Two Feet Tall ...Still

This past weekend at about mile 24 I got off my horse, and started limping along. Suddenly it came to my mind Julie Suhr's book title "Ten Feet Tall...Still." As I hobbled along it occurred to me that about then I was feeling Two Feet Tall, and so help me God I'm feeling it still. What is it about riding a long way on your horse that when you get off you feel "short & compressed"? Funny the things that come to mind as your body starts succumbing to a lack of fluid, and ride camp is just one mile into the distance, and you go stumbling on foot, horse in tow, to that oasis. Some of the riders who are under 50 may not relate to this, but if you are just a tad long in the tooth, you will get where I am coming from.

I'm not sure any of ride management stops in to visit at Endurance Granny, but just in case someone should, I want to say thank you. The Chicken Chase 2009 was a really nice, well-organized ride. The ribbons were easy to follow as long as you completely ignore Bill Wilson's instructions of this holler, that gate, and a certain ridgeline OMG!!! Yes, ribbons are good. On Saturday evening they served a really nice dinner prior to the awards ceremony. They could have just handed me that big cooker of green beans and a fork, and I'd have been good to go. But the thing I appreciated the most was the night time quiet. My first LD two years ago I was unfortunately camped next to six drunks at a state park camp site. The music blared until midnight every night. It really put me off on the camping aspect of the sport. But at Bill's place? Nirvana. I could just hear the natural sound of the night, horses crunching, and when I looked out a sky full of beautiful stars. No generators, it was just really nice.

When I got home from work tonight I checked on the Phebes. She's still sore on her left rump, but not quite as tight. It is like some places have relaxed but she has a ways to go. I really wanted to see the color of her urine, but she didn't pee until I was down on the other end brushing Puddin. I dropped my brush, ran down there to Phebes stall to try to get a look and of course I was too late.

The idea of not being able to ride her for 3-6 weeks is killing me. My horse time is therapy time. It is when I unwind, and allow my mind to drift from the troubles of the day. I may have to borrow a draft horse saddle to fit around my poor old Puddin!~E.G.