"Pony" is a four-letter word

/ Ashley Wingert / 1 Comment

Today was a “pony” day, said with much disgust and shaking of the head.  We were due for it…she’s been an angel for the past couple of months, but the “pony” part of her personality is never far below the surface.  Today, it was standing up and doing the hula.

*blinks*  Now there’s a mental image for ya.  (All of the costume classes I did, I never gave Mimi the indignity of a hula skirt.  Missed opportunity…)

We cranked out about half an hour of arena work, heavy focus on the trot and canter (and some rider torture in the form of riding without stirrups).  Brought my GPS out , just for kicks, and discovered that we covered about 2 miles with our laps around the arena.  Cool.  Better than nothing, and it is a sand arena.

She wasn’t all bad.  I dusted off the jumping hackamore and got it adjusted properly, and she was working beautifully in it.  Seems to be a great choice for arena work, and she was even softer in it than the S-hack.  She had a fabulous whoa today, too…but that might have had something to do with the fact that she “didn’t wanna work.”  I don’t think it’ll translate over to the trail quite as well, since Ms. Curb-Your-Enthusiasm needs a little bit of a reminder that blasting off at Mach 3 is not on the recommended itinerary.

But I like keeping arena and trail gear separate.  It’s something I’ve done for years, ever since show days: western bit for western classes, kimberwick for english flat classes, snaffle for jumping classes, and hackamore for gymkhana.  So it’s a principle she’s well-versed in: “X means fun, Y means work.”

Worked on her hooves…they’re looking really good right now.  Picture taking fail today, since I was pretty much done in by the time I got around to working on her feet and out of patience for messing with the camera.  Her hooves are slowing down in their growth as her system readjusts to the ever-decreasing amount of daylight and redirects its energies towards growing a fine, fuzzy winter coat.  In 95*.  Proof right there that horse hair growth is controlled by daylight hours, not temperature.  At least I don’t have to worry about clipping her this winter, and the subsequent “to blanket or not to blanket” question.

It was also warm enough for her to get a shower (Horrors…I removed her protective layer of dirt coating!) after we were done, which made for east-trim hooves.  She was thoroughly hacked off that I had the nerve to get her face wet, and proceeded to whip me with her (soaking wet) tail during the rest of the process.  Thanks, pony.

All was well at the end, since she did her spiffy little bowing trick for a carrot.  Never mind that she almost fell over, she was so excited to see a rare, elusive carrot appear before her.  Carrots cure all ills, at least in her mind.

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.

Finally Fall

/ Ashley Wingert / Leave a comment

I saw my breath this morning when I stepped out my front door at 7:00.  Yesterday, I got misted on when walking.  Wednesday saw me in a long-sleeved tee (with shorts and sandals, but that’s beside the point).  Is it finally fall?  One can only hope.  I trying desperately to ignore the weather report for next week, the one that says we’re going to be back up in the 90s again.

*plugs ears and hums loudly*

But for now, I’m going to enjoy every single reprieve I get.  This is my favorite time of year, when I can drive down the freeway with my windows down, music blasting, wind whipping my hair into disarray.

View from my front yard.  I live in suburbia
and board half an hour away in quasi-suburbia-
with-large-pastures.

There seems to be another potential storm brewing (maybe the dregs of the one that dumped 2′ of snow in the Sierras and put this year’s Tevis into disarray decided to come south?) today, so I scuttled out of the house around mid-morning and headed down to the barn.

My timing was pretty good…Mimi had finished breakfast, and was just about to be turned out into the pasture.  It’s so much easier to work with her when I can get to her before her pasture time…otherwise, she’s rather put out about just getting settled into the serious business of grazing, only to be interrupted for that silly little thing called work.

The last half a dozen times I’ve ridden her in the arena, I’ve worked her pretty extensively in a bit.  I may have mentioned this before, but she hates bits.  Something about tiny pony mouths, and just a general distaste for hunks of metal crammed between her lips.

Last week, I inadvertently discovered that if I am going to use a bit, she much prefers it to be very snug in her mouth..definitely the “two wrinkles on the corner of the mouth” rule of thumb, and bordering on a third.  Adjusted that way, she didn’t fuss, make too many weird faces, or try to gnaw it in half.  She was also very light in the face and extremely responsive.

Lesson out of all of this?  Don’t be afraid to go against convention and experiment.  Just because something is “always” done a certain way doesn’t mean it’s necessarily correct for a given circumstance.

This week, I decided to use the S-Hack on her.  This is my headgear of choice for when we’re out on trail, and I’ve always had great control with it.  But sometimes, I wish she was a little more sensitive to doing some of the finer nuances of arena work with this set-up.  So that was today’s goal…make her do some actual arena work in the hack.  And she did really well.  She’s pretty stiff and resistant to giving to the left, so we spent a lot of time working on that.

The cooler weather also has her feeling good, and in very good spirits, and she’s a ton of fun to ride when she’s that way.  I don’t have to think when I’m riding her…we’ve been partners for so long, I can just ride her.  And y’know, I really, really like riding that little mare.

The Path So Far…Looking Back on Six Years of Endurance (Updated with Pictures!)

/ Ashley Wingert / 1 Comment

Today marks the sixth anniversary of my foray into endurance. October 1, 2005, I did my first 25-mile LD ride at the Man Against Horse Race in Prescott, AZ.  It’s a ride I’ve attended every year since, and high on my list of favorite rides.

It’s been an incredible six years.  Even with my current hiatus status, I have every intention of returning to the sport as soon as I’m able, and still keep abreast of current happenings and goings-on.  After doing seemingly a little bit of everything within the horse world, I’ve finally found my niche in endurance.
So you’ll pardon my somewhat stream-of-consciousness style of putting this post together (not to mention a long-a** post), but I’m writing things as they come to me…in flashes of inspiration, often the same way the realization of an event as a learning moment struck.
Enjoy the view…it might have taken a while to get there.
Saguaro Lake, January 2011

Patience, grasshopper.  Endurance has taught me nothing if not patience.  Patience with my horse, myself, my riding companions, the other competitors.  I can only control so much of what happens…the rest requires a (sometimes large) dose of patience.
The journey is now.  I admit this one comes and goes.  I am guilty of extreme forward-thinking, even having a potential ride schedule mapped out two to three years in advance of a specific goal. *cough*Tevis*cough*  The consequence of this means being disappointed on a regular basis…best laid plans and all.  It’s been a task to rein myself in and to learn to live in the moment…make each mile count, to find the special in every ride, to appreciate the quiet whuffling (okay, pig-like snorting) of your horse as the two of you share an apple.  Don’t get so caught up in the big picture and reaching an ultimate destination that you forget to enjoy the journey along the way, because there’s no guarantee you’ll even reach that final goal.
     Ex.: As anyone that’s read this blog for more than a page knows, Tevis was always my ultimate goal with Mimi.  Obviously, that didn’t happen.  In the back of my mind, I think I realistically knew it would take a miracle to get us to the start line.  The optimist in me never stopped dreaming.  But in our last year of competition together, that little voice in my head made me very aware of the good times.  Our last ride — and pull — not withstanding, the two rides prior to that were the best rides I could ever hope for from Mimi.  Man Against Horse 50 and Valley of the Sun Turkey Trot 50, both in 2009, were textbook rides that I will always treasure.  There are some fantastic memories etched into my mind from those rides:

Man Against Horse
– Starting in the thick of the pack, Mimi’s ears flattened, weaving through horses and runners. 
– Trotting along the road that leads to the climb up the back side of Mingus Mountain.  Through the worst of the hard-pack and rock portion of the road and onto where it turns into smooth double-track.  Mimi was leading, trotting along the road on a loose rein, playfully ducking at the metal culverts on the side of the road, and I was cheerfully singing at the top of my lungs.
– Picking through the rocks near the top of Mingus Mtn.
– Leading through the woods on the way down to the third vet check, on a loose rein, blitzing through the single-track trail, in perfect sync.  Smooth, perfectly in control, checking herself on downhills, balanced around turns.
– Crossing the finish line.  We were walking in…no sense in tripping on a gopher hole in the last 100 yards, but she still had to out-walk Beamer and cross the finish line ahead of him.  (She won, in her mind.)  I cried when I leaned over to hug her as she marched under that finish banner, I was so proud of her.  This ride was our Tevis.

VotS Turkey Trot
– Smashed in the middle of a whole bunch of horses invading her personal space at the controlled start, and doing nothing more than the Pony Sneer.
– Trying to dump me by spooking at the bench at the top of the ridgeline trail.  At 30-something miles into the ride.

– Leading down a single-track trail that made its way towards basecamp, at dusk.  Her lightly stepping over every single inlaid anti-erosion log on the trail, at a trot, and not tripping once.

– Doing a show-perfect sliding stop in the middle of said trail to stare at a barrel cactus.
– Riding the last three miles back to camp in the dark, no glowstick or lights of any kind.  Trotting along in the big sand wash, with her politely ignoring me when I tried to steer us down a dead-end trail.  She was absolute perfection and I had total trust in her.  She never missed a step.

Flexibility.  See above, with best-laid plans.  Endurance riders have to, by necessity and survival, learn to be flexible and adapt.  Expect the unexpected, and not to be too fatalistic, plan for the worst…or, at least, have a back-up plan.  Horses are unpredictable creatures, and endurance adds in that many more factors to amplify that tendency.  
“Nobody likes a sissy.”  Words to live by, spoken (well, Facebooked) by friend and fellow endurance rider Renee Robinson.  It’s become somewhat of a catch-phrase now, and it is so true.  With limited time, budgetary constraints, and availability of rides within reasonable traveling distance, I couldn’t afford to be a fair-weather rider.  As a result, I’ve gotten wet at half of the rides I’ve done.  This desert rat is closer to a drowned desert rat.  But that’s a lot of rides I would have missed out on due to potentially-inclement weather.  Mimi, however, has no such qualms about her sissy status, and will proudly admit it from her warm, dry stall.  She doesn’t do cold, wet rides, and has told me so in so many words.  And when I don’t get the message, she grants me a tie-up as thanks.
Have Gore-Tex, will travel
Las Cienegas ride, December 2006

Gore-Tex, or go home.  If you’re gonna stick it out in the wet, you gotta have the goods.  And by that, I mean Gore-Tex.  Two failed “waterproof” coats later, Gore-Tex is the only way to go.  The one I have is from Cabela’s.  It’s a nice light, layer-able shell. This is the updated version: Cabela’s PacLite Rainy River Parka.  They periodically go on sale, which is when I got mine, along with a set of matching rain pants.  Ideally, my next coat will have snaps in addition to the zipper.

We’ll never have all the answers.  Why do they tie up?  How much electrolytes should I give?  Why aren’t they drinking better?  Why did the vet check move?  Where’d the ribbons go?  Boot check?  Where’s my crew bag box?  A few tongue-in-cheek questions mixed in there among the serious, but it makes the same point: There will always be questions.  Sometimes, we’ll be fortunate enough to know the answers.  Some questions, we’ll never know the answers.  (Like that maddening tie-up one.)  But part of the endurance adventure is the ability to try to find those answers…and ask the questions.

Crew boxes rock.  With two people and two horses and a whole ton of stuff, a box is a lot easier to pack than multiple bags.  And everything ends up being easier to find, since Murphy’s Law comes in and rearranges my crew bag after I’ve packed it, shuffling exactly what I’ll need to the bottom of the bag, so everything has to be unpacked to get to it.  Which brings me to the crew bag/box rule: It never fits in the same way again.  Despite emptying it of food, water, and horse food at every check, there’s less room for everything to fit back in again.

Endurance people are some of the nicest, most helpful people out there.  I’m constantly amazed at the selflessness, generosity, and helpful spirits I encounter along the trail.  People have loaned me horses, opened up their homes for me to visit, mentored me, shown me new trails, taken me to rides, and have never failed to be there when needed.  I’m so, so grateful and thankful to every single one of you.

post-ride to Christopher Creek in Payson, Sept 2010

Hug your horse.  At the end of the day, they’re your partner.  I’ve been lucky enough to have shared the trail with my equine soul mate and forever heart horse who has given me her all.  So remember to thank them for that…every ride is special.

Rider management matters.  Don’t get so caught up in caring for your horse you forget to take care of yourself.  Eat, sleep, exercise.  I’m not advocating crazy diet plans or being marathon-fit…just be sensible.  The better you are, the better it is for your horse.

Desert Forest NATRC, March 2007, Wickenburg, AZ.
Going up “mini Cougar Rock”

“You don’t know how far you can go until you’ve gone too far.” (Julie Suhr)  There’s a fine line between pushing out of the comfort zone and going over the edge.  But you don’t know until you try.  That risk is part of endurance.  And sometimes, you’ll be surprised at what you accomplish.

At the end of the day, SMILE!  You’re riding your horse in beautiful country, some of which can only be seen from horseback.  And remember, it’s called ENDURANCE for a reason!

view from the Highline Trail, just below the Mogollon Rim
Payson, September 2010

snow-covered Superstitions
view from the San Tan Mtn Park
January 2010

Picketpost Mtn
February 2011


spiders and "spring" cleaning

/ Ashley Wingert / Leave a comment

The past week or so, I’ve been bitten by the cleaning and organization bug.  This bug usually hits about twice a year, and it makes me go into a cleaning and organizing frenzy.  Most of the year, I’m a semi-organized person.  I have a method to my madness, and can always find what I need, even though it may not look the neatest or cleanest.  (Except for my closet.  That’s my designated black hole that gets a thorough gutting out about once a year, when I get sick of the mess and fear I’m risking my life just by trying to enter it.)

This time, the bug was directed at two locations: the corner of the garage that serves as a “tack room” of sorts, and my corner of the tack room down at the barn.  For years, I used my horse trailer as a rolling storage closet.  It was easier, kept everything close at hand, and I usually worked out of the trailer more than I did the barn.  With the departure of the trailer this spring, I had to pull everything out and find a home for it.  Needless to say, there was a complete lack of enthusiasm for this task, so everything got shoved willy-nilly wherever it fit.

Last weekend, I tackled the garage.  Pulled everything out, sorted it into piles, rewrapped leg wraps (how many sets of leg wraps does one person need???), threw tons of stuff out (Anyone wanna know what 4+ year-old  EasyFoam looks like?  Not pretty…and I had four or five packs of the stuff floating around.  Don’t miss those messy days.), and rediscovered stuff I thought had vanished into the ether, including a pair of Equipedic splint boots, which Mimi and I are in the process of thoroughly testing.  But I digress.  I’ll talk about the splint boots later.

It was an all-day project (18 years of being in horses means I have a ton of stuff), but at the end of the day, I had an organized garage, with stuff stored in crates and stacked neatly on shelves.

Yesterday, I tackled the barn tack room.  Again, stuff had gotten shoved haphazardly into the corner and dutifully ignored for the past four months.  And something I forgot to mention: The tack room is the preferred location for overly-enthusiastic, fast-reproducing black widows (and other toxic AZ spiders of note).  For those of the spider-leery inclination, I very intentionally did not take pictures.  Six years of being at this barn has me mostly immune to the sight of the black widows anymore.

Still…yesterday was an exercise in caution, gingerly picking buckets up, using a long sweat scraper to get rid of the worst of the webs, and stomping on spiders as they scuttled back to sanctuary.  They really like to lurk under the edges of buckets and containers, which was the impetus for this cleaning binge…I had chased a few spiders (black widows and non-toxic) out of the crevices of my HoofJack and from the recesses of the box where I store my trimming equipment.  Sooner or later, one was going to discover the inside of my rasping gloves…

So the goal was to make enough room inside the cabinet (complete with bug-deterring closing doors) to store my trimming stuff.  And get rid of a few dozen bottles of old meds, shampoos, and the like.  I did it.  Everything I have down at the barn now fits inside a four-shelf cabinet and my tack trunk.  And I don’t have to pick sticky-clingy spider webs off my stuff anymore.

And that was on the heels of managing a whole hour and half of very active riding yesterday.  45 minutes of intense arena work, half of which I made myself do without stirrups (my thighs and I are not on speaking terms today), then another 45 minutes of meandering out around the neighborhood.  Well…as much as Mimi ever meanders.  She had to be peddled out to start, but once we got halfway around, she was much more willing to move out.  The faster we go, the happier she is…everything is going to eat her when we’re quietly walking along, but once we’re trotting, we rule the world.  *eye roll*  I love that goofy pony.

And on a totally different note…it’s Man Against Horse weekend, and for the first time in six years, I’m not up there.  Definitely bummed about missing it…I love being up there, even if I’m not riding, but my vehicle had the final say in matters, what with developing a slow but persistent oil-and-other-fluids leak. 195,000 miles…I guess I can cut her a break.  But a road trip didn’t seem like the best of ideas, either.