The Last Loop

You have ridden 45 miles together the four of you, you and your horse, her and hers. The last loop is heavy on your mind, only (ONLY?) five more miles. Watching the clock, you carefully check your tack. Is the saddle pad in the right place, check the girth, not too tight, not too loose, yes... you gave him electrolytes, pull his nose out of the haybag, bridle, check, check, check, everything looks right. Sponge and bag are fastened to the saddle, almost time to go. Mount up, trot over to the tank and offer him more water. He feels good, his trot is strong and solid. He is relaxed and alert. Of course he won't drink, but you know he had plenty out of the bucket at the trailer. Pinch his neck, hydration looks good and you ask one of the P/R crew to count his pulse, you can tell by watching his nostrils and flanks that his respiration is normal. Pleased with a low heart rate, you sponge some water on his neck and shoulders. Asking the timer "how much longer?", you get back in the saddle and start walking around.

"One minute" comes the call. The vet watches his trot and nods an OK. The leader leaves at a run, flying out of camp, your nerves are on end, this is a long minute, a very long minute. He is fighting with you, wanting to go, not to let his buddy get very far ahead. "You're Out" says the timer and you release your hold on the reins. Eager to catch the tail that just disappeared into the trees, your teammate lunges forward into a strong lope.

Moving right along, always looking and listening and checking. He is starting to work at the pace and you look over, the other horse looks good, but not great, they both need a drink and to be sponged. Here is a little running creek. This last loop is getting shorter, and the excitement is growing. Although friends, and keeping well within the limits of the horses' health, you are both competitive and truly enjoy the 'race'. Each horse takes a long drink and you dip your sponge, squeezing the water over his neck and behind his ears. They are both hot. Pulse and respiration rates are high, but not dangerous. Time to finish this. Leaping up the bank, you pick up a strong trot and evaluate your horse, again, always, still looking good, feeling good, moving strong. The problem (for you) is that her horse looks just as good and is carrying a lighter rider. You move from a trot to an easy lope, she stays with you. As the trail begins to narrow, she nudges her companion forward and they manage to slip in front.

Still increasing speed, you weave in and out of the trees, following the tail, following the narrow path, faster and even faster. Down the trail you see a group of riders moving at an easy pace "TRAIL TRAIL" you call, slowing your gallop to pass as they slip off the trail, cheering and shouting encouragement even while they fight their horses to keep them from joining the mad race. Less than a mile from camp, moving at a hand gallop. He is tired, you should pull up, let the better(?) horse win. He has gone too far and worked too hard to ask him to slow down this close to the finish. You hear his great blowing breaths, feel his muscles straining, he is drenched in sweat, so are you, but his ears are up, he is looking forward, looking toward the finish line. The narrow trail ends abruptly, opening into a pasture, halfway across the pasture stretches the finish line.

You are so doubtful, he is so tired, the pasture slopes downhill, the ground is uneven. A fall at this speed is unthinkable, this has been a good ride, a close second is commendable. At this instant, you friend breaks from the trees at a dead run and you know in your heart that you must race. You can't give it away.

In the next instant you clear the trees and ask for everything he has left. "What?" he says, as in the third instant you realize that you have neglected a crucial bit of training. How many hundred miles have these four legs have been kept to a steady, if fast, pace. Suddenly, the idea sinks in. He leaps into full gear, mind and body forgetting the last 49 3/4 miles as he doubles speed at every stride, gaining, closer and closer, drawing even, veering to the right - WHAT - as he spots the truck and trailer on the far side of camp. Ever increasing speed and creating a wide V, he passes the right edge of the finish, just as they run across it.