Recognizing Emotional/Physical Balance in Riding or My Lesson Learned at Muckleratz 50 Race, By Caroline North

After a long month of June of haying, teaching, training, and doing all things horse, I wanted to just go out and ride. The kind of ride that gets you out in unfamiliar woods and trails that you can just be…

So, Glory, my Quarab gelding, and I traveled down to PA for our last endurance race before the busyness of summer kicked into high gear. We were both fit and prepped well enough, and this was an easier 50-mile race to compete in, so I was pretty confident in our abilities and in doing the physical fitness math.

The evening before the race started, Glory and I went for our usual pre-ride walk and stretch around the ride camp. All was well. Then I felt a gentle bump on the back of my arm, Glory was checking in with me and nuzzled me respectfully as is his habit if he needs my attention. But this time I felt and heard his question so clearly ‘Are you okay for this?’  I of course replied immediately back to him, ‘Yes! I’m fine. Thank you for checking.’ 

But in reality, I wasn’t fine. As I walked him around and I pondered his outreach (this kind of dialogue is something I have encouraged him to participate with me fully via respectful body language since he was born on the farm) that was such a clear checking in with me, I started to realize just how tired I was. You can’t hide this kind of bodily and emotional tiredness from your horse partner when you are joined in an adventure.

Digging a little deeper I realized this emotional exhaustion was more prevalent than bodily tiredness. Exhaustion that still lingered from a disappointing pulled shoe (that was just bad luck) that cost us our National Championship Ride earlier in June. Emotional weariness that comes from supporting others in their own learning with their horses, even though it’s my calling. Emotional weariness from trying to do everything well, from keeping the garden to making healthy meals (note meals were the first thing to go downhill). A pressure cooker of my own design.

Glory felt I wasn’t at 100 percent emotional fitness. He was a little worried about me. So, I adjusted, adapted, and decided to just let this race play out however it may, even if it meant we have to stop halfway. I let go of the outcome.

We walked back to the trailer, and he seemed quite relieved. The morning of the race, it was an easy start at 6 am. Both of us are seasoned enough endurance competitors that we can just chill out on the first loop. As I was riding him though, his behavior was way different then I was used to.  He was hanging back, drifting behind my sister’s horse Merri, when he normally leads in front.

He was ‘babysitting’ ME. He took matters into his own hooves. He knows how to babysit riders, he is a wonderful lesson horse at home, but has never ‘babysat’ ME quite like this before, it’s always the other way around, I’m supposed take care of him at these races! I was at first a little offended. Then I stuck to my plan and just rolled with it. I really let him in and carry me on a soul level. As we went through the loops and miles, my emotional tiredness gradually subsided as my physical tiredness grew.

 The woods and trails did their magic, and even though it was hot, and Glory and I both started to whine to each other, I felt myself getting lighter inside. I made some firm resolutions to do more self-care at home. He was kind of demanding it, like a good partner. But it is up to me to do the work. I can’t just ride my problems away, that’s not fair to the horse.

We finished the race pretty strong at 3:00 pm, we even placed ninth even though we weren’t trying too hard. We had a wonderful, shared experience, which is what the sport of endurance riding is all about. Glory helped me get my head out of a stuck place. He reminded me that my internal balance must come first for optimal partnership while riding. I encourage all my horses to this level of awareness.

I hope all of you do as well, your horse will hold you accountable either way. Ride in balance and joy!

Caroline North

When Old Labels and Standards Just Do Not Fit

The other day I was talking with an old acquaintance, and she was curious on what riding discipline I taught. I wasn’t able to come up with a succinct answer on the spot to these questions because I realized my teaching doesn’t really fit the old labels of English/Western riding that we grew up with.  In our more enlightened age of horsemanship, I have figured out what I want to teach and how to describe it (thanks to yoga by the way)!

So, what do I teach?

 My riding discipline is JOY. Pure joy, not just for the rider at the expense of the horse, but fully including the horse in the experience. My tagline for lessons has been ‘Balanced Seat Riding for All Ages.’   In balancing the body for the most efficient and graceful movement (both horse and rider). In balancing the mind for courage, focus, and empowerment (of both horse and rider). In balancing the spirit for giving, receiving, and compassion (of both horse and rider).

So, what do I show? (Horse showing competition being the old way of measuring success)

I do not show, I RIDE. The greatest judges of my abilities are my horse, my soul, and the heavens above.  Endurance riding has me hooked because it has shown me that my horses that I currently compete LOVE these crazy long-distance rides more than I do. They jump on the trailer, eagerly seek the trail, have ultimate faith in me to keep them safe. I do not feel the need for anything else.

But what is your greatest equestrian accomplishment?

Galloping up a hill in the middle of a forest. Alone, with only heaven as my witness, in pure absolute unity with Glorfindel. We breathed as one, thought as one, moved as one in perfect balance. We transcended all thoughts of control and surrender for a few brief moments. The power of that sensation brings tears of awe and joy to me even as I type this. No trophy can top that.

Think on the labels you might want to change in your life….

An Exercise in Gratitude and Fear or Fort Valley 2021

Some endurance rides are straight forward. There is a trail. You ride it as fast and as best as it safe for you and your horse. They all have various challenges, and none are ‘easy,’ but some challenges are environmental, like heat index, some are mental like looking at the same terrain over and over (horses don’t like to be bored either).  Many of the challenges are physical, like dealing with deep sand that can cause cramps. All equestrian endeavors have challenges. This weekend pushed limits I knew existed, but never thought I would have to deal with that kind of mental Oh My God moments.

The Fort Valley ride in Virginia this year had its share of challenges, but the one that stood out to me the most (and I believe left the most impression on Glory too) was the trail itself. This trail had everything challenging on it. I guess Glory and I have reached a new level of cheerful craziness though, because we did it twice, no big deal. Except there IS a part of me that is still in fearful shock of the mountains we climbed, and I have bad dreams of falling off cliffs now it even though we rode the trail just fine.

Day One:  My sister (Audrey Hager) and her Appy/Arab Merry), and Glory and I start off the race as the sun came up in the mid pack of 20 starters. We trot off steady up the gravel road to climb the mountain, 2 miles up.  The horses are relaxed, and we can easily bring them down to a walk every couple of minutes to make sure they don’t tie up after the first of many long climbs we know we’re going to make. The top is great, and short! Then it’s right back to going 2 miles down the mountain!  Now in case you think these trails are nice wide easy trails, let me set you straight. Once you get off the road, the trail on THIS mountain is about 4’ wide (at the wide end), then it’s a drop off (this was the easy mountain).  It is also chunky sharp leg eating rocks. When I say you are safer riding your horse on these trails I mean it, because if you get off and hike, you could very quickly mess your ankles up. Slow going right? Glory says, ‘I GOT this!’  and cheerfully struts up and down and over the rocks at a fast elevated walk that feels like riding a floating parade horse.  (Thank you, Science of Motion dressage work!)  We even got to some dirt paths that we trot downhill on without fatiguing (normally I do not do a lot of trots downhill to save the concussion on their legs, but this ride leaves you no choice if you want to make time).

Okay! One mountain done, now what? We get to a grassy logging road and let our trot really open up (about 12 mph). La la la, then WHOA, a lovely landowner in the Halloween spirit put fun decorations on the trail. Ghosts and Reapers in the trees Oh My! Glory didn’t care but the horse behind us almost shied into us.  Oops. Okay, we got going again. Up and over some more nice ravines (like not too rocky, just right narrow 1.5 wide dirt forest paths that you can TROT!), then we hit a road running along the Shenandoah River.  It’s a gravel road with good traction, so we open up again and get some canter on.  After about 2 miles of this, TURN.  Down toward the river on the ‘Dipsy Doodle’ section. Cute right? Well…we caught up to the front runners. The trail turned into a series (like five in a row) of v shaped ravines that you slide down to the bottom and climb up. No big deal, except Glory got HOT. Like yank the reins away and try to jump halfway down and up the other side to catch up to the leaders like he was a talented eventing jumper horse (he’s not).    Well, we argued. It was not fun. After much cussing about trying not to slide down into the river, we calmed down. Then oh look! A drink spot. So then I actually ride into the river on purpose (because it was a safe beach instead of the bottom of a ravine!).  We stop to make sure another rider can safely mount up in company (leaving her would have been extremely rude). Then set off again. Up and down. Beautiful forest trails, with much trotting, twists, and turns (re: watch those ribbons and don’t get lost!).  The horses felt great. I felt great! It was fun! But oh wait, Glory hasn’t taken a good drink yet and we have to climb the mountain again!  I try not to fuss and worry. We get to a water tank, and his sips a little. I decide to electrolyte him early before the climb up. He spit half out. Sigh. I can’t worry too much; we’ll just have to survive the mountain.  So, we start the climb. Just walking the ROCKS that deserve so much respect. We make the top and descend! And the horses are feeling fine, smelling camp, and willingly trotting down the fresh gravel road on a significant slope even though the stones are rolling under their feet. Loop 1 (about 20 miles) is done. 

After our 45-minute vet hold at the camp, were the horses vetted through with all A’s and ate and drank good, we head out again.

Up the same mountain (the easy one) that we started on. They were not pleased. They walked and whined, hoping to do something different and not as steep. The road is long, but we make it to the top, and back down, all the while wondering why the ride manager said the second loop was so hard (not for ‘panty waists’ was how she phrased it). We trot and make pretty good time as the loop wore on, no big deal.  The horses were taking good care of us and themselves and we were in the sweet spot of a race were there wasn’t any other horses close in front of us or right behind us.  Then we pass the sign that says Indian Graves Ridge Trail. Hmmm that sounds ominous. Okay, we can do this. So we head out on it me thinking is this a haunted trail or something?  All is well with a nice slow climb for 2 miles.  Then it starts to get steep. We slow down. Just as we crest a section of trail expecting to be near a flat spot, it climbs again. UP and UP. Rocks, mud, and a tired heaving horse. I get off and walk beside Glory for a while. Give him some electrolytes. (This is the kind of ride that invites horses to tie up on, which are serious muscle spasms). I am thinking we got to be near the top. It’s near a mile of steep climb, think ski slope steep.  We rest the horses every couple of minutes. Then the trail opens to the sky. No more trees, we are winding around the rock face of a mountain. The ‘Trail’ or GOAT PATH narrows to about a foot in sections. I glance down and get dizzy, and my brain is screaming at me. At one point the path was so narrow someone tried to widen it be shoving some rocks in against some tree roots (like that is going to hold a horse’s weight!) I grabbed my prayer beads (yes, I ride prepared for ANYTHING) and held to my faith in Glory. It was terrifying. One stumble and we were done. I’ve ridden lots of scary trail and this topped the cake!  After we get along about 30 yards of this, we reach a turn in some huge boulders.  It’s a mad scramble up the cliff, just like Cougar Rock in Tevis (The famous photo stop in the Western States Trail Race)!  Except there no way in heck I’m taking my camera out to prove it.  You’ll just have to trust me.  And then WE ARE AT THE TOP! Hooray! I kid you not Glory and I both heaved a huge sigh of relief. We are both shaky enough to warrant me getting off for a while. The view is amazing. The trail did not relent. We now picked our way across the razorback ridge on a still narrow trail. This is why insisting on good ground manners is so important, one rude shove from Gory and I would roll down the mountain.  I hop back on, and we keep picking our way along, and then Holy Sign of Relief, I see the trail turn down to camp. Joyfully we make our way into ride camp, on the lovely WIDE mountain trail we came up on our first loop.

We get through the second hold with all A’s again on the vet card! Merry and Audrey are doing great, considering this is only Merry’s 3rd 50-mile race. After a 45-minute rest, we head out again for the last loop. I remember this loop from past years as being the Easy Loop. Only 12 ish miles of relatively flat easy fields and trail.  We truck right along, just finding out that we are in the running to be in the top ten finishers. Wow! So I ask Glory to put a little more speed on. He does so with joy and tells me he’s got plenty left in the tank!  We play leapfrog with a couple of riders for about 5 miles, then we hit another uphill climb.  This is where Glory really puts on the jets and after all of that climbing earlier, still trots strong up the hill. When I say this loop is flatter, I mean there is no real mountains to climb, just your average hills! We crest it and realize the horses we were leap frogging got left in the dust. I actually feel like I’m competitively riding a distance race beyond just finishing and enjoying it.  I decide to keep riding forward as long as Glory seems okay with it. Audrey said Merry is good to go too. So, we keep trucking and hit an open flat section of hay fields. The kind of fields in which you can really get a horse running in. I never let my horses just take off at a gallop, ever. BUT, today, I caught sight of 2 riders ahead of us and decide to see if we could pass them.  Glory’s huge stride easily catches up to them without too much effort, and we trot with them around some turns and through a nice creek where everyone drinks. All 4 of us riders stay in the creek and don’t leave until the last horse is done, this is NOT the time to pass.  Then off to the fields again. I know the loop from riding it last year and realize we have about 2.5 miles left to the whole race. I got to make our move soon! As the four of us find a good rhythm of big trot and slow canter, I see my opportunity. I ask Glory with a thought and a release to go faster (not even a squeeze of the leg, no pressure on Glory because I didn’t want him to give me the speed if he was too tired).  We start an honest hand gallop with ease! Glory is happy, I’m happy and in awe of just how much he’s given me today!  We pass the 2 riders and don’t look back!  We got to some turns and shockingly climb up yet another hill. Okay now I look back. I estimate we have about a 60 second lead! So, we long trot the last 2 miles (the longest seeming miles) and then sight the finish! 

We made it! Audrey and I tied for 6th place on the toughest race (terrain wise) that we’ve ever done!  It took us about 10 hours and 10 minutes to complete. We estimated by our GPS that we had about 8,000 feet of elevation gain! We were both on cloud nine! Glory and Merry were happy to go to camp and EAT! We vetted through and both decided to stand for Best Condition. This is where the Veterinary Control Judge gives each horse a more thorough evaluation an hour after you finish, to catch any sores or issues that can crop up, especially if a horse has been over faced. The vetting goes well! Then we go get weighed with our tack, this and time factors in the scoring of BC. 

We settle in, and now I’m faced with the thought of doing it ALL OVER AGAIN.  However, I’m too elated to worry much about it.  Glory gets lots to eat and I compression wrap his legs for the night. We rest and find out that Glory won High Vet Score! This is a great honor for both horse and rider, it meant we took super good care of each other and is rewarded to the horse with the highest score on their vet card!  We missed out on Best Condition due to time and weight, but I didn’t care, this was the first time we’ve done THIS well. 

I go to bed. And have a couple of terrible dreams of that Indian Graves Trail! Like of falling and screaming Glory’s name as I watch him fall! I wake up shaking but decide to meditate for a few minutes and really delve deep into my intuition. I asked my gut, should we go back out there for a 2nd race?  Will Glory be fit enough, strong enough, hydrated enough to make those climbs AGAIN? My gut instinct and intuition said YES HAVE FAITH.

SO, we went out and did it all over again, this time with our friends Felisa Read and her horse Lenny. We rode the race the same way as the day before. What was different was the dreaded mountain climb on Loop 2, in that I knew exactly what was coming. You might think it would be easier the 2 nd day, but for me it was not.  It was even scarier. Once we got to the rocks and super narrow sections, my heart was in my throat the whole time, I had to remind myself to breathe, and I was trying not to cry from nerves (It’s been a very LONG time since I’ve been tested this way!).  We followed faithful Lenny up, because I knew I didn’t have the courage to face that mountain in front or alone.  Glory was as strong and calm as ever, especially with Felisa and Lenny to hold us together. Glory has learned that sometimes a great endurance horse must carry the weight of a rider’s emotions too, and he was very patient and caring about it for me. I think I did close my eyes at one point, and I had a death grip on his mane. When we got to the top, Felisa and I both got off just to feel the solid earth under our own feet! Glory looked back at the trail we came up and then looked at me, as if to say ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE we did that TWICE! ‘I think he questioned my leadership smarts a little then and there! 

We get down the ridge and into camp and I still can’t quite shake that almost falling feeling.  I think it might have to do with the fact that when you are in the saddle for so long, you can get a feeling of ‘land sickness’ when you get off, where being motionless can fry your brain. The last loop flies by, but not as exciting as yesterday. We place 8th! Another top ten! I am over the moon! I also just want to go to bed! Glory vets through just fine, and we both feel pretty good physically. 

The next few nights, I still dream of Indian Graves Ridge. The terror fades a little, but I know in my heart I will be very careful of how I approach this particular trail next year, if we do at all.  It will take a special horse to care me over that mountain again, so I will not commit much thought to it. I remain forever grateful of the adventures Glory and I have shared, and the fears we have faced together!

Pine Tree Pioneer or Risk Management

Have you ever started performing an event with your horse and realize ‘Hmmm, maybe this isn’t going so well…?’   (See the Olympic pentathlon this year for a good case study) It is that feeling of risk, either to you or your horse. All equine disciplines have times like this, where circumstances do not simply line up right. It can happen on a casual trail ride where your horse steps in a hidden hole, or in the middle of a show ring when your horse takes a turn wrong and slips.  It can happen when a rider misses a distance to a jump and loses a stirrup.  It can happen when you simply misjudge your horse’s state of mind and willingness to work with you and they decide to ‘leave’ (some horses politely take you to the gate when this happens, others simply unload you onto the ground).  Most experienced equestrians get this feeling often.  It is normal.  What separates the best Horsemen and Horsewomen from the mediocre is how they handle this feeling as soon as it comes up.

Solving the problem of whatever caused the ‘Oh Crap’ moment is a matter of experience and skill, which is why good riding instructors will never go hungry.  But the mental and emotional control is often skipped over in lessons. 

Can you handle risky moments with a mental grace?  Risk management is often about timing, skill, and support.  But mental grace is the thing that ties it all together.  In the heat of the moment of the slip up, can you mentally stay calm, focused and accepting of the outcome all at once?  Or do you get angry at yourself or your horse? Do you lose control and act on non-thinking instinct (and usually get hurt in the process)?

I have lots of time to think about this sort of control on long-distance rides.  When you push you and your horse to your limits, your mental grace will get stretched.  A LOT.  My horse Glory and I went to Maine in August to try and accomplish riding 3 50 miles endurance races in a row.  This is called a Pioneer ride.  It was a well set up ride with plenty of safety measures in check.  I was the only one trying for all 3 days on the same horse. 

Day One went smoothly, we rode according to a plan and finished with plenty of time to spare.  The temperature was reasonable for most of the ride, and we got to play in the river to cool off.  We also rode with a friend, which keeps everyone cheerful!

Day Two was the test.  It was going to be HOT.  I briefly considered backing out, but heat is Glory and I’s greatest challenge.  I have learned much from our other non-completions in past years about how to ride in this kind of 90-degree heat and high humidity.  The River was to be our friend for this ride, offering cooling opportunities not usually available to us.  I made a careful ride plan on how to keep us cool, and Glory is in the best shape of his life.

We started well.  We followed the plan of sitting in the river for 10 minutes before we go into the holds (Which freaked everyone out, they thought we got lost!)  We made it past the first hold at the 20-mile mark.  Then it got hotter.  Glory tried so hard to please me, but he just doesn’t cool as fast as other horses.  The last 5 miles of the second loop was in the direct sun.  We slowed down.  I could feel his body temperature keep rising under me.  We tried to play a weird game of trot to get a breeze, but not too fast to heat up more.  It didn’t work.  When I made the river crossing at mile 34, Glory waded in and then refused to move.  He was dangerously HOT. 

I felt the ‘Oh Crap’ moment settle in.  Did I hurt him (a very real possibility at these extremes)?  I felt my whole plan for the week unraveling.  Emotions poured in hot and heavy. I had the presence of mind to take a deep breath (although this decision really happened in an instant) and decide to STOP.   I felt the mental grace step in, the love for my horse and our connection together pushes all the other stuff in my head away and know what the RIGHT.  I fully accepted the outcome of the entire adventure in an instant.  I came up with a plan to navigate the emotional fall and disappointment.   In an instant, I knew what I had to do for Glory, which was to get him cool and get to the vets. 

The last 2 miles to the camp I slowly walked Glory in on foot.  I drank all my water and was not in a good state when we got there.  (Risk management applies to yourself protection too.  I should have packed ore water for me….) My crew took over and hosed Glory down and his pulse dropped down.  We were out of the red.  I went to the vets, and they supported my decision to not continue the last loop.  Glory vetted through fine.  The adventure was over. 

Mental grace now means navigating the feelings of disappointment over not achieving the goal.  For me that means going to my horse and gaining his love and support.  Circumstances were not in our favor.  I know what to improve on (for me watching the weather closer and giving up on competing him in weather over 90 degrees).  It could have gone much worse.  But the mental grace kept us safe.  I hope everyone out there at all levels can read this and find the courage to work and develop their own grace in the face of absolute risk.  Be a Horseman or Horse woman with a capital H.

Old Dominion 100 Report or Awesome Teamwork....

Riding the Old Dominion 100 – June 12, 2021

By Caroline North

The Old Dominion is one of the oldest, toughest horse races on the planet.  This isn’t just my opinion, it’s called the ‘Beast of the East’ in endurance rider circles, and completion of the race is so difficult, the saying is that you can get everything right, and still need the stars to align in your favor for a successful finish. 

So, I thought we could do it.  We prepped.  Got new shoes.  Prayed for cooler weather.  And we were blessed.  Notice I said we.  This race was not just finished because Glory (my faithful Quarab gelding and fur baby) and I were tough.  This race was finished because we had a whole team backing us.  From my farrier Dan Ingleman and Justin Meyers making time to get shoes reset perfectly, to my riding partner Felisa Read and her horse Lenny (who’ve done this ride before), to Jenn G., Audrey Hager and Barbara Hager who were our crew.  And especially to the volunteers and veterinarians who put on the race and made everything as safe and cared for the welfare of all for the whole exciting, tedious 24 hours of the race!

We got to ride camp, deep in the Virginia mountains on Thursday.  Set up camp.  And rested.  My biggest excitement was the fact that Glory looked so happy in camp, calm and cool, eating and drinking well.  He was in his zone, waiting for race day.

Friday was more of the same.  A true vacation day for me of eating and napping!  Trying not to get nervous about what was to come.  Enjoying cooler wet weather that is unusual for this time of year.  We mapped out what we hoped the race day would bring us, and my crew packed and re-packed.  We vetted in.  Glory’s resting pulse was 36 (that’s really good)!

Race Day: I rolled out of bed at 4:30 am and we got ready.  The sun just started to peak out as we left at 5:30 am sharp down the road.  Lenny and Glory were strong but not crazy, and we settled into a nice pace.  The trail turned up the first mountain, and the muddy slick rocks were a little nerve racking, but doable.  We went cautiously, knowing that it was going to be a long day of this. 

After 15.7 miles we rolled into the first vet check – Bird Haven.  Our crew leaped into action (after a minor mishap of their own, they had lots of adventures just driving around through the mountains to get to these checks on the trails!).  Glory and Lenny pulsed right in (the horse’s heart rates determine when you can continue down the trail).  After pulling tack off, vetting through nicely, Glory and Lenny got down to the best part of endurance riding in THIER minds, namely eating at the buffet table put in front of them.  I was super happy that Glory’s Cardiac Recovery (CRI) was 60/56.  This means his pulse was lower after a brief trot out and back in front of the vets.  It was still pretty cool out.

At 8:32 am we started off again for the next loop.  Up more mountains, and then down.  The trails had lots more rocks.  We climbed through misty mountains, up and down and around.  We didn’t do much trotting, and every time we hit a forestry road, we picked up the pace quite a bit.  Lenny and Glory were drinking well, and if we spotted a nice patch of grass on the trail we stopped and let them grab several mouthfuls.  Some of the trails had brush, wild laurel and rhododendron so thick the trail was only 6” wide! 

After 16.4 miles we got to Laurel Run Vet Check.  32 miles down.  We memorized the names, because riding to check point to check point was how to do this race.  Just get through one more loop!  We didn’t have our crew to help here, there wasn’t enough parking in the forest.  However, the volunteers made sure we got well fed, both horse and human.  Lenny insisted on being fed one handful at a time like spoon feeding a fussy child, but he ate good.   Glory just hogged everything!  Felisa and I reminded each other to eat as well.  We left at 12:26 pm to keep on trucking.

The path to Bucktail VC was only 14.5 miles, but it was mainly uphill!  We also started to hear the cicadas.  The 17-year brood/swarm.  They got louder and louder.  Our pace was slow, but we tried to keep to the endurance adage ‘Never hurry, never tarry’.  This was a rough loop for me.  My stirrup leather was starting to dig into my calf.  It’s really hard to enjoy the ride when you know that this issue is not going to get any better the longer you go!  The cicadas droning on also started to get into my head.  I just focused on staying together mentally.  This is the realest challenge!

After 2.5 hours of this we finally walked into Bucktail VC.  I can see how whacked out I look in the picture!  Everyone got a little worried about me, and I brushed them off saying I was fine.  Horses vetted in good, but the vet got a tiny bit concerned about his gut sounds.  I was pretty sure Glory was just doing a pee dance, he was drinking a ton and hadn’t gone yet.  After our crew set us down and shoved food at us, (me in particular, I was still zoned out from the cicadas) Glory peed the longest I ever seen, I could hear him going ‘AHH’.  The weirdest things make us so happy on these rides!  As we headed back out Tom’s wife (another crew member of a competitor) made me drink a V8 juice saying it would help me.  It was gross but she was right!

We left Bucktail at 4:00 pm for the longest loop of the day, during the hottest part of the day.  We started in the mountains once again.  Trotting where we could, walking fast when not, picking over rocks.  Did I mention all the rocks yet? Oh, and drop offs too.  Pray that your horse doesn’t slip the wrong way on those trails for real!   We finally reach a nice stretch of road and start to boogie down it.  The horses were so happy to be off the mountain too!  Then we get to a sunny stretch of road up a steep hill.  I was pretty sure this lead up to the Gait and Go, which is a mini stop when a horse must pulse down in 10 minutes and then wait for 10 minutes.  

I got off and walked Glory up the hill, but since we were in the direct sun, it was no use, Glory was panting and hot.  This was the trickiest part of the whole ride, being in the hottest part of the day.  Glory is a hot potato in that his heavier muscular build really holds his internal heat in, which in turn can cause his pulse to rise.  The volunteers leaped (and I mean LEAPED) into action dumping water on him and scraping it off.  They shoved a cheeseburger at me and took over!  It was a little unnerving… but at last he reached pulse criteria of 64 and we were okay.  I finished the excellent tasting burger, hopped on and continued on our way.  Lenny and Felisa had gone on ahead because Lenny gets more nervous standing around.  Glory trotted up to Lenny complaining with a whinny ‘Bro you left me!’ Lenny just gave him a wise old campaigner look that seemed to say, ‘you got this kid’!

After a long.  Long.  Long loop of 24 miles.  I was ready to throw my saddle off the side of the mountain and ride bareback.  My stirrup leathers were digging in my legs in just enough pain to cause big bruises.  But not enough to make me cry (or was I too dehydrated to cry? I’m not sure).  It was maddening.  But at last!  Just before dark we get to Big 92 VC!  Hooray!  We were all so happy to see our Crew!  Horses feasted.  I finally got the taste of charcoal burger washed down.  We vet through fine.  Whew!  I even collapsed into a chair for 5 minutes and put body glide on my bruises.  I know I can’t do anything about the saddle, there isn’t enough time at the check.  This is where the placings of the race are determined.  If you linger too much at the holds, you will get left in the dust!  We do some calculating and realize we might make the top ten if we ride smart.  We get our head lamps on at 9:22 pm, and head out for the shortest loop of the whole ride.

We head down the gravel road and start picking up speed!  After 70 plus miles the horses just pick up and go with no complaints, they understand they aren’t done and faithfully keep trucking!  I never have to push Glory; we just keep on trotting!  The road becomes super dark, and now we’re in it.  The dreaded night riding!  This loop was 8 miles, and we were able to trot almost the whole way, it took less than an hour.  We got into Laurel Run for our second VC there, and the Crew barely were set up in time!  It was okay though, the horses still vetted good, and I got to change my clothes!  Oh, the little things in life can make you so happy! Glory even pulsed in at 60!  CRI is still very good.  We are so close!

We left Laurel Run at 10:53 pm.  We are making fabulous time for this ride.  However.  The next 13.4 miles is NOT nice trotting road.  It’s hard gravel/rock, and I finally feel Glory start to poop out a bit.  Lenny wants to keep on trucking, but I can feel Glory’s legs getting tired.  The concussion on the road starts to get him down mentally.  He’s still feeling sound, he’s just tired.  I start to bonk too, getting angry and worried.  But we walk for a bit, then trot to catch up.  I let Glory make most of the decisions here.  I start chanting mantras in my head.  I am regretting not consuming more caffeine.  My eyes are getting droopy.  Things got weird in my head.  Thankfully there was not a lot of wildlife around to freak us out.  After almost 3 hours in this state, we finally roll into Bird haven VC #6.  The last check. 

My crew is amazingly still awake.  The vet gets us through.  The endurance it takes to be a volunteer and crew member is just as important as it is for the horse and rider! It’s 1:30 am in the morning.  This last hold is only 20 minutes long, so horses and riders don’t get too sleepy.  I chug a cup of bitter black tea.  There is only 6 more miles to go.  In the deepest night.  On the wettest trail.  We head out.  And we walk/trudge. 

Felisa and I start talking about random things to stay awake.  I don’t remember much, except that our pace was slow over a rocky, muddy ridge, and I turned my head to the left and looked into the black abyss of the night and realize if Glory stumbles, we are DEAD, falling off the mountain.  There are a few trees between us and the gulf, but that’s it.  Getting off and walking was even more dangerous because those rocks were wet, and a broken ankle was a super high probability.   My brain goes upside down, but somehow, I turn and look at Felisa’s back and know we are going to be okay.  This is when I realize this ride is a true team effort, and I would not have been in such good shape if not for her and Lenny. 

Those last 6 miles took us about 2 hours.  But finally, with such great joy, we come out on the road to camp!  The relief is so sweet I can taste it!  Glory perks right up and takes the lead.  He starts trotting down the road so strongly I need to hold him back!  As much as it was tempting to run in, human common sense kicked in and we kept our speed down!  At 3:27 am we cross the finish line victorious!  Felisa and I tie for 6th place!  Slow and steady win (or at least survive) the day! 

I cry and hug Glory.  He says whatever ‘WHERE’S THE FOOD!’.  I jump down and hug everyone.  We vet through with mainly A’s on our ride card.  I am given the choice whether to stand for Best Condition (this is the highest award) or not since everyone in the top ten is allowed to.  I say yes, more to say we did it, because this may be a once in a lifetime opportunity to do so for the toughest ride in the East!  Lenny and Felisa are happy and headed for bed.  We have our victorious trot out for the vets!  We aren’t too lame looking….(Note to self: when trotting horses in hand they mimic your movement, so don’t run with a limp!!!!) 

This race also has a special Best Condition Award for any horses that complete the ride in the top ten that do not wear any leg protection.  I decide to stand for it (I have never wrapped Glory in any way shape or form, he doesn’t interfere and wraps and boots just hold more heat).  To my astonishment, only 3 horses in the top ten didn’t wear boots, and we got the top score!  This trophy was well earned by him, and of course I got a picture of Glory eating out of the trophy!  A little girl’s dream come true! 

My crew and I then limp off to bed.  To come so far together.  Even though all of the volunteers and crews may have not been riding, I was carrying each and all of them along with me for the ride.  It was truly a team effort.  Thank you and Namaste (may the light within me honor the light within you!) to everyone who helped us to the finish.  

Getting an assist...

Sometimes pursuing a balanced body, mind and spirit leads to a test. Sometimes this test is that your equilibrium is pushed off kilter by outside events or sometimes by your own choices. Part of being a good Horseperson or Yogi is knowing when that balance is off and that it's okay to get some assistance to break through blocks. It may be a physical block where a yoga prop is needed, like simply leaning on the wall while you try a new balancing posture, or holding a block to trigger different muscle patterns. Or, it might be having a trusted pair of eyes watch your riding posture to help you and your horse find that subtle change bring you closer together. Or, you might develop an emotional block where a comforting shoulder to lean on does the trick, or maybe just have a sister take you out on a trail run to get out of the house and or routine. After a rough week of tension and worry that really rocked my balance of center, I asked for an assist. My sister and I had a nice weekend together. Problems weren’t solved, but I have a plan of action and the energy to implement it, because I asked for an assist. It's okay to ask for help! If one assist doesn’t do the trick, try another variety. It won’t solve your problems, but it might give you the support and strength to carry on.

Just published in the WNY Horse Council! - Riding 100 Miles in a Day

Riding 100 Miles in a Day

by Caroline North.

I know a lot of people are curious about the sport of endurance racing, and many ask HOW CAN YOU DO THAT?  Well, after 4 years of learning, conditioning, and competing at the 30-50-mile levels, 2020 was the year to try the ultimate test, a 100 mile race in 24 hours. The Oakleaf race was in cool October weather, on nice sandy Michigan ground.  We had extensively prepared and I was supremely confident in our conditioning.  So here goes, travel 100 miles with me!

Prep Day 1: Wednesday before the ride.  I pack and repack the trailer.  We glue G’s special hoof boots on for the best support and traction.  I am happy with my glue job (this is HUGE, as it will make or break the race) Then I check my pack lists 5 more times and give Glorfindel, or G a trace clip.

Prep Day 2: We (my very important crew Audrey and Barbara Hager) drove 6 hours to a fellow endurance rider friend’s house. We are met with the nicest hospitality and lay over there to break up the 8-hour drive.  Making new supportive friends across the country is a huge perk to this sport.

Prep Day 3: We get to ride camp in a beautiful oak forest.  There are lots of trees.  We take an hour to back the rig in our site.  Amazingly tempers remain cool (Even experienced truckers had some trouble, so pooh).  After setting up camp, G gets vetted in by the ride vet who is basically the ‘judge’ of the whole race and keeps horses safe.  She says his gut sounds are louder than his heartbeat.  He gets all ‘A’s’ on his vet card with a pulse of 42.  In endurance, this is high praise!  I triple check everything, tack, electrolytes, instructions to crew, the hoped-for timetable of loops.  This is how I cope with the risks of the sport (I mean come on, you are miles out in the woods often with crap cell service, often alone, where ANYTHING can and does happen!). My goal at this point is the finish the race by 1:30 am.

Race Day: Get up at 4 am.  Try to eat and stay calm and focused.  Tack up in the pitch dark.  I have glow sticks taped to saddle and my headlamp on.  We warm up and walk around.  I am calm. He is calm.

5:30 am:  Trail is Open!  We start off.  I focus on finding the red LED trail markers with the goal of keeping him calm and slow behind the front runners.  Feeling good. G knows his job.

5:35 am: We catch up to the ‘ride pack’ on single track dark trail.  G gets strong and a bit race brainy (competitive).  I try not to freak out and hold him back.  We manage.  Barely. Just need to get this loop done.

6:00 am: It’s still pitch black out.  All of a sudden, I her a voice on my left saying ‘PASSING’.  G flat out bolts from a mystery horse coming up behind him in the dark!  We are super shaken, it is the first time he’s ever bolted on me.  Regain stirrups and continue. 

6:05 am: My left stirrup is falling off.  Now I am really, really freaking out.  I ask a rider to stay with me while I get off and fix it.  I turn off the part of my brain that is going nutz.  Get on and continue.

6:20 am:  We get to a water stop.  Glory doesn’t want to do anything but take off after the leaders.  I put my boss mare foot down and say to him ‘NO WAY, we are hand walking until you get your head on straight mister!’ We slow down until the sun comes up.

7:39 am: We walk calmly into the first vet check and pulse in (His pulse has to be below 64 bpm).  15 miles down, 85 to go.  I realize just how much I hate riding in the dark.  Focus on keeping G well.  He wolfs his mash down.  I vow to start further behind the leaders to stay out of the melee next time.

8:24 am: We head back out on the next loop of trail and actually start to enjoy ourselves.  Glorfindel is feeling fantastic. We start some canter sets on the straighter trails.  We are by ourselves for most of the loop until we catch up with some other 50-mile riders riding the same course.  We chat and cross the dam together.  As in we ride across the top of an actual river dam.  You never know what you’ll encounter on these rides! The power plant unnerves G a little, but he does his best for me.

10:02am: We ride into our second vet hold.  30 miles down, 70 to go.  G is dragging my crew and I crew to the hay and mashes to eat like a spoiled pony.  Well, okay, he deserves it.  He vets in with all A’s (the ride vet judged him VERY fit to continue).  My crew sit me down and make me eat and drink too.  If I sound a little obsessive over the eating and drinking, welcome to endurance riding.  All the little metabolic details are something all competitors go over in great detail, because if a horse gets into metabolic trouble (i.e. colic or tying up), it is truly life threatening at these extremes because of the dangers of dehydration and lack of gut function.

10:48 am: We leave for the longest loop of the day, which is 20 miles.  Through the woods and trails we go.  We truck right along, but not too fast, I am afraid of missing a turn, these trails are complex.  I tell G, ‘Let’s get this over with so we can go take a nap at the next hold!’.  We settle in a rhythm.  If he canters on the left lead for a stretch, then on the next transition he must take the right lead to stay even in his muscles.  He argues a little about this because he doesn’t care for his right lead, but for the most part listens well! We finally get to the ‘Candy Shoppe’.  This is a check point where volunteers are there to help hold your horse and let you get a drink and eat. We stop very briefly, but then trot on.

Noon: As we are about the midway point of this loop, I feel G getting the mid-day blahs.  He’s not as forward and prefers to walk on the hard-packed gravel roads.  I try and pep talk him (remember nap time is coming!)  Then we spot another rider up ahead!  G goes ‘Whew a friend!’  and trots merrily up to them to say hi.  We let our horses coast with each other and chat for the rest of the loop to keep our minds busy.  At the Candy Shoppe, I let Glory have a long snack on the horse candy (molasses and oats YUMMY) and I get some candy too. 

1:56 pm:  We finally get back to the hold.  This is the longest at 50 minutes, so after my snack and successful vet in, I leave G to my crew and they push me in to the truck to take a 20-minute nap.  They are the heroes here. I actually sleep too! 50 miles down.  50 to go.

2:54 pm: We head out of the next loop.  We are both a little groggy after our nap, but I make sure we are by ourselves by design.  We have more fun that way. (Famous last words…)  We head back out and get to cross the dam again.  Since we are alone, I elect to hop down and jog G across so he wouldn’t slip on the pavement and to wake up a bit.  One of the volunteers commented ‘Wow, he just jogged with you like a really big dog!’.  Yep, That’s my Glory.

3:45 pm:  We catch up to some riders we have been tailing all day.  We coast behind them taking it easy and enjoying the loop we did earlier in the dark.

5:16pm: Hold # 4.  Vet in fine.  Okay.  65 miles down.  35 to go.  Realize I am going to have to ride in the dark again.  Oh poop.  I start to narrow my focus down.  To surviving. 

6:03 pm: With new headlight in place, we start off again on the pink loop.  I am loving G.  He walks out of camp with no complaints for more miles.   He’s cheerleading me now.  We catch up to the group we’ve been coasting with.  Glory’s big trot stride allows him to do this easily, but coasting is getting old and I want to use every bit of light I can.  So halfway through, as politely as I can, we hand gallop ahead on a nice stretch of sandy road.  I am completely in awe of how much energy G is giving me.  We truck along fast for 2 miles and then keep going.  I decide to trust G as the sun does down and put the red light on the headlamp, so his night vision is sharpest with no shadows.  We trot effortlessly down the darkening trail.  The we hit hard road.  By himself, this is the first time G gets whiny.  I feel bad for him and let him slowly walk on the hard shoulder to save his legs.  But we lose time.  It’s full dark, and on the roads, car headlights are absolutely blinding.  I start to cuss at people to dim their lights. They of course can’t hear me.  We finally get to the last 2 miles into camp.  I realize I can barely see the trail markers and slow down to not get lost.

8:41pm: Hold 5.  80 miles down.  20 to go.  I am resolute.  I am not last in the pack, and he’s still going strong.  I get some warm food in me and change clothes.  My crew takes charge of G and forces me down and commands that I eat more.  Okay ‘yes mama’.  This is the furthest we’ve ever gone!  My crew is my rock.  I know I could not be here without them.

9:24 pm: Start off on the orange loop.  It’s only 10 miles!  Except yeah, it’s 10 miles of mainly deep sand.  Walk only.  We haven’t come this far to just pull a muscle trying to trot through that!  I start thinking just get from ribbon to ribbon.  Boy, is it dark.  G and I try to motor (trot) where we can.  Then ooohhh poop.  I lost the ribbons while trotting.  Shoot.  I keep going a little way thinking I just got distracted and one will pop up.  Nope.  Okay don’t panic, just back track.  Okay.  After a half a mile of absolute rising panic, we see LED’s.  Whew!  Then I doubt myself, okay are we going down the loop or still backtracking?  My sense of direction is shot.  I make a decision. Turn left.  And pray.  Continue down the dark woods.  See a light up ahead!  It’s a crew (not mine) waiting for their rider!  They graciously give Glory water and shove candy at me, keep the blood sugar up, good call.  The last rider catches up.  Glorfindel is happy now for company!  We book it together down a stretch of road.  Then at mile 88, the lowest low happens.  We stop at the last water stop.  Just as G starts to drink, the other rider books it on ahead (note this is NOT cool, always wait till all horses are done drinking unless told not too).  I lose it and cry.  Glory doesn’t finish his drink, and I am faced with the prospect of doing the final loop alone with no one behind me.  Okay.  Suck it up time. A voice in my head is telling me to not let the ‘Kid’ (Glory) know how scared I am.  Of course, this is useless, but Glory just stays with me. 

11:44 pm: Hold 6 of 6.  Glory vets in and gets a C grade on muscle tone, probably from the deep sand.  I try not to worry about it. My crew has it handled, they start massaging him. Only 10 more miles!  I’ve got plenty of time (I have 24 hours to finish and its only midnight).  I get caffeinated.  My crew tries to cheer me up.  I am not having fun anymore.

12:19 am:  Start off on last 10 miles.  My logical brain is gibbering with fear and telling me to just stop, what if there are axe murderers out there in those dark campgrounds and fishy dirt roads (I mean, really, cars were passing us in the middle of the night on these back roads!)?  What if we get lost?  What if we fail?  I pull up some mental superpowers I developed from my yoga training.  And told my logical brain to shush.  I tap in my yogi powers of presence, peace and strength and keep walking with Glory down the trail.  The silence is deafening.  I start talking loudly to G.  He politely keeps walking through the deep sand.  The trail is the same as the last loop, but things looks different in the deep night.  I feel the shadows stretch my concentration.  I realize the pricks of shiny light in the trees are not just reflective bits on trees.  They are EYES.  As soon as this thought takes hold G spooks.  I stamp that thought out big time.  We continue on.  I start to remember the yoga mantras we sung in Yoga Teacher Training.  The light and love of that time filled me up.  I resolve to NOT look at my watch.  And I start singing.  Aud Gurah Nameh.  Aad Guray Nameh is a very powerful mantra used for protection, to gain clarity, and to receive guidance from one’s highest Self. This mantra creates a protective field of energy around the person chanting.  And it works.  I lose all sense of time.  Ribbon to ribbon.  Stay on track.   I get off and walk a bunch.  G gets a snack of grass.  I keep singing. We make it through the section where I got lost last time.  We get to the final 2 miles.  I am overcome with energy!  I get off G and we jog for a mile.  (You better believe it, I also trail run to stay in shape) Then I tell him, ‘We are trotting the last mile into camp victorious!”  Glorfindel says ‘Great idea!’  And we trotted in the camp at 3:07 am.  The vet and my crew have been up all night waiting at the campfire.  We vet through clean.  We get better marks on the final scorecard then on when we started the last loop.  I get lots of hugs.  I give my crew lots of hugs.  WE DID IT! Glory gets even more hugs and grain mashes; and generally looks pleased with the whole state of affairs.  And we are done.

Day 5:  After a few hours of sleep, I have only begun to process what we just did.  G is fine and healthy; he says to me, ‘I still love you mom’.  He quite willingly gets on the trailer to sleep and go home.  I cannot really say this event was FUN, but it was life changing.  I tapped into depths of horse and human strength and connection that I still cannot quite believe now.  I still hold by this truth ‘To Finish Is To Win’ (The American Endurance Riding Conference motto). Maybe we will do another 100-mile race next year….

February 2021:  Yes, I am already planning on another 100 mile ride.  It’s a year long planning process to figure out to stay in peak condition.  For more information on endurance riding in the USA go to AERC.org.