Endurance Riding

Click The Title Of The Post To Comment And Don't Forget To

"Subscribe to Endurance Riding!"

Redwoods. Coastal breezes. Cooler temperatures. Mist, fog, and the magic of shaded forests… Cuneo Creek was always a ride I wanted to enter, but after more than a decade of competing in the sport of endurance, it still hadn’t made it on my list (mostly because I never wanted to brave driving the long, curvy, narrow Highway 36 alone with a horse trailer in tow).

I was easily convinced this year, however, when a young rider, a gal I’ve been mentoring and who has been leasing my Tevis horse, suggested we go. We left early on Friday morning, with baby in tow, kidnapping my close friend (Avani’s adopted grandma) on the way, who had graciously agreed to stay in ride camp with my 5 month old so that Nyah and I could ride the 50. It would be my first 50 post-baby and my new Missouri Fox Trotter’s first 50 ever.

I entered this ride unaware of some of the challenges it presented. I also entered knowing that I was going to have to ride exceptionally conservatively — my horse was packing around a few extra pounds, as the smoke, the heat, and my breastfeeding schedule meant we didn’t get all the training rides in I had hoped for. I am also not as fit as I have been in the past, mostly because I am still carrying around an extra 15 pounds of weight left over from my pregnancy. So, needless to say, Cali and I were a pair, but I thought we’d give it a shot anyway and if I rode smart and slow, we might just finish…

Our day on Saturday began earlier than the other riders, as we had a 40 minute drive into ride camp from our hotel and I had to nurse a hungry baby before mounting and riding off. And then, before we were even a couple miles into the ride, Asali threw a back hoof boot. It didn’t take long to get the boot secured and back on, though, and we were soon back on the trail and enjoyed the company of one of my good endurance friends, Amber Clark, as we made the climb up the hill into the forest.

The first loop went smoothly. We enjoyed the majestic beauty of the towering Redwoods before us as we paced down the trail, snapping photos, chatting, watching ribbons, and putting one hoof in front of the other. I did a steep uphill climb on foot to give my horse a break, tailing my Tevis horse as Nyah rode her and I led Cali behind us. The shaded forest changed to open, sunny meadows and we were intrigued by the changing landscape. We made it into the first – and only hold – in 4 hours and 45 minutes. I was just as happy to see my baby as she was to see me and the horses vetted well, so it was a pleasant one-hour hold all around.

The second loop began the same way the first had, with the same climb and several switchbacks out of camp. A black bear stared us down in the middle of the trail and stopped us in our tracks before realizing he wasn’t interested in us, and he moved on. We continued on down the trail, anticipating that this loop would take us 5 hours, maybe a bit less, since it was the same mileage as the first – 25.

However, we faced many challenges on that second loop. I was dealing with a tired horse and the uphill climbs just didn’t seem to relent. I made the decision to walk on foot to give my horse a break, thus slowing us further down. I jogged some of the steep downhills, but then finally decided I needed to ride when we started getting nervous about cut-off. This was about the time my breasts began getting engorged, swelling with the nutrient rich milk my infant thrives on. I was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as we rode on, so I finally lifted my shirt and my sports bra, exposing both of my breasts. I dropped the reins and double hand expressed breastmilk, spraying it both on my saddle and the forest floor beneath us. I complained that I hated wasting milk, while also joking that next year we’d come back and see wildflowers where my milk had sprinkled the trail.

We really picked up the speed when it seemed like the ascents on the trail were over. The horses were moving along at a good clip, thankful the ground had become more forgiving. But I could tell my horse was still tired and just several miles from the finish line, she tripped, falling to her knees, and sending me jolting over her shoulder, landing hard on my back. I jumped up and immediately began jogging down the trail, knowing I needed to “walk it off.” Nyah was concerned about how hard I had fallen, and I was pretty sure I had suffered a little bit of whiplash, but there was nothing we could do but keep moving forward. At the final street crossing, we knew we only had 3 miles to the finish and were confident we could make it. The volunteers were gracious, cheered us on, and said they would radio ahead to let the finish line crew know we were coming.

We crossed the finish line with just 8 minutes to spare. A wonderful volunteer, Natalie Herman, grabbed my horse, began cooling her and caring for her while I sat and nursed my baby. Her and Nyah vetted the horses with Dr. Dan Chapman, who congratulated us when both horses passed the final check. I looked over at Nyah just in time to see her huge smile. Tears of pride welled up in her eyes — she had just completed her second 50-mile ride and was that much closer to qualifying for the 100-mile, one-day Tevis Cup ride.

The next day, the junior we had paid to feed and water our horses for us while we were at the hotel did so again so that we could spend the day exploring the Avenue of the Giants while the horses rested. We completed an incredible two and a half mile hike through a mystical part of the Redwood Forest, drove almost the entire Avenue of the Giants, walked through the visitor center, purchased some souvenirs, and enjoyed a relaxing lunch. We had a great time, but all our playing around meant I was going to be driving most of the harrowing 36 in the dark.

After a couple hours of driving, we found ourselves setting up a little tailgate party just off the highway, next to a beautiful meadow. I lounged in a camp chair with my feet up, nursing my baby and watching the sun set. Nyah and I shared more stories of the trail — and our challenges — from the day before as Lacie listened intently. I admitted that had I known this ride was going to be so difficult, with only one vet check, I would not have done it with a horse new to 50s or as a breastfeeding mom. And as we talked about how weary we all felt and the long drive ahead of us through the night, Nyah and I joked that we must be just a little crazy to keep wanting to go to rides… Lacie asked what the draw was, what kept us wanting more, with all the expenses, the sacrifice, the long, stressful hauls into camp, and the countless hours in the backcountry on the backs of our horses. I knew the answer right away…

At almost every ride, you hit a moment where you question why you’re doing this. Maybe you missed a ribbon and you’re lost. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe you’re hot, thirsty, and hungry. Maybe you’re cold and wishing you had packed a pair of gloves or an extra jacket. Maybe you’re alone because your friend’s horse got pulled at the last vet check. But whatever you are — you are there, in the backcountry, with no one to get you through but yourself. You have no choice but to keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other. One hoof in front of the other.

And it’s in those moments of weakness when you find your strength.

And so, I keep on riding…

Tags: 50 miler, AERC, endurance, parenting

Trackback URI | Comments RSS