My training for Race The Wild Coast takes a devastating turn when I am not able to complete my first 50-mile race of the season.

This past Saturday, April 17th, I had a very devastating endurance race experience.

I’d been looking forward to this weekend since the end of March when I decided I was ready for another 50-mile race. I had ridden this particular mare, Lily, the last weekend of March and then her owner rode her in the 50 at Foxcatcher at Fair Hill International April 3rd. She had the two weeks following that race off, and then I was to ride her this past weekend at the No Frills 55-mile race in Star Tannery, VA.

All was well the night before the race- Lily vetted in great and appeared calmly anticipatory for the next day’s race. A new friend of mine, Monika, was riding one of Lily’s owner’s other horses, Bakari, with us for the race. We did a brief pre-ride late Friday evening, and then settled in for what promised to be a very chilly night. Early the next morning, we tacked up, gave electrolytes, and headed over to warm up before the race started at 7am. We were walking around to get chilly muscles warmed up and then the countdown came, “Race is starting in 3…2…1…go”

Off we trotted with Monika and Bakari. We were up somewhere near the head of the pack, and both horses were going strong. The more we got going, the more Bakari got into her racing mindset- Bakari has a ground-eating trot, and Lily is a bit slower so she kept breaking into the canter to keep up. I knew we were going a little too fast, but it was no faster of a pace than these horses were used to- I just wanted to slow down to conserve energy because No Frills takes place in a very mountainous region and we had a lot of hills to climb up ahead of us. About 20 minutes in, I was calling to Monika to slow down so Lily didn’t have to push to keep up. Lily had started to sweat all of a sudden, which made me acutely aware that we really needed to slow down. Another mile was our first turn onto the trails- we’d been on the gravel road up until now- and that was when Lily stopped and hesitated. I felt her shaking and my heart sank. I turned around to look at her flank and sure enough, I saw the dreaded trembling in her muscles. Lily was tying up. I hopped off and told Monica that we were done, but to go on and finish the race without us.

I looked at my phone- we were only 30 minutes in to the race and had gone barely 5 miles. I had phone signal so I was able to call back to camp to get a trailer up to bring Lily back. Having signal was blessing number one, as many other riders didn’t have signal there. The other blessing was that it hadn’t happened in the middle of the rocky trail- we were still on the road and were in a great place for a trailer to come and get her. I am thankful for that. We calmly watched the others pass by us and waited for our trailer to arrive.

If you know me, you know I take great care of the animals in my company. I will take care of a horse I am riding like it was my own. If you know me really well, you will know that I chronically blame myself when things go wrong. And so, I have spent the last two days since the race in great mental agony- Did I push her too hard too fast? Did I not give her enough of a warm-up? Should I have ridden her more the night before to get her used to the hilly trails? Many things could have caused this, and I’m not sure we could have gotten through the race without this happening, especially since she struggled so much so early into the race. I think Lily’s plight happened due to a combination of things rather than any one thing- She had had 2 weeks off after her last 50 (which was on much flatter, easier terrain) and had easy access to rich spring grass- the sugars could have been wreaking havoc on her body. She was also likely dehydrated, not having drank much, if anything at all, the night before or the morning of the race. Monica and Bakari successfully finished the race- Bakari and Lily were both of the same fitness level, but Bakari has been exercised consistently over the last few weeks, so perhaps that had something to do with it.

To say I am devastated is an understatement. Besides the self-blame I feel, I am also incredibly worried about what this might mean for my training season for Race The Wild Coast. We don’t have many races in Virginia this summer and I am worried that I will not have a chance to get another race in before I leave for South Africa. At night I have additional nighttime worries- you know the type, the ones that come when it is dark and you don’t have the protection of things occupying your mind during the day to keep them at bay so you toss and turn instead of falling asleep- that maybe no one will let me ride their horse at another race. I mean, who gets their horse pulled from the race 30 minutes in?!? I take great care of my horses (my own as well as those I ride who are not mine), and so my rational mind knows that sometimes things like this happen when all the conditions line up just perfectly, but my irrational mind still likes to lay the blame on thickly. I will take my lessons learned from this experience with me to the next ride and the next event. While I knew what tying up looked like, I had not yet had it happen to a horse I was riding so the experience was brand new to me. Now I know exactly what to do in this situation if it occurs in the future, and how to minimize it happening.

I have 6 months ahead of me before I go to South Africa, so anything can happen in between now and then. But this was a crushing blow-and an expensive one at that- and so my little heart is feeling the squeeze of anxiety.

It was June 2019 when I decided to sign up for an old college friend’s endurance riding bootcamp, which was being offered in April 2020. At that point, I hadn’t ridden over 7 miles, let alone even consider participating in an endurance race, but I had a dream seeded in my heart that I could be an endurance rider. So naturally, after signing up for the bootcamp, I decided to to also sign up for the race that this whole blog is all about- Race The Wild Coast. I took the plunge and threw in my deposit fee for Race The Wild Coast 2020, sending in my entry in late 2019.

When COVID started becoming a driving influence in our collective global lives, I still had to push ahead with training, with the assumption that both the bootcamp and RTWC were both still going to take place. Eventually, the bootcamp was decided to be postponed until the following year (2021), but the race itself was still in a place of uncertainty.

Because I was still assuming that the race would take place, either as planned or postponed, I inquired about moving ahead with the bootcamp, but on my own instead of as part of a group as originally planned. The response from my friend was a huge “Absolutely!”

So I ended up travelling to California for a week in April despite the current conditions of the world in order to benefit from the incredible knowledge that my friend had to offer.

What was originally supposed to be a week spent in and out of the saddle with two other riders preparing for their own adventure endurance race ended up just being me. What I took away from that week deserves its own post, however, the effects from that week are STILL settling within my soul, nearly one year later, and so I have still not written about it (and in fact may never write about it).

Eventually, the coordinators of RTWC decided to postpone the October 2020 race until June 2021, so I continued training with the help of some local endurance riding friends and finally had an opportunity to ride in my first 50 mile endurance race last fall.

Last week, I received an email stating that the 2020 race has officially been cancelled, but we were all invited to roll our entries into the 2021 race, to be held in the race’s normal timeframe in October. Because 2020 affected me the way it affected nearly everyone else on the planet (in short- I dealt with depression, fear, uncertainty, and had nearly imperceptible levels of personal or professional creative output), I have over the last several months experienced significant changes with how I viewed my decision to participate in this adventure race (ranging from “WTF am I doing”, to “I’m going to kick ass in that race”).

I originally signed up for this race because I felt I had something to prove- that I AM capable to doing what it takes to compete in an event of this caliber. Throughout my life, I’ve dealt with feelings of chronic emotional and spiritual brokenness that have led me to become intimately familiar with feelings of incompetence and worthlessness. I sought this experience as a way to prove to myself that I am competent and capable and worthy. The interesting thing is, based on conversations I’ve had with other competitors in Race the Wild Coast and other adventure races, the need to PROVE SOMETHING is a common motivator for people to sign on to these races. So, I found myself in good company.

When the 2020 race was officially cancelled, I inquired about withdrawing my entry. The toll of 2020 and early 2021 was heavy, as it was for many, and I found myself staring down the most enormous pile of debt I’d ever incurred (I’d paid the full race entry fee on credit card, bought an unforeseeably expensive house, had some expensive “life happens” moments, and so on and so forth). Adding to that pile, I’d also made the decision to purchase my flight because I had, most erroneously, assumed that we would be able to compete in the race in June, and the cost to change my flight put me into a despairing mood. Hindsight, as they say….

After a week of deliberating, a decision was made by the race coordinators to honor withdrawals, but not at full entry fee- all could be refunded except the deposit. I found this decision to be completely fair and honorable, and with the deposit being a significant portion of the overall cost, I choose not to withdraw my entry. I bow my head to the knowledge that I have deliberately chosen each and every step that has brought me here. The only step that I look at a bit wryly is the one to purchase my flight without having the weight of a final “Yes the race will officially take place in June” behind my purchase. I find myself now not in a feeling of despair, or upset, or fear. I find myself feeling some relief- the decision is out of my hands, and I must do as we all do, which is to move ahead with our lives making good on the decisions and actions that we make. So, I look forward to hopefully, finally, be racing along South Africa’s wild coast on horseback this October.

Has it really been nearly one year since I made my last post?

I have truly one thing to blame for my lack of posting training updates here, COVID. Because of COVID, the race itself became a thing of uncertainty. That doesn’t mean I stopped training, far from it. During the time between my last post and this one, so much has happened:

1. I competed in my first-ever 50-mile endurance race

2. Sold the townhouse we bought when we moved to NOVA in late 2019 and bought a small farm with the sweetest 4 acres you’ve ever seen

3. Adopted a 1.5 year old filly who I’ve since named Josie

So, with all this excitement, why did I suddenly stop writing? I honestly just lost my creative mojo.

Over the last year, I’ve dealt with some of the worst anxiety I have ever experienced. I have always dealt with anxiety and depression, but they’ve never stalled my creativity before. So this inability to write or create ANYTHING was, and remains, a puzzle to me. Suddenly, sitting down at the computer to write even a simple poem became unbearably difficult. The words were there- I’ve composed dozens of poems, essays, even emails to friends, while driving in the car or showering or walking in the woods. But every time I sat at the computer to breathe life into those words, the words just wouldn’t come. My attention span has shortened as well as my ability to focus on a project for more than a few minutes at a time.

Race The Wild Coast is still set to take place. Originally supposed to happen in October 2020, it is now set for June 2021. I’m still expecting the race to be delayed further, but I am continuing to train the best I’m able to, between house/barn/horse projects. So, stick with me as I continue to lure my creativity back into cohabitating with my anxiety. Life is, and continues to be, a blessing.

Sometimes, relationships can take awhile before you finally feel its roots set firmly into the soil you’ve cultivated. I knew my relationship with Tara was going to blossom, and 5 years, 3 states, and multiple joys and frustrations later, I can finally inhale the sweet aroma of the fragrant blossoming.

The game-changer for our long-awaited success is attributed to a special piece of riding gear, the LG bitless bridle, pictured above modeled by none other than Tara herself. I bought it years ago, used it once on my old gelding Tanner, but didn’t see anything special about it so I left it to collect dust in a corner of my tackbox.

With Tara, I’d always used a good-old fashioned french link bit. When she first came to be a part of my horse herd, Tara would throw her head up whenever I asked her to accept the bit, and while I eventually taught her to stand still for tacking up, she would still quiver in place and gave the bit the stink eye. Riding her was a mess- any sensation at all on her sides and she’d scoot forward. To avoid ruining any good progress, I sent her to a friend and respected trainer for 30 days of training. She came back from that markedly improved, and she never put up a fuss accepting the bit after that.

Tara has always had very good mind (even when nervous, she never gave me cause to think I was in any danger at all, whether in the saddle or on the ground) and is very forward and appreciatively brave, mostly. Although sometimes, even after years spent with me slowly working with her, she would get all up in her head and try to bully her way through the bit, heedless of my requests to slow down and THINK. A few weeks ago, the vet who floated her teeth pointed out something I’d never had pointed out before- she had a big scar across her tongue, right where the bit sits. Since she was a kill-pen rescue and clearly had some major trauma when she came to me, it’s impossible to know everything she was exposed to by whomever abused her. Because she gave me some grief under saddle that appeared to be related to my cues with the rein aid, I suspected she had some negative associations with bits. Other riders insisted I needed a stronger bit, but that felt like the wrong move so I kept riding with both a french-link and a simple snaffle while remaining puzzled as to how to move past this issue. After the scar was pointed out, my suspicions intensified and I wondered if she had some PTSD-type issues related to the bit and my asking her to stop overreacting and get out of her head and back into her body was leading to some trauma-related antics. So, I busted the LG bitless bridle out and it appears that my suspicions were correct. She’s much more responsive and calm, and I’m seeing a new side of her beautiful spirit, and I’m just falling in love all over again. We even had our first off-farm ride EVER (not having a trailer kept us isolated to whatever trails and riding opportunities were available at our boarding facility), and after 10.5 miles of a purely joyful ride, I think I can say I found one of the keys to giving her a more positive experience.

I have always been 100% focused on giving her a training experience that is healthy, happy, and rewarding for us both. But now, I feel confident for the first time in our 5 years together that we have crested a big mountain and I can now see the breath-taking possibilities that lie ahead.

For a few weeks, I thought seriously about giving up. Not because I thought I couldn’t do it. I knew I was capable of gaining the skills needed to compete in this race. What had me feeling like I needed to look at doing this race another year was a lack of training resources.

I moved to northern Virginia a few weeks after I’d sent in my deposit to claim my spot in the race. Heavy research showed that there was a healthy population of endurance riders near the place I was going to move to, so I was excited about the move.

After a few weeks of a lesson program out of my price range just so I could get my butt in a saddle, I started reaching out on local horse-based Facebooks groups. “If anyone here needs someone to ride with, I’m training for this crazy race taking place in October and need some riding buddies who have horses needing to be exercised.”

People would comment or message, but nothing would ever come of it. Plans to ride would be made and cancelled, or we would have a conversation about getting together to ride but nothing would come of it.

Until 3 weeks ago.

Three weeks ago, I got my first taste of long-distance training on a 20 -mile training ride up and down a small mountain. And I got off my borrowed horse after that ride with a feeling like I could have ridden all day, although the brutal cold was making its case against me. Two weeks after that ride, I went on a 16-mile ride with another new friend.

And now, I feel my hope renewed. As one of the girls put it, “if you can do 20 miles, you can do 50”. And if I can do 50, I can do 100. And if I can do 100, then I can surely ride for 5 days over the course of 370km (230 miles). Right??

New life has been breathed into my endeavor and I am ready to fill the next few months will more training.

Training Begins Now.