“Did you win???”

            For the sport of endurance riding, this type of question begs explanation and can’t be answered with a simple yes or no.  For most sports, “winning” means coming in first place.  But the motto of endurance riding is “To finish is to win” and I had come home with a bright, yellow Shamrock t-shirt with just that motto printed on the front to prove it.  And recalling my 55 mile ride in 93 degree heat which saw on its first day something like  30 starts, 7 pulls, 1 horse fatality and one horse being driven 100 miles away to CSU for emergency care, then, yes—I certainly did “win”!  I won because my mare finished the race, her first one, healthy and happy and looking like she could do more. 

            The first day of the Shamrock Ride I decided to run my new mare, Nadrah, in her first real endurance race.  She’d done two 25 milers a few weeks ago at the Strawberry Fields ride in Utah, her first organized rides ever, which saw her coming in top ten on the second day.  I felt good enough about her performance at that ride to step her up to the fifty-mile mark at the Shamrock Ride.  And though she didn’t come in top ten, nor did I expect her to under the extreme conditions, she did place 12^th among 30 riders.  Most importantly, she came to the end of the ride tired but looking as if she could continue on, with all her vitals checking out as “As” in the final vet check. 

So, hell yes, we “won!”

            Still, as that day wore on and the heat intensified, I began to question the intelligence of running my new, inexperienced mare in her first fifty in what is arguably one of the toughest rides in the Mountain Region.  The Shamrock Ride is always hot, ruggedly beautiful and has all the makings of a truly “wild west” type of ride:  giant vistas, open arid meadows strewn with chunks of limestone that make fast traveling a challenge, and altitude climbs that will literally take your breath away (trust me, I know this—I walked up many of these “hills” alongside my mare, following the revered Lew Hollander’s advice of helping out your horse when you can).  The gritty conditions were contrasted with surprising areas of lushness:  turn a corner and suddenly you’re in a valley of aspen, with abundant ponds and creeks and shade.  These were life-savers on the ride. 

At one point during the 55 miler, my partner Teri Lefever and I decided to pull over and rest.  We’d just struggled up what felt like a 90-degree rock-strewn hill under the blistering sun.  It was close to noon, and the heat felt like a throbbing heartbeat….or maybe that was my own heart beating.  A small pack of other riders had blown by us at a good clip, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they were managing.  Some riders like to blow up the hills and rest on the downside.  Others, like me, like to go easy up the hills, especially in hot conditions like we were experiencing.  I just knew I wasn’t about to ask my girls to go fast up this wall of a hill.

Teri was riding my other mare, Nanyuri, and we knew she hadn’t had a good watering for at least 20 miles.  In typical Nanyuri fashion, she was more interested in keeping an eye on the front runners and getting all lathered up than in taking care of herself.  This type of horse can be a real challenge to manage in an endurance race.  We pulled into the shade of a regal looking Ponderosa pine which had a small blanket of cheat grass under it, still green from living in the shade of its benefactor.  Both mares stood in the shade, heads at half-mast, neither one interested in eating.  Uh-oh.  Not good. 

I plucked a few of the choicest morsels and stuck it under Nadrah’s nose.  She sighed and then half-heartedly ate the grass from my hand.  I gave her more, and she continued to eat from my hand.  Finally she put her head down and nibbled.  Usually this horse is a pig, so I knew she needed the rest.  Nanyuri, on the other hand, would have nothing to do with grass, hand fed or not.  Big uh-oh.  According to the heart rate monitor, her heart rate was at 130 beats per minute, standing still.  Huge uh-oh.  We weren’t going anywhere until this changed.  We needed her to eat, at least, and for that heart rate to come down.  Teri dug in her saddle bags and found an old protein bar.  As she unwrapped it, Nan’s ear perked up—she loves treats from the saddle bags.  I’d forgotten that about her.  Next time, I told Teri, we would be sure to bring her horse cookies in a plastic bag.  Amazingly, she ate the protein bar.  Even I have a hard time eating those things!  And her heart rate came down—it was now at about 80 beats.  Still high for standing still, but better.

We rested for about 15 minutes under that tree, then headed off down the hill.  At the bottom was a beautiful little creek, meandering under aspen trees, and clear as a bell.  Both horses drank deeply.  Sigh of relief.  We were out of the woods now.  We continued on, at a decent pace (about 8 mph, according to my Garmin).

Coming into the vet check after the 18-mile second loop, the heat was intense and the place was busy.  A woman I knew who was a veteran endurance rider with over 5000 AERC miles, was anxiously walking her gelding.  It was obvious something was wrong.  I’d checked in with the timers on the stats of the race:  30 starts, already 6 pulls.  The heat was definitely taking its toll.  In essence, 20 percent of the competitors were now out of the race after 40 miles. 

Our mares had already pulsed down to the required 60 beats per minute, so we pushed on towards the vets, who had their hands full.  Both mares passed through with As, and we were relieved to have it confirmed that they were, for all intents and purposes, doing well.  Both mares got marked down slightly for gut sounds, which wasn’t surprising to me based on what I’d learned from the conferences I’d attended the previous winter. 

When a horse is working really hard, the blood is shunted from the digestive system to the muscular system, where it’s needed.  Many times, when you get into the vet check, the blood is just making its way back to the gut, so often the gut sounds aren’t as active as they would usually be.  If your horse is eating, and interested in food, that’s a good sign that everything is still okay and that the blood hasn’t yet made it fully back to the gut.  If that’s the case, you will usually find that if you check back in about five minutes, the gut sounds will be active and noisy, as they should be with a healthy horse.  If, however, your horse STILL doesn’t have the required gut sounds, and doesn’t want to eat, you’re in the danger zone—something is wrong. 

My mares were both trying to get all the hay they could while waiting for the vet, so I felt pretty reassured that they were fine.  During our 1-hour hold, they both ate, drank, peed and pooped—a good signal that all systems are “go.”  What I’ve learned is that you can tell so much about your horse based on what’s coming in and going out. 

During the ride, my partner will say something like, “Oh, your horse just pooped and it was soft, well-formed poop.”  This cracks me up, knowing that anyone not initiated into the world of endurance riding would find these types of observations absurd, if not downright rude.  Similarly, a constant awareness of how much your horse is drinking and peeing is also of paramount importance. 

Finally, monitoring and administering electrolytes, something that is hotly debated, is also very important.  I had pre-loaded both my mares four days before the ride, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be drinking as much as normal while doing the 3 hour trailer ride to the base camp, and also knowing how hot it was going to be and how hard they would be working.  Dr. Dane Frazier, veterinarian and former AERC director, states that a horse loses about half a salt shaker full of electrolytes per hour in an endurance race.  Unlike humans, horses are unable to store electrolytes and their system becomes severely compromised without them.  A horse that is deficient in electrolytes will show many compromised symptoms, including “thumps,” azoturia (“tying up”), colic, and muscular discomfort (a horse needs a good electrical charge for its muscles to work correctly and effectively).

I’d also given a syringe dose of electrolytes to my girls the night before the race, and then the morning of and then at each vet hold.  Even with all that, its said that the horse in hard work and hot weather may still not have the “normal” amount of electrolytes—but at least you’re replacing most of them enough to keep you out of the danger zone.  Once I get home from the ride, I then continue top dressing their feed with a supplement that has lots of salt in it, which encourages the horse to continue drinking and replacing lost hydration and electrolytes.

A horse is “on the edge of a knife” (also said by Dr. Frazier) during an endurance or long-distance ride.  This is true for all horses, no matter what the condition level may be, but certainly moreso for horses that have not been adequately conditioned.  Looking back on Nan’s stats while we rested under that pine tree, I realize that she was on the edge and getting ready to fall over the other side.  I believe that the rest and the fact that she began eating and drinking again were the things that kept her on the edge and out of the abyss. 

Still, how easy it might have been to have overlooked her condition.  How easy it might have been to let her charge up that hill, knowing that she would because that’s the kind of mare she is.  And after that, knowing that we may have gotten into the vet check with a severely compromised horse, one that couldn’t continue on, and one that may even have gotten into big trouble and had to be “saved.”  Then knowing that when you get to that point, even all the “saving” in the world sometimes isn’t good enough….. 

Boy, am I glad we walked up that hill and stopped under the old Ponderosa.  Here’s the deal:  at any time during a race, you are closer than you think to falling off the knife edge.  Keep that in mind at all times.  Look your horse in the eye.  Know your horse, and remember that they sometimes have “off” days and can fool you into thinking they’re good to go when really they’re not.

When some of us found out on Saturday night that one of the pulled horses had died, there was an overall feeling of sadness and disbelief.  This had happened to an experienced, careful endurance rider-- not a reckless rider, or a new rider.  Only the night before the race this same rider had advised me, “Take care of your horse, don’t be stupid, ride sensibly and don’t worry about the front runners.”  And so as we all sat there in stunned disbelief, I think most of us were trying to figure out how this horrible reality fit into our own “gameplan” of endurance riding, into what we thought we knew about the sport.  Because what it really told all of us is that losing a horse—your equine partner and for many, the love of your life—can happen to anyone.  It reminded us that you never know enough, you can never be careful enough……and you better not forget that, no matter how many miles you have under your belt.

My husband, who is NOT an endurance nut like I am, and who, with mostly good humor comes to all my rides and crews for me, was full of misgivings and recriminations about the sport of endurance riding.  He argued that anyone riding endurance is, just by virtue of participating, endangering their horse. 

I agreed with him.  

Anytime you enter any type of competition or sport with your horse, the risk of injury or death is present.  It’s also present when he’s just hanging out in pasture, for that matter.  Life is uncertain.  Another life-lesson endurance riding teaches you.

He argued that if you loved your horse, you shouldn’t ride him in endurance rides. 

I disagreed there. 

I reminded him that any horse doing any type of sport is at risk of becoming sick, lame or dying.  But does that mean we should all plunk down the trail at a snail’s pace, afraid to challenge both ourselves and our horse?  Not in my mind.  I think it’s far worse to see horses standing around in stalls and pastures, bored out of their mind, day after day with nothing to do because no one rides them or cares about them.  A used, engaged horse is a lucky horse.  Horses exist because people love them, and people love them because they can be used in sport and because they are so incredibly athletic and beautiful, and because we are always looking for the best the horse has to offer.  And because a true partnership with your horse brings out the best in you.

My husband and I are still debating the “morality” of endurance racing.  We both have valid points.  I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle, as it usually does.  The bottom line is that to “win” in endurance, you need to condition thoroughly, ride sensibly, monitor your horse continuously, put your ego on the bottom shelf-- and then, say a prayer to your guardian angel and hit the trail.

--Michelle Smith

July 7, 2008