Old Dominion 2016

Photo by Becky Pearman, used with purchase.

Old "The Beast of the East" Dominion v. Dom. Round two. *ding*

From the moment I learned about endurance riding, the OD 50 has been top of my to-conquer list. I crewed for Wendy and the late, great Jimmy back in 2011 and was dying to try the ride myself. My goals are moving up in ranks these days (no spoilers) but the OD 50 has continued to elude me. First, I couldn't seem to find my way across the starting line for various reasons. I did top ten in the LD in 2014, but all that did was make me hungrier for the real thing. Last year, thanks to Dodie, I was finally able to get across the starting line on Steel. We had an awesome 30+ miles, riding the hardest part of the trail, and making good work of the terrain. Unfortunately, Steel threw a shoe a few miles shy of Laurel Run, and even though she looked sound enough to continue after seeing the farrier, I made the tough choice to pull her and save her for the next ride. I don't regret my decision for one second, but I was sad that I didn't get to finish the ride.

This year, I've been riding mostly for Skip and my ride schedule has been a little... intense. This has been my season so far:
Rabbit Run 50 in NJ (freezing cold, rain, pull at the finish), two weeks, Foxcatcher 50 in Maryland (freezing cold, rain, sleet, snow, turtle, the curse is lifted), two weeks, No Frills 55 in Virginia (pouring rain, alone all day, mid pack finish), two weeks, Biltmore 50 in North Carolina (gorgeous weather, rider optioned after 15 miles because Moniet was off, drove 12 hours each way to ride for less than two), two weeks, NEATO 50 in Rhode Island (rode Steel for a change, terrible traffic, awesome ride, top ten finish), three weeks off...

Old Dominion 50!

I can't believe June is here already (and halfway over). It feels like just yesterday that I was looking at my tentative ride schedule, refusing to discuss it with anyone for fear of jinxing it, and joking that if I still liked horses after OD, we'd talk about further ride plans.

Originally, we had talked about entering the 75, and I was nervous about jumping up a distance at the hardest ride on the east coast. I had no doubts that I could handle another 25 miles on horseback, but I really wanted to tackle the 50 here before doing anything crazy. Then, at NEATO, Dawn and Dean warned me that the 75 would be the 50 mile trail followed by the LD trail, which would mean doing the tough part of the trail twice. I was told that if you're going to do the 75 at OD, you might as well just do the hundred. It would be longer, but easier. Eek! Thankfully, the choice was taken out of my hands when the 75 was canceled a the last second. Given how things went for all of us at Biltmore, Skip chose the 50 instead. I was secretly relieved. One bout of insanity at a time, please!

Mike and I did some extra careful grocery shopping in the week before the ride. I basically walked up and down the aisles of the store and visualized the cravings I might have at various miles in all kinds of conditions. Canned peaches and pineapples, fruit snacks, granola bars, Crunch bars, Kit Kats, peanut M&M's (Nicole is a genius!), omg pudding cups look amazing, cottage cheese, iced coffee, Gatorade, is that horse eating applesauce? I want applesauce! Our usual friend at the check out counter looked at me like maybe I'd lost my mind. I told him I was riding another 50 miles on horseback. He looked at me like I'd definitely lost my mind.

*Note to self: Take pictures of food cooler at next ride.

The forecast called for temperatures in the mid 90's and I asked Mike, "Didn't I just do 50 miles in the snow?"

I went to Dick's and bought a lime green tank top with 'cooling technology' fabric.

We finished our respective, chaotic work weeks, fed and watered the horses, packed the car, walked the dogs, and hit the road. We made mediocre time and hit some traffic in the usual spots (why is four hours from home a usual spot?) I swore I was going to start adding three hours to my ETA for every ride so that maybe I could arrive when I said I would.

Skip had been volunteering at the ride all week, so he had a prime camping spot for the group of us, and had already set up the hold at Birdhaven, taking a lot of the stress off of Mike.  Skip had gone back to Maryland for the horses and arrived not long before us. I helped him set up water while Mike got started on our tent. I saw this photo on Facebook and you can see our tent and car on the right hand side:

It wasn't long before we had everything set up. Skip told me I could leave the dogs in the trailer for the day, which also helped reduce Mike's stress level. They would have water, shade, and room to roam, which meant they would be fine for the duration of the ride, even if Mike couldn't get back to camp to check them. At Nationals, we brought them with us, but it was during crisp fall weather, not ninety degree heat. I was glad Mike wouldn't have to figure out how to transport and watch them all day.

We wandered down the driveway a bit and found Liz and company. Liz would be attempting her first 100 with Q, and she came with a posse. It was great to see everyone again.

We reconvened with Skip and took the horses up to vet. Mike took Shae so we could get all three horses done at once. They had a great group of vets at this ride and vetting went quickly and smoothly. Dr. Nate made small talk with me, which initially made me panic because I'm apparently completely traumatized from my string of pulls last year. All three horses passed vetting with flying colors and I decorated Moniet's butt number to make it match my riding colors.

Mike and Skip went back to the trailer while I headed down to the farrier. We learned our lesson at Biltmore and waited until the day before the ride to put pads on Moniet. He got pour-in pads put on, which basically meant he was gellin' all day on trail. He was a really good boy, of course, so I had lots of time to chat with the farriers and other riders.

While I sat with the farrier, Skip took Mike over to Birdhaven to see our set up.

Once Moniet's feet were done, I put him back in his pen and hung out with the dogs until the men got back.

Eventually, we wandered up to the ride meeting. We had missed dinner and we debated going to the meeting at all. Skip has done this trail a million times and is very involved with the planning of the ride so none of it would be news to him. I've been there enough times that I didn't really need to listen either.

Good thing, because this was the first time Liz, Nicole, Sara, and I were all in one place. #teamfourpeopledoingathing

Not a lot of listening going on. 

After dinner, I had one more thing I needed to get done. I've been dealing with some pretty severe SI pain recently. If I go to my chiropractor regularly, it helps, but I missed my last appointment before the ride because of everything with Spyder. By the time we got to camp, I was in excruciating pain. I was limping around pretty badly and I couldn't find a comfortable position to sit in. Luckily for me, my chiropractor would be drag riding the second loop and had brought her chiropractic table to camp with her. I went over to get adjusted, and she worked on me for a long time. I immediately felt better, which was a huge relief. The only good news about this whole ordeal is that it doesn't hurt when I ride. That would be a problem. 

Jenn and her niece getting ready to drag ride.

It wasn't long after I got adjusted that Angela arrived. By that point, Skip had poured us some pretty strong drinks and I was feeling pretty good. We were hanging out in the trailer, and the horses were trying to join us.

"We know you have carrots."

This is when Mike announced that he had a surprise for us. Remember when we rode 50 miles in the snow at Foxcatcher, taking it super slowly to preserve the horses? We finished turtle, my first one ever. We were super excited about completing and I was delighted to get a turtle. Then, we found out that there were no awards at Foxcatcher and there was no prize for turtle. Apparently, Mike was not having any of that! He went out and had turtle prizes made. They are little stuffed turtles in our ride colors (green for me, pink for Angela, and orange/blue for Skip). They are holding little stuffed foxes (because it was Foxcatcher) and wearing bandannas with the ride, date, and distance on them. They are probably the single cutest thing I have ever seen.

After that, things got a little blurry. We drank and talked and had a grand old time in the living quarters until much later than any of us had planned. Eventually, Mike and I crawled into our tent with the dogs. We decided not to bring our super cot to this ride to see if it would allow more room for the dogs to sleep with us. It did and we both slept really soundly that night, despite the ruckus of ride camp. Herbie curled up on Mike's pillow and didn't budge until we were up and about the next morning. She sleeps so deeply at rides that I sometimes touch her to make sure she's still alive. Julio was my little spoon all night long, tucked under the blankets with me. I think this is going to be our sleeping arrangement for all good-weather rides (not that I've had many of those this year).

At 4am, Reveille blasted over the loud speakers in camp. I guess Julio is getting used to rides because he didn't even stir. Last year, he was on high alert every time the speakers came on, which, at this ride, is a lot. Seriously, if you are going to do OD, you will be awake at 4am regardless of what distance you ride. Once those speakers come on, they don't stop. Mike and I lay in our tent for about an hour, listening to the bustle around us and not wanting to get up just yet. 

We got up just as the hundreds went out, and wandered over to the LQ for breakfast. I drank one of my iced coffees and nibbled a biscuit while dawn crept over camp. I was dismayed to find that I was pretty hung over from the night before. I had a pretty serious case of dry mouth, and that was not a good way to start a ride that would leave me dehydrated regardless. On this week's episode of Awesome Life Decisions, Can Dom ride the OD 50 while totally hung over? Only time would tell.

The start for the 50's was at 6:45am. Angela and I were outside getting tacked up shortly after six. I liked this approach because it allowed me to get my horse ready slowly and meticulously. I think this is the first time I've gotten everything set correctly on the first try. Leg protection, saddle pad, saddle, girth, breast collar, saddle bags, carrots for Moniet, water bottles for me, sponge, Easyboot just in case, halter-bridle, helmet, gloves, boots, chaps, camera, ride card. Check, check, checkety-check. I felt butterflies for a moment, and then felt suddenly calm.

Moniet looked unamused. 

"You're going to talk on my back all day, aren't you?"

We were on our horses and warming up at 6:30. Camp was chaotic as everyone milled around and an electric, nervous excitement filled the air. I took a deep breath as I swung onto Moniet, and Mike kissed me good luck. "Love you, have fun, be safe, come back to me." Then I was totally fine. Even as horses ran backwards and spun and pranced, I just sank into my heels and rode quietly on. All three of our horses were being rock stars. Even young Shae who has been mostly on vacation since Biltmore held it together as horses pinged left and right around us.

At 6:40 we turned toward the starting line and started to walk in that general direction. At 6:45 the trail opened and we picked up an easy, forward trot, flowing out in a sea of horses. Mike says that from where he was standing, the horses literally looked like a wave rippling down the road. 69 starters. Off we went.

We rolled down the road at a good clip, the sound of pounding hooves echoing all around us. We rode forward in the crowd, passing anyone who was traveling slower than we planned to go, and moving up until we found our own little bubble to ride in. Moniet felt awesome, floating down the road in his telltale extended trot. As we left camp, a wave of heat hit us for the first time. Even though it was barely light out, I could tell it was going to be a hot one. 

As we approached the trail head, I noticed a ton of vultures circling above. A moment later, the stench of something dead hit us. Between the heat, the smell, and the bit of breakfast I'd manage to have, I felt queasy. I dry heaved and made a conscious effort not to breathe through my nose.

I had already told Angela that my goal for the day was not to puke or cry. I was not off to a good start. 

Once the smell passed, I was in much better shape. We made short work of the first few hills and single track, then crossed over the paved road to hit the real trails. Somewhere in there, we passed Becky Pearman for the first time.

I love that Moniet flags his tail when I ride him. He's so peppy. Photo used with purchase.

One of the first things I noticed when we went into the woods was a loud buzzing sound that sounded like a distant fire siren. I figured it was something in town and kept riding. Several miles later, the noise continued at the exact same volume. At first, I wondered if it was in my head. Then I started to panic, thinking I was having some sort of medical emergency, maybe a stroke. Don't you smell something or hear something when you're having a stroke? Didn't I read that somewhere? I confirmed with Angela that she could hear it too, but it wasn't until some time later that I finally figured out what the heck it was.

The seventeen year cicadas were out in full force and this was the sound of millions of wings beating in the trees. I cannot even wrap my head around the number of them that there must have been to make this level of noise. It was actually deafening at times! 

Mike got an excellent photo of one of them in the hold:

Eventually, I just sort of got used to the noise, but it made my skin crawl to think about them. They also kept bouncing off of our horses, and I kept having this horrible visual of one landing in my mouth. I chose to think about the trail instead.

I was surprised at how much of the trail I remembered. I thought I had blocked most of it from memory, but either my memory is better than I think, or it was coming back in flashes. Here was the down hill where I refused to go faster on JJ. Here was the water crossing where someone complained about people stopping to sponge. Here was the tree I thought I was going to break my arm out. There's the rock where I first noticed the blood splatter from Meg's horse. Good times. 

I even recognized the left turn that we had to take to start up the mountain. Angela wasn't convinced we had gone the right way, and I surprised myself by answering, "This is the way they always run it." Who am I?

Moniet knew the trail even better than I did. He has done this ride more times than anyone can seem to count, and he seems to remember every inch of it. Without fail, he would slow to a walk right before tough terrain would come up, even if you couldn't see the bad footing yet. He would pull me to hidden water spots all day, and he knew where to move out and where to stop to graze. No matter how many miles I spend on his back, this horse never ceases to amaze me. He is a true professional. 

In what felt like no time, we reached the first big climb of the day, up the pipeline to the first ridge. It was just as rocky and steep as I remembered it, but in some crazy way I've gotten used to this climb and it didn't seem like a big deal. We took it slower than I did it with Steel and JJ in the past, which left me more time to snap photos as we went. Angela warned me that Duke had had a hard time with this climb before, and we were being careful to protect all three horses. That was all fine by me!

Eventually, we reached the top of the mountain. The cicadas suddenly stopped, like someone had hit a mute button. It was eerie, but also noticeably cooler, temperature-wise. We had to walk a lot of the ridge because of the big rocks that dotted, then engulfed the trail. It didn't help that they shifted as we went. Even with shoes and pads, the horses had to place their feet carefully to keep from tripping or twisting ankles. 

The stretch along the top of this ridge is one of my favorite parts of the trail. The trees look aged and rugged, and there is usually a breeze. The mountain laurel peeks through the leaves and the parts where the footing is good make for good trotting.

A little while later we emerged at the clearing at the top of the hill where there are water troughs. We stopped to let the horses graze and drink, then sponged them before continuing on. We let several people pass us here, and Skip seemed concerned about Duke, though he didn't say anything when I asked if everything was ok. In the mean time, I took one of my favorite photos for the day.

This is why I do this.

A short jaunt through the woods later, and we came back out onto the service road. I knew that we had to ride down, down, down the gravel road and then a little further through the woods to the first hold at Bird Haven. Knowing exactly where we were helped the miles pass quickly. We descended and just like that, the trees got dense, the temperature went up, and someone un-muted the cicadas. We were also able to finally move out, and I asked Moniet to canter for the first time that day. It felt good to stretch a different set of muscles for a change. My horse was still bright eyed and carrying on, full steam ahead, as we passed Becky for the second time.

Check out the pricked ears, bright eyes, flagged tail, four off the floor pose!

I think this ride would actually be impossible if it wasn't for long stretches of gravel road to break up the boulders.

We made good time down the service road, hooked right into the woods, trotted through the forest, stopped for water in the big creek crossing, then crossed the slick pavement back to the last stretch of forest before the hold. By this point it was getting truly hot, and I started patting myself with Moniet's damp sponge after every time I put water on him. I have to say that this made a big difference for me all day, and made the heat bearable. I would just pat my face, neck, chest, back, and arms before I hung my sponge back on the saddle. This not only kept me cool, but reduced the grime factor all day long. I have no clue why I didn't think of it earlier.

We came to the big field right before the hold and slowed the horses to a walk. I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and relaxed as we moseyed in. I was still feeling really good. 15 miles down, 35 to go.

Tack off was optional at the holds, but it was hot so we just pulled saddles anyway. Moniet's pulse came down immediately and all three of us walked over to vet. We passed with flying colors. Moniet got a B on skin tenting, which is normal for him. He had stopped to drink at the last stream crossing, but wasn't really thirsty this early in the day. We were electrolyting regularly and he was eating everything in sight, so I wasn't worried. His gut sounds and other hydration scores were good, and he had a great trot out and good CRI. Good. Duke and Shae passed as well and we settled in our hold area to rest and eat.

I wasn't particularly hungry yet, but made myself have some GoGurt and applesauce anyway. I drank a ton of cold Gatorade. I had almost finished all my water and I had Mike top my bottles off with Gatorade as well. I was making a conscious effort to drink so my hang over wouldn't catch up with me later in the day. I'd gotten over the dry mouth and felt normal, but I kept it in the back of my mind that I was not starting the day as hydrated as I should have. 

While Moniet happily stuffed his face, I refilled my saddle bags. I brought fruit snacks and granola bars for me and even more carrots for him. Giving him a snack periodically on trail made him even happier than he already was. This horse truly loves his job.

Before long, 40 minutes was up and we were tacked up and ready to go back out. We made our way across the grassy field for the second time, following signs for Laurel Run, and heading back up the service road the way we came.

At this point, we picked up a fourth rider for a little while. Her name was Sherry and she was on a young horse named... wait for it... Poptart! I actually found out she has an endurance blog, and I'm excited to add it to my reading list. It was their first 50 and Sherry made for good company. She had hiked the big climb to know what she was getting into, and she will forever have my admiration for that one! I would die. I'm serious. Poptart was being a total rock star and the two of them obviously have a great bond already. 

We rode through some dense forest, where the trail felt more like bush whacking than trail riding. Then we came down the long grassy hill where Steel wanted to retire last year and through some felled areas.

A little while later, we crossed a service road and I knew the hardest part of the trail and the biggest climb were just ahead. Then I saw this pie plate and I laughed and laughed and laughed. And then I repeated, "I will not puke or cry."

What, no warning about the rocks?

And then we started to climb. 

And climb.

And climb some more.

It was just as bad as I remembered it. In some ways, it was worse. Last year, Steel was able to trot a fair amount of the climb, and then I rode her the rest of the way up at the walk. Neither Duke nor Shae were going to be able to handle that. Duke was panting already, and Shae has never done anything like this in her life. It wasn't long before Angela got down. Then Skip. Moniet was doing really well and I probably didn't need to get down, but I'm all for a team effort so I got down and walked on foot too. I did not make it very far before I was out of breath and totally worn down. I felt like a wimp, but I was not going to do anybody any good if I died of heat stroke on the side of the mountain.

I will not...

...puke...

...or cry...

We climbed some more.

I threw in the towel and got back on Moniet.

"He can carry you up," Skip assured me. "He has done this enough times."

We took breaks frequently and made slow progress. Sherry, who is wonder woman as far as I'm concerned, walked right on past us and kept hiking up the side of the mountain, calling something about a scenic waterfall on the left over her shoulder. It was the last time we would see her.

I think this is about where Angela's fun-o-meter dropped to zero. We were all hot and out of breath and still climbing.

"You know," I said, jokingly, "I've given it some serious thought, and I actually don't think horseback riding is for me. This is enough. Someone can come get me now. In fact, I think I'm good on both horses and nature in general right now."

I'm hilarious.

We did eventually make it to the top. Both Skip and Angela had gotten back on their horses by then. Thankfully, the trail right after the big climb is beautiful and you get a chance to catch your breath for a while. I crammed Moniet full of carrots and thanked him for carrying my butt up the mountain... again.

A nice change of pace.

After a brief respite, we were back to boulders and there was a steep drop ahead. I was relieved when I saw Skip get down in front of me. I was planning to dismount regardless, but I was wondering if I'm turning chicken in my old age. To see my mentor get down and hike this one on foot made me feel better. Moniet was his usual half-mountain goat self and climbed down the slope far more gracefully than I did. And he looked cheerful doing it. 

From there it was just a short trek to my favorite spot on the entire ride, a beautiful meadow on top of the mountain with a gorgeous view on either side and lots of grass in the middle. The earth dropped off in either direction and the horses were happy to graze and take a break. If I'm being completely honest, we lost a lot of time in this clearing. Skip told me that Duke got pulled at Laurel Run for lack of gut sounds last year. He wasn't eating great this year either, and we were taking a lot of extra time to make sure he would be ok. I wasn't complaining. Angela seemed to perk up a bit and we posed for some mid-ride selfies together. Moniet was still happy as a clam. I was just thrilled to be riding in this beautiful wilderness on this incredible horse. I am very lucky.

Next up was the most technical part of the trail. There was nothing to do but walk carefully from one slab of rock to another. I remember riding white knuckled on this trail last year, but once again, I seem to have become completely accustomed to the insane, and I rode it on a loose rein, taking photos along the way. The footing was intense, but the views were beautiful. I trust Moniet completely and he didn't take a bad step all afternoon.

I will say that Duke had a little bit of a hard time, and even went down to his knees once, but he kept trucking pleasantly along, putting one hoof carefully in front of the other. By this point, Shae had bounced back from the big climb.

I didn't know how long this loop was, but I knew we had a long way to go. Angela was running out of steam again, and Skip gave us a free pass to whine if we wanted to. I was still very much enjoying myself, and I've really grown to love this trail, but it was good to know that I could puke or cry if I needed to.

Gorgeous views.

So many rocks. Everywhere. Constantly. Forever.

I don't remember too many details from this loop last year, but I do remember it being long. I do remember the big climb and riding along the ridge and then coming down a service road to camp. I remember the service road because I walked it on foot after Steel threw a shoe. I did forget that there was one last big descent along loose rocks. It was just as steep and long as the climb we'd just done, but down hill. 

Angela got down again and I groaned inwardly. I was starting to worry about time and I really, really did not want to pick my way over this trail on foot. Still, the three of us ride together and it did feel good to get off my butt for a little while. Seriously, nothing makes me as sore as walking on horseback. The occasional walk break is great, but this was getting ridiculous.

And that's when I found out we still had eight miles to go.

That's right. This loop was 18 miles.

I should probably start listening at ride meetings.

So we picked our way slowly down the mountain. Moniet waited patiently while I slowed him down, and didn't step on me as I fumbled over the constantly tumbling rocks. And he looked cheerful the whole time.

This horse is too cute for words.

We did eventually make it off the god forsaken mountain, and we let the horses graze again before moving on to the service road. I took some pictures, looking up at the ridge we had just ridden. I was very, very ready for the hold.

As it turns out, the service road goes much faster when you are riding it and not walking it. This was when we realized that we were going to be cutting it close on time. We had to be in and pulsed by 3pm to be allowed out of Laurel Run. I had just read Merri Melde's book, Tevis Cup Magic, and all I could think about was their race against the clock. It was a feeling I had not experienced before, and I didn't like it. We cantered in on most of the service road, walking only when we made the last turn up the hill to Laurel Run. The miles flew by and I was relieved to see the hold, which was much emptier than any other time I've seen it. We made it with about 20 minutes to spare.

It was the hottest part of the day and the sun was beating down on the gravel-strewn vetting area. I had flash backs to standing in this very spot in tears during my rider option last year. One more time, I repeated, I will not puke or cry.

Then I parked Moniet in the shade while I waited for my turn to vet. I knew he was down and I wanted to keep him that way. Besides, he was happy to devour all the grass in sight.

A moment later, Dr. Bob waved me over. I was delighted to see him, and having him vet us took the stress out of it for me. It helped knowing that my horse had felt awesome all day and that we'd been riding super conservatively. I joked that Bob wasn't allowed to pull us this year so long as my horse had at least one third of his blood volume left. 

As I expected, Moniet vetted perfectly. Skip was discussing something with the vet and Angela and I went down to our hold spot without him. Skip came back beaming. Duke had scored A's on gut sounds in all four quadrants, and Skip thanked us for taking is slow for his sake. 

I was famished by this point, and dying for something other than water to drink. Some lovely volunteers held my horse while I peed, brought me a turkey and swiss on rye (the most delicious meal I've ever eaten), and informed me that there was yellow Gatorade available. Yellow. The only kind I drink. The OD gods had heard my request. I filled my water bottles, ate my sandwich, and sluggishly started to tack Moniet up. I was starting to get a little worn by this point, and I wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything.

I also decided to get rid of Moniet's s-hack. I knew his face was itchy and he'd actually shaken my bridle clean off his head on two separate occasions on trail. It wasn't a rope halter, but it was just a little less gear on his face. I tucked the hackamore in my saddle bags with what was left of my snacks (not much) and sat back to watch my horse eat and nap. He continued to look positively adorable.

The 40 minute hold was over before I knew it. I hadn't really rested, but it was probably a good thing I had to get back on my horse, because with another few minutes I might not have had the strength.

The next twelve miles back to Bird Haven was mostly service road. I had not ridden this section of trail before and it honestly all looked mostly the same to me. We moved out better than we had all day and I switched from trot to canter and back again, being careful to change leads and diagonals regularly. 

Honestly, I don't remember much of this loop. It went by relatively fast, which was good.

I was trying to make it back to Bird Haven without having to take any more drugs, but as we pounded up the next stretch of gravel road, I just couldn't do it any more. My knees were screaming and I probably should have dropped my stirrups a couple holes at Laurel Run. It was too late now and I was not about to ask anyone to slow down on my behalf. So I gulped down some Advil at a gallop, chased it with watered down Gatorade, and hoped it would kick in soon. 

I continued to sponge myself every chance I got, but by now it was truly sweltering out and I couldn't wait to be free of my helmet. I was glad I'd worn my light Tipperary and not my better-fitted OneK.

I do remember one stretch of trail. Moniet suddenly seemed to catch a second (third? fourth?) wind and ran ahead of the other horses, tail flying high, muscles surging beneath me. He was at a beautiful gallop and he felt stronger than he had all day. I couldn't help but smile, and Skip later told me that this was the stretch he'd spent racing at the Nationals. Moniet must have remembered. I love him.

By this point, Angela and I were getting pretty silly. Skip was quiet. I think he was worried about Duke and the time. Angela and I bantered enough for all three of us though. We started debating whether it was better to ride in this blistering heat or in the snow. At that point, we were both ready for a good flurry.

We started hallucinating penguins riding polar bears along side the logging roads.

"Look, a polar bear!"

As we rode back into the woods towards the last hold, back at Bird Haven, I started to wonder what the cut off time was. I knew the last hold was only half an hour, and that the last loop was six miles. We had to be done by 6:45 pm. I figured the cut off for Bird Haven was probably 5:30 or so. We were cutting it close, but we should make it.

Then, we came into the field before Bird Haven and I heard a voice booming, "YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES AND 30 SECONDS TO GET IN AND PULSE!!!"


!!!!

Mike had run out into the field, quite a way from the hold, to warn us. Then he turned and sprinted back to the hold area in the 95 degree heat.

"No way," I thought. "There is no way we are going to make it." Moniet usually takes a few minutes to come down even after we've walked in, and we couldn't afford to walk now. Then, in an admittedly defeated tone, I thought, "Well, I've never been pulled over time before..."

We cantered the horses in, splashed through the creek, and pulled tack in a hurry.

The hold was absolute chaos. There were about 15 people in there trying to get their horses pulsed by 5:15pm. In an effort to help expedite things, management had moved the P&R area... right on top of our crewing spot! We had carefully picked a good spot that was good walking distance to everything and was isolated from the crowds, and now it was literally the place everyone was standing. People were shouting and throwing things and panicking, and I thought, "There is no way our horses are going to come down with all this commotion." I felt sick to my stomach.

I might puke and cry.

On top of everything else, I tossed my saddle off Moniet's far side without looking. It turns out Linda was standing on his other side, where there hadn't been anyone all day. My saddle hit her horse on its way to the ground and she gave a startled shout.
"Hey!"
"I'm so sorry," I told her meekly. "I didn't see you there."

Someone did a courtesy check on Moniet and he was in the mid 70's.
"I need ice," I told Mike, trying not to shout.
"We don't have any."
I think my voice was probably frantic, "He is not going to come down without ice."

I saw some ice cubes on the ground, actively melting, left over from someone else's struggle to pulse. I grabbed a handful. Mike followed suit. We sponged with one hand and held ice to Moniet's jugular with the other. He hovered at 68bpm while the seconds ticked away. I was getting pulled. I wouldn't get to ride the last six miles. There would be no completion.

I dry heaved and my eyes burned.

Someone started a count down to cut off.
"15, 14, 13..."
Not helpful.
I zoned out.
"12... 11..."
"TIME ON 543!!!"

I jerked out of my haze. Moniet had pulsed with 10 seconds to go.
I could have sworn someone had said Skip's number too, but I could tell by Angela's face that Shae had not made the cut off.

Then, as I walked over to the vetting, Skip didn't follow. I had misheard. Neither one of them had made it.

I was alone.

I think I was in a trance for the vetting. Moniet passed. We were one of only a few pairs who would get to leave the hold. Almost everyone who had come in had been pulled. This was unreal. I had never experienced anything like it, and I hope I never do again.

I don't remember the rest of the hold. I didn't eat or take a bathroom break. I don't remember tacking up my horse. I do remember Mike forcing me to have some water.

In a flash, it was over and I was back on Moniet. Mike kissed me goodbye and good luck. Angela told me to be safe. Skip said, "Have fun and finish this thing." I gulped and nodded, butterflies building in my stomach.

The seconds which had been flying by just a minute before seemed to crawl at a snail's pace now that I was waiting for my out time. I needed every minute I could get, and I had really been hoping to go out in some company, but the group in front of me had several minutes on me, and I knew they would be going as fast as they could. I was unlikely to see anyone for the rest of the ride.

"543, you're out. Good luck!"
"Thank you. And thank you for being here," I got back into ride mode, remembering my manners.

Moniet and I crossed the stream out of Bird Haven for the last time. I took a deep breath, gathered my reins, and legged Moniet forward. "Let's go, Moniet. We need to move!"

In all the miles I've ridden Moniet, I've never had to ask him for more. This horse knows his job better than I do and he is very fit and very game. He slows down when he needs to and he moves out when we can. It is our unspoken agreement that I don't micromanage him and he takes care of me. This was the first time I ever legged him.

He looked over his shoulder at me, as he so often does. There is something about his expression that is so human that I swear I can hear his thoughts. This time, it was a clear, "I just carried you 40+ miles. Did you just kick me?"

I think he sensed my urgency though, because he flagged his tail and kicked it into a hand gallop. We tore across the field out of Bird Haven, turning left to follow signs for the finish line. We blew into the woods where we slowed to a steady canter until the footing wouldn't allow it any more. So many thoughts crossed my mind. I hoped the trail would be passable at speed. I hoped I didn't go off course. I hoped we would make it in time. I hoped we would have enough minutes to spare so I could walk in and vet quietly. I hoped we wouldn't take a bad step or throw a shoe or fall.

I wanted this completion. I wanted it with all I had.

There are no photos from the last loop. We flew. There were a handful of really rocky sections that we had to walk, but mostly we went at a huge, ground-eating trot. I let Moniet stop to drink at every water crossing, and he tanked up every chance he had. I didn't have time for anything else. I didn't touch my water bottles. I didn't sponge. We didn't pause to graze. My stomach was in knots about it. All I did was ride and glance obsessively at my watch. How was it possible that time was going so fast, but the miles weren't getting any shorter?

I knew the last six miles from when I did the LD. I remembered single track in the woods, coming down the pipe line one last time, crossing the paved road, rolling hills where we would be able to move out, and a short stretch of road to the finish.

But the single track dragged forever. We were getting impossibly close to the cut off time and still we hadn't crossed the road. I was getting ready to despair. We couldn't go any faster if we tried and still we seemed to be making no progress.

When we finally crossed the road, I pushed Moniet back into a canter and we didn't slow down again. There were still some significant hills, but the trail was wide and the rocks weren't shifting any more. The cicadas rose to a deafening roar again, and still we cantered on. As we flew down one hill after another I wondered to myself, "How am I this brave right now?" I have a panic attack trotting out at the starting line, but here I was, cantering on a loose rein down a steep hill in the wilderness alone, and I was asking for more. 

We did eventually reach Happy Valley Road, and I knew camp was right around the corner.

I glanced at my watch and all the color drained out of my face. We had less than ten minutes to get across the finish line. I could trot in and definitely get pulled over time, or I could ride with all we had and maybe, just maybe, get there in time and hopefully pulse.

We were already cantering, and I got up in my half seat, grabbed mane, and told Moniet, "Go, go, go!"

We accelerated into a hand gallop, then a real gallop, and then he threw a lead change and went some more. I thought I had galloped this horse before, but now we were going faster and faster and he still wasn't hitting a limit. His body flattened, his mane whipped back, and his breath came in powerful snorts. I tried not to think about what a fall on this road would feel like. I sat balanced over Moniet's withers, careful to stay out of his way. Apparently adrenaline beats fatigue and I was no longer sore or tired. I don't know where this energy came from, but I'm glad I found it. We flew, and still camp wasn't in sight. How long is this damn road??? (The answer is roughly one mile.)

We were at a dead sprint by the time camp came into sight on our right. By this point, I was cheering to Moniet out loud. From down below, I heard a voice go, "Go, Dom, go!!" I would later find out that this was Angela's dad. I raised my right arm, pumping my fist in the air, then patting Moniet's neck. People stopped what they were doing and looked up as we tore toward the finish line like bats out of hell. I do wish there was a video. It would probably be the most epic video of me riding ever taken.

Mike was ahead and he was waving his arms. "You'll make it! You have a few minutes!"

I sat back and hit the brakes.

We crossed the line with three and a half minutes left on the clock. I had made it. Regardless of the outcome, I had ridden the OD 50 and my horse felt amazing with plenty of go left.

"This horse is so fast," I breathed as I dismounted.
"I see that," Mike chuckled.

I was taking my saddle off before my feet even hit the ground. We yanked leg protection on the go, throwing things in the grass to retrieve later.

Moniet was breathing hard, but he didn't look exhausted. He was barely sweaty.

Now for the hard part. We had thirty minutes to pulse. I was relieved the sun was dipping behind the mountains already. Still, I was concerned. We had put in a huge effort. I have never crossed the finish like that before, and I wasn't thrilled to have to do it.

Not surprisingly, Mike was the hero for the day. On his way back to the finish, he thought to stop at the store in town, where he picked up multiple bags of ice. He had just enough time to get back to camp and run up to the finish to meet me.

The ice made all the difference in the world, and we set to sponging and icing in the shade. Thank goodness for the shade, and thank goodness for the ice. Moniet immediately set to devouring everything in sight. He drank a little bit, but mostly he wanted grass. I was relieved to see him eat.

The next ten minutes consisted of us icing, scraping, and obsessively checking the heart monitor. Moniet started in the 90's, but was dropping fast. I got him down to 72 almost immediately. We left him alone for a moment to see if he would continue to drop on his own, but he didn't, so we kept icing. I actually got him down to 64 pretty quickly, but every time we stopped icing, he went back up.

I think it was fifteen minutes after we came in that Moniet was down to 62 without sponging. I was getting ready to walk over to the vet when the loud speakers in camp came on, announcing dinner and awards.

Awards?!?! Some of us are still trying to complete over here!

Moniet's pulse sky rocketed to 112. Again with the puking and the crying.

Still, we walked over to the vetting with several minutes to spare. Moniet pulsed at 62 and I hugged the pulse timer.

"Now don't do anything stupid like thumping or limping, ok?" I patted Moniet.

We'd met the time criteria. Now we just had to vet.

The vet glanced at Moniet and said, "He looks good, like he's ready for more."
"This horse is amazing," I replied as she counted beats.
"60. Down and back, please."

I knew he felt good, and the vet was smiling as I came back down the lane. She complimented the loose, free way in which he moves and I nodded.

CRI 60/60. Wow. After all that!

I apologized to Moniet for the hard six miles. He was well-hydrated, which I was relieved to hear. He was a touch sore around the girth, and his gut sounds were a little quiet. Neither of those surprised me, given the hair raising run we'd just had.

Still, he passed his final vetting and I got my completion. I hugged the vet too. This was hard earned.

As it turns out, 13 people ended up being pulled over time. I was the last one allowed out of the hold. There were so many pulls that ride management let them all ride back to camp after a vetting because there weren't enough trailers to bring them all. Skip and Angela came in looking displeased shortly after I'd put Moniet away. Mike was at Bird Haven, taking down the hold, and I was walking the dogs while Angela's dad grazed Moniet.

According to everyone I talked to, this ride was well over 50 miles, and should have been classified as a 55, with an extra 72 minutes to complete the course. While I do think we could have moved out a little more in the middle of the day, the sheer number of over time pulls makes me wonder if there was a mistake somewhere. Clearly, the course was doable, but the first place finisher was only 2 hours ahead of me, and I was in last place. It will be interesting to see if anything comes of it.

Skip and Angela took Shae and Duke down to vet, to make sure they were ok after their leisurely six miles back to camp. I walked Moniet down for company, but Skip took him from me and ordered me to go to the awards ceremony.

As I came up the hill, I heard, "And our turtle goes to... where is Dom?"
Someone spotted me, "Here she comes!"
I broke into a jog, wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I rode 50 miles and now was running. "I'm coming! I'm coming." I laughed. "I'm turtling!"

I got a pretty hearty round of applause as I collected my turtle award and t-shirt. I got several comments on our eye-catching finish, and I gave Moniet all the credit. I am humbled by this horse.

Then, I got to collect my belt buckle. I don't think I've ever wanted a physical object this badly in my life! It was hard earned and it's a story I'll be telling for a long time:

I might have to start wearing belts.

Out of 69 starters, only 39 had finished. Wow. That is a low completion rate, even for this ride. I walked away from the awards feeling a  mixture of excited and numb.

But our day wasn't over yet. Skip and Angela had to be at a horse trial the following morning, so we broke down camp, loaded the horses, and got them on the road. Then, Mike and I sat around and relaxed for a little bit, sipping beer, hanging out with the dogs, and chatting with various people as they came by. 

We did try to lay down in our tent for a little bit after dark, but sleep was impossible. The wind had picked up all day long and now it was flat out howling. It had ripped the awning right off of the trailer, and our tent was flapping and trying to tear out of the ground. We laid down for a few hours, talking quietly in the dark and cuddling with the dogs.

Around midnight, the 100's started to come in, and we watched a few of them finish before driving over to Bird Haven to see if Liz's crew had arrived yet. They hadn't and we came back to camp to hang out for a little while longer. Mike had a gift for Dr. Bob and we spent some time looking for him, to no avail. 

Around 3am, we drove back to Bird Haven and spotted Liz's crew hanging out near where we'd been all day. We sat down and caught up on how Liz's ride had been going. 

Liz came in near the back of the pack, hand walking Q. They had had some lameness concerns and

she was playing it safe and slow. She looked surprised to see Mike and me, and I hugged her and immediately started offering her all kinds of food. We'd brought what was left from my ride to see if mixing it up would get her appetite going.

A girl named Jenny came in on a PoA mare right around the same time. She had no crew with her and she looked beat. Mike and I rushed over to help her. We sponged her horse and helped her get to the vetting. Then her eyes lit up when Mike said the words 'pudding cup'. She seemed grateful for the help and we were happy to do it.

I won't share too many details of Liz's ride because you should all go read her story, but around 4am, she went back out on trail and we went back to the finish.

Things have really come full circle in the last few years, and it felt surreal to be sitting at that 100 mile finish line with Nicole and Carlos again, with one of our own out on trail. We laughed and bonded and got a little silly. I think we were all exhausted, but the thrill of waiting for that finish kept us awake. I think some of the best moments of my life have been in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, covered in dirt, with people I never would have met if it wasn't for this blog.

Laughing at something inappropriate while Mike looks exhausted. (Photo by Carlos!)

Camped out at the finish with my favorite people. (Another great shot by Carlos!)

We waited and we worried. We hoped and we laughed and we shared a moment that you just can't describe to anyone who hasn't been there. 

And then we grew silent for a minute, each lost in our own thoughts, and I thought to myself, "This sport, this sport..."

Then the horizon started to lighten and we talked about how wild it was that we'd been up for two consecutive dawns with no sleep in between. My 'fun schedule' really is a little bizarre. 

As the 5:15 cut off approached, we finally spotted that red head lamp bobbing slowly towards camp. Here came Liz, and my eyes filled with tears. They were here. They had done it. They had ridden 100 miles of the toughest terrain and they were here.

As we all promised each other we would two summers ago, we cheered, "You did it! You rode 100 miles....

...HOW DO YOU FEEL?"

They. looked. awesome.

Check out this girl: smiling after 24 hours in the saddle!

Liz got through her vetting and earned her completion (and her matching turtle! Now all of the endurance Trifecta has one!) 

Mike and I congratulated Liz and crawled back in our windblown tent at nearly 6am. 

At 7:30, it was too hot to sleep any more and we were up and breaking down our camp. We were ready to hit the road in no time, and we stopped at Liz's camp to find no sign of life. They had all earned their sleep and we chose not to disturb them to say goodbye. I am sure we will all be together again soon.

I also got out of the car when Dawn pointed Linda out to me. I owed her an apology for the last hold, and I wanted to make sure she got it in person. I told her I was very, very sorry again, and my eyes welled up from sheer exhaustion and emotional overload. She looked like she might cry too as she hugged me and told me that she had gotten pulled for a thrown shoe anyway. This ride was tough on everyone, but I'm glad there are no hard feelings between us.

We stopped once more to see Dr. Bob and give him his gift. Then we rolled up the hill and down the dusty gravel road back towards home.

It was an insane weekend. It was demanding and hard and not always fun, but I did it. We did it. I am proud and happy and satisfied. After a shower and five minutes on the couch, I was ready to be back out in the woods on a horse again.

I cannot get enough.