Ledger pranced past the vetting area with arched neck and flagging tail. He was boiling to let loose. I wouldn’t have put it past him to buck. One-rein stops had held him back several times in the last two minutes.
Let’s race!
Storm clouds rose, steely and menacing, from their crouch on the horizon. A tide of dust swirled from stamping hooves. Ledger fussed beneath the stethoscope of a blessedly patient vet, trotted out clean, and was pronounced fit to continue.
Alas, we were at the finish.
Had it not been for the incoming storm, with its plummeting temperature and icy rain, I’d have saddled him back up for a post-LD education in the art and science of You Never Know How Far We’re Going to Go, Buddy.
As it was, I contented myself with the incomplete, but significant, progress we’d made over the day’s 25 miles at Owhyee Tough Sucker.
Signing up for the Limited Distance ride, instead of the 50, was a difficult choice. Ledger has felt strong on our conditioning rides. We’ve put in about 20 miles per week, split into two rides, since early February. If he had ended last season 50-mile fit, I probably would have gone for it. As it was, I decided to err on the safe side.
So, we enjoyed a lazy morning (as race days go) before a 9:00 a.m. start. I had plenty of time for groundwork, which felt largely unnecessary. Ledger didn’t fuss when the 50-milers left, and he remained mellow as LD riders began swirling around the starting line.
I shrugged and hopped on as the front runners hit the trail. We followed, walking on a loose rein. The ribbons led us along a fenceline for a couple hundred feet, then passed through a gate and did a 180 onto a singletrack into the hills. A truck and trailer rattled through the gate right after us, and BAM!
Ledger lost it.
I already had him curled into a circle when he tried to run. Next, he thought about bucking, but I was already off and working him in figure 8’s.
The “scary” truck wasn’t the issue; it was just an excuse. I’d spent the night before rehearsing my plan for the likelihood of fireworks at the start. This was only Ledger’s 4th ride, but his M.O. seems to be to remain calm and rational right up until he sets foot on the open trail. Then, all bets are off.
I knew I’d have three options: 1) I could let him blast up the trail at a million mph; 2) I could fight with him from the saddle; or 3) I could have a conversation with him from the ground.
I dismissed Option 1 as too dangerous for both of us (he tends to forget about little things like footing when in locomotive mode), not to mention other riders. Option 2 also felt risky, in light of how explosive he can be when he’s wound up like this.
That left Option 3, and I had a plan.
I secured the loop rein of my mecate to keep it out of the way, then used the long line to work him using an exercise that he knows well. At first, he charged around the pattern, utterly unhinged, even double-barreling the sky at one point.
I just kept him moving, matter-of-fact. Soon, I was able to walk steadily along the trail while asking him to do a figure-8 pattern in front of me. The singletrack through sagebrush kept this interesting, because I had to direct him between and around bushes as space permitted. When other horses needed by, we simply moved off to the side and did a bit of lunging with direction changes.
Here’s the important thing: My goal was not to tire Ledger out (best of luck, sister!), nor to punish him, nor to distract him until the other horses trotted out of sight and mind.
My goal was to get him listening, thinking, and responding to me rather than simply reacting like the strong, emotional horse he is.
So I hiked, and Ledger trotted figure-eights, uphill and down. Whenever he agreed to walk calmly beside me, I let him do so. The moment he jigged, we went right back to figure-eights.
People, we did this for miles.
I wish I’d started my Garmin watch to know for sure, but I’m guessing we covered four or five miles before Ledger was finally, consistently thinking. He definitely wasn’t tired. He definitely still wanted to go go go. But, he was thinking.
Could I have gotten on sooner? Definitely. But getting on wasn’t the goal. I wanted to get his mind right.
At last, I mounted up and we walked a bit before I let him trot. He wanted to fly, but responded to moderate rein pressure. With an occasional half-halt to curb his enthusiasm, we found a pace we could agree on: an extended, but not insane, trot.
Meanwhile, other teams were already around the lollipop part of the trail and coming back along the “stick.” This meant they were headed straight at us in some places, or in our direction but on a parallel trail well within view. I actually dismounted for the first group of riders, out of concern that Ledger would flip his lid again, but he only seemed mildly confused.
At that point, we could see several other teams at various points along the trail – some going the same direction, others opposite. It was actually pretty funny to watch Ledger try to figure this out. And, what a great training opportunity!
The passing horses didn’t upset Ledger. All he wanted was to move out, in whatever direction I pointed him.
Unfortunately, all that enthusiastic trotting was making his front boots twist. I watched them over his shoulders until finally I felt I just had to fix them. I got them re-set and was about to mount back up when one of the horses about a quarter mile ahead caught my eye. It seemed to be circling around, leaping up and down…
Oh, crap. It was a stallion that had dumped his rider near the start. I didn’t see that wreck, but a passing rider had told me about it. Apparently, the stallion been interested in fighting with that rider’s gelding. Eek!
I decided to stay on the ground as the now-riderless stallion ran in a few circles, evading capture, then galloped straight toward us. Thankfully, he stopped a few yards away, snorting and blowing. I talked to him and turned my body at an angle so as not to make him feel chased. He decided to stay near me and Ledger long enough for his rider to get ahold of his rein. Whew.
They both seemed okay, so I told the rider that Ledger and I would try to get ahead and stay out of their hair. Although leapfrogging on the trail is sometimes unavoidable, I know how annoying it can be when you’re dealing with a challenging horse. I didn’t want to be “that guy” if I could help it.
Buuuut, we didn’t get far.
Not a half mile along, we came upon a group of four riders, one of whom was struggling to mount her mare. Every time she tried, the saddle rolled. They asked me to hold the mare, which I did, but that plan ultimately failed. Between Ledger (impatient) and the mare (squirmy) and the saddle (slipping), it just wasn’t going to happen.
Yet another group came along and a rider with a calm horse took over holding duty. Not wanting to be in a large group when the rider climbed astride, I asked if they’d mind if Ledger and I moved on. “No problem,” they said, so off we went.
Free of the hullabaloo and having enjoyed a rest (albeit an unnecessarily one), Ledger was ready to rock and roll. He powered around the lollipop and back to the shared trail. Now we were on the same page! Back on our usual loose rein, responding to light cues, this was Ledger at his best.
We continued to encounter riders going in all directions. Ledger scarcely batted an eye about them. He was on a mission. I stood in the stirrups for miles, letting his huge trot bound beneath me.
Only when we topped a little rise and he realized we were back to camp did his crazy brain return. He wanted to charge in like a barrel horse from the gate, and I had to bend him around several times to stop him from doing exactly that. When I dismounted to lead him the last few hundred feet, he conceded to walk, but he was in quite a mood.
If I were to anthropomorphize, I’d say he was thoroughly pissed off about being prevented from galloping like a maniac all morning.
This, for a horse like Ledger, is the downside of short rides. He could really use the wake-up call that comes with discovering there are a whole lot of miles left to go. The sooner I can have him ready for multi-days or a 100, the better it’ll be for his mind…but, obviously, that mind has to reside in a body that’s properly prepared.
The moderate morning wind had escalated significantly. Dust particles stung our eyes as we vetted through (all A’s) and hustled to the trailer for a 30-minute hold. I stripped off layers, sweaty from hard riding, and scarfed a UCAN bar while Ledger ate beet pulp. Then, I pulled the comfort pads out of his boots in the hope of reducing the twisting problem.
As the clock ticked down, I got myself back into my layers and Ledger back into his bridle. We left the hold a few minutes late, which is rare for me, but it didn’t really matter. Our day was all about training.
Speaking of which, we had a repeat of the morning’s performance on our way out of camp. Ledger wanted to race out of control, so I resumed hiking while he trotted figure-eights. This time, it only took a half-mile of that before his brain rebooted. I mounted up, walked him for a bit, then we set off properly.
The wind was really whipping now, with the kind of gusts that feel like a shove to your chest. Ledger powered happily along, seemingly delighted to have an endless desert all to himself. When we hit the far end of the loop and I steered him toward home, he actually resisted. Can’t we keep going? Maybe he was confused.
After a minor protest, he agreed to trot the direction I requested. The remaining miles flashed by, all windswept sage and smiles. He didn’t want to slow down as we approached camp, but reluctantly agreed to downshift to a dressage-y trot, and finally a walk. Thank the stars for small miracles.
His heart rate was down when we hit the pulsing area. We pulled tack and vetted through with all A’s…except that I’d give him a D for behavior. Standing still was not on his agenda. He wanted to squirm, roll, rub, anything but stand like a gentleman.
I was very grateful for an understanding vet, who has met Ledger before and knows he improves quickly with experience. At least he trotted out like he hadn’t gone a mile, let alone 25. Fit to continue, and then some!
Coolers, hay, mash, and water for him. Hot LMNT electrolytes for me.
The storm rose and the temperature dropped. I got a rain sheet on Ledger just as graupel pelted from the sky. Trailers began pulling out of camp, their mud-spattered occupants waving enthusiastic see-you-soons.
And so we will! The next ride is only three weeks away.
I’m sure the next one – and likely several more – will also represent high-energy adventures in training. I would do that training other times, of course, if only I could replicate the behavior outside the race environment.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), Ledger’s explosiveness rarely comes out except at rides. The vast majority of the time, we ride on a loop rein at all gaits in all locations.
The best I can do between events is train for a toolkit so we have automatic responses (like one-rein stops) and familiar exercises (like figure-eights) ready when needed. That, and lots of wet saddle blankets.
Ledger, dear boy…I feel a 50 coming on…
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great for you and your persistence at using everything as a training opportunity! I always say, it’s ten times easier to work on getting things right in the beginning than to correct bad things after they are a habit. one day you will have a calmer horse and it will be fun not work. it will all pay off!!!!!
Thank you!! We’ll keep working on it…and he’ll get there. 🙂 It was great to see you!
I so needed to read this!! Thank you for putting some tool thoughts in my tool box, I have been struggling with Tango and I will try this at our next outing. She has been doing amazing then seemed to loose her mind! Back to the basics!! Thank you again for sharing!!!
I’m glad it was helpful! You know these endurance horses…the good kind of tough and the difficult kind of tough often come in the same package!