“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”  W.H.Murray

Murray was a Scottish mountaineer and writer, who spent three years imprisoned during World War II in an enemy camp.  While there, he wrote a draft for a book later called Mountaineering in Scotland on the only paper available to him—toilet paper.  So he knows a thing or two about being resilient, I should think.

Denny Emerson recited this quote to me after the Dark Mare (Lee) and I completed the seemingly impossible— the rigorous three day long, one hundred mile ride at the Green Mountain Horse Association Distance Days, held annually in South Woodstock, Vermont each fall.   What made the completion so sweet, and somewhat amazing, is that previous to that weekend, the longest ride that my horse and I had ever done was a two-day fifty mile route, just one month before. 2015 was only our second season riding in competitive trail, and in 2014 we had ended our first year by finishing the 25 mile ride at this same event, feeling pretty proud of that accomplishment.  To say that we were rookies is an understatement of the term.

Denny had first planted the seed in my mind that aiming for the 100 mile ride was a possible goal when I spent the summer of 2014 up at his Tamarack Hill Farm.   At that point, Lee and I had done exactly one 10 mile “intro” conditioning distance ride.  While up in Vermont for the summer, we finished two fifteen and one twenty five mile CTR, and completed one additional twenty five mile ride after we returned home.  Even while I was letting the seed incubate in my mind, there was a more dominant, rational part of my brain which was saying—trying for the 100 would be ridiculous!  You have never done more than a 25 mile ride.  There is no WAY you will be ready, and you have no idea what you are doing.

But still the idea ruminated….

Planning and Prep

Being fairly new to the sport meant that I had no idea how one would go about conditioning a horse to do a 100 mile ride, never mind whether or not it was a good idea to even try to do so.  I gain confidence from feeling well informed and making plans, and so I figured that the New England winter presented a good opportunity to do a little research.

I started with a cover to cover read of several books, especially Hilary Clayton’s bible, Conditioning the Sport Horse, which gave me an outstanding overview of all aspects of conditioning, from physiological changes to the various forms of conditioning (interval, long slow distance, skill drills, etc) to proposed conditioning schedules for various activities.  I also read several books more focused on endurance than competitive trail, but still helpful gave many helpful insights and ideas: Go the Distance by Loving, Endurance Riding by Wilde and The Complete Guide to Endurance Riding and Competition, by Snyder-Smith.  Two of the major takeaways from my research were that 1) just like marathoners don’t go out and run 26.2 miles every day to get ready for their marathons, 100 mile horses don’t go out and ride tens of miles every day to get ready either and 2) a horse who has remained in consistent, steady, 60 minutes/day/6 days/week of work for many years, like Lee, likely has a fairly good base to start with.  Maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

 

Next, I ordered a heart rate monitor and a GPS watch which measured distance and time.  It arrived shortly after one of several February blizzards, and it took me until June to be able to figure out how to use it properly (when all else fails, but only as a last resort, read ALL of the directions).  The watch was immensely helpful in teaching me a sense of speed over miles—CTR is based on maintaining a fairly steady 6-7 minute mile, and developing an awareness of what this speed feels like over varied terrain is important to ensure that you finish within the allotted window.

Finally, I planned a schedule for the season.  As in any discipline, you can’t push for peak performance year round.  I needed to develop a program which would allow Lee to steadily build her endurance and strength over time, without pushing so hard that she became sore or sour.  I decided up front that if at any point she indicated that she wasn’t feeling up to the task, I would pull back and regroup.  I live in seacoast, NH, where the terrain is rather…coastal.  In order to get ready for the hills and rocks of Vermont, I needed to carefully balance speed work to improve cardiovascular capacity with maintaining soundness in the musculoskeletal system.

Finally, I knew that the CTRs themselves would serve as an important component to her conditioning.  I decided that we would do the 15 mile ride sponsored by VERDA in mid May, followed by a one day 30 mile ride on flatter terrain a few weeks later in Maine (Lee actually was the high point champion that day!).  Based on how she felt after the 30 mile, next I aimed for the 25 mile ride at GMHA in June, and entered the “intro to endurance” 15 mile ride the next day, to have our first experience of a “back to back” weekend.  Considering that she was running away with me at times on the 15 mile, I figured she was coping ok! Our final CTR before the 100 was the two day fifty at GMHA in early August.

Before I began our conditioning, I had our vet, Dr. Monika Calitri of Seacoast Equine, out in March.  Lee is 16, and I wanted to make sure that there were no signs of any trouble brewing which would preclude the commencement of her conditioning plan.  With Dr. Calitri’s blessing, we got the green light to move forward with our schedule, and made a plan to recheck her in mid-June, after the back to back 40 mile weekend, to see how she was doing at that point.

As we progressed through each event, Lee felt better and better.  There were a few bumps in the road—she had some minor girth galls after the back to back 40 mile ride, prompting me to ask the trail community for advice (mohair/string girths), and we had some soundness concerns raised by the vet judge at the 50 mile ride, which really gave me pause, though I could personally feel and see nothing wrong.  However, she came out of the recovery phase of her 50 mile feeling better than ever, and after consulting again with Dr. Calitri, we received the green light to enter the 100.

Yet in spite of the successful completion of my preparation, and the encouragement of several mentors in the trail community, I hesitated to enter the 100 mile ride.  I worried that I wasn’t qualified, that I was in over my head, and maybe rerouting to the 60 mile ride, being held the same weekend, was a better plan.

But then I realized that the major reason that I was vacillating about entering the 100 mile ride was because I didn’t want to not finish it.  And as it turns out, if you don’t try, you certainly will not finish.  The only way to finish a 100 mile ride is to start one.

So on closing day, I dropped my entry in the mail.  And so began one of the most exciting and emotional weekends I have ever experienced with my horse.

Team Peanut Butter and Jelly

I can still count on just a few fingers the total number of people I have ever completed rides with, and not one of them was entering the 100 mile.  I knew that in order to be successful, I would need the guidance and companionship of someone who had done this before.  Through a mutual friend, I was introduced to Kat Waters, who was entered to ride Lee Alexander’s palomino Morgan gelding, Quinn.  Kat kindly agreed to let me join her and her friend, Robin McGrath, who was ironically also riding a palomino Morgan, Flower.  While it was Quinn’s first 100 mile ride, all other participants were veterans from previous years.  As a group, we looked like two pieces of bread and the “stuff” in the middle—Team Peanut Butter and Jelly.

I must pause here to pay respect to both Kat and Robin, without whom I am sure I would not have completed this ride.  From start to finish, we all functioned as a team, and enjoyed every minute on trail and off.  Kat became the team statistician, keeping track of our pace and the remaining time allowed.  We jokingly referred to Quinn as the “overlord”, as he typically led the group, comprised of his own personal harem.  Robin and Flower helped to set the pace, with their infectious energy and enthusiasm pushing us forward through fatigue and the seemingly never ending Vermont hills.

Our group rode the entire 100 miles from start to finish together, and I don’t think there was a happier or more excited group at any phase of the way.

Day 1—The White Loop (40 Miles)

The day prior to the ride, each competitor was required to ‘weigh in’ on the GMHA Member’s Room porch, carrying tack, helmet, boots and any other equipment they would be carrying with them.  Riders were divided then into “lightweight”, “middleweight” or “heavyweight” divisions.  We also had the standard “vet in”, where we presented our mounts to the judges, Dr. Ann Chaffee and Eva Norris.  Lee decided that she needed to liven things up by bucking vigorously during most of her trot out.  Clearly my strategy to “taper down” before the ride had left her with plenty of energy— but unfortunately, you want to try to match your trot out at the end of the ride with your initial presentation, which meant we had a lot to live up to!

The first day of the ride was the longest on trail, and I was a little nervous knowing that it would be the longest distance I had ever ridden Lee in one go.  To add to my nerves, the route was to take us over the trails in Reading, which are known for being exceptionally rocky and rugged, and therefore difficult to make time on.

Our day started early.  There were just nine horses entered in the 100 mile ride, and so our group of three represented fully one third of the ride’s entry.  We were certainly distinct—two Morgans of color and one decidedly Thoroughbred mare.  No traditional Arabians here!

Once we got on trail, we quickly realized that our three mounts really were going to stick together just like peanut butter and jelly.  The time passed quickly and Lee readily pulsed down at the half way hold.  I was especially pleased because with such a long distance, the hold was at about mile 25—which meant that Lee had gone nearly as far as she had ever gone before without the benefit of a mid-point break.  Other than being hungry, she seemed quite good to continue.

One of the funniest moments happened at a water stop.  We had caught up with another small group of 100 mile riders, and so about five or six of us were standing in a running stream, allowing our horses to drink.  Lee likes the moving water best, and had finally settled down to take a good drink in, when she decided that actually she was more concerned with scratching her face on her leg.  Somehow, she slipped the crownpiece of her bridle right off over her ears!  We were literally in midstream, and I was NOT interested in dismounting to fix the problem.  I managed to keep enough pressure on the S curve hackamore noseband that I prevented the rest of the bridle from slipping off, and then somehow manipulated the rest of the pieces back into their rightful places, all with one hand.

Upon returning to GMHA grounds, Flower and Lee pulsed down quickly, but Quinn, who is a bit thicker in his muscling, struggled to recover in his pulse parameters, despite a reduced respiration rate.  Kat needed to use every minute of extra time she was granted to continue to sponge and cool Quinn.  Within the rules of CTR, the most we could do was hold him or refill her water buckets—no one but the rider is allowed to apply the water, except in an emergency.  After an anxious wait on all our parts, Quinn was approved by the judges and Team Peanut Butter and Jelly remained intact.

We took the horses out for several walks and periods of hand grazing.  Lee seemed pretty content, and I was incredibly pleased with her for handling the rocky, rugged terrain in the Reading area with such “fight”. I looked forward to the ride the next day.

The overnight temperature was expected to be in the low 40’s, but the early evening still felt fairly pleasant.  It is not a temperature that I would normally choose to blanket at, so I was surprised to see many other riders bringing out coolers and sheets as the sun dipped down.  Kat and Robin explained to me that after such a big exertion, the horse’s muscles need to be kept warmer than usual to prevent stiffness or cramping as they stood in the stalls overnight.  Fortunately, I had a supply of appropriate horse clothing in the trailer, so I put a sheet on Lee too.  This was just one of many tips this rookie picked up from the other riders.

Day 2—The Red Loop (35 miles)

Day two sent us on the thirty five mile red loop.  Today, we were joined by a medium sized group of horses and riders who were entered in the two day sixty mile ride and a small group who were doing the thirty five exclusively.  The 100 milers were sent out first, though, and it was as we were getting ready to leave that I began to realize what a celebrity status the 100 mile group had at the ride.  People I don’t know, or have only met once, were there to see us off, and many of them knew who we were and who we were riding.

As we started out over some of the fields at GMHA, I could feel tightness in Lee’s back, and I had a moment of panic that she was not right after her long ride the day before.  After a bit of warm up, though, I could feel her muscles begin to loosen, and her stride began to lengthen and swing as it usually does.

Day two was an exciting day on so many levels.  First, the route took us on trails in the town of Brownsville which I had never seen before, including one road which allowed us a fairly stunning view of Mt. Ascutney.  Second, once we passed through the safety check/hold at the half way point, each mile we covered was one mile further than Lee had ever gone before.  I knew that even if we didn’t finish, at that point we still had accomplished a great deal.

I noticed at the halfway hold that some of the galling which I had experienced on the June ride was starting again, in spite of using the mohair girth. I ride Lee in an all purpose saddle that I fished out of a dumpster (I am not making this up), and I had it flocked with wool over the winter. Comparing where Lee’s girth sits in relation to her elbow to the same setting on the trail saddles my friends used, I could see that it really wouldn’t matter what style of girth I chose—the placement of the billets dictate that Lee’s sensitive skin behind the elbow is destined to become pinched over longer distances.  Small issues with tack which are only minor irritations on a daily basis can become major issues or even deal breakers as the miles add up.  I reset the saddle, stretched her legs, and hoped for the best.

When we got back to the GMHA grounds, it was clear that the galls had grown, even though Lee didn’t seem to compromise her movement because of them.  However, her always-tending-towards-tight back was now incredibly sore, to the point where even a light brush of the fingers elicited a strong reaction, and she had two “hot spots” forming in the saddle area where she was exceptionally sensitive.

The judging team was not thrilled with these developments either, and they asked me to re-present Lee to them in the morning.  The rules of CTR are quite clear that no lotions, salves, medications or other “product” can be used on the horses while the competition is underway; however, soaked towels, massage and hand walking are all completely legal.  I spent hours over the afternoon and into the evening applying cool towels to Lee’s hot spots and galls, alternating with periods of hand walking and grazing or massaging the long muscles of her neck, topline and hindquarter.

Gradually, there was some reduction in the swelling, and Lee’s saddle area seemed to be less sensitive.  Kat returned from afternoon chores on her own local farm with several different versions of saddle pad and girth to try for the third day, as it was clear that several of the galls correlated with the positions of the string on the mohair girth.

I spent an anxious night in my trailer, hoping that Lee’s sore spots would resolve enough overnight to allow us to start.  We were so close to our goal, but I didn’t want to ride her if doing so was going to compromise her well-being.

Day 3—The Blue Loop (25 miles)

It was still night out when I arose to get ready for my AM pre-check on day three.  Hoping that the coyote pack which seemed to visit the grounds each morning around 4 AM had finished its rounds, I headed to the barns.  No one else seemed to be up and about yet, but the horses were alert to my activity.   More horses had arrived the night before as riders settled in for the twenty five and fifteen mile rides happening on day three, and the barns were fairly full.

As Lee ate her AM feed, I cautiously checked the galls from the day before.  Nearly all were flat or close to it, and her sensitivity level was much reduced.  I spent a little more time massaging the big muscles of her topline, while trying to keep as much of her body covered with the blanket as possible.  I had done nothing towards getting ready for the day—I hadn’t prepared my hold bucket or organized feed, I hadn’t tried on any of the borrowed pads or girths—as it felt too much like tempting fate to set up for something which I might not be permitted to do.  Once Lee was done eating, I took her out for a graze and a long, loosening walk.  I practiced a few trot ups to get her muscles supple and warm.  She seemed willing to move and to trot, and maybe a little bit rolling her eyes at me as if to say, “Really?  Again?”

At 5:45 AM, we presented to our judge team at the pavilion.  They noted her improved topline and asked me to jog her.  I am not sure I breathed the entire time we presented ourselves in hand, but I let out a long exhale when they gave me the thumbs up to start.  Team Peanut Butter and Jelly was still holding together.

I had to hustle back in the stabling area to finish preparations for the day’s ride.  I scooted right out of the pre-ride briefing in order to experiment with the tack options.  I ended up using a quilted and padding enforced dressage pad I found in my trailer, with my usual half pad and Kat’s fuzzy double elastic girth.  This combination seemed to provide good distribution of padding over the saddle area and also elicited only a minimal response from Lee as I tacked her up.

The last day of the ride was glorious.  To be quite honest, after riding forty and thirty five miles, back to back, twenty five felt like an absolute piece of cake.  We enjoyed gorgeous fall weather, stunning views, and the traditional chocolate chip cookies at the top of Cookie Hill.  After we passed through the final half way hold of the ride, I realized I was smiling like a crazy person and getting a little giddy.  We had less than thirteen miles to go.  We just might finish this thing!

I am not sure I can fully put into words the feeling of returning to the White Ring for the third time, and hearing our names announced once more, this time proclaiming us one hundred mile finishers.  People on the rail cheered.  I just kept stroking Lee’s neck, silently thanking her for giving me her best over the entire process—not just these three days, but the weeks and months leading up to it.  As we dismounted after crossing the finish line, I gave Lee a big hug around her neck.  She sighed.  She isn’t much for demonstration of affection but I think after 100 miles, she was willing to put up with me just a little longer.

Thanks and Gratitude

The entire experience of my first three day 100 mile ride was amazing and humbling. The people I have met in the competitive trail community have been truly helpful and have often gone out of their way to help my rookie self out—I am greatly indebted to the wisdom and guidance of them all, but especially Robin Malkasian and Kate Burr, Denny Emerson, Sarah MacDonald and of course Kat Waters and Robin McGrath.

 

These rides are a ton of work to put on, and I have found both the organizers and volunteers to be gracious and helpful, frequently answering my questions and giving me guidance.  And of course, all riders must acknowledge the willingness of land owners to allow us access to their properties—such an amazing privilege.

To my friends at home who also have shown me so much support and love, helped train with me and take care of me and the critters—Dr. Amanda Rizner, Pam, Molly and Kaeli McPhee, Heidi Chase, Dr. Monika Calitri and our wonderful farrier, Nancy Slombo, who often will come on a day’s notice when I change my mind and decide that no, that shoe WON’T stay on through the weekend after all– my deepest gratitude and appreciation.

But my biggest acknowledgement of all must go to the Dark Mare herself.  Anyone who knows Lee and I also knows what a tremendously long road we have been on together, literally and figuratively.  I am so appreciative for all that she has taught me and for finally finding a niche in which this wonderful athlete can truly excel.

 

Green Mountain Horse Association’s 79^th Annual 100 Mile Ride

Christina Keim and Liatris:  1^st place Middleweight Division, Champion Rookie Rider, Perkion Trophy for Best Scoring Thoroughbred

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.– Goethe