go out (Orlando was there,
Miguels wonderful groom from Buenos Aires who came to Pinamar to help
Miguel, and was particularly kind and helpful to me - he was a gem) - while
Orlando was grooming her she spooked at something outside and pulled back in
her stall, the look in her eye was not that of a relaxed sleepy horse, and
recalling my abrupt departure from her back the day before, I resorted to
the the lowly status of whimp... and went looking for Hugo the Gaucho. I
mustered up a little Spanish, tried to explain that she was a little 'doma'
(wild) the other day and dumped me, and that I was afraid about getting on
her that morning 'tengo mierdo' (actually I might have said 'I have
excrement' - translations can be tricky)... but Hugo got the idea that I
wanted him to ride her first and the gleam in his eye made me smile.

He brought her out and rode her in the small area by the stalls with great
gaucho zeal. The mare's eyes got bigger with every spin and kick, and as I
was watching the show, Grace - Jan - and Madiya came along and watched with
me for a while. I think Jan said something like 'good luck' and Grace
followed up with 'looks like he's just getting her warmed up for you'. One
of those moments where the humor of the situation wipes out the last
remaining strands of fear....

We had a very fine and exciting training ride that morning- all of the San
Andres del Moro horses (20+)went out together for a good workout on the
beach. Miguel and Moro Tigre, Leonard and Mora Austria, me and Mora Afamada
('Gordita'), and Hugo, Hugito, Ana Lia, and the rest. Except for Miguel, Leo
and I, the riders were each ponying horses, 2 or 3 each, hot fit Arabians,
and these Argentine riders just rode their horses like they were glued to
the saddle, managing their own spirited horse as well as the ones snorting
along beside them.

We rode the town and forest lanes, the 5 kilometers to the beach, and then
along the beach and back for quite a ways. It was fantastic, ducking under
the pier with the waves crashing toward us, just enough clearance, wide eyed
horses. Galloping along the water's edge, getting caught by a large wave,
pounding hooves splashing the salt water all around. Truly wonderful - and
the light was silver, the water and sky were shades of gray, deep blue and
silver. Beautiful. I kept expecting Gordita to relax a little, settle into
the ride, but she felt 'big' the entire ride - exhilarating, but exhausting.
I thought for sure she'd relax next time.

The next morning I awoke anxious (silly stuff) and decided I'd just spend
the morning hand walking her, letting her stop, graze, relax a little.
Seemed like a reasonable idea. I left the helmet and chaps and tights in the
hotel, and bravely went to the barn. I met up with Miguel and Leo for the
morning ride and explained my plan and as the words came out it felt pretty
weak... Miguel is so kind, and such a gentleman, and politely suggested that
it would probably be better to ride again, that she needed the excersize,
but, whatever I wanted to do was ok. Funny, at that moment I couldn't figure
out why I hadn't wanted to ride in the first place and happily went to
saddle up and ride - forget the helmet and tights. Jeans would do. And we
had a wonderful ride - slow and meandering, several hours riding and
talking. Gordita was still feeling 'race ready' but a little more relaxed
with her surroundings. It was fine. (except that I lost my
new.first.only.bought-in-Dubai cellphone somewhere on that ride - all my new
contact phone numbers, and a very cool phone - bummer!)

(next - the first loop)


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