limited distance

Ride Story: Bumble Bee 25 2014

/ Ashley Wingert / 3 Comments

Bumble Bee…otherwise known as the ride with the really long name, or “Lead, Follow or Get Out of My Way @ Bumble Bee” ride. I volunteered it last year…this year, I had the chance to ride it. Gina brought Liberty down for me to ride again — our second ride together.

I’m going to segue for a moment to detail out a theory I have that’s tended to hold true over the years. For me at least, on the horses I’ve really clicked with, the first ride has been magical. Heavenly choir and hallelujah chorus echoing in the distance, and the feeling that I can go anywhere and do anything with this horse. The feeling that sears into your subconscious and stays with you forever. A good thing, too…because inevitably, the second ride is when all hell tends to break loose and you find out what you’re really dealing with.

I had that happen with Mimi…my first test ride on her was amazing. And I had to keep reminding myself of that feeling for the next couple of years as we argued and struggled…it was something to cling to, that we could one day reach that level of partnership again.

Guess what happened this weekend? Yep. I got to experience the “other” side of Liberty. But knowing what I know now, coupled with the horse herself…her “other” side is still not going to be that difficult to work with, and most of it will be solved with experience, exposure, and wet blankets.

The very shortened cliffnotes version of the weekend? We finished…but overtime. The fact we got a late start, coupled with a number of “baby horse brain” training moments meant we came in about half an hour over…and I’m okay with it. It was my decision to deal with the issues as they came up, before they turned into major problems down the line, and my decision to back off and not push it as soon as I realized there was no way we were making time. That didn’t take away from the fact I had a great ride in gorgeous scenery on a really fun horse who has a ton of potential. We all finished in one piece, riders stayed on top, no one tripped and face-planted, no one kicked, and there were no tears or blood involved.

Sooo, now for details…

Friday afternoon saw me and one stuffed suburban heading out, leaving Future Ridecamp Dog in the extremely capable hands of my parents for the weekend. Much as I would have loved to bring her, she’s just a little young still. Hopefully sometime this year…

overlooking the Bradshaws

The last four miles of the dirt road into Bumble Bee wasn’t quite as icky as I remember it being…but that could also be because I remembered that I have a 4-wheel-drive vehicle…and remembered to use said four-wheel-drive this year. (Blonde moment? What blonde moment?)

pretty sure they have more cattle than that now…

arriving to basecamp

I had a chance to meander around camp and visit with friends while I waited for Gina and Kirt to arrive. Once they did, we whisked the horses out of the trailer and vetted them in before we ran out of daylight.

Liberty watching the vetting area

Liberty vetted with all As, except for a B on guts, and 40 pulse — not bad for just hopping out of the trailer, being near-dusk, and being several horses away from her travel-and-riding-companion-horse. I would also like to remind people this is only her third ride, at a brand-new basecamp she’s never been to, and only the second time I’ve handled her.

Yeah, pretty sure she’s got a good (if young) brain between those ears.
ranch pavilion where ride meeting was held

After we vetted them in, we found the permanent ranch corrals we had reserved for the weekend. The horse Gina had brought to ride hadn’t been tested on the hi-tie, as since there were permanent corrals available, we figured that would be the better way to go. And was it ever. The corrals were 35×50, so gave the horses a ton of room to move around all night. There were also feeders (no need to hang hay mangers) and large auto water troughs, so no hauling water. I could get used to this.

After settling in Liberty and Gina’s horse Wicked, we scuttled back over to the pavilion where they were just starting to serve the ride dinner (spaghetti, salad, garlic bread, and brownies with ice cream). We munched down on dinner and listened to the ride meeting, including fun things like the “horse name raffle” in which all of the horses who are entered in the ride have their names put into a jar and a random drawing is done for various door prizes. It was kind of strange listening for a horse’s name other than Mimi’s. Liberty’s name wasn’t drawn, but it was still fun.
And then ride meeting was over, and it was back to the trailer to throw the horses another flake of hay, pack saddles, and socialize with friends before bed. I got a nice sofa bed, with a heater down on the floor and Gina’s Rottweiler as a foot-warmer.

As is typical for me on Friday nights before a ride, I didn’t sleep all that well…but new settings combined with the always-present pre-ride nerves mean this is pretty much standard practice for me. It’s always kind of a relief when the alarm finally goes off and I can wake up for good, get dressed, and get on with things.

Ride morning was when we made our first tactical error. I don’t know what it was, but it seemed like time flew by. I had allowed almost two hours before the start, and I was still scrambling, to the point where I forgot my vet card as we were walking up to go check in and had to run back for it. (Yay, early morning cardio.)

Liberty was somewhat up, but still well-behaved, with the exception of trying to paw the air when I wanted to pick her hooves and put her boots on. Least they go on easily…

Liberty is currently running in Renegade Vipers, 140×135 on the fronts and 140×130 on the hinds. To put that in perspective, I can fit Mimi’s boots inside Libby’s with room to spare. This mare has nice, big, lovely feet.

I had the same set-up from Prescott Chaparral, with the exception of a different girth and Woolback pad instead of Skito (my Skito foam inserts have just about had it and I really need to get them replaced). I don’t know if it was the pad, or her being slightly more trim, but my saddle fit her better this time around.

We probably should have allowed more time to get ready, but it’s hard to think about that when it’s cold and dark out, and you’re not used to starting an LD at 7:30 in the morning. Oh, well…now we know…

So we hand-walked over to the start (halfway down, I discovered I’d forgotten my vet card, prompting the aforementioned dash to the trailer and back), Kirt gave both of us a leg up (which I need to practice…I was about as graceful as a flopping tuna, not being used to this whole “leg up” concept), and we made our way out of camp.

mares moving out from the start

“Out of camp” meant down a dirt road and through the ranch barn yard…past things like ranch equipment, wired horses, and…goats. Here, Liberty’s lack of exposure to a lot of things made itself known, as it took us probably another ten minutes to make it through and out to where the actual trail started. (Hindsight: Should have hand-walked. But I didn’t relish remounting, since Libby’s a little taller than my usual pony fare.)

indecisive mare ears…not sure if she wants to lead or make
Wicked go first

I gotta say, the ride name is kind of ironic…”Lead, Follow…” since neither mare wanted to lead particularly well, but neither did they necessarily want to follow. In their pasture, Liberty is boss over Wicked…but Wicked is the more experienced of the two out on trail and at rides.

We did quite a bit of frequent trading off and on of who was leading for the first half of the first loop, which was a mix of sand wash and road like the above photo. Liberty also started drinking when we hit the water at 7 miles, and proceeded to drink at every available opportunity afterwards. Hydration will not be a problem with this mare.
About halfway through the loop, we hit the Black Canyon Trail, which was an awesome section of single track with some technical sections. Liberty excels at this kind of trail. For being 15.1 (or thereabouts) and somewhat rectangular in her build, she can compact herself up and motor right through those twisty trails. Of the two, she did much better at leading through at a speed faster than a walk, so she got elected to lead for the next 7 miles. We had a couple of battle of the wills, that involved her planting her feet and me convincing her that forward was actually the order of the day, but overall, I was extremely pleased with how she did. She did some smart footwork, and really, really tried. There were a lot of large rocks and rock piles along this section that were quite scary, and she was brave as long as I was right there with her. It was definitely a lot of active riding on my part — rein contact, leg contact, core muscles engaged, steer the horse, look ahead, pay attention, let Libby know she’s doing good…no autopilot today.
cross-country section that routed around a rock slide on the
Black Canyon Trail

Gina and Wicked behind us on the Black Canyon
Trail. Wicked is every bit as big as she looks — at
least 16 hands tall.
short climbing section on the BCT…Libby acts
like the hills aren’t even there.

The last bit of loop one took us off the Black Canyon Trail and down into a wash that lead back to camp. The wash actually had a flowing little stream-lette going through it, and ride photographer Susan Kordish was there to take what I’m sure will be awesome ride photos.

Heading back through the wash and stream was a blast. Liberty was a bit unsure of the water, so as long as Wicked went ahead, we were actually able to trot through the wash, splashing through the water. (Next time, I must remember to get video.) 
Yes, this is the AZ desert. Really.

We hand-walked back down the same road we had left on, and back into camp. Both mares were pulsed immediately (Libby was at 44(!)), and she vetted through with all As, except a B on gut sounds. She also pawed the air because there was alfalfa on the ground right. there. and I wouldn’t let her grab it, and cantered and leaped through part of her trot-out. Yeah, worn out, that one.

We were in for our hold at 10:52…recommended in-time was 10:30. So if we hadn’t started late, we actually would have been right on target, pace-wise, even with the young horse training moments.

Back at the trailer, she tucked into the bucket of soaked pellets Kirt had made up, and proceeded to slop and scarf her way through the next hour.
“I shall call you Mush Face, and a lovely Mush Face you shall be.”

Gina, Wicked, and Kirt at the hold

We were actually early for our out-time (and yet another graceful leg up into the saddle for me…), and I laughed as Liberty stood in the road, doing her trademark air-pawing. As soon as we hit our time, we were off, and as soon as we cleared camp, both mares sprang into a trot and booked it out of there. 

Okay, cheerful willingness to leave camp is good.
The second loop was only 9 miles, but we had been warned it was slow-going. A lot of the trail followed the Black Canyon River (which is a tiny stream by most definitions), crossing over the river bed and paralleling it for over half of the loop. Which meant we had a ton of water crossings, and sand, and climbs. (Otherwise known as rigorous conditions for hoof boots.)

This loop, even though it was slow-going, was So. Much. Fun. I’d call it alone worth the price of admission. Water is a novel concept for this desert rat, as well as for my desert rat horse, but Liberty was with the program, and she proceeded to drink out of every single stream crossing. I wasn’t going to discourage the hydration, but this wasn’t helping our time…
paralleling the Black Canyon “River”
Partway through the loop, we had a big climb up a steep jeep road, and she powered up it, pausing only once for a brief moment. Her heart rate peaked at 160, then immediately started dropping, and she was back down to 80 in under a minute, and not even breathing hard. I cannot wait to see what this horse does when she’s in shape…
After the climb, we were on a jeep road that slowly started winding back towards camp. With the internal compass pointed due “trailer”, both mares perked up even more…perhaps a bit too much so, as Wicked started trying to canter the small uphills, which in turn meant Liberty also wanted to canter…and exercise her canter-induced “happy feet” (read: crowhops that threatened to turn into some bucks). Uh, not in my world, sweetheart. 
She definitely wanted to go faster, but some of the footing was tricky (lots of embedded rock slabs in the road), and she had started doing a bit of tripping — I don’t know if it was because she was getting tired, or just not paying attention to her feet — but either way, it meant it was time to slow down and re-group the baby horse brain. It was also at this point that I realized we were still roughly 4 miles out from camp and had 15 minutes before cut-off. Unless the two mares magically sprouted wings, that wasn’t going to happen, and there’s no sense in pushing it.
So we proceeded back at a sensible, not-rushing-the-clock pace, treating it as we would have had we still been on time…trotting where it was good, walking the rough, keeping brains intact. We also got more great photos from Susan as we crossed the “river”, and I had a “discussion” with Liberty about making nasty faces when being passed, as well as the inappropriateness of spinning and trying to take off after them.
We headed back in the same running-stream wash, and back into camp the same way.
We were officially a touch over 30 minutes over…so, our late start, plus the fact we just meandered the last few miles in. But we pulsed down to 48 immediately, and vetted out with As, and a B for gut sounds. When I asked Dr. Rick about the B on guts and whether that was just “her”, he said that, at least to him, a B is what he considers “normal” and As are “exceptional.” She also trotted out great…keeping it to a civilized dull roar this time.
And then we were done. :) We went back over to the trailer, un-tacked, and pulled and examined boots. I hadn’t touched Liberty’s boots all day, including at the lunch hold, and they hadn’t budged, even through all the water, sand, climbs, and fancy footwork. Safe to say we’ve got her boots ironed out.
We were even able to give the mares a bath afterwards, then put them in their corrals to roll, dry off, and eat some more while we went back to the trailer for food and to do some Renegade customer service.
Requisite goofy picture of normally-attractive mare

I love this part of going to rides and working with Kirt and Gina in a hands-on setting…I always end up picking up just one more tip or trick on fitting/sizing/troubleshooting, or learning something I hadn’t previously known or thought of.

Kirt and Gina headed back home later that evening, so I shared my friend Angie’s living quarters for the night, since I’m not overly fond of driving I-17 at night, then headed home the next morning, where I had a very enthusiastic puppy welcoming committee.
Officially, we might not have “completed”, but we ended up with a great 25-mile training ride over some gorgeous scenery with good company on a great horse. I call that a win.
until next time, big mare… *kisses*

more mileage goodies

/ Ashley Wingert / 4 Comments

After getting my first AERC endurance mileage patch in the mail a couple of weeks ago, I got this in the mail this week:

it takes a few 25s to add up to 250

First Limited Distance mileage patch!

This one was 8 years in the making, my first LD ride being the Man Against Horse 25 in 2005 on Mimi.
The really cool thing about my LD patch has been how many different horses I’ve had the chance to ride to get to that point. Mimi did about half of those miles, but the others have been on other people’s horses, and it’s all added up to 250 miles of fun! To me, I get so much personal satisfaction out of finishing 50s, and my ultimate goal is 100s…but I still have a blast doing LDs.
So thanks to Mimi, Harley, Beamer, Thor, Kody, and Liberty for some fun times and great rides!

Here We Go Again…The Great LD vs. Endurance Debate

/ Ashley Wingert / 1 Comment

*ding*


That’s the bell going off for round whatever-illion of the never-ending “Endurance Versus Limited Distance” debate on Ridecamp and other email lists and forums.  Around the country, many people are starting to experience weather that encourages indoor hibernation, which in turn leads to sitting in front of computers and snarking, for lack of anything better to do.
This time, from my understanding, it started with a restructuring of points for 100s, which turned to talk of combined mileage recognition (lifetime accumulated miles of both LDs and 50s for a horse), which in turn has degenerated to the good old favorite topic of debate that crops up every winter…LD vs. Endurance.  Half the talk makes my eyes glaze over, mostly because it’s points and mileage and stuff I’ve never concerned myself with because I’ve never ridden that competitively, and the other half makes me cringe because it’s starting to get nasty. I’ve been an AERC member for six years now, and I’ve seen this debate…hmmm….annually, with a few minor rounds cropping up here and there during the year, just to keep people in fighting-trim.
Sometimes, I suspect it’ll never truly end.
As someone who has done both 50s and LDs, I can understand both sides of the argument.  Neither side is all wrong or all right.  I’m sure I’m going to manage to inflame some people along the way, but to me, it’s a pretty simple concept: Calling yourself an endurance rider is a privilege, not a right, and it is something earned through an extraordinary amount of work and time.  This is not to say that conditioning for an LD isn’t work.  For some people, it may be their own personal equivalent of training for a 50, and this isn’t meant to diminish a personal accomplishment.  But the bottom line is, 50s are more work and therefore earn the title of “endurance.”
Endurance

In the AERC bylaws, endurance is defined as “events 50 miles and above.”  This gives us a baseline and standard of performance.  50 miles is not easy.  Maybe to those riders whose miles are hitting quadruple digits and above, 50 miles starts to become commonplace.  But for someone who doesn’t even have an endurance mileage patch yet, the idea that a 50 mile ride may someday seem “easy” is a thought to be marveled.  Per Webster:
endure: to last; suffer patiently; tolerate

By its very name, “endurance” is to be celebrated as something that has been worked for and earned.  Let’s face it: It takes a lot of work to get a horse 50-mile ready, and then keep them there.  It takes time, dedication, and then a bit of luck tossed in there for good measure.
And the fact is, not all horses can do 50 miles.  I did some teeth-gnashing during Tevis weekend, wondering how these horses can be 17+ and still able to even think about competing at the Tevis level — and some of them finishing — when my 18-year-old pony is retired from even LD competition.  She was a 50-mile horse at one point, and I’m so proud of every one of her 200 miles that she earned, because it was a lot of work, and she was a very unlikely endurance horse.
But the blood, sweat, and tears that we poured into training and conditioning gave us the right to call ourselves an endurance team for the three years we competed.  “Endurance” is a title that is earned through a lot of hard work and time…being able to call yourself an “endurance rider” is not something to be given out lightly…it’s a recognition of the effort that has gone into getting to that point.
At the moment, I’m not an endurance rider.  I’m a competition horse-less rider who will call myself whatever kind of rider I am on any given day I can snag a horse from somebody.  Right now, I’m a mostly-arena rider who “trail rides” on the streets around the barn.  When I’ve been fortunate enough to have somebody loan me a horse, then I’m a distance rider again.  But until I am riding 50s again, I am not an endurance rider.  I’ve done endurance in the past, but I’m not now…and to call myself an endurance rider is doing a disservice to anyone who is actively riding 50s and putting in the time and effort.
Limited Distance

I started AERC by doing LDs.  I did three years of LDs before my first 50, and have continued to do them since.  I still enjoy LDs, and quite like the fact I can comfortably walk in the days to follow.  Three of my LD rides have been on new or unfamiliar horses, and it was reassuring to know that if things went all pear-shaped, I only had to deal with it for 25 miles.
I’ve heard the adage that, “Any horse can do a 25.”  Respectfully, I disagree.  I know plenty of horses that are unsuited for any kind of outside trail work, let alone 25 miles, maintaining an average speed of 5mph.  That’s something I won’t even ask Mimi for anymore.
As I stated earlier, for some people that are physically unable to ride for 50 miles, or have a horse unsuited for 50 miles, or lack the time to train, whatever the reason may be, to them, an LD could be a huge personal accomplishment.  And I’m not trying to devalue that or take that away from anybody.
But it comes down to this: Individual situations aside, 25s are not as much work as 50s.  Period.  End of story.  Therefore, LDs should not be elevated to the same level as endurance.  You cannot have the same amount of recognition for half the amount of work.
Let me say again: I do not have a problem with LDs.  I want to see them continue.  We need LDs to bring new people into the sport.  Most people are intimidated by the idea of riding for 50 miles right off the bat.  That’s one of the reasons it’s so important for more experienced riders to take an interest in LD riders.  Make them feel welcome.  Offer assistance or be a mentor.
It makes me sad when I hear LD riders say they feel “unwelcome” or “ostracized” because of the distance they’re riding.  If that’s the case, then shame on you, endurance riders.  I personally had a wonderful introduction to the sport.  My very first LD, I was fortunate enough to be camped next to a very, very experienced endurance rider.  Patty took me under her wing, answered questions that I didn’t even know I had, and made me feel welcome the entire weekend.  
At another ride, an experienced endurance rider corrected my self-deprecating attitude of “only doing the 25.”  Their response?  “It’s still an accomplishment.  That’s 25 more miles than most people ride.”  (And after the last ride I did, I was glad it was “only” 25 miles!  I was out of shape and not sure I could have made it 50.)
I admit I don’t go out of my way to mentor…heck, I feel like I still need a mentor some days.  But I do try to be welcoming at rides.  I might not have my electrolyte protocol down to a shareable science…but I can probably tell someone where the registration and check-in table is located.  The only way AERC is going to continue to grow as an organization is if we make people feel welcome and bring them into the fold…and that often happens through LDs as the first stepping stone.  And once people get hooked on LDs, it often opens up the possibilities of doing 50s.
Bottom Line

I probably opened a giant can of worms with this topic, but it’s one that isn’t going away any time soon.  Not that it needs to go away…a little healthy debate is what keeps thing interesting and innovative, but it also can’t be allowed to tear apart our organization.
That said…
I feel that keeping LD and endurance separate when it comes to recognition is for the best.  It’s not fair for endurance riders who have put the time and energy into conditioning to have an LD horse and rider be elevated to the same level.  And LD riders that want to be called “endurance” riders should have to put forth the same amount of effort and energy to earn that title.  
To call one’s self an endurance rider is a title that is earned, not given.  You have to work for it…and I look forward to working towards the next time I can call myself an endurance rider again.