Getting My Crew On

The athlete at rest.

I am fit to burst with excitement -- you have observed, if you check Solo's calendar with due diligence, that in mid-August, I am scheduled to crew for lifeshighway as she and Pete tackle a tough endurance race in the NC mountain rocks.  Ever since she started racing, I have been itching to go and crew one with her and watch what happens when you assemble a crowd of horses at varying levels of fitness and training and turn them loose to race through the woods for miles.

Last night, I pummeled lh with questions about what duties entail. My primary responsiblities are to make sure that she and Pete are properly pulsed in and recharged during the mandatory vet check around about the halfway point (the race is 25 miles). Horses are required to stop for 40 minutes here once their pulse has dropped to a pre-ordained level. They are untacked, cooled off, fed, watered, and monitored for soreness or injury, much like the 10-minute box in eventing, only with a longer time interval. Oh, and the riders get a drink and a snack too. I also get the dubious honour of trotting Pete out for the vet, so I can only hope my prancing skills are up to snuff for the ground jury. Thankfully, unlike eventing, I don't have to bathe the horse or wear a skirt.

My goal: to be the awesomest crew ever. Thanks to Solo's sweat-monster habits, I do have mad hosing and scraping skillz. Now to practice speed-tacking and snack-courier methods...

I hope to be able to get lots of pictures and video for lh for posterity.  Do I pack the cheering pom-poms?  Might be hard to wave them with a camera in one hand, bucket in the other, sweat scraper in my teeth.

The course will be steep, rocky, narrow, and muddy so it is going to be a challenge and hopefully I will not witness anyone falling off the mountain!  Pete and lh are a saavy, experienced team and I have no doubt that they will have a thing or two to teach their competitors.  I could ride Solo till I was blue in the face, but he will never be as fit as that little Arab is; it never ceases to amaze me how he just keeps. on. going.  

Three weeks to go and I'm counting down!!

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The Nail In The Coffin

At least, in the tire.  Or I guess I could title this post "Why You Should Always Check The Air In Your Trailer Tires Before You Haul."

Why does my trailer look like this right now?  Well, the good part is that it's at home, parked in front of the barn.  I had been wondering why I had one tire that would drop from a healthy 60 psi to a downright anemic 40 psi and hover there.  I could fill it back up and it'd be good for a trip but by the next haul, it'd be back down to 40 again.  Since I am taking My Precious (ok, I admit it, I have a thing for my truck) in to have the rotors turned tomorrow, I figured, why not throw the tire in the back and have my guy check it out.

Well.  He won't have to investigate very hard.

You can't tell from photos, but this thing has a good 1/4" or more diameter to the spiky bit.  Wherever I picked it up, they were obviously nailing together....sequoias?  I just bought the tires like a year ago -- of course.   

Apparently, it's not just horses that are suicide machines, it is anything that has the word "horse" in its name.  It's a good thing we don't fly in horseplanes or get operations from horse surgeons.

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A Day At The Farm

First, if you didn't already catch it on Eventing Nation, I MUST share the utter brilliance fellow blogger Anastasia posted over at Team Taco!

The Five Stages Of Lameness

I think I am working my way through "depression" and on to "acceptance."  Well, if it's been a good day, LOL -- that means I'm almost to the part where the horse is healed, right???

Because today was a good day.  Well, it didn't start out that way, but it improved!  It was a beautiful summer day, the kind you don't think can happen in the Carolinas, with a perfect breeze and a marked absence of marrow-roasting heat.  Between hoofbeats, I caught the strange, heady scent of ripe, sun-warmed tobacco leaves as we trotted between the carefully planted rows of deep green.  Even the squirrels moved slowly, as if they to were trying to savor this unlikely weather.

Moxie and Danny:  Did you see that?

Tigger

Solo:  Grazing time's a-wastin'.

Nom.

Things IN the barn were not quite so peaceful. The yearly crop of barn swallows has nearly molted out and were demanding their insect lunches. As they perched precariously on nest and rafter edges, I warned sternly of the feline danger that lurked below. Kids. They never listen.

Nest mothers take a break for gossip.

PUT FUDS IN MAH BELLIEZ!!!!

We no skeered.  No need parentz.

I dunno, man, it's a long way down.

Yeah.  Like, really far.  And...and...cat?

If catz, he comez, I PECKZ himz.

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Lessons From Dr. Bob, Vol. 38

I don't know how many ways it is possible to say "I LOVE DR. BOB."  I mean, my plan is to lure him into a stall and then lock him up so he can never leave.  He can reside there and just impart his seemingly endless stream of knowledge through the bars.  He can have all the fresh carrots from the garden he wants.

That man can tell you more about your horse using his eyes and his hands and a lifetime of horse care than most vets I've seen can with bone scans, MRIs, ultrasounds, nerve blocks, and blah blah blah. AND he stays up to date. I'll be all smart and say, "Hey, I just read about this cool study online..." and he'll come right back with the history leading up to the study, the complications with it, whether or not the results are any good, and situations where it would be applicable. Priceless, he is priceless and if I ever have to move, I'm kidnapping him at hoofpick-point. Too bad other clients, Solo trumps you all!

The POINT of my unadulterated worship is yet another conversation we had today about Solo. I have been dutifully massaging the Orange Butt and a funny thing happened: I would start at the top of his hips near his spine and work down the gluteus muscles (the top pink butt muscles on the right) to where they join the head of the femur. I found knots to work on, but not overwhelming pain. But then I would work back UP the same muscle, bottom up to spine, and Solo's leg would twitch and buckle like crazy. I quickly surmised it caused agonizing pain.

Well, science girl chirped into my head and said, "Wait, you have no control variable!" So I tried it on Solo's pasturemate, Pete. Similar response. Hmmm.

Dr. Bob: "Yep, if you go down the muscle, you are massaging correctly. Going back up, against the 'grain,' you are pinching nerves and pinching muscle fibres against bone, so they don't like it that much and if you really go for it, you can damage nerves."

He then followed up with a scientific discussion of the intersection of acupuncture, physiology, and 3000 years of muscle work.

So, my horse is not in agonizing, leg-buckling pain after all. I was just doing it wrong.

Thank you, Horse Master, good to know!

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Brain Drool

Broken horses leave far too much time for thinking.

I pace the barn aisle restlessly, wondering what my options are. My crazy addiction to the pursuit of this sport is unrelenting, but like many others at the moment, my wounded partner cannot oblige my goals.

I hold desperately to the hope that he can come back for fall, although I have no guarantees that that will actually happen. If he does come back, then what? Can he actually make it to my goal of a Training 3-Day? I don't know. We will certainly try but it will not be easy for him. I kick myself for not knowing 5 years ago what I know now -- had I started this journey then, oh, how I might have defeated the enemy of time while my horse was a little bit younger.

I have to accept that my horse is probably limiting me. I know that I have the desire and the ability to achieve my goal and then some, but because my horse always comes first, I have to move at his pace. Which right now is practically zero.

In some fantasy world, the solution would be simple -- pick up a CANTER horse (heck, I've already got three picked out that I'd throw in a trailer today) and start bringing it along as The Next Horse. Problem: I could probably buy it, but I sure as heck can't board it as I'm pretty sure BO does not offer "two-for-the-price-of-one" sales. I only have enough quarters to keep Solo in housing and rice bran.

For some, this would probably be a quick solve -- sell Solo, buy prospect. But I can't do it. In so many ways that I cannot elucidate, the Orange Beast is uniquely in-disposable. I still remember the change when Mr. I Don't Really Trust People placed his faith in me at last and that is an agreement I cannot betray. I feel that I owe him a safe future. Not that this couldn't happen with someone else, maybe it could, but until I could guarantee that, I am not releasing him to the winds of fate. I guess that makes me a Rider Committed To Horse instead of a Rider Committed To Sport. Each has its tradeoffs, I suppose.

Which leaves me back at stuck. Anyone want to be an owner, I'll take your horse to 3-Day stardom, LOL?

Solo has taught me an immeasurable volume of lessons which I actually am SO excited to apply to another horse but I do not begrudge him one second of massages or handgrazing and I enjoy spending the time with him as he rests his nose on my knee. I generally don't ride much in July and August anyway -- it's just too damn hot for woman or beast, so in all honesty, we're not missing out on much as long as I can hold SOME condition on him.

Yes, those echoes you hear are just a brain spinning itself dizzy in hypotheticals and dead-ends. Keep a rider out of the saddle too long and she starts to go crazy(er).

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