A Model Artist: Sculptor Lynn Fraley Visits In the Night Farm

I can't believe it. My camera was hanging on the round corral the whole time, and I failed to take a single photo!

You'll just have to take my word for it that sculptor Lynn Fraley of Laf'n Bear LLC spent Saturday morning at In the Night Farm, observing and measuring several of our Barb horses.

A couple Fridays ago, Lynn graciously gave me a tour of her Boise studio where she creates the most amazing equine sculptures in both ceramic and resin. Scattered around the studio are model equines in various stages of development, from wire frame to kiln to freshly casted.

Limited edition models line high shelves. Glistening ceramics rest on racks, partway through the time-consuming process of being painted dapple gray. A charmingly doleful, clay draft horse stands in the refrigerator next to a pitcher of iced tea. Each model, including my favorite Campaneo de Acadie, an Iberian stallion who reminds me irresistibly of our own Insider, features intricate detail from facial veins to wrinkled eyelids to tiny frogs in every hoof.

I was struck by Lynn's focus on anatomical accuracy. Unlike most sculptors, she builds her models from the inside out, marking joints and molding muscle groups beneath the surface for extremely realistic results. In addition to her meticulous application of architectural concepts, she has an artist's eye for the subtleties of facial expression -- and the courage to stand up for the welfare of real horses. (You won't find a big lick model in her studio, despite the fact that it would probably sell.)

Like me, Lynn has an insatiable thirst for information on everything from breed/type history to color genetics to anatomy. First in her studio, then in my round corral, we talked of hoof care and growth rates, of training philosophy and conformation, of bones and backs and brains. These were conversations of my favorite kind: the sort from which I learn a lot -- most particularly, how much I have yet to learn.

I can hardly wait for more.

Hot Stuff

After a light week thanks to his mild (but still scary) bout with colic, Aaruba was full of bounce for today's conditioning ride. We took on 10 miles of hills in the midday heat. I really like this route for its rolling quarter-mile and half-mile hills. Aaruba trotted the whole way, with me riding up the hills and jogging down. He finished strong and pulsed down to 60 bpm in 7 minutes, three of which were spent walking the last quarter mile toward home.

When I took off my helmet, my hair was as wet as if I'd just stepped out of the shower. Tomorrow is supposed to be even hotter -- up to 103! But I'm not complaining. Nope, not one bit. I'd rather condition in heat (it's good for an endurance horse to be able to manage his temperature in summer weather) than deal with the rainy, windy weather we endured throughout most of June.

And now, for all who have sent such kind compliments on Aaruba's loveliness, I offer this photo for your amusement:

That was Aaruba in mid-February, 2008. Below is a similar photo I took just before saddling up this afternoon. (Excuse the Target bag -- I didn't have Travis handy to help get his ears pricked...not that it worked...)


No really, I swear it's the same horse! Was that four months of conditioning, or a miracle??

Catching Up

You thought I forgot, didn't you?

Over a month ago, Oh, Horsefeathers! presented me with the Great Horse Tips Award. Ever since then, I've been looking for the perfect blogger upon whom to bestow it. I'm pleased to announce that I've found her at last:

Enlightened Horsemanship Through Touch

A recent discovery of mine, Enlightened Horsemanship offers one of my favorite reads. Kim's writing is utterly delightful and her thoughtful posts, laced with poetry and humor, resound with affection for equines. Make yourself a cup of tea and settle in to catch up on all you've missed!
____________

In other news: Aaruba seems fine after his Tuesday-night colic. It's hard to refrain from checking him every fifteen minutes, but as he's acted normally for 48 hours now, I'm pretty confident that we're safely out of the woods. I've read that Arabians are one of the most colicky breeds, statistically speaking, and Aaruba seems to be one of those individuals that's more prone to colic than others. Perhaps I'd better give Enlightened Horsemanship's TTouch tip a try.

Tomorrow, equine sculptor Lynn Fraley of Laf'n Bear Studio will visit In the Night Farm to observe and measure the Barbs. I'm excited to hear what she, as a student of art and anatomy, has to say about them as they relate to the Old World horses she has studied. They should all be full of spit and vinegar, as they've had much off the week off while I dealt with Aaruba.

A Dreadful Night: When Colic Strikes

There's nothing like colic to strike dread in a horseman's heart.

You've been there. You've seen the listless eye, the puzzled face, the drawn loin, the kick and roll, the up and down, the stretching, the flehmen and staring at his sides. You've felt Dread clutch your lungs in icy tentacles.

Occasionally, you can guess the cause, but usually, you're baffled. No feed changes. Plenty of turnout. No unusual stress. Half his water gone. He was fine this morning, but you're in for a night of it now.

You put the horse in a clean area and run for your vet kit. Deep breaths, calming tone. Heart rate. Gut sounds. Temperature. Hydration. Dial the vet.

Have you guessed yet what I did last night?

Pulling into the driveway after work, I did my usual visual sweep of the herd. Aaruba was standing by the gate with his hind legs stretched behind him ever so slightly. Hmm.

I ate a banana and changed clothes, then headed outside. Aaruba looked a bit heat-drugged and annoyed by flies, a little hunched through his back. I smeared petroleum jelly on his belly whorl where the flies like to pester him. He wandered away to roll. On the way, he pooped a nice, normal pile. Hmm.

I caught Acey and tied her in the round corral. While I groomed her, Aaruba rolled, rested briefly, and got up again. He seemed to be looking for another place to lie down. On the way, he passed another manure pile, loose this time. Hmm, indeed.

I put Acey away and haltered Aaruba, who met me at the gate looking pitiful. We paused by a patch of green grass on the way to the round corral. He wasn't interested. Enter Dread.

Aaruba's heart rate was normal at 36 (whew!). Gut sounds were present but low, especially on the lower left (uh-oh). Hydration normal (yay!). Aspect lethargic (crap). Temperature normal at 99 degrees (okay, good). He wanted to lie down (double crap).

I walked him for 10 minutes and was rewarded with another small, loose pile of manure. Fine, but not necessarily significant considering the amount of manure a horse can harbor behind an impaction or twist.

A repeat vitals check yielded identical results. Time for a dose of oral Banamine -- enough to ease mild pain, as pain itself can transform an otherwise simple colic into a killer -- but not enough to mask significant symptoms of oncoming endotoxic shock.

When I released him in the round corral to see what he'd do, he went down in the sandiest section of the round corral, looking miserable. He wrung his tail a bit, stretched his neck, and studied his left side.

As I reviewed the colic chapter in my favorite quick veterinary reference, Emergency! by Karen Hayes, I tried not to let mind fill with images from last fall, when I nearly lost Aaruba to a large bowel impaction of unknown cause. He spent several days--and several thousand dollars--in the hospital being pumped full of IV liquids and refluxing a bucketful every couple hours. His survival was nothing short of miraculous...and unlikely to happen twice.

Travis arrived home. We discussed the situation, and I spoke with the night vet at our equine hospital. Aaruba's pain was subtle to mild, his heart rate and hydration good, so we agreed on a "wait and see" approach.

I walked him for 10 to 15 minutes every hour, sometimes up and down a gentle slope, throughout the night. I kept careful notes on heart and respiration rates, gut sounds, pain symptoms, manure passed (1 pile around 2:30 a.m., half loose, half normal), salted Equine Senior mash intake (none), water intake (none), and other observations.

At 3:55 a.m., I woke the night vet to discuss the fact that although Aaruba's heart rate remained normal, his mild pain symptoms had returned in the wake of the Banamine. Worse, skin pinches and gum examinations showed that he was clearly dehydrated. Bring him in? Wait until morning? We decided, tentatively, to wait.

At 5:00, he was still resting sternal, looking sleepy but not painful. Getting him to his feet took more urging than before, and he was shivering in the 50 degree dawn. After a few minutes of walking, his guts remained very quiet. I checked his heart rate. 60 beats per minute. Red alert!

Travis hooked up the trailer while I scrambled into some jeans and went to halter Aaruba for loading. Dreading the result, I checked his heart rate again. 48. Hmm.

I waited a couple minutes and checked again. 42. Again. 36. My stomach began to unclench. Could it be that he'd just been sleeping soundly, and his heart raced when I roused him at a strange hour? I've had that happen, myself...

As the sun rose, Aaruba's lethargy seemed to lift. I led him out to the green grass by the garden, still soaked from its pre-dawn sprinkling. Finally (oh, joy!) he wanted to eat. After five minutes of grazing, I returned him to the round corral, where he lipped up a bit of his salty mash. Then he wandered around the corral, bright-eyed and relaxed, searching for stray bits of hay. And I went inside for some coffee.

I've been working from home today to keep an eye on him lest he relapse, but it's almost 6:00 p.m. and so far, so good. He's eager to graze when I let him do so for a few minutes every hour. He's happily consuming beet pulp and Senior mashes, and he looks like his usual self again. Just now, as I watched him through the window, he got up from a nap.

Isn't it funny how you can tell--even from a distance, even seeing just part of the horse--the difference between a peaceful snooze in the sun and a problematic recline? How amazing that you can know your horse so well that you can tell at a glance when something isn't right. Amazing, and wonderful...

...and terrible. Because we all know the worst could happen despite our care and caution. We could lose that precious friend who only yesterday carried us over the hill or 'round the rail, who finally loaded in the trailer or took the right lead, who met us at the gate though we didn't bring carrots, who just hours ago rested his muzzle in our palms, trusting us to help.

Now, go outside and give your horse a hug.

Rider Up!: First Ride on a Green Horse

Now that summer has finally decided to show itself, things are taking off here at In the Night Farm. The garden is getting greener and the root cellar deeper, and some serious horse training is finally underway.

Consolation (2002 Barb mare) continues to do well under saddle. I rode her three miles along the road Monday, then brought her back for some trot work in the round corral. Until a horse is well started, I like to be sure coming home means more work rather than rest and feed.

Alternating Current (aka Acey, 2003 Barb mare) is coming along in Con- solation's wake. As you can see from these first-ride photos taken a couple weeks ago, she's a tiny thing. Luckily, I'm only 5'3",and I think we make a cute couple. As a bonus, there's not far to fall!

The bad news is that tack for a horse Acey's size is hard to come by. Sadly, my Stonewall endurance saddle is too wide for her, so I'm using my Wintec Aussie instead. The shortest girth I have is still a bit too long, so I suppose I'll be buying another of those--along with a pony-size bridle, breast collar, and other miscellanea--before long. Adding extra holes to my cob-size tack just isn't going to work this time.

Unfortunately, it seems most tack manufacturers assume that if you're riding a pony, you're 1) a little girl who loves rainbows and bling, and/or 2) doing children's hunter/jumper. Surely someone manufactures pony-sized trail or endurance tack, such as beta halter-bridles and high quality wool saddle pads. If you've found a source, please clue me in!







But I digress. Acey's sticking point during her first few rides was moving in a straight line. She'd disengage her hindquarters. She'd circle. But it took a few extra ground driving lessons -- and switching from the too-big-anyway bitless bridle to her (weanling size!) rope halter to get her going forward. That hurdle overcome, we'll move on to trotting later this week.

And so, we carry on, toiling upward in the night.

A Brief Derailment: Overtraining an Endurance Horse

For the past couple weeks, Aaruba hasn’t been himself. Not colicky. Not lame. Not sick. Just not…himself.

The most obvious symptom was the lack of his usual spark. Though perfectly willing to head out for a conditioning ride, his enthusiasm flagged. He was more willing to stop and munch weeds, less excited about what was over the next hill. His stride lacked its customary spring.

I tossed around several theories:

First, the weather. After a long and chilly spring, 90 degree temperatures have arrived.

Second, his weight. Aaruba typically runs on the thin side, but he’s finally put on the pounds I’ve wanted to see for some months. Though it’s contrary to my basic understanding of equine endurance physiology, it’s possible that he performs better at a slightly lower weight.

Third, his living arrangements. Due to his specialized feeding routine, Aaruba has been living in a pen adjacent to, but separate from, the other horses. He’s recently resumed his old habit of frantic fence walking, and I suspect he’d benefit emotionally from having a buddy.

Fourth, overtraining. We’ve stepped his conditioning up a bit since the Owyhee Fandango. Perhaps a bit too much?

I decided to address theories #3 and #4 first, as they seemed more likely than #2 and certainly more subject to my control than #1.

We started with a round of musical horses, with the result that Aaruba now shares the largest pen with CJ. Because Aaruba outranks CJ socially, he can defend his oil-dressed beet pulp and grain. (And, as a fringe benefit, CJ gets free lessons in how baby boys should behave around the big horses.)

Come Thursday, I skipped Aaruba’s scheduled workout in favor of a short bareback lesson. This was more for my benefit than his, though it did involve a bit of training as he’s only been ridden bareback once before. Don’t laugh – it’s been 15 years since I did much bareback work!

Afterwards, I succomed to a teenage moment. Is it even possible to ride bareback and not hug your horse?

As of Saturday, Aaruba was back to his old self. He blasted through a 6-mile workout in 29 minutes, all at his exuberant James Brown trot. (I feel good!) He wanted to relax with a nice, long gallop afterwards, but I talked him out of it.

I’m sure it was the time off that rekindled his fire. Studying Aaruba’s conditioning log (see right hand column of The Barb Wire blog), I realize where the train left the tracks: Though I took care not to increase both speed and distance in the same workout, I failed to adequately consider the cumulative effect of our stepped-up workouts over the course of a couple weeks. Poor Aaruba was tired, plain and simple.

Thankfully, rest is a marvelous tonic. We’re back on track now, steaming along, a little wiser than we were before.

Thinking it Through: Training Horses as Individuals

Good training is more than working a horse through a sequence of steps toward a goal. It's more than having a jam-packed "bag of tricks" upon which to call when problems arise. It's more, even, than possessing a thorough understanding equine psychology. Those are critical factors, of course, but a truly skilled trainer is one who understands that horses have unique preferences and problems that require equally unique solutions.

Take Consolation, for instance. I posted earlier in the week about how, on her taxi ride, I sensed that she was still hovering to close to the brink of taking control. She stayed with me for that ride, but as her confidence in balancing a rider grows, her lead mare tendencies bubble closer to the surface. She demonstrated that she was willing to almost ignore rein cues if doing so suited her fancy, and I wondered if one good spook or surge of frolic would send her flying for home -- rider optional.

The issue with Consolation one of leadership. This is the sticking point I must address before we can really move out on the trails. It seems to me that her unique "problem" -- which is really a hallmark of courage and high intelligence -- is that she needs a good reason to listen to me. So, I thought up a way to give her one.

For the past several days, I've been setting up obstacle courses of ground poles in the round corral. First walking, then trotting, we weave through, over, and around the poles in random patterns that require Consolation's constant attention. To navigate the obstacles, she must listen and respond quickly. She's already demonstrating vast improvement, softening physically and mentally as she gets into the game.

Soon, before she gets bored, I'll throw in some extras: a tarp under some of the poles. construction cone with a jacket draped over it, maybe even a tiny crossbar. The point is to keep her thinking, listening, and responding -- all skills that will translate to better communication next time we hit the road.

Good training is about knowing your horse as an individual, developing the ability to diagnose the root cause of a behavioral symptom, and applying custom-designed solutions.

Oh, and there's nothing like a post-ride pedicure to keep a lady feeling special.

By the way, the most observant among you will have noticed that I've switched Consolation from the Dr. Cook's Bitless Bridle (sales-pitchy website alert!) to a full-cheek, single-joined snaffle. This is not because I felt the need for something harsher, but rather because Consolation displayed pronounced distaste for the "head-hugging" action of the bitless bridle. For her, the snaffle seems a less intrusive option. Aaruba, on the other hand, loves that bitless bridle. Proof, once again, that a horse is not [just another] horse (of course)!

_____________________________________

Related Posts

Breaking Free: Training the Herdbound Horse

Where To, Ma'am: First Trail Ride on a Green Horse

Connecting the Dots: Breakthroughs in Horse Training

Moving Out: Increasing Speed and Confidence on the Trail
_____________________________________

Want to read more posts like this one? We deliver!

Subscribe to The Barb Wire

Where To, Ma'am?: First Trail Ride on a Green Horse

The first ride outside the round corral always feels a bit like climbing into a taxi in a foreign city.

Sure, the cabbie's job is to take me safely wherever I direct him...but will he? What if I bungle my conversational Spanish and wind up outside a flophouse in the red light district? Suppose the driver disregards my instructions, drives recklessly, even overpowers me?

We've all heard stories...

And yet, the time must come. I prefer to take the taxi ride as early as possible in a horse's under saddle work; that is, as soon as the horse can walk in a straight line and respond to basic cues. Handled correctly, early trail riding builds confidence for both horse and rider, and it keeps a bright horse from souring during repetitive ring work.

So is was that, after about ten rides on Consolation and many handwalks across the country- side, I quashed my doubts and hit the road. You can see in these photos that I had to actively use all four corners (both hands, both legs) to keep her moving away from home. Once around the bend, she settled into such a brisk walk that I had to consciously loosten my hips to roll along with her.

Our 3 mile trek took us along low-traffic roads that I knew to be relatively free of distractions like loose dogs and Fanged Trash Cans of Death. Still, there was plenty for a green horse to look at: bubbling irrigation channels, vats of fertilizer, loose chickens pecking at a pile of last year's potatoes sprouting in the ditch.

I rode about half the distance, dis- mounting as necessary to recapture Consolation's wandering will or let a truck rumble past. Some people will disagree with this technique, believing it means the rider is a coward or the horse is controlling the situation. However, I find that striking a balance between pushing the horse to try something new (carrying a rider past new sights) and returning to the familiar (being led or ground-driven) keeps both parties' emotional levels lower and prevents accidents.

Ideally, my horse will never realize that she can overpower me. If I can avoid that first bolt or refusal, I will. So, if I feel Consolation bunching up with tension or excitement, I'll dismount before the levy breaks, maybe do a bit of lateral bending, lead her until she's calm again, then get back on. Gradually, over the course of many rides, the need for frequent dismounts will diminish and disappear.

This method isn't foolproof, of course. On Consolation's taxi ride, I got try a few strides of her canter (very nice!) when an unmanned piece of farm equipment buzzed to life behind us. As I'd been sensing a lack of control throughout the ride -- that strong-willed mare again -- I was pleased that Consolation "came back" to me quickly.

All the same, I returned home having realized a need to further Consolation's respect for my direction from the saddle. After all, it's the horse, not me, who ought to be asking, "Where to?"

_____________________________________

Related Posts

Breaking Free: Training the Herdbound Horse

Thinking it Through: Training Horses as Individuals

Connecting the Dots: Breakthroughs in Horse Training

Moving Out: Increasing Speed and Confidence on the Trail

_____________________________________

Want to read more posts like this one? We deliver!

Subscribe to The Barb Wire

Hay Day

Yesterday morning, I cut the twine on my last bale of 2007 hay. The dwindling supply has made me feel more and more like Mother Hubbard as our April-in-June weather has pushed first cuttings back week after week.

I was on the verge of giving you all an inside tip on beet pulp stock when, wonder of wonders, summer arrived. The wind and rain stopped. My hay vendors (both of whom were among the few farmers who waited to cut and thereby saved their crops from being reduced cattle-only quality) revved up the swathers and balers.

Yesterday, we made the 30 mile trip to Oregon to pick this up.

That's 15 tons of a 60:40 grass:alfalfa mix. It's a bit more mature than ideal, thanks to the weather delay, but at least it wasn't rained on. And, we got it from honest people for a fair price, considering the cost of fuel and fertilizer these days. Within the month, we'll get another 12 tons from our other vendor and call it good for the year.

And boy, am I glad. With most of our area's first cutting destroyed and prices already on the rise, horse hay will be at a premium this year. By spring, it might as well be gold. I feel fortunate indeed to have mine in stock already -- and even more fortunate to have this guy as a great friend willing to volunteer his truck and time to haul it.







Believe me, weaving that trailer into our driveway was no mean feat.














Now, we just have to unload. Volunteers welcome.

Weekend Warrior

A horse's memory is a prodigious thing. I've heard this trait likened to a scratch on a blackboard: Once it's there, you can make a lot of marks over it and minimize it's appearance, but you can't erase it.

The drawbacks of such a memory are obvious, but I must say it comes in handy sometimes -- for instance, when my training schedule has been trainwrecked by three weeks of unseasonably heavy winds and rain. I haven't stopped training entirely since mid-May, but deep mud and howling winds have forced me down to an appalling 2 or 3 lessons per horse, per week.

Fortunately for my sanity, the weekend dawned sunny and breezy. I started early with Sandstorm, reminding her of her new leading skills. She responded as though just an hour had passed since her last lesson, sweet and shy as ever she was.

From Sandstorm I moved on to ride Consolation in the round corral, then do pre-mounting work with Acey. After a quick lunch, I caught Ripple (long yearling Barb filly) for the first time in two months. She stood like an old plow horse while Travis trimmed her hooves, then aced a quick groundwork review.

And then, the real fun began. I saddled Aaruba and headed off for a 14 mile trot peppered with canters and one brief, frantic gallop when an Australian Shepherd burst from the bushes in hot pursuit. The dog loped along with us for five miles, ignoring my shouts to "go home." He was nearly hit by several cars before finally stopping to investigate some other dogs. (Please, please, even if you live in the country, be responsible and restrain your pets!)

Home again, I had just enough time to give CJ a liberty workout before keeling over from weariness, hunger, and gin & tonic deprivation.

Sunday morning, I started all over again. Despite the long disruption of my training schedule, Acey seemed ready for the big moment. [drumroll please] I climbed aboard. She hardly twitched an ear. [cease drums, cancel cymbal crash] I shifted around in the saddle, scratched her withers, and hopped off again. Thorough groundwork -- and that equine memory -- pays off once again.

The next triumph of the day came when I took Consolation, tacked up, for a walk down the road. She was so good that I decided to get on (yes, I had my helmet) and ride for a mile or so. Travis rolled his eyes when I rode into the driveway, grinning, to announce that now I can ride every day, even when Aaruba is resting. I've waited years for this!

Around 4:00, Aaruba and I left for another 17 mile jog. We tried a new route that involved crossing the freeway (on a little-traveled overpass) which he handled like a pro despite motorcycles and semis roaring beneath. In fact, the horse-eating trash can (cleverly disguised as just another trash can identical to the other fifty we passed) proved much more alarming.

Incidentally, I sometimes wish Aaruba's memory for places wasn't quite so keen. He dearly loves to explore and moves out with great enthusiasm every time we go somewhere new. We hardly walked a step of those 17 hilly miles, yet he arrived home still full of air and bounce. "The horse is fine," I told Travis, handing him the reins. "I'm pooped."

Here's hoping the weather finally has figured out it's June...

On the Road Again: Continued Endurance Conditioning

After most of a week's break following the Owyhee Fandango LD (ride story here), Aaruba and I hit the trails again on Saturday. He was full of...ummm...brio (how's that for a euphamism!) and ready to check out the BLM land just 6 miles from home.

I'm excited to have discovered the network of dirt tracks on these sage-covered hills, particularly because they give us a place to trot for miles over the kind of terrain we encountered at the Eagle Extreme and in the Owyhee Canyonlands -- steep inclines, rough ground, and long stretches of relatively level trail on the ridges.

Unfortunately, a lot of folks come to these same hills for target practice. The land is riddled with junk. People will shoot anything, it seems. We passed bullet-riddled tires, mattresses, electronics, appliances, badgers, ground squirrels, and even a chocolate lab. We also came upon several small groups of people clustered around pickups and jeeps, blasting away. Thankfully, they were kind enough to stop shooting so we could pass, all flared nostrils and bulging eyes, and I only had to short circuit one near-bolt.

I was hoping to ride a good 20 miles or so, but an afternoon thunderstorm rolled in and I decided that returning to the trailer early was preferable to getting barbequed by lightening. Travis, who had been sighting in his new rifle while I rode, was ready to go home.

Aaruba, on the other hand, could have used the mileage. Guess what we'll be doing this evening...What a life!

___________

It's carnival time again! Be sure to drop by MiKael's Mania for links to favorite posts from The Barb Wire and many other horse bloggers.

In the Wake of our First LD: Scattered Observations

Looking for the actual ride story? Click here to read about the Owyhee Fandango!
_____________

For several years now, I've been reading everything I could find about endurance riding. Web pages, forums, books, blogs, articles -- you name it, I've read it. This background served me well at the Owyhee Fandango last Sunday. I understood more of the procedures and equipment than I would have without this research, and I knew the answers to many questions I overhead from other riders -- though, as a newbie myself, I kept my mouth shut!

Overall, I felt well prepared...and yet, there's still plenty to learn, things that can be gathered only through experience at actual rides. Below are miscellaneous observations from the Fandango:

1) Attitudes about Limited Distance (LD)

Many times over the weekend, people asked what distance Aaruba and I were there to ride. The answer that jumped repeatedly to my lips was, "Oh, just the 25." After all, compared to 50's or longer on each of three days, or the 75 or 100 mile races, 25 miles seems paltry indeed! However, several times I was told to "Never say 'just' 25." One person went on to note that most horsepeople will never ride a horse that far in their lives.

Another rider expressed approval for the concept of LD's as training rides in preparation for longer distances, but said he felt there should be no top-ten rankings given. I got the feeling that he didn't appreciate those riders who choose to stick with the shorter rides and turn them into races rather than moving up to real endurance distances of 50 miles or more. Also, he noted that the lure of top-tenning often results in less training and more racing taking place on the LD trail. I see his point -- and even agree, to some extent -- but I must admit that the memory of this conversation made me a bit uncomfortable with my 5th place finish the next day. I wanted to shout to the crowd at the awards dinner, "I swear I just rode my training pace! I wasn't trying to top-ten!"

2) Ride Camp Organization and Atmosphere

The Oreana rides are extremely well managed and organized. Travis and I had no difficulty finding and following instructions...after the first ten minutes, that is. Upon arrival in camp, we experienced some frustration and even mild embarassment as a result of not knowing our way around. To those who kindly pointed us toward parking areas -- thank you. To those who shot us annoyed glances when we paused to study the layout -- hey, maybe it's been a while, but you were new once, too.

Being the shy type that never wants to intrude upon others, Travis and I hung back a bit during the ride meeting. The people who did speak to us were friendly, but their conversations naturally drifted back into the circles of people they already knew. I don't blame them -- it's human nature to tend toward the familiar. Being an outsider for a while is a natural part of integrating into a new community. Still, I hope I always remember how much I appreciated those who made a real effort to include us (Monika Steller and Melanie Shirilla in particular), so I can "pay it forward" someday.

Another thing I noticed about ride camp was that while almost everyone is friendly and interested in one another's horses, the atmosphere is decidedly non-judgemental. I didn't see anyone giving unsolicited advice or scoffing at another rider's choice of feed or tack. On the whole, it seemed that people with two-horse bumper pulls and tents were as welcome as those with air-conditioned, 6-horse vans with living quarters and custom details.

Were there cliques and unfriendly sorts? Sure, a few. When Aaruba and I caught up with a group of riders on Sunday and stayed with them for a mile or two, I got the distinct feeling that, despite my attempts at casual conversation, they were just waiting for me to go away. Oh, well. No group is perfect -- and overall, the endurance crowd seems closer than most.

3) The Importance of Crew

Okay, so it was just 25 miles. (Sorry. I mean, it was 25 miles!) Aaruba and I may have participated in the shortest race of the day, with just one vet check and hold, but I still learned how wonderful it is to have a good crew. Our hold would have been much more stressful without Travis there to hand me the stethoscope, hold Aaruba, fetch a sponge, carry hay, keep track of my rider card, watch the clock, run to the trailer for vetwrap, replace a hoofboot, take pictures, offer moral support, and clean up our mess once we were back on the trail. I'll let you guess which one is Travis...

We Came, We Saw, We Top-Tenned: 2008 Owyhee Fandango, Part Two

Did you miss Part One? Click here to catch up.
_______________

Promptly at noon, a ride official signaled the start. Bob Steller took off aboard Markoss, but the rest of us hung around, clearly waiting to avoid the often-chaotic rush. After a minute or so, several more riders headed up the trail. I followed on Aaruba, first walking, then trotting past a few riders who opted to walk a bit longer.

Eager and obviously feeling good, Aaruba settled into a medium trot up the road. About the time we reached our first turn onto a sandy track into the hills, he'd loosened up and wanted to move out. Holding him in took a bit of work, but I wasn't about to let him go faster than our training pace, especially in sand. All I wanted was to finish within the 6-hour time limit, with a sound and healthy horse.

The trail climbed up a steep hill, then led across the top of a ridge where low tangles of sagebrush, battered by many passing hooves, hunkered along the trail. Somewhere along that ridge, Aaruba stumbled a bit and I thought I saw something fly into the bushes. A hoof boot? I glanced down to check. One, two, three, four boots, all present and accounted for. We cruised on.

Not until we slowed to walk through some deep sand did I realize that what I'd seen on Aaruba's off front hoof (yes, the one with the injured heel) was not the boot itself, but the back of the gaiter spun around to the front of his hoof. The boot was gone.

When we broke out onto a gravel road minutes later, I thanked my lucky stars for all those hours of barefoot conditioning. Aaruba picked up speed, quite sound despite the missing boot, and we briefly joined the group of riders we'd been tailing. One of them let me know that Aaruba seemed to have interfered in back and was bleeding, so I hopped off at the nearby water stop to have a look. Fortunately, it was just a scratch, but as this is the second time his hind boots have caused such a wound, I'll be buying a pair of interference boots soon.

We crossed the creek with no problems, despite it being Aaruba's first attempt at a real water crossing, and continued on through the hills. There were a few short, steep uphills that we walked to conserve energy, but for the most part we trotted along. Being unfamiliar with the trail, and having forgotten to punch my stopwatch at the start, I was glad to come across a view of ridecamp in the valley below. A look at the map told me we were about two-thirds through the loop.

Having had the pleasure of chatting earlier with Shana (of Sinwaan) and Lara, riders from Washington who did the Saturday LD, I expected a steep downhill before the end of the loop. Sure enough, the riders ahead of me slowed, then seemed to disappear over the edge of a cliff. I arrived shortly thereafter to see the trail drop sharply to the creekbed far below. The trail looked safe enough, but as Aaruba was still inclined to rush, I elected to lead him down just in case.

We reached the creek just as the other riders were leaving. The water was faster here and Aaruba wouldn't settle to drink, so we carried on after wading up and down to ease any stinging in his interference wounds. He never took a sore step, even on the rocky sections of road with one bare forehoof, and again we caught up with the trio ahead. To see if Aaruba would settle down if he was in the lead, I guided him past them at a wide spot. It made no difference -- he still wanted to power along faster than I would allow.

Quite suddenly, we were back at camp. I hopped off, loosened the girth, and led him in to pick up our yellow slip on which our in-time, pulse-down time, and out-time would be recorded. Aaruba drank and ate some hay while we waited a couple minutes to pulse down to 60. He vetted through with all A's except for gut sounds, which earned him a C and instructions to come back for a re-check at the end of the hold.

So, forty minutes of eating, drinking, and boot-replacing later, we returned and were cleared to depart, now with gut sounds at B+. We were delayed several minutes by heeding the vet's advice to remove some tape we'd used to secure vetwrap over Aaruba's interference wounds lest it be too restrictive and cause a bandage bow, but I wasn't worried about it. This was a training ride for us, not a competition.

I was pleased to take off quite alone, as our bandage-removal delay had given the trio ahead of us get a longer lead. As expected, Aaruba was more settled now and we relaxed into our usual long, cheat-rein for the remaining 9 miles. Most of the loop retraced the same trail as the first loop, so pacing was easier. This time I stayed aboard for the steep downgrade, which Aaruba handled admirably. Once again, however, he refused to drink from the fast-moving creek even though I dismounted to give him plenty of opportunity. Just as I swung back into the saddle, a couple riders appeared at the top of the ridge behind us.

We trotted on until I saw the finish line. I dismounted to lead Aaruba in again, loosening his girth and noseband as we walked. The finish line steward said he thought we were the 5th or 6th horse in. Talk about Surprise #3!

Back at the recovery area, Travis and I pulled Aaruba's tack, then had his pulse checked to get his official finish time. We had half an hour before we needed to present for his final vet check, so we let him eat and drink to be sure he'd pass on gut sounds. Sure enough, he finished with mostly A's.

Though I figured we weren't really in the running for it considering my weight, our placing at 5th, and Aaruba's interference wounds, we presented an hour later for Best Condition. I weighed in at 134 lbs including tack (hmmm...maybe I should eat more!) and our BC score totaled exactly 600 -- acceptable, but not enough to win.

During the awards, we got a nice T-shirt for completing, a scarf from Malaysia for top-tenning, and a Malaysian fan and a kind round of applause for our first-ever LD.

So, what's next?

I'm thinking LD's on both days of the Pink Flamingo in July. After that, perhaps we'll start talking 50's.

Ride on!

We Came, We Saw, We Top-Tenned: 2008 Owyhee Fandango, Part One

...quite by accident.

Top-tenning at our first LD (Owyhee Fandango 2008) was the last in a series of surprises. But we'll get to that. Let's begin on Saturday.

Travis and I rose early Saturday morning, took time for a leisurely pot of coffee while the horses ate breakfast, then finished packing freshly-laundered riding clothes and loading our mountain of supplies into the truck and trailer. We triple-checked the packing list I've been making over the course of months as I read articles, books, ride stories, and blog posts by experienced riders, and I'm pleased to say that we got to the ride with everything we needed. I love lists.

Aaruba loaded nicely (for him) and we pulled out of the driveway at 12:12, just a few minutes later than planned. He rode more calmly than usual as we wound through a few tiny, Idaho towns and one thunderstorm, then turned onto Oreana Loop Road at around 2:00. Some of the ride loops included sections of the road, and my excitement grew as we crept over gravel and cattle guards, trail markers and a few riders.

Finally, we pulled into ridecamp and stopped to study the signs, which indicated we could take any of three driveways to find parking. As it turned out, we misinterpreted the sign and found ourselves down by the hold area. The volunteers there re-directed us to the top of the hill behind the ranch house. This put us in an area with just two other trailers, several hundred yards from, and just over the hill and out of sight of, the main parking section. We only stopped at the top of the hill because we didn't know our way around -- and it seems we were just about the only ones, as nearly everyone else had been to rides at the Teeter ranch before. But, there has to be a first time sometime.

Surprise #1 came at the pre-ride meeting just after dinner. The ride manager, Steph Teeter, described the trails and hold times. Then, she announced the start times. 100's and 75's at 6:00 a.m. 50's and 7:30. 25's at...noon. NOON? Who ever heard of an LD starting at noon? As a ripple of amusement ran around the crowd, Travis pointed to my wine glass and said, "Well, drink up!"

Steph went on to explain that the late start was due to the necessity of shuttling vets to and from the out vet checks for the longer rides. During the awards for the Saturday ride, I pondered what impact the late start would have on us. Heat wouldn't be a big issue, as predicted highs were only in the 70's. I would get to drink more coffee in the morning. Aaruba would be a mental wreck.

After being laid up since Wednesday due to his overreach injury, then trailered to a strange and exciting location, Aaruba was strung as high as a horse thief in the old West. Despite many handwalks around camp throughout the afternoon, he was already fed up with being tied to the trailer. Waiting for a noon start might put him right over the edge.

More storm clouds billowed on the horizon as we headed back to our trailer in the falling dusk. I was ready to crawl into the tent, but the thunder and wind whipped Aaruba into a frenzy. He paced and even reared while tied to the trailer. Not good. Aaruba respects his halter and never once tightened the rope, but there was no calming him. He wasn't scared, but I could see he was well beyond his limit for the day. He needed some freedom from halter restraint, and soon.

At nearly any other ride, we'd have had a real problem on our hands. But, thankfully, the Teeters offer the option of renting a panel pen for your horse, and I'd seen earlier in the day that many of the pens remained unused. Feeling guilty because we hadn't reserved a pen, but deeply relieved to have something to do with Aaruba, we led him through the dark and deserted camp to a vacant pen. Sure enough, he quieted immediately and settled to his hay.

It was nearly midnight when Travis and I finally crawled into our sleeping bags with Wyrsa at our feet. The night wasn't terribly cold, but sleep was hard to come by. I wasn't nervous, precisely, but my mind was too busy to rest. I must have slept a little, but I was already awake when the dinner bell rang to signal the start for the earliest riders. I poked my head out of the tent to see the 100 milers trotting by. I'll do that some day!

I'd just crawled back into the tent to get dressed when I heard a horse spook and its rider hit the ground, then voices asking, "Are you okay?" Hoofbeats clattered on the gravel in that distinctive, short-strided, brisk canter of a confused and frightened horse. Before long, however, someone announced, "She's coming back." As far as I know, the mare and her rider continued with the race.

Incidentally, Aaruba spooked at the same spot as we started our ride along the same section of road later that day, as did several of the horses around us. A small cluster of logs had been stacked there, I think to hold a trail marker, and horses tend to spook at things that don't look or behave quite as the horse thinks they should.

I headed to the registration office as soon as I'd checked Aaruba, who was happy as could be in his borrowed pen, and fed him his beet pulp mash. I explained our situation to the ride secretary and offered to pay for the pen, but she very graciously said not to worry about it. Thank goodness for that extra pen -- I think it was a major factor in restoring Aaruba's sanity before the ride.

As noon ticked closer, Travis and I boiled water for coffee and ate the health-nut muffins and fruit I'd brought along. We put Aaruba's hoof boots on, checked for minimal rubbing on his injured heel, which we decided not to wrap for fear the wraps would bunch up and cause worse rubs than the boot, and got a number (and a smiley face!) on his butt.

I observed that he was consistently agitated when asked to stand around our section of ridecamp, regardless of the presence or absence of other horses, but he calmed immediately once returned to the hustle and bustle of the main camp. So, two lessons learned: 1) Aaruba needs a panel pen instead of a tie system, and 2) we should camp nearer the center of activity.

Surprise #2 came when I learned that Aaruba's pen neighbor was 2003 MRER Hall of Famer Markoss, now 20 years old. Markoss belongs to Monika and Bob Steller -- winner of the 2008 AERC National Championship (55-mile middleweight) with Majestic Star, who was in a portable pen just across the road. We couldn't have had better neighbors. Monika was an absolute pleasure, as utterly kind and welcoming as you can possibly imagine, an exemplary ambassador for this unusually friendly sport.

At 11:30, both Aaruba and I were quite calm as we tacked up and headed for the start. As we warmed up with a few circles at the walk and trot, Bob Steller commented that he'd give me points for having the best riding posture in the field. I told him that, coming from him, that means a lot! *blush*

________

Okay, I need to go get some dinner on the stove. At least you know now that we did go to the ride, and we did finish. Details coming soon in Part Two.

Let's Dance, Baby!

Aaruba looks great this morning, so we're off the the Owyhee Fandango!

Even better, today is Travis' and my wedding anniversary. Five years and happy as the day we got married.

Thanks so much to all who sent words of advice and encouragement over the past few days since Aaruba's injury. Keep those fingers crossed!

Watching, Waiting, Wondering

What to do? What to do?

Last night, as we soaked Aaruba's wounded heel, I was sure we'd need to withdraw from Sunday's LD. Here's how his 24-hour-old injury looked:

This morning, I showed this photo to an experienced endurance rider. She listened to my description: No lameness (though Aaruba didn't seem to have quite his usual bounce last night -- possibly just stiffness or irritation at the ceaseless wind). No swelling. A tiny bit of heat last night, but none this morning. No oozing. A bit of blood when I pressed on the wound. No exceptional tenderness in the area, and no resistance to handling.

Her opinion was that Aaruba would be fine, and that the pre-ride vet evaluation wouldn't be an obsticle as long as the wound wasn't swollen, oozing, or causing lameness. She recommended using Flexus to keep a wrap on the wound even in water.

Perhaps we'll go if:

1) There's still no lameness, swelling, or oozing tomorrow morning,
2) Aaruba seems to be acting like his usual self, and
3) It looks like his hoof boots aren't going to interfere with the wrapped wound.

What to do? What to do?

Pangs and Premonitions

One morning nearly four years ago, as Travis dropped me off at work, I had the feeling I should tell him to be extra careful on the way to his own office. I brushed the feeling away and didn't say anything. Five minutes later, he called my cell phone to tell me he'd been in an accident.

Two years ago, on New Years Eve, I sensed something was going to go wrong with the horses. All evening, as Travis and I sipped wine and played Trivial Pursuit, I paced back and forth from kitchen table to window, though nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Finally, just before midnight, I looked out again to see a dark shape moving beyond the mare paddock. I grabbed our big flashlight and beamed it at the beast. It was Insider. He'd mysteriously escaped from his stallion pen and was wandering loose amid a minefield of freshly-dug postholes.

For several days now, I've fought back the inkling that something was going to interfere with my and Aaruba's plans for the Owyhee Fandango. Just nerves, I told myself. Nothing to worry about.

Well. Last night, I joined Aaruba in the round corral for twenty minutes of liberty work. He trotted out like his usual, eager self, all snort and whipping tail in the 30 mph winds that haven't let up for days.

When I halted him and walked to his side, I was horrified to discover a bloody patch on his offside, front heel bulb above the hairline. His hind cannons were spattered with blood. I hadn't seen a single misstep during his workout, but the angle of the cut indicated he'd caught his off heel with his near hind. This was most surprising, as he's never had an over-reach or interference problem before. The bleeding had all but stopped already, so I tied him to a post and ran to the house to collect Travis and some first aid supplies.

A long rinse with the hose loostened the dried blood and revealed a crescent-shaped slice into Aaruba's skin (just skin, thankfully!) above the coronet. It wasn't particularly tender and didn't seem to have any impact on his freedom of movement. We soaked the foot in epsom salts, disinfected the wound, then let Aaruba go have dinner while I went inside to dwell miserably on a host of questions:

Will we be able to ride in the Fandango? (Maybe.) Will his hoof boot irritate the wound? (Maybe.) Will it get infected or cause pain over the miles? (Maybe.) Should we pull? (Not yet.) Is it worth the fuel and effort to drive to the ride only to quit before we start? (I don't know, is it?) Should we risk our entry fee only to pull or be pulled? (Gah!) Could we do the ride barefoot if the boots are a problem? (Doubtful. Old ride photos indicate that some sections are rockier than I want to risk at this stage, though we do most of our conditioning barefoot.) Is there another ride nearby within the next two months? (No.)

Frustration and tears ensued.

This morning, I braved the the pre-dawn wind to soak Aaruba's foot again while he chowed down on beet pulp mash. It was too dark to tell for sure, but the wound didn't seem swollen or painful. Still no sign of lameness.

This evening, we'll boot his other front hoof and try to evaluate what effect an Easyboot Bare is likely to have on the injured heel. No rigid part of the boot should touch it, but the neoprene gaiter might be irritating. A protective coat of vetwrap might be just the ticket, but I worry about it causing rubs after it gets wet in the creek crossings.

So many questions. Here's another one: Why, oh why, can't I get a good premonition for a change?

Cross your fingers for us.

Oh, Horsefeathers!: Unpleasant Weather and a Pleasant Surprise

Winter, summer, spring...

Wait a minute, here. Did someone change the order of the seasons and forget to send me the memo?

After a very long, snowy winter and a bone-dry April, we have just been deluged by the wettest thunderstorm in recent memory. 50 mph gusts ripped up our hill, setting the hay shelters billowing and flinging the lid of my Rubbermaid tack truck into a ditch. I donned an oilskin coat four sizes too big and staggered out into the blinding rain to retrieve the lid. Wind blew the coat up around my waist, mascara stung my eyes, water poured in rivulets through my hair, and I returned to the house in desperate need of a dry change of clothes.

An hour later, the storm abated enough to tempt me outside to feed. The horses, heads low and ears pinned, crab-walked over to their feed tubs, obviously unwilling to change angles against the wind. As usual, they knew what they were talking about. I'd only been outside five minutes when another wave of rain blew in. Lovely.

Several of the horses' summer-coated flanks were quivering with cold, so I threw them extra hay and added a scoop of Senior feed to Aaruba's beet pulp mash. Thank goodness for that soaked beet pulp -- it'll help keep Aaruba hydrated even though, in this chill, he won't be terribly interested in drinking.

Neither will I, come to that, unless the beverage in question happens to be hot, buttered rum. Perhaps I'll make some. After I find more dry clothes.

So ended my horse training plans for the evening. Tomorrow night is shot, too, as we need to pick up a load of (bloody expensive) hay. All the farmers I saw out swathing their first cuttings this morning now have scattered stems instead of windrows, which doesn't bode well for this year's prices.

*sigh* Sometimes, I hate spring. Summer. Whatever this is supposed to be.

On the bright side, Shannon (aka Mrs. Mom) at Oh HorseFeathers has bestowed upon The Barb Wire a gift that lifted my day from utter despair: The Horse Care Tips award (originally created by Callie of MidWestHorse.) Thanks, Shannon! Drop by anytime --I'll share my rum with you.


Stay tuned for links to the next Horse Care Tips award recipients!

____________
Your daily vote for The Barb Wire is appreciated! Please click the button below to vote:

That's All, Folks!: Final Conditioning for Our First LD

Aaruba and I are done conditioning for his first LD, which will take place next Sunday. After his usual Monday and Tuesday off work, we'll go for a few short (4-6 mile) jogs to keep him sane and loose, but I won't make any attempt to whip him into better shape before the race. Doing so would be useless at best and damaging at worst.

As I understand it, equine bodies respond more slowly to conditioning efforts than human bodies do; that is, it takes about a week for the effects of a workout to impact a horse's performance, whereas humans demonstrate physiological change in just a few days. So, any last-ditch attempts at additional conditioning would be pointless and possibly counterproductive.

Thanks to a misunderstanding with Google Earth, my intended 15-mile Sunday ride turned into a 20-miler. My plan was to ride 6 miles to the BLM land access. Then, I'd follow a gravel road into BLM land, around a short loop, and back out for the 6 miles home. It was a nice plan. Too bad it didn't work.

By the time I'd driven a bucket of water out to the BLM land and hidden it behind a clump of sagebrush, tacked up, and decked Aaruba out with four Easyboot Bares, it was 11:00 and temperatures were climbing toward the 90 degree high for the day. Fortunately, Aaruba is mostly shed out for the season, but our average highs at this time of year are around 75 degrees, and this was to be only his third ride in any kind of heat.

All the same, it was apparent by the end of our second mile that Aaruba was in full-on rocketship mode (I've increased his feed lately, still working to get a few more pounds on him) and ready to roll. He trotted out strong and sure in his hoof boots, and it was nice not to have to worry about stray gravel when we crossed pavement.

Our first five miles were pretty flat, but as we approached the BLM land, we hit the hills. Aaruba trotted up happily and would have loved to trot down the other sides as well. He's a fantastic downhill horse, and his smoothness and balance will come in handy for making time at future races, but downhill trotting is too hard on his joints to be allowed in daily conditioning. So, despite his protests, I reined him in.

We stopped at our hidden water bucket half a mile up the BLM road, but Aaruba wasn't interested. Three minutes later, I was back aboard as he powered up a hill that went on...and on...and on. You know the kind of hill -- it makes you think you're nearly at the top, but when you get there, you find only a brief, slight downhill followed by another upgrade. Several times, I demanded that Aaruba walk a short stretch, but whenever I offered to let him trot again, he bounded along like the Energizer bunny.

Covered in dust and sweat, we passed a few hunters, families, and rednecks out for a day's target practice or varmint shooting. Basque shepherds, with their living-quarter trailers and Great Pyranees, stood among vast flocks. A gentleman with a strong, Eastern European accent that I couldn't identify slowed his Jeep to ask whether I'd seen a loose paint horse. The sun, now past its zenith, sizzled overhead.

Half an hour later, we were still climbing The Hill That Never Ends, with no sign of the loop I'd seen on Google Earth. I decided we'd crest one more hill, just to see what we could see. Guess what we found... Another hill!

So, we turned around. I was surprised to find that The Hill That Never Ends is also The Hill That's Uphill Both Ways. Okay, there was a bit more downgrade on the return trip, so I spent some time running at Aaruba's side. Despite the heat and hills, he was still all pricked ears, arched neck, and flagging tail.

Back at our hidden water bucket, he drank a few swallows and consented to crop a few mouthfuls of drying grass while circling impatiently at the end of his lead rope. He was already pulsed down to 60 when I checked him shortly after dismounting, and obviously wasn't keen to hang around, so after a 10-minute break, we carried on toward home. (I took these photos while hoping he'd settle down and drink more.)

Posting along, I tried to estimate our total distance. I knew we'd been trotting out more and faster than usual on a long ride, but those downhill walks and occasional uphill walk-breaks would have slowed us down. Maybe 18 miles?

We trotted most of the last mile toward home, then walked up the steep hill to our driveway and punched a total time of 3:16 including our 15 minutes of rest breaks. Aaruba's heart rate was at 78, so I gave him a big drink, untacked him, and hosed him down while waiting for it to drop. Thirteen minutes after stopping exercise, he'd pulsed down to 60.

Given the unseasonably hot weather and trot/climb toward home, I was satisfied with his recovery. However, the same pulse-down time at an actual LD would have disqualified us, as we'd be require to pulse down within 10 minutes (though not necessarily to 60 bpm). Of course, I'd have come in more slowly at an actual ride, but all the same, this experience of failing to pulse-down in time will serve as a good lesson for me.

Aaruba trotted out sound and passed his CRI at 60/58. However, upon removing his hind hoof boots, I found a miniscule rub at the back of one, hind heel bulb. It's an insignificant wound at this point, but certainly has the potential to become an issue. (I have hope that the rubbing can be eliminated by trimming the heel strap, which Easycare, Inc. declares will not damage the structural integrity of the boot.)

I checked his pulse once more -- still dropping -- then released him in the grassy compound to roll and graze while Travis and I drove out to collect our water bucket. We clocked the total ride distance at 19.75 miles. That makes for an overall average speed 6.1 mph. Take out the rest stops, and we averaged 6.7 mph. Not bad for nearly 20 miles on a hot day, with no real holds.

Unless the terrain is quite flat, we're unlikey to go quite that fast at next weekend's competition. We're just going for the experience, not to race, and I'll be happy with a 5-6 mph pace. I don't think I over-rode Aaruba yesterday, but this early in his conditioning, there's no need for him to go too far, too fast, too often. All the same, it's nice to know he can.

______________
Your daily vote for The Barb Wire is appreciated! Please click the button below to vote:

Perseverance

I wrote in this post about suspending training in strong winds...but sometimes, the conditioning must go on. Here's what Aaruba thought of last night's weather:

To reach a port we must sail,

sometimes with the wind,

and sometimes against it.

But we must not drift or lie at anchor.

-- Oliver Wendell Holmes