Run or Roll

Some of you probably saw my triumphant post to Facebook on Friday. I was running my C25K workout while leading Blue. I was also taking a picture and posting to Facebook. All of this was possible at the same time during Week 1.

See, isn't this fun?

Day 1 of Week 2 started off a bit more challenging. Yes, the time spent running increased. But the more challenging part was literally dragging my extremely barn-sour horse down the road with me. It is one thing to go for a run when you aren't fit. It is something else entirely to do it with 1,200 lbs of dead weight behind you (and still not be fit).

I thought the plan was a good one in these days of waning daylight. It is dim by 7:30 now, so I wanted to multi-task. We have an established loop of about 6 miles of road. The first section doesn't have a shoulder and people bomb down it at a ridiculous speed. I figured I'd run/lead that section since it is so dangerous to be mounted on it, then hop on and finish the loop once my half-hour run/walk was done and we were on a more horse-friendly stretch of road.

I didn't count on my horse leading so sluggishly, or on the road noise being so loud I couldn't hear the prompts from my iPhone. The leading problem was such a mess that I finally stopped and picked a good switch from a bush next to the road. When Blue lagged, I gave him a little smack and he smartened right up. Except then he was rushing ahead, dragging me down the Mojonnier hill. 

So then I had to jerk him back into the correct leading position again. Then he'd start thinking of home and lagging. Smack. Jerk. Smack. Jerk. ...for half a mile or so.

I knew he was lazy on the lead line, but it wasn't a training priority until now. Now we need to establish that his place is at my shoulder, on a loose rope—no exceptions. I think we made a lot of progress in that direction on Monday, but I didn't set out for this run to be a training exercise. Of course, all that jerking and dragging and switching and stopping to rewind the program to hear if I was supposed to be running or walking meant that I did a lot more work than I was really meant to. C'est la vie.

So, workout complete, I mounted up to finish the loop. Of course, Blue thought he knew a shorter way home. (And actually, the way he wanted to go would have been shorter, but that wasn't the point. I am the one who picks the route. I am The Decider.) We trotted along beautifully at a nice clip on a loose rein for about 100 yards, then, with no warning at all, Blue simultaneously broke into a canter, turned back on the pavement (as luck would have it, there was no traffic at this point) and attempted to high-tail it back to The Pen.

We had a conversation involving backing, bending, turning, some mild swearing and an application of spurs, and set off again in the correct direction at a very smart "working walk." I only had to dismount once more as we passed the two gray mares who like to run up and down the field fence as we go by. Normally, I'd ride past them for practice, but Blue was still pretty volatile, and I didn't want us to end up tangled in the barbed wire on the other side of the road.

Once we were at the end of the mares' enclosure, I mounted back up and we made tracks for home. Back on familiar road and facing the direction of The Pen, Blue perked right up. To keep it interesting, I switched diagonals 10 times in one straightaway and then made him go slower and slower the rest of the way home. We even saw Heather and family out for a walk as we neared the house, so I turned Blue back to ride alongside them for a little bit. He was none too pleased, but as I said before, I am The Decider.

Once we got back to The Pen we had another short lesson on bowing—we're getting very close now! I look forward to the day when he will bow so I can mount bareback. Wouldn't that be a cool trick?

 

[Tuesday update: I did Monday's running program again today, sans horse. Guess what? It was waaaaayyyy easier.]

Have you hugged your horse today?

He only looks bored.

Elbe Hills Challenge: The exciting conclusion

OK, truth be told, it was so long ago, I don't have any detailed information about the finish. I was really hoping to have some photos to share by now, but no.

So here's the pertinent info in bullet points without any jazzing up:

• Heather and I completed the trail ride with nothing lower than a B on either vet card, and both horses pulsed in the 40s.

• Once I had lunch and a little nap, I grabbed my book (Dick Francis, of course) and my camp chair and went to watch Laurie come in on the 50.

• Laurie and Otto were 11th in the 50-miler, in spite of getting seriously lost at least once, and taking a break to talk to the radio guys out on the trail. I definitely have a little of that "proud momma" feeling when it comes to Otto. I knew he had it in him, and at the same time I am soooooo glad not to be the one riding him!

Laurie and Otto at the end of the 50 at Elbe—they were both surprisingly perky!

• At the awards ceremony, I won the raffle for an American Trail Gear $25 gift certificate. Guess who's getting a new crupper? :)

• After another great, long drive with Laurie, we got home just as the big storm clouds were building over the valley in the late afternoon. But this is Walla Walla, so it rained mud, not water.

Funny how Elbe got me thinking about next year. I'm already looking forward to HOTR!

Stretching

I had kind of a long holiday weekend. It was my MIL's 60th birthday, so we headed over to Boise on Thursday to celebrate with her. Contrary to popular belief, my natural state is introversion, so it is a test of stamina for me to spend several days in a strange place with unfamiliar people—and without any "alone time." By Sunday afternoon, I had stretched my social graces to the absolute limit. We got home that evening, and I didn't hesitate to tell Brian that he probably wouldn't be hearing from me during the day on Monday. I had a date with Blue. I needed to get out on my own and ride the tension out of my system.

That's normal, right? Using a good, hard ride to clear your mind and drain off the stress? (I hardly know the answer because before I had Blue, riding was a stressful activity too.)

Since I was looking forward to a day of solitude tackling the Cache Hollow/Lincton Mountain loop, it was pretty much inevitable that I would wake up to facebook and phone messages asking me to do that very same loop in a group that afternoon.

Sigh. So much for alone time. One of the (very few) disadvantages to boarding with your main riding buddy is that she can tell pretty easily that you totally ditched her to go off riding by yourself. Luckily, the group plan was for 2:30 in the afternoon. The clock said 11:30 a.m. I had just enough time to squeeze in a solo ride before the group ride.

I took Blue out to Madame Dorian, and we blasted out 5 miles of deep sand trails in blistering noon-on-Labor-Day heat. Yes, it was an hour of driving in order to do an hour of riding under the worst possible conditions, but that's missing the point. It was the wind and the sagebrush and the solitude that I needed. I would have hauled Blue to the ends of the earth just to find a quiet patch to ride on.

We had a steady, fast, happy ride, and were home by 2:32. Not too shabby, if I say so myself.

I had no sooner turned the trailer around in Heather's driveway than she loaded up Bunny and we headed to Cache Hollow to meet Shana.

Shana's husband made a video of her a couple years ago that shows some of the Cache Hollow Road loop. In my opinion, it doesn't capture the difficulty, though.



Google maps doesn't really do it justice, either, so here's a simple illustration:

You Western Washington people are probably rolling your eyes at this little climb, but I grew up in a county in Nebraska where the highest point was about 10 feet above the lowest.

We had some pretty sweaty ponies by the time we crested the hill, but we pushed on past that until my GPS said we'd gone an honest 4-plus miles, all uphill. Then we turned around and flew back down again.

Bunny trotting downhill on good footing is a force of nature. I couldn't clock her because I couldn't keep up. Blue and I were well behind, with Sinwaan somewhere in the middle. Blue and I were pretty well spent after this. He'd done 5 miles of sand that the other two hadn't done, but he stayed willing and soft all the way back down the mountain. He is by no means ready for an LD, let alone a 50, but I like what I see so far. The mind is willing, but the body needs conditioning. We just need more days like Monday to keep stretching the boundaries of his fitness.

And speaking of stretching our fitness boundaries, I started "Couch to 5K" on Tuesday after work. If you aren't familiar with the program, here's an overview. I bought an iPhone app that tells me when to run and when to walk over the course of a half-hour workout. So far, so good. Every step of running under my own steam makes me appreciate my horse all the more.

Elbe Hills Challenge: The ride

Ten miles is not very far. In terms of endurance, 10 miles is barely a conditioning ride. Heather and I will do 10 miles of road riding on a Sunday morning and barely blink an eye.

But note to self: 10 miles of flat road is not like 10 miles of Elbe Hills.

I knew this on some level. I did the LD at Elbe last year, and it was a hair-raising, white-knuckle, all-out RACE over some very gnarly trails. And even at that speed Laura and I barely completed in time. That memory is what led me to recommend to Heather that we might not want to take our not-very-fit, new-to-endurance horses into Elbe with a competition mindset. Also, we might not want to do 25 yet.

Good thing! This was our approximate route for the 10-mile Elbe Hills Challenge trail ride:

This is the simplified version. Add in about a zillion more squiggles for a more realistic experience.

 

Another rider likened the course to slalom skiing on horseback, and I have to agree. I didn't bring a camera on the trail. I don't know why not. It would have been good to get some pictures of the terrifying single-track switchbacks up a sheer mountainside. The perfectly clear view of Mt. Rainier was pretty incredible, too.

We had very few horse incidents to speak of, in spite of the difficulty of the trails. Both horses found one particular log too suspicious to go by (even with aggressive persuasion), so I got down and walked Blue past it as Bunny worried along behind with Heather still aboard. Blue also had a few moments of wanting to turn tail for camp, but he was so disoriented that he kept getting himself pointed in the exactly wrong compass direction. Hopefully he will learn that, in endurance riding, the way back to camp is always FORWARD.

The only other little hiccup was a water crossing. Bunny is so sensible these days that it is easy to forget that her first week at Heather's she wasn't 100 percent sure that grass was a safe surface. Fraser Downs was her entire world before this, and I don't think there are a lot of rocky creek crossings on the track. Blue and I chugged across it, and Heather ended up leading Bunny across after all other ideas failed. Anyway, she made it. 

Once we were back down on level ground, Blue recognized the trail and picked up speed. Like, a lot of speed. We zoomed through the smooth dirt trails back toward camp, but pulled up short at an odd sight: Two saddle pads were laying beside the trail not far apart. One was a Skito, heavy with sweat, and the other was another expensive brand—a Gaston Mercier maybe? We debated picking them up, but in the end decided we didn't need the extra bulk on board, and anyway, someone may have left them there to switch out later. We didn't want anyone to think that we stole them.

The last quarter mile into camp, Blue was very upset by the sound of horses calling through the trees. He couldn't see them, but they sounded very close. He clearly didn't know what to make of it. Suddenly, the forest cleared, and there was Heather's mom with the camera—we survived the hardest 10 miles I've ever ridden!

Funny thing: When we got back to camp there was no vet there waiting for us. Nor an in-timer. Nor any "official" Elbe Hills volunteers. The staging area was completely deserted except for Dean Hoalst, who had taken a rider option early in the 50 and was waiting for someone to check his horse. We all got to wait a good long while...

 

[Stay tuned for our exciting conclusion...]

Elbe Hills Challenge: Saturday morning

hrung... hrunggg... HRUNNNGGBRRRRRRRMMMMMMGGGGGG!!!! 

 

That is the sound of the generators starting up. I don't know why I bother with an alarm clock, especially at forested rides where the roar echoes through the clearing like a herd of dinosaurs at 5 a.m.

Heather, Laurie and I were all on our feet and under way soon after. There were people and animals to feed, nerves to calm, stretches to be done. Laurie is already getting a reputation for being a late starter, so I should have been watching the clock for her. It was 5:35, and Otto still wasn't tacked. At 6, Laurie hoisted herself in the saddle, then jumped down to make a few last-minute tack adjustments, and then, with our urging, actually mounted up and headed down to the (by then deserted) starting line. After mild bucking and rearing shenanigans, Otto was persuaded to start the ride. They were about 10 minutes behind the last horse. We would not see them again for eight hours.

Back to the campsite to start our own days. For me, being up as early as I was meant that I could take a leisurely approach to wrapping Blue's bad foot and tacking up. Heather had a baby to feed, so her routine was somewhat more hurried, I suppose. Frankly at that stage I'm pretty well in the zone. You have to say my name a few times to get my attention.

Laura stopped by with the awful news that Kcee had likely popped a splint in her front left and wouldn't be competing in the LD, or anything else for a while. Laura was of course devastated, especially given her amazing showing at another tough mountain ride: Renegade Rendezvous.

I took Blue down to watch the start of the LD. It was a bit of an anticlimax. There were fewer than 20 riders, and they came to the start in dribs and drabs. There was no cavalry charge, which was what I really wanted Blue to see.

Disappointed at the missed training opportunity, I mounted up, and Heather's mom took pictures. She got lots of us in camp and sort of milling around the start area. It was nice to be riding a horse who didn't consider the starting line his own private rodeo arena. We walked in sensible circles and kept it low-key.

They called the start. We left camp at an easy walk, with all but three other trail riders in front of us.

Elbe Hills Challenge: Friday

The first challenge of the Elbe Hills Challenge was getting there.

Laurie, Otto's new owner, had agreed to haul our horses (and my fat butt) the five-plus hours over White Pass. We got a very late start because of some drama she's having getting her new property fenced. Luckily, Heather, Heather's mom and the baby had hit the road a couple hours before, knowing that they'd make more stops because of the infant—and also because I had warned them about the limited number of campsites. 

Laurie and I got the ponies loaded up shortly after noon and burned rubber toward Yakima. We were still in the greater Prosser-Mabton-Sunnyside metroplex when we got a call from Heather: White Pass was under construction, with one-way traffic and up to two-hour delays. She and her mom had elected to take Chinook Pass instead  (though they were calling us from the base and hadn't actually gotten into the pass yet). Heather just wanted to give us a heads-up so we had time to make an informed decision.

Well, semi-informed anyway. The last time I went through Chinook was 1999 or something, and it was foggy both in reality and in my memory. I couldn't remember if it was trailer-friendly or not. Laurie didn't know either. But on our side is the fact that she has done some commercial hauling and believed that she could take a trailer anywhere she could take a car. We decided it would be better to take a chance on Chinook than to sit with the horses for hours in 100-degree heat at the base of White Pass.

Personally, I think the scenery was worth a few hairpin turns and some long stretches of steep up-and-down. (But then, I wasn't driving.) Also, when we reconnected with the White Pass road near Packwood, we saw a long line of cars backed up down the highway—Yay! We made the right choice!

During the course of this little adventure, I had been studying a state road map and found a seasonal road that went from Packwood to Ashford—a road that might cut 20 miles off our drive. A very nice man at a gas station in Packwood confirmed that the road was indeed paved and trailer-worthy. And we found as we drove it that the scenery was just a bonus. It was basically lined with camping areas the entire way. Gorgeous forest and mountain streams.

We rolled into camp in fading evening light to find the tents already set up at a primo spot right next to the registration table, across the road from the meeting shelter. I have to admit, this location made me a little giddy. Not only that, but our fellow Walla Wallite, Dean Hoalst, was coincidentally in the same area and had arrived not long before us. Team Walla all vetted in together as the last rays of daylight filtered through the trees.

I skipped most of the ride meeting in order to set up my camping accommodations, but I heard it was short and well-run. 

I more or less collapsed onto my air mattress and proceeded to my customary eight hours of tossing and turning prior to a ride. The facts—that we were going only a short distance, we weren't competing, and I didn't have to ride naughty Otto—didn't help my pre-ride nerves as much as you might expect.