Hope Horsemanship

Tag: endurance

  • The Ride I Quit Four Times Before Crossing the Finish Line

    The Ride I Quit Four Times Before Crossing the Finish Line

    Last week Khaleesi and I packed up and checked in at the American Endurance Ride Conference National Championship 100 mile (single-day) Endurance Ride. We hadn’t attempted a 100 since our overtime pull last July in Vermont that closed out our Recorder series for 2025. For those of you who followed that story and the tragic broken saddle that cost us a finish, this is a follow up.

    Screenshot

    They say there can be no resurrection without a death. Well call me Lazarus, because I died 4 times and was brought back over the weekend by a team of people who simply did not give me a reason to stay in the grave I’d dug out of the rocky ground of the Old Dominion 100 mile equine endurance race. 

    My 2025 ride season held high hopes and hard work. After getting knocked around more than usual, I came into the 2026 season with less confidence. Each ride was a test run to see what we had to move forward with. The early training and competitions were looking strong, and after a top 5 finish with a High Vet Score award at the Biltmore 55 mile race, I made the call to take a bigger risk: Enter Khaleesi into the National Championship 100 mile distance to see if we could make it through that grueling ride one more time. The “local” course, nicknamed the Beast of the East, is a 100 we had successfully completed in 2023, and because it was a championship ride it felt like a risk-reward worth the stretch. 

    I have what our sport calls a ‘non-typical’ endurance horse. She was born locally on Apple Horse Farm as a Saddlebred, Racking horse, TN Walker with a sliver of Arab that rarely shows up for me. On the flip side, she is mentally solid as a rock and though she’s not hot with speed, she has grit and has a reputation of getting it done, even if it ain’t always pretty.

    5:30am Crossing the Start Line (Photo: Becky Pearman)

    We crossed the starting line for this monster undertaking at 5:30am knowing it was likely we wouldn’t be back to cross the finish until after 5am the next day- if we made it to the finish line at all. There were 23 total riders on the 100 mile course that day, and only 15 would finish.  

    The course is a huge oval shaped loop out of Oarkney Springs, VA that takes the riders over and along the spines bordering Virginia and West Virginia in incredibly remote territory with almost no cellular coverage. The first two segments went surprisingly well and Khaleesi had powered up the 5,300 feet of elevation in the first 30 miles moving along with the front half in the cooler morning hours. It was on the way to ‘Bucktail’ (third vet hold) where, while walking over some rocks in a muddy, dry creek segment, stepped down into some kind of dip or hole-  way deeper than expected. The horse buckled at the knees and went down in the rocks on her front legs. I was caught unprepared and summersaulted right over her head into the rocks myself. I was more grateful for my helmet than ever as I realized I smashed my (protected) head on a rock. I got up with dirt in my mouth & pants, my shirt muddy, branches stuck to my helmet and sore with some serious bruising on my shoulder and left arm, but thankfully nothing serious. 

    Crewless Hold scene at Laurel Run (mid-day) (Photo: Becky Pearman)

    Riding alone in the heat of the afternoon, we were both getting tired. It sounds lame from my living room days later, but that was the first time I quit.  “Just get into Bucktail and you can give up. You aren’t going to make it all the way. You’re alone, and sore, and your horse is tired. And she can’t keep up with the fast Arabs, and this is not fun at all. You have nothing to prove. Just make it to Bucktail and get a ride back to camp.”

    At least an hour later and miles of trail we finally came to the third vet hold of the day to meet my crew for the first time since around 9am (the second vet hold is not accessible to crew). My crew was my lifeline and they have the thankless job of “hurry up and wait” as they pack the truck, drive to the next checkpoint, unpack the truck, wait and wonder when their rider will emerge from the woods. When the rider does appear everything goes into a frenzy of pulling the saddle off the horse, sponging her with cold water to cool her down for her vet exam, helping the hot exhausted rider with whatever was needed, helping the horse and rider through the vet exam, making sure the horse and human eat and drink and get resupplied for the next section of trail (including getting glow sticks and headlamps ready at the right time as we go into the dark), then get the saddle back on and the rider out on time for the next segment. Rinse and repeat. 

    Waiting for vet check with my crew at Bucktail

    My crew had a lot of grace with me because I was grumpy and sore and tired and wanted to bail. Matt said he never knew me to go so negative and hopeless! However, the horse was still healthy and good to go, and who cares about the human anyway. Basically after all that business, they did their job of basically duct-taping me to the horse and wave me onward.

    After being around humans, collecting myself, and being encouraged that we were actually only a few minutes behind the other riders I’d been riding with on and off, and there were still riders behind us, I came back to life and agreed to go back out to the hardest part of the course. The fourth segment is 24 miles before we reconnect with crew though we do have a kind of pit stop for 10 minutes where the vets check in on us part way through. This part of the trail has the infamous “Mail Trail” which is said to have been part of the mail route by horseback at some point in non-recent history. It’s a brutal never ending rocky climb and a descent that is just as rough because the rocks are relentless and even downhill it’s slow going. 

    My horse was slow after leaving the check. Tired and hot and alone and sick of trotting over rocks I labored to keep her at a decent pace. Once again I set my mind on the next stop- our little check in with the vets which was only 8 miles out. We did finally arrive and I was refreshed with some cold water but noticed my horse did not drink there… or at the stream we stopped to sponge in right before the checkpoint (this is not a good sign, but not clearly a bad one either). I gave her the electrolytes I was carrying for her, and with the encouragement from the vet Art King I headed back out into the wilderness. “Jaime, do you know what you’re facing next? And you’re starting to push the cutoff times…” 

    “Yes Art, I know. Thanks.” I replied with some amount of resolve.

    We trotted out with a ‘good to go’ from the vets which took us to the 5 miles of good terrain until the Mail Trail climb I was dreading. Hot, alone, and now probably thirsty, we trotted… but it was too slow, and she was not to be prodded any faster. This was a section we needed to use the good grassy road to move on and make up some time. Khaleesi was eating everything in sight and though that’s great, it also made for tons of stopping and I was gradually losing heart again. 

    When the last of the riders that had been behind us passed by at a nice trot, and my horse was clearly checking the dry creek beds for water — not at all interested in trotting along with them, I lost hope. We found a wet spring and went off trail to get a big drink in the woods. When we came back to the road, I quit a second time. I did not want to go through all the miles remaining in the dark alone on a horse that is barely pacing when I push her. We came here to find out if we were ready for this tough grueling ride, and were not. We were alone and left behind. All hope was lost. Yet, we were now half way through this 24 miles and so we had no choice but to go onward to the ‘Big 92’ checkpoint and then we could bail. 

    This was when I got really committed to quitting. It was over. I had made the call. Done. 

    Still, we couldn’t actually just stop there. I had to get serious and insisted: We aren’t going to die here so let’s get this moving! You need to pick it up and I don’t care how tired you are we’re giving it our all to get to Big 92 and then you can quit on me and I’ll quit with you… but until we’re back with our crew and the ride management waiting for the ambulance trailer… you need to get moving!!!!!

    I insisted. And from some depth of her spirit, she responded. 

    And she began to canter and run with new life, and we came around a corner to find the small group that had passed us getting a bite of grass and I was shocked to not be alone. I had already decided we were now alone forever. Apparently this assumption was not true. We were now in motion and that group tucked in behind us. Then, my mountain bred and mountain trained horse did what I had not expected: she took on that Mail Trail like a boss, and climbed it faster by probably double, than the last time we’d done this course. In fact, she even caught up with two more groups of riders and then led the charge down the other side and when we hit the gravel road stretch into Big 92 she took it at trot and full on canter running onward taking us from last place to having a line of 7 riders behind us. 

    The Mail Trail after Khaleesi came back to life

    We had come back to life again. 

    Running victorious into the Big 92 checkpoint at 10:08pm, she pulsed down and was in great shape, but there was a question in her gait and her rider card was held back. This meant they weren’t sure if there was a problem or not and asked us to bring her back part way through the hold time to decide. I was almost relieved! We were probably done now. There are many lameness disqualifications at this rocky and mountainous course, and she had really taken that last loop on fire, not at all carefully as she usually is, and this after a real front end collapse earlier in the rocks. What could one expect?

    Assuming that was going to be game over for us I gave up again. There seemed no way Khaleesi would pass a second check because we didn’t see any problem to resolve like a rock in her shoe, and we had no reason to think she’d be magically better after 30 minutes. 

    But miraculously, she was cleared to go! My crewing buddy, Griffin Keller, handled the trot out, and the horse simply didn’t have enough clear problem to call her lame, even though the vets thought she took some questionable steps .. maybe? So they cleared us to go… and we resurrected for the third time. 

    My sister in action at one of the overnight checkpoints

    It is only 8 miles of gravel road to the next checkpoint at Laurel Run. The segment was the shortest of the entire day and all accessible by road if we had trouble. If she was worse after that stretch, we could pull out at Laurel Run. I kept her at a good trot and was not particularly careful, not to purposefully injure her, but I needed to find out if we truly had a problem before we hit the next (much harder) segment, and end up stranded on the mountain at 3am with a lame, suffering horse. Better to ride hard and see if she is truly good for it or be clear that she is not.

    The last rider and her mustang caught up with us on that stretch and we enjoyed some company for that segment. Khaleesi felt solid trotting along, but she had before to me as well. The Laurel Run trot out lanes are known for picking off horses because they are uneven and rocky, and any small inconsistency is revealed. I felt sure we were not going to be cleared for the 12 miles over the mountain back to the last checkpoint. It was 12:28am and everything seemed to hurt between the fall I took and the accumulating rubs and sore places. We should all be heading to bed, what do we need to prove here? I thought falling into a tent seemed way better than four more hours riding a horse into the dark mountain wilderness.

    In addition, my vet card tells me I arrived at 12:20 and did not vet until 12:28 which is a very long lag time for me. It must have been brain fog, because the horse was at an unreasonably low pulse which means we did not wait because she had any trouble. This was a slight additional problem for me. I arrived with the last rider, but she had cleared the vet 2 minutes before we did. I was dreading the 12 miles through the woods into Bird Haven, alone in the back with a horse that may not be motivated alone. 

    Quitting moment number four came just before 1am.

    My beloved husband who has injuries in both ankles/feet and was walking worse than I was by now, and yet still there carrying me along pulled me aside: Jaime. You did not come all this way, and put all this time into building this horse, and bring us all out here in support of you to quit now. You have 19 miles left. You’re going out there and you’re going to get this done. Your horse is doing great! You can do this. We’re behind you. Get on that horse and we’ll see you at Bird Haven. You are going to see the finish line. And go ask Hannah if she’ll wait for you!

    Obediently, I went to the other rider, Hanna Bartnick, to see if she might wait two minutes so we could take on the next segment together. She said sure thing, no problem, always better to have a buddy. And so resurrection number 4 of the day came to be. I got on the horse to face the last nineteen miles, and we went out together at 12:58am to take on the second to last segment of The Beast. 

    I’m not sure I could have brought myself to go without Hanna. She saved me in the dark hour of the soul, and I owe her one resurrection credit. 

    With cool temps finally descending, and horses headed home, they picked up a strong pace and it was an unexpectedly pleasant ride through the mountain roads and single track trails under the stars. The whippoorwills were singing us along and occasionally we heard an owl. The sky was clear and the air was cool. The horses took turns leading and following, and we made it to the last Bird Haven checkpoint just minutes behind the other riders that were ahead of us well ahead of the cut off time.

    Last Vet Check before the Finish Line. Bird Haven 3:30am.

    This is when I knew we would see the finish line. Heading out at 3:52am, I was much less concerned about passing the final vet for the official “completion” to be bestowed. I had already given up four times! At this point after being awake 24 hours and on a horse over 19 hours, crossing the finish line on the horse felt like a win regardless how we passed the final exam, and we headed out to the final 6 (relatively easy) miles. Hanna preferring a slower pace to be extra careful of potential tripping on rocks and roots costing her a “completion,” sent me onward so Khaleesi could move on with the energy she was pushing, and not drag Aspen (her mustang) into her rushing in the last few precious miles. 

    We weren’t reckless, and Khaleesi doesn’t run excessively over rocks, but we moved onward every chance we had, and when I hit the dirt road one mile from the finish line, mixed emotions of joy, disbelief, and relief washed over me. The sun was peeking  up over the horizon. The lit up runway of the finish line shone bright ahead of us as we approached and heard the cheering of the few people who waited for the last of the riders to make it home. We trotted strong across the finish line around 5:15am.

    Crossing the Finish line just after 5am

    My crew was there to welcome us and Khaleesi vetted immediately with great scores and no questions. We had done it. Even after I tried to quit at least four times, we still saw the finish line. No one would let me give up. Even my horse, who carried me all those miles and looks way better than I do in these recovery days after the race.

    Walking to the vet check after the finish line.

    I knew going into this race, that this was likely the last 100 I ask of Khaleesi. I am impressed and still surprised in many ways by her strength and grit, but I don’t think she loves this level of the sport, and she’s not (in my opinion) fast enough to be a true competitor at the 100mile level. We will probably do some 50s where she does thrive depending on the terrain, and if I have another horse to bring along, I’ll tag along Khaleesi for some shorter limited distance rides to keep her fit. 

    The team after we are awarded a completion.

    Next year she earns us the official decade team award. This is a cherished award that shows a horse has been well managed in what can be a physically punishing sport, to stay sound and healthy over ten years of competition. I would like to have that honor on our record. She’s now 16, in many ways in her prime. But there are other activities I think she enjoys more — we may broaden out to more dressage and play around with jumping for fun. 

    I am pleased with how she’s developed over the years, and for a non-Arab type horse she’s done a lot of successful endurance miles with some strong top ten and even top 5 finishes including a High Vet Score (which is a big honor)! I believe her success been made possible by all the attention I have put into her mental-emotional training. It keeps her out of the habit many hot horses have of running on adrenaline, and I think is a reason she has such remarkable heart rate recoveries, as well as high scores on muscle tone alongside no real lameness issues in years. I have come to see that being in a relaxed and present mental state means a balanced, flexible way of movement. Working under less tension is highly more efficient, and brings less long term injury and stress on the system. 

    Khaleesi in the morning hours of the OD 100 2026 (Photo: Becky Pearman)

    I have plans to begin training and conditioning with an Akhal-Teke gelding owned by the Akhal-Teke Foundation where I currently work with many of the horses at their center in Lexington, VA. We think Surgan has potential to do well and I look forward to seeing how that process goes with him. It’s been a long journey bringing a non-typical horse along in this extreme sport, and I am interested to see if these things I’ve learned over the past decade will benefit a horse that is more hot blooded and naturally athletic in running long miles across terrain. It will be an entirely different entry point for me to start with a hotter minded horse and help him center up mentally and relax into the work for efficiency and strength.  

    Time will tell and I still have a long way to go…

    … but I’m not dead yet!

    Here are some more great photos from the ride:

    Coming into Bird Haven Vet Check (first time, 9am) (Photo: Becky Pearman)
    ]Bird Haven VC 1 (Photo: Becky Pearman)
    Rocky Trail Shot
    Coming into VC 2, Laurel Run (Photo: Becky Pearman)
    Crew hard at work at the Bucktail Vet Check
    Griffin helps vet Khaleesi at the Finish Line
    Khaleesi resting after the Race
    Proof we made it- Championship Buckle
  • Death and Resurrection

    Death and Resurrection

    Everyone dies… but not everyone really lives.

    William Wallace

    As I pondered an appropriate title for this recap I thought it fitting that, on the road to Vermont, my husband stopped to pick up a Garmin Fenix Smartwatch for me as a birthday gift. Next time I might ask if they have a model named: Garmin Victory Lap, or a Garmin Nailed-it…

    Pair of Garmin Fenix Watches

    The Vermont 100 starting line had an eight month lead up from conception to reality — if you don’t count the nine years it took us to crest the first 100 mile finish line in 2023. This was clearly the biggest overall investment in a goal over my decade engaging in equine endurance events. 

    As the event drew near, I realized the larger the investment, the more pressure to produce a favorable outcome builds. What is the point of doing this if it isn’t to ride over the finish line? Most of us know on some level this is not the whole truth. Still, it is a struggle for the goal driven to not only believe there is more to life than a favorable outcome, but to live (and ride) in the peace that larger reality brings.

    I have been binge listening to Jaime & Donna Winship interviews  this year and they have been transformational in my life. The insight and questions have challenged me to up my game when it comes to walking in the truth, and it’s meant being real about what I want to believe, what I know in my head, and what is being lived out in my actions – revealed by my emotional system. I have come to realize, that regardless of what knowledge I have accumulated, my emotional system tells on me, and if I slow down and address it, like it or not, I will find what I really believe, and what I’m actually afraid of.

    I thought the Vermont trip was a test of what my horse was made of, what I was capable of, and if we had what it took to take on an unknown 100 mile ride, and succeed by crossing the finish line. I was probably wrong. 

    As the departure neared it seemed like the resistance grew. Vehicle issues, dog fights, horses escaping in a storm, an entire massive batch of dog food is ruined (this was a huge problem actually!), then bad traffic on our first day of travel leaving us sitting in unseasonably hot temperatures for over an hour— which is not ideal for a horse on her way to a 100 mile event. Each disruption gave me pause and as I wondered “what is this about?” I always heard the nudge: Keep going, do the next step until you don’t have one.

    Shady grass yard for Khaleesi in PA

    I am grateful for the warm welcome from Matt’s family at our layover in PA. Khaleesi had a lovely shaded back yard with grass where I set up her temporary pen, and we enjoyed family time with eggplant and cheesecake!

    The second day of travel brought new territory for both of us as we continued onward and on my birthday we arrived in Vermont— through dark clouds and a rain storm that gave way to a cool evening and stunning colors in the sky. We set up camp alone in the area set aside for smaller trailers, near the start and finish line. This evening I will always remember as a moment of beauty and quiet as we had the entire field to ourselves and the glory of Vermont stretched out on all sides of us. 

    We had arrived.

    Ride camp Thursday evening after the storm

    We woke up to cool breezes and peeking out the tent we watched the grasses dance in the early light. It was sublime and Matt and I took a moment to take in the glory of the last moments of peace and calm we may have for a while. Check in and Vetting in was not available until Friday afternoon, so we puttered about with details, and found a delightful little market and cafe with home made bagels and much needed ice. Camp began to bustle through the day as 450 runners came and went to register for the foot race that would share the trail with us horse riders. When the time came, we checked in with the ride management, then took horse #109 (that’s Khaleesi) to the pre-ride vet inspection. 

    This is where things began to get disruptive again. K had a resting heart rate of 36BPM which is excellent, and her hydration and overall condition earned A scores. The head vet saw something slightly off in her trot out and asked us to try again. We did. He still thought something was questionable and asked us to trot a third time and included another vet to watch. Not enough to hinder us, but enough to plant a seed of doubt, they marked her card with a “B” and suggested I stay aware of the potential something might be off. 

    Checking out the starting line the day before the race.

    This is not what you want to hear the day before you embark on a single-day 100 mile endurance race. 

    I mulled over what it could mean. We visited the ride farrier, Howard, who became a new friend! Marcus had warned that her feet were getting soft from such a wet summer, and I wanted to have her nails clenched in case they were getting loose. Howard chatted with us freely in his Scottish lilt as he checked all four feet and added one nail for good measure in a weak spot. He was a positive and kind guy, and didn’t charge us for the time he spent checking the nails. He wished us the best and promised he’d keep his eye out for us through the day. 

    Still, I had concerns. 

    It clouded my evening. I was nervous. Do I go out with concerns? Once again I asked the question: what should I know, what do I do about it? And I sensed the reply so clearly: You do the next thing you know to do, until there is no next thing. 

    We spent some time looking up references for #109 and I held onto the words from Joshua 1:09 that reminded me to have courage and do not fear because God goes with you. Ok then. We show up to the starting line, and we go. We do the next thing until there isn’t a next thing to do.

    The runners leave at 4am, and what an experience that was! They line up and hundreds of headlamps jog under the starting line turning up the dirt lane past our camp site with cheers and cowbells. Khaleesi was beside herself with the experience! A line of cheering mass in the dark with headlamps bouncing to and fro. She had never seen anything like it. I had been warned of this and she was walking on lead with me when they departed and it took a moment to get her settled back down. 

    Before the start

    The trail opened for horses an hour later, and the eleven, 100-mile equine competitors left camp with my mind on the only problem I thought I was facing: would I end up with a lameness issue today? The trail is monstrously hilly from go. The exit from camp is significantly downhill on a gravel road. I had been walking Khaleesi around camp for 15 minutes, but she was not adequately warmed up for these hills and to make matters more concerning, her adrenaline was way up. Her head was in the air like a llama, and her trot felt like a jackhammer. If I had reason to be concerned she might hurt herself, the tension she was packing along with us trying to race at a high speed in the cool pre-dawn was not helping. 

    I unloaded all my tools to bring her mind back to the present and not run as if for her very survival with the other horses. I was mostly unsuccessful in getting her to relax into the work and had to negotiate with her the best I could. It is common for her to run faster in the morning and I work with her to find a good speed where she is moving freely and soft through her body. Considering the morning was cooler than it had been and her adrenaline was up- I now also worried about potential tie up. Tie up is somewhat mysterious, but the root is usually associated with a horse over running their ability through adrenaline and going into a metabolic state that can be dangerous. This is not something I have worried about with this horse previously, but something about this morning had her running on more adrenaline than I’ve seen. 

    It took almost 30 minutes to get a more relaxed mental state. We rode on this way for a few miles, now in last place, but I have been there many times and wasn’t concerned. She had leveled out, was trotting beautifully, strong, and relaxed.  We may cross the finish line last, but a finish was my goal. We had launched past the danger zone and were well on our way to the first checkpoint at mile 16. This was not a true vet hold, but a 10 minute pass through where the vet gave a quick look as you departed to make sure all systems appeared to be sound.

    It was about mile 13 when the unraveling began.

    Flying along with a beautiful balanced trot I was enjoying the early morning and greeting the runners we passed, when things went into slow motion. First I felt my left foot was not catch the stirrup bar. Then I realized I was coming off balance and wasn’t able to recover. I reached around Khaleesi’s neck and when it was clear I was going down, I swung myself around her neck and landed on the ground in front of her. She was aware something went wrong and when I landed at her feet she came to a stop above me. I remember my calves both going into a tension spasm, but otherwise I was perfectly fine and so was she. How embarrassing, I thought, and assured the runners who had witnessed the crash that I was totally fine. Next I saw my left stirrup and it’s leather on the ground and realized I hadn’t simply come unbalanced in a poor riding moment, the stirrup had come off the saddle. 

    My hope as I stood up, was the leather had simply worked its way off the bar it attaches to. The truth was worse. The metal bar itself had sheared off and there was nothing on the saddle to reattach the left stirrup.

    Broken metal stirrup bar

    I had not planned for this.

    In all the potential things that could go wrong. This was not one of the things I had even considered. 

    I began walking next to K, carrying the stirrup leather in hand and wondered: is this the end for us? Already only 13 miles in? Can we recover? 

    Again I heard the reminder: do what comes next, until you cannot make another move. Do the next thing. Keep moving.

    Service in this area of Vermont is notoriously horrible, but miraculously both Matt (already waiting at the checkpoint) and I (three miles out) had service. The only thing I could think was to try my alternate saddle. However, there were issues:

    • 1) the saddle was in the horse trailer at ride camp. Ride camp (I learned then) was 30-35 minutes away from the check point by vehicle. At least an hour round trip.
    • 2) the alternate saddle was the exact make and model, but it was a “regular” width. The saddle that I was using that fits her properly with the ideal pad set up is an “X” or a wide width. 

    The broken piece of metal would cost us around an hour, and it would mean riding in a saddle that was not the right size. An analogy would be if I had two pairs of identical shoes, the ones that work best for me a size 9, and the other pair a size 8.5. In this example we could say I wear the size 9 with thick socks that help protect my feet from blisters and give the comfort I need to run at my best. If I have to switch to the size 8.5, I will have to use thin socks with less protection and will not be as comfortable running. 

    I walked the three miles into the pit stop and chatted with the vet and land owners while waiting around 30 more minutes for Matt to return with the saddle. We changed the saddle quickly as possible, and trotted down the hill with a green light from the vet to meet everyone at the first vet hold at mile 22. 

    My first go with the other saddle I had left too much padding and had to stop and get off twice to adjust as the pads, but we moved as fast as we could and arrived at Vet Check 1 to find everyone waiting to help us. The vet was taking the heart rate of the horse as we were pulling off the saddle and her pulse dropped very fast to get our hold clock starting as quickly as possible. She looked great and the vet wondered aloud to us why we had a “B” score for her trot the day before, he thought her trot looked great. 

    Arrival at vet hold 1

    After the 30 minute hold we left with almost zero padding under the saddle, and 22 more miles until the next hold. The “rolling hills” were relentless. I had expected hills, but these were mini-mountains. Thankfully she is aces as trotting down the hills and staying in a relaxed form, but every time I thought we hit some level ground, around a corner was another brutal climb. I could feel the saddle impeding her free moving trot and meant a shorter stride. We were running against the clock, and doing it alone except for the runners which did keep us company. The drawback was they often would walking up the big hills, and when I could inspire K to get some trotting intervals up the hills, and as soon as we came to a walking human she put on the brakes and walked with them instead!

    Still, we ran into vet check 2 with a few minutes to spare and met again with the royal treatment. She was pulsed immediately to the parameter of 64 while pulling tack and they started our hold clock immediately. Here we saw Howard again who offered to trot out Khaleesi while a volunteer brought me iced water. He even checked her nails and gave a quick tighten up to be sure. It was wild to watch the whole team working my horse while Matt helped me with my own needs. She passed with all perfect scores and was surprisingly tolerant of all the pampering. They even brought over a pop up tent and fed her apples while continuing to sponge her as we were going into the heat of the day. 

    Volunteers swarm around the royal steed helping us at vet hold 2

    This hold was 50 minutes and then we were pushing the clock to do 17 miles with more nasty climbs (one I think was called suicide!) to make it to mile 62. I had my doubts we could sustain this all the way to the finish line, but the reminder came: do the next thing until there isn’t a next thing to do. 

    The climbing had been grueling and I kept wondering if it would level out. The total elevation we climbed from starting line to Vet Check 1 was 3,200 feet. The 22 miles from Vet Check 1- Vet Check 2 was 3,786 feet. I suppose we got a little relief on the third loop as the 17 miles brought just under 3,000 feet of climbing. The hour we lost in the cool of the morning to get ahead was very costly.

    This mid-afternoon is where she generally begins to drag. It’s hot and here the bugs were voracious. When the flies got really bad she would stop and shake her head and refuse to move onward. She kept begging me to stop in a large grass patch and eat.

    Gorgeous views from the high meadows

    Unfortunately- we did not have time for that while also racing the clock (she had great gut sounds – this was not an issue). I wanted her to be able to graze and go, but once she started eating it’s all she could think about. I could tell she wasn’t exactly “tired” she was hot, distracted, and irritated. 

    And in the background, the clock… always ticking away.

    It was about three miles more to the next vet check when we passed by the runner aid station they call “Margaritaville,” one other frustration was not knowing where the horse vet checks are and for example Vet check 2 showed up almost 2 miles late according to my GPS which had me concerned. If I had been familiar with the course I might have had more confidence, I might have pushed through here, but I wasn’t even sure in 3 miles the mirage of vet check 3 would actually appear. 

    After the hills, the heat, the clock, the flies, and the constant nagging to give up and only eat the grass… I faced the gauntlet of Margaritaville. We had just gotten a little steam rolling and then there are people lined up on both sides of the road waiting to crew for their runners, canopy tents set up, and cheers and chaos and actually lots of fun for humans- but it’s a potential death zone for a horse not used to such things. Each one of these aid stations slowed us down as K navigated what to her was totally new and concerning, and truthfully it about took all the hope out of me as we walked through the town with her worrying about the cowbells and the little kids running out in front of us excited to see the horse, waving flags or shaking bells. 

    It is possible if I had gotten through the Margaritaville gauntlet and ran her up the hill into the checkpoint, we MIGHT have just made it and gotten out for one more loop. It is possible if we had gotten out there we MIGHT have taken the slightly easier next 11 miles and found the day cooling off, and her second wind coming up, and we MIGHT have begun to beat the clock that was breathing down our hind end. I’ll never know.

    Instead, when I saw a house that offered horse water and carrots, I stopped and got off my horse. This act was basically where the white flag came out and went up the flagpole, because I think I knew getting off and taking time here would mean surrender to the clock. I had not taken the time to electrolyte during the 17 miles and I wondered if that was working against us. I allowed someone to offer K a carrot, and I took a glass of cold water (my hydration pack wasn’t empty but it was warm). After a few minutes I got back on Khaleesi and I insisted we keep moving, but I didn’t push. We got into the hold about 4 minutes after the pulse time had passed and were considered “OT” or Over Time, and no longer in the race. 

    After pulling her tack, the remaining vet checked her and with a heart rate of 48 and all A scores, we loaded up on a trailer to base camp. She was healthy and her gait remained solid through the 62 miles without a hitch. All the things I had prepared for and been concerned about did not pose a problem. The extra calcium plan for the heat and humidity was in place, no metabolic issues came. Her shoes held up great. No issues with her gait. Looking back I did a pretty good job getting this non-arabian ready for a challenging 100 mile ride. Regardless of that, equipment failure still turned into a failure to complete. 

    It was disappointing, but I think I had a pretty good outlook. In retrospect, the day before when we heard a vet tell us we might have a problem, I asked: please let me start this race, and please, I want to see some of the trail… we’ve come so far. And as if a response to that request, we saw over half of the trail. We got three full hard loops in and saw 62 miles of the Vermont 100. 

    I thought the test was going to be about getting across the finish line, but in looking back, I think it was a test to reveal what is under my own skin when the cost is high and the outcome is loss. The only way to see what is there is when things get real. The investment has to be real, and the loss has to be equally real.

    The night before the ride, as I stressed over the potential lameness, I looked squarely at the fear that if I did not finish this ride I might feel like I was a wasted investment. I felt if I could not pull off a finish that I was unworthy. That I had less value. I was worried I might carry the label: Failure. I think that “B” grade helped prepare me, because I sat with my devoted husband and in tears I admitted that I felt I will have let him and everyone down if I can’t get this done. 

    And we both knew that was not true. The pressure was internally generated, and completely unnecessary. 

    He assured me that regardless of the outcome, he was here… WITH me. And I kept hearing a reminder over the months and in that moment that also God was with me. Regardless the outcome. As I navigated between the lies and the truth, like a sharp double edged sword separating bone from marrow, tendons and joints, I think the lie was cut away and the truth remained. 

    Jaime & Matt give K a break at a rest stop in NY

    The truth transforms us. The truth sets us free. The truth allows us to respond to what comes and be disappointed without being devastated.

    No matter what came in the test of the event, I had reached for something beyond what my comfort zone could claim. I had dreamed big and made plans. I walked out those plans day after day, and not only did the preparations, but wrote about them and shared them transparently with others. I took the risk because my real identity was not tied to the outcome and I knew I would still be “me” if I shared a victory or a defeat with the stakeholders.

    In the end, only a few days of hindsight, and hours of being able to process, I can see that I carry a failure to complete on my public record, but I am not a failure. My identity is a bold, adventurous daughter of a creator king. That Father created a beautiful world for me to explore. I love a challenge. I want to live fully the life I have been given, and I’m willing to take a risk that things may not go as planned, and then pivot and roll with the next steps. I want to be fearless and free in the truth, and to walk in grace and love as I run and fall, as I encourage others, and help pick them up along the way. 

    I have heard it said that it is only in being willing to die that we may fully live. As Dr. Luke wrote centuries ago: Those who seek to preserve their lives will lose it, but whoever is willing to lose their life will find it.

    Photo taken between checkpoint 1 and vet check 1. Makes me smile as I imagine the hope we held after the trouble began. Ben Kimball Photography.

    In a way, the trailer ride home from mile 62 was like a death. The death of a hoped for outcome. But I have experienced that to move from empire building to living in the kingdom, death is only a door to resurrection. Like the Phoenix (Fenix!), there is a level up that only death of the old can bring forth. I do believe that this story is a good one, and the little voice that came as I looked at my broken saddle from the ground at mile 13 (“Don’t be afraid, this is a gift!”) is somehow right… Even this is a gift, bigger and better than I can see at the moment.

    Possibly the most interesting question that still lingers, floating up in the aftermath of the great adventure, the one I am not certain how to answer honestly… remains… 

    If I knew then how this would play out… would I still have gone?

    Howard the farrier brought us a special momento to honor our spirit with the ‘Broken Tack Challenge’ award. I treasure it!
  • The Time Has Come

    The Time Has Come

    Re-post of article written for the Highland-Bath Recorder.

    Last November, the idea of traveling to Vermont for the historic 100 mile endurance ride seemed like a great fun adventure goal; now that we leave in two days my feelings have shifted some. 

    The questions hover near the surface of my mind: Am I ready? Is she ready? Is Matt ready? Do I have everything I need? Will I have enough time to get it all together and actually haul out of here to make it to Vermont before the trail opens? 

    I’d like to answer a resounding YES, but there are so many variables and unknowns, the real answer is:

    I hope so! 

    The mysteries of the unknowns are a challenge. I have confidence that one step at a time is how this will work out. I will try to stay in the present, yet plan for the future without getting overwhelmed by it, and learn from the past without obsessing over it. 

    The Old Dominion 55 helped me uncover some weaknesses that I’ve been addressing in the past weeks. 

    First, Khaleesi went into the June ride with a body score of “Ideal” which is a five out of 10. On the other side of that ride she has been too lean, dropping down to a four, or “Moderately thin.” I don’t want her on the thin side leaving Virginia for two days of trailer hauling (which can bring on weight loss and dehydration) and then going into a 100 mile ride without enough weight to burn and utilize through the ride. I spoke to my nutrition professional (Stephanie Carter of Indigo Ancestral Health) who knows my horse and has worked with us for a few years. She gave me some tips to bring her weight up: more quantity of higher quality hay (the new hay season has come so we have access to better hay now), adding a stabilized rice bran to her current diet of hay pellets and Coolstance and feeding that twice a day consistently instead of once a day, increasing access to my limited pasture now that the grasses are healthy for summer. Also she has been on increased rest — the bulk of our training has been established over the past nine months. There is about one month between the OD 55 and the Vermont 100,  and instead of regular riding I have taken her on fewer rides that are around 20 miles to simulate longer segments like we will face in a 100. She has rounded out her figure a bit and is looking less lean today.

    Long Training Ride with Matt & Mike on their bikes

    After the intense humid heat of the OD 55 crushed us, I did some research into the issue of calcium loss and found that in high humidity, excess sweating, and horses that tend to pant to stay cool (Khaleesi does this), studies show increased depletion of calcium above the other electrolyte minerals. If it’s humid in Vermont, I will be prepared with Calcium (mixed with watermelon liquid which helps the taste) to support her with. I tried it on the long training rides with no ill effect so it won’t be as experimental now. 

    As for electrolytes, I often bring extra just in case and end up wasting them. For the OD ride, for the first time, I estimated what I would need minimally and did not bring extra. Due to the heat and humidity she would have benefitted from more electrolyte support than usual and I was unprepared. For Vermont, I will not be stingy with my electrolyte plan.

    I spend a lot of miles and hours in the saddle, and I am also constantly considering how I can improve my riding. I have been taking virtual lessons with a wonderful dressage trainer I admire from Tennessee (Mattalyn Rogers), and she is helping me find where Khaleesi is tight or weak and where I am not balanced well. We continue to improve our movement toward relaxed and flexible strength. I had one last lesson before packing up, and it gave me some great ideas to consider while we’re riding all day Saturday into Sunday!

    I also do virtual consultations with an Alexander Technique practitioner (Deb Romero with Optimal Posture) who has helped me understand posture basics. She reminds me where to be strong in the core, where to have increased flexibility, and how my joints work together to stay out of my horse’s way as she carries me those long miles. This has helped me not only in riding but my every day life as I move around in my body all day long.

    Also, I found someone who does counter strain with horses. Counter strain has been very effective for me, and I was interested to see if it could be helpful for Khaleesi. True enough Dave found a nerve pathway that was inflamed and it corroborated an issue my dressage coach noticed in Khaleesi’s right hind. He was able to help her release that nerve pathway and it should help her increase flexibility and freedom of motion going forward.

    The last pieces are on the human side. The completion rate on most single-day 100 mile endurance rides ranges from 30-60% and the first 100 we attempted in 2022 had nine riders begin and only one finished. It wasn’t us. My horse was still healthy and strong at 4am, but hours of rain had made the course so sloppy the rest of the competitors either had minor injuries or were going too slow to finish in time. In order for the day to end in a completion for one of these events, everything needs to line up in your favor. First you pray for favorable weather, then it helps to know the course, be familiar with the set up of the vet checks, and the flow of the ride in general, these details help to know how to prepare.

    The many unknown factors are my biggest concerns. I don’t know what the course is like, I don’t know what the crewing areas are like, and I don’t know how the vet holds flow. I have noticed that the rides in the South have slightly different customs than the rides around here, and I’ve heard there are more differences out in the West, so my guess is Vermont might have it’s share of unique ways I won’t be used to. These are not entirely new rules, but how the ride management and people in the area navigate the basics can vary. If you aren’t used to them it can cause confusion and take some time to get acclimated. When you are on the clock, wasting time with confusion is never welcome.

    As for my part, my plan is to ride what is in front of me on the horse I have to the best of my ability. I am less nervous about the actual ride. Once on the horse the only option is to keep going or quit. It becomes pretty simple. It’s in all the preparation that I get frazzled and that is where I am residing at the moment! I am very limited on helping Matt know what to expect in crewing this ride, so he is going to be on his own figuring out what to do and where to go while I’m out on course. I hope it doesn’t get overwhelming for him! People in this sport tend to help each other out, and Matt’s proven pretty capable in all things so I believe we will figure it out.

    There is a saying we share that just getting to the starting line takes a lot of endurance! In this case it’s been months of preparing, training, and planning that will be under our wheels so to speak as we roll out of Bath County on Wednesday on this great adventure. And whatever comes, we’ll have to take it on together! 

  • A Beast of a Test

    A Beast of a Test

    With a nickname like “The Beast of the East,” the Old Dominion 55 mile equine endurance ride is a real test to every horse and rider team that shows up to the starting line. While the “No Frills” ride in April felt like a great success — we may not have been flashy, but we were solid — the Old Dominion squeezed us hard enough to find out what we were made of. While we did technically pass the test, the “Beast” also revealed some weaknesses that I plan to address before we load up for the Vermont 100 in mid-July.

    On a good day, the OD 55 is arguably one of the toughest rides in its class. My horse climbed over 10,000 feet between 6:30am and 7pm on June 13 with unrelenting rocks every step of the way. There are rock gardens, large and small embedded rocks, loose rocks, gravel rocks, creek rocks and river rocks. 

    The vet exam the day before showed excellent scores heading into the ride, including a resting heart rate of 36 which is a great indicator of fitness. Khaleesi’s body condition score was a “five” which is ideal, and better than the “four” she rated in April. I felt confident coming into the race, especially after the unseasonably warm No Frills 55 in April went so well as a first ride after a year off, and I think this lulled me into some complacency. 

    I might have noticed some warning bells when ride morning was so unusually warm and humid. The last time I was at this ride it was in the 40s at the start! I noticed within a mile that Khaleesi was not her usual “on fire” self. I knew she wanted to run with the pack, but she felt heavy and clearly unable to fly up the mountains like she has in years past. We were riding through thick humid air from the starting line, and her lack of energy concerned me from very early on.

    The first mountain we cross is a long, tough climb. The vet check and crew area is nestled down in the valley, and after making it up and over the ridge, we managed a respectable trot down the gravel roads to finish the first sixteen miles with 2,500 feet of climbing in about two and a half hours. I assumed that because the ride felt like a heavy slog, she would require extra time to cool down in order to meet the pulse criteria of 64 bpm. I was wrong! She dropped past 64 into the 50s immediately and was ready for the vet inspection. Khaleesi had high scores, and the vets made a point to tell me she looked excellent. She ate and drank through the hold and we went out to face the longest loop with the worst of the climbs, and the heat of mid-day. 

    Loop two is over 17 miles and 3,200 feet of elevation— relentless climbing, some of it so steep I hike it on foot to help her conserve some strength. The heat was rising into the afternoon, with no breeze which meant the air stayed sticky and thick. It was miserable. The horse was giving me her best, but neither of us were thriving. I had to remind us both not to quit and die on the side of the mountain in the draining heat of the full sun. We were not made to be vulture food. It’s disconcerting to see your average pace grind down to less than 3mph. There is generous water right before the climb begins and water after it ends, but in between has the feel of a desert wilderness, which possibly encouraged me to not stop too long anywhere. The famous saying about going through hell I’ve heard, is to keep going!

    Ride Photo Credit: Becky Pearman

    And yet the mountain does give way to a crest, first there are lovely high meadows with some tall thick grass that gives the horse some fuel in the tank. Eventually, the water trough comes into sight, and the descent into vet check 2 (Laurel Run) is within grasp. Not long after the downhill begins, there is a single track, rutted out section, where I get off the horse again, and begin my jog down the loose dirt and rocks to make up some time. It’s too slow here if Khaleesi has to pick her way down balancing me over the loose and challenging terrain. When I get off she can jog behind me in the loose rocks without slipping as much. We shimmy down until intersecting with the gravel roads in the valley, and I get back on the horse to ride the last few miles.

    Once again, with concern that pulse could take time to drop, I took an extra minute sponging her in the heat and humidity. Surprisingly, a trip to the pulse takers revealed that indeed she was at 60, which is below the required 64. We vet through with all A scores, and I settle in, alone at the Laurel Run hold where no crew is allowed. I take care of my horse and fill up my water. I continued to wet her with a cool water sponge through the hold, because I have learned her core may still be hot. I want her to leave this checkpoint cool and fresh for the mid-afternoon segments in the direct sun with still no breeze.

    The worst of the mountains and rocks for the 55 mile course are in the first two loops. Once you pass through Laurel Run around mile 35, the way home via Bird Haven for your last vet check and 30 minute hold, is mostly gravel roads with some connecting single track trails. Usually my horse would begin to perk up as we head toward home. This year I found a steady solid willingness to trot slowly on down the road, there was no extra perking up available. 

    At Bird Haven, her pulse once again dropped quickly, but here she earned her first “B” scores for “attitude” and “impulsion.” She is tired and she was lagging behind in the jog. With that aside, everything else was very good and we had plenty of time to finish the last 6 miles. I could walk the trail back to camp and probably still finish in time. Walk we did, with some trot intervals. A light rain was setting in, and I welcomed the cloud cover and sprinkles. The cool wave brought her back to life and as we got within a few miles of the finish, she finally perked up. When we dropped onto the gravel road less than a mile out, she trotted, then broke into a run as we came into sight of the finish line along the base camp field. Our triumphant canter into the finish line brought many cheers through the camp below. I was simply thrilled it was over!

    Matt walks Khaleesi to prepare for the final vet while I waited for our rider card at the finish line.

    We made it through the final vet with no trouble, and walked back to the trailer. The horse looked surprisingly good, she meandered around her pen and ate and drank all night with minimal rest in between as if it were a normal night. This was the puzzle before me: a horse that seemed to be tired on course, that had less available energy than I’m used to, ending the ride looking the best I’ve seen her for being hardly exhausted or stiff and sore. 

    And so, this ride was technically successful, but left me with questions. It all seems to boil down to the worst humidity we’ve faced in my recollection at a competition. I had expected a stronger showing from Khaleesi based on the No Frills 55 and the training rides in between. Considering there’s a chance Vermont could have a similar high humidity day, it seems worth some exploration of what I might have missed, and what I might prepare for. 

    In the next article I’ll pick apart what I think might have helped support Khaleesi, as well as ask some experts for their advice. Hopefully this challenge will give me some new pieces to consider that will give us a stronger showing at the Vermont 100 just weeks away!