THE LIGHTER SIDE OF THE TR IL
conscientious…. at least that’s my word for it. My friend’s mom who is one of the old timers simply refers to us as “chicken *%#@”. Actually, I’ll admit I am scared, but not the way
Endurance: is it a race or a ride?
by Angie McGhee
quite fi gured out which they really are. Since the fi rst horse to cross the fi nish line is declared the “winner,” then I guess what we do is technically a race. But the American Endurance Ride Conference also has long had the mot o, “To Finish Is to Win,” that declares every team that completes the course a winner. I know, to some of you that sounds a lit le too much like the mamby-
E
pamby Lit le League teams that have so much empathy for losers they don’t keep score; but it’s really not like that at all. A bet er analogy would be to imagine a group of people who are on a boat that sinks and most (but not all) manage to swim to shore. One person may get there fi rst, but anyone who survives the ordeal feels like a winner because they’re just happy to reach the shore alive. T at’s what it’s like to fi nish an endurance ride: “Who cares if somebody beat me…I’m just glad I made it!”
Sometimes I’m tempted to invoke the “To Fin-
ish is to Win” clause when people ask me: “Did you win?” Back in the old days when a ride manager barely marked the trail and saw no problem with having you ride along a busy two-lane highway aſt er dark, I wanted to say, “Yes, I won. T ere was a Peterbilt grill headed for my horse that I thought had my name on it, but I’m still here!” I guess the reason I never came out and claimed a win was because I was never 100% sure that statement wouldn’t be counted as a lie on judgment day: God: “You told all those people you won those
races.” Me: “Yes sir, but we had that mot o, “To Finish is to Win.” God: “You KNEW that wasn’t what they meant. Step this way…” Competing for placement can be an awkward
thing in an Endurance Ride. Non-competitors have no idea how awkward it can be to jockey for position aſt er we have gone down the trail
all day and sometimes night in pairs and groups overcoming hardships imposed by weather, trail, bad marking, bees, landslides, bogs, fl ash fl oods and an infi nite variety of obstacles that cause us to bond like war buddies. Show people have no idea what a luxury it is to be able to retreat behind your trailer to hate the competition until the next class. For about 49 miles out of every 50 and 99 miles out of every 100, our riding buddy is our closest friend...but on that last mile the competition sort of morphs into an endurance R CE and we have to decide who gets to cross the line fi rst. Back when I got into the sport we were a lot
more comfortable with the idea of racing. Lots of us were coming from a background in barrel rac- ing, fl at racing, train racing, etc., and the idea of giving the horse the over and under with the reins and laying down low on his neck was as natural as breathing air. Lately we have got en a lot more
10 | December 2011 •
WWW.TRAILBLAZERMAGAZINE.US
very few weeks I go to these competitions I call “Endurance Rides,” but some people call them “Endurance Races.” I don’t know if I’ve ever
she thinks. I’m scared to death I’ll lame my horse and won’t have a reason to come to the next ride. T at’s why I spend many miles thinking up novel ways to set le the placement dilemma without risking any unnecessary stress to my horse’s legs. When the horses smell camp and begin to pick up their pace, the wheels in my mind start spinning trying to fi gure out the best, fairest, most honor- able way to justify me crossing fi rst without any hint of an all out race. One of my fi rst at empts at risk-free racing
was the idea of a “trot ing race.” Considering that endurance riders tend to prize a speedy trot I thought, “Why not race in at a trot? It won’t hurt the horses, it will be a race and the best horse wins!” Of course it didn’t hurt that I knew my horse had a heck of a turbo trot. So, when my traveling com- panion began to cast sideways appraising glances at my horse sizing him up for a race, I off ered “Want to let them race in at a trot?” “Sure!” she answered, obviously relieved. So
we began to let them out a bit and their trots ex- tended. Her horse picked up his tempo and nosed ahead. My horse began to lengthen his stride and I had to post higher to stay up long enough for his hang time. As we approached the line, my horse found another gear that I knew he had. By now I was posting so high that even when tiptoeing I couldn’t reach my stirrups at the peak of his stride. T is horse had one of those trots that rendered
even the most industrial-strength bra inadequate, which meant you either had to take one hand off the reins to steady your front side or accept the fact that you could only see straight ahead on the upstroke of your post. Finally, her horse reached his limit and my horse pulled ahead. In response her horse simply broke stride and galloped across the line fi rst. “Wow, your horse really can trot!” she raved as she handed the timer her card to receive her higher placing. Confused, I smiled and ac- cepted the compliment, but rode away wondering what I’d done wrong. My next idea was to use logic. I decided we
should simply decide which horse deserved to cross fi rst. Unfortunately, I never really had the nerve to have this discussion out loud; I just imagined our debate in my mind. I am very good at argu- ing, which should mean I’d be good at this sort of solution to placement. T e trouble is I’m so good at arguing that I take up both sides of the argument and can win an argument with myself without the other rider having to say a word. In general it goes like this. I think: “I should cross fi rst, because we’ve been riding together since the fi rst loop and my horse has out-recovered hers at every check, so mine is obviously the bet er horse. She is just over-riding hers to catch me. Naturally when she catches me I refuse to be leſt behind so we fi nish
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