restarting the mojo

It's happened enough times now that I'm able to recognize a fairly distinctive pattern in how I operate, especially in how I tend to approach and deal with the aftermath of failure.

-- Immediately following 'x' event, I'm still pretty gung-ho about giving it another go -- it may have beat me, but hey, it was a good learning experience and now I know for next time...and there will be a next time.

-- After some dwell time, I start brooding and feeling sorry for myself, and generally entertaining "why bother?" types of thoughts. Because I'm clearly not meant to do whatever it was I was attempting, since I failed at it.

-- I either get sick of my own attitude, or some outside force intervenes and drags me back into the fold of whatever I was distancing myself from, and I'm reminded of why I like 'x' activity in the first place.

The latest event to throw me into this cycle was, of course, my DNF at the Crown King Scramble 50k. Not only was I physically broken, but my mental psyche took a pretty good hit, too, and I was having a really hard time remembering why I thought this whole running thing was a good idea in the first place.

I guess that's one of the hazards of the "jump into the deep end" approach...there's a greater risk of failure than a more cautious approach. But at the same time, I suppose I'm at optimist at my core, because I tend to have a "you don't know until you try" outlook.

And I will say, for the most part, on things I've failed at the first time around...I've come back to them again and been successful.

It was disheartening to pull from the first 50 I ever attempted...and to have to cancel my entry before the ride on my first two attempts to get to a 50 with Mimi...and to get thoroughly beaten by the trail at Man Against Horse...and to have a crappy running season...

But in the long run, I've managed to pull a lot of those monkeys off my shoulder and stuff them into a zoo where they belong. It took me seven years, but I got back to that ride scene of my inglorious first pull, and under similar circumstances (same trail, another borrowed horse), I finished it (Old Pueblo 2013).

That first 50 with Mimi was a wonderful experience. By inadvertently being forced to wait (things like saddle fit and her getting bitten on the back), it meant that Dad and I would tackle that first 50 together...as so many of our trail adventures have been shared together, it seemed only appropriate that a big leap into endurance would also be shared.

2008 Man Against Horse may have been a disaster, culminating in getting pulled for "likely being overtime"...but I took everything that went wrong that year and funneled it into a "how to do better" approach...and in 2009, we had pretty much a perfect ride. That finisher's buckle is one of my more treasured possessions. But after 2008, and two crappy back-to-back rides/pulls, I was ready to throw in the towel...in fact, I didn't even ride the pony for a couple of months. And then a friend offered me a horse for the 2009 Wickenburg 25, which I accepted...we had a great ride, Top Tenned, the fire to ride got reignited, and the next month, dragged the pony back into action fora successful 50-miler.

Three-and-half so-so miles still beats zero miles

And last night, I ran for real for the first time since Crown King (end of March). It wasn't all that pretty at times...but it got done. And really, it was just my cardio that had suffered. Fortunately, I've still been walking the dog every morning...and I snuck a 3-day, 25-mile backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon in there. 

I can easily fall into somewhat hermit-esque tendencies, especially when I'm hosting a personal pity party, so it does me a world of good to get out of the house, do something, and be around people who share a common interest.

Last night might have been a bit of a rough run, but good times with friends more than made up for it, and got me remembering why I thought this was a good idea...if not for the running itself, then for  the community.

Having such an encouraging, positive, supportive environment really helps, too -- the "you failed" mentality is entirely of my own design, and all the feedback I've gotten has been positive encouragement that I even tried such a race as my first ultra attempt.

As far as coping strategies go, I'm not sure mine ranks in the Top Five Recommended Ways to Handle Failure...but at least I recognize how I operate? And that I eventually manage to get back on track?

reality check

Lest I get too full of myself post race success...there's always a reality check gremlin lurking just around the corner, ready to make my acquaintance.

In this particular case, it was Wednesday's group run, which was another vertical rock climb that was more hike than run...and completely demoralizing. There was a part of my brain that argued that I maybe I should have stayed home and given my body that had just done 21k over the weekend and a still-sore foot a break...but the part of my brain that jumps into the deep end with anything new wanted to prove how serious I am about being a part of the group and this running thing didn't want to miss a week. And I had a new pair of more-cushioned shoes to test out -- nothing like a good run as an acid test, right?

(Hey, I never said I made smart decisions.)

Bottom line? As good as I felt after Saturday, I was equally humbled after Wednesday. Not only was there a ton of climbing, but the trail was incredibly technical and very rocky. My new shoes have quite a bit of cushion on them, which I suspect I need for the support...but the trade-off is lack of ground feel, and I felt like I was wobbling all over the place as I'd hit rocks and random uneven surfaces.

Not my finest moment...and in retrospect, I didn't exactly set myself up for success. Let's see: a still-sore foot that I was altering my running gait in an attempt to protect, new shoes that I'd never tried on trail, in the dark, still-recovering body from race weekend. How was this supposed to end well???

Needless to say, runs like that do nothing for my self-confidence levels, especially when I start thinking ahead on the topic of moving up in distances. Over the weekend, I was all cheerful and gung-ho about my future race plans, full of confidence, bombing down the trails without a second thought or care. Last night, the gremlins were all pointing and laughing at me, my confidence shattered, straggling along at the back of the pack, and the only thought in my mind being "I don't wanna get hurt."

Maybe this is all part of the process? Some sort of a self-governor that keeps the ambitions to a sensible dull roar? It's certainly not exclusive to running, I know that much...I can't begin to count how much roller-coaster ups and downs I've experienced in horses themselves, not to mention distance riding specifically, and the personal, non-horse-and-running life is certainly not excluded by any means.

I'm not expecting cloud nine all the time...I'm not that unrealistic...but it would be nice if the roller coasters would coordinate among themselves sometime...I gotta have something to fall back on to maintain my functional levels of sanity at most points in time.

I have to remind myself of this...everything has ups and downs,
good times and bad...but if it means something, it's worth it.
So much of what I do and who I am involves serious head games
and a certain level of mental toughness.

On the bright side? Even on my worst day, I'm still faster than a zombie, so have a decent chance of surviving the inevitable zombie apocalypse. 

Getting Out What You Put In

As a socially shy, somewhat introverted person, I find embarking on a new endeavor extremely intimidating, especially on my own. I will be the first to admit I am terrible at meeting new people and introducing myself. For a long time, I've struggled with just wanting to fit in and be accepted, worried that I'll do or say the wrong thing. It's an insecurity thing...but I'm recognizing it and while it's not going to go away overnight, I've gotten better about being more confident in myself and trying to let go of so much of my worry over what other people think.

(What is this, Friday Confessionals?)

Anyway, that's just a bit of background of me that is relevant to the topic at hand, which is getting started in a new sport/activity/venture/whatnot. Ahem.

So this past Wednesday, I participated in my first group trail run, organized and hosted by the same folks (Aravaipa Running) that put on the 7k I did, and next month's runs I'm signed up for. It's a weekly "open run" that invites people of all levels to come and run for an hour -- distance varies on experience level, and the location rotates weekly. This week, the run happened to be fairly close to me -- about as close as any real trails are -- so that took away my "don't want to drive the distance" excuse. So I signed up.

Read the first paragraph of this blog entry, and you can probably figure out my train of thought. "Oh, what am I doing? I'm going to be the slowest, most pathetic person there. I'm going to be surrounded by a whole bunch of experienced people who are way fitter and faster, and I'm going to hold the group up, and why am I doing this???" Staying anonymous and in the shadows would be easier -- who actually holds people to Facebook RSVPs anyway? -- so as a way to hold myself accountable, I posted a "Newbie Alert!" message on the Facebook group, letting people know that I'm slower than a herd of turtles in peanut butter, brand-new to this trail running thing, and rather nervous about my first group run.

If I go on the offense with advanced notice of all the things I'm going to do wrong, at least they have a heads up, right?

Responses I got were all positive and encouraging. The "Fun" Group -- what would otherwise be called the "slow" or "beginner" group, but they put a positive spin on it -- was touted as the place to be, so I headed out the door Wednesday evening, still nervous, but also excited. I'm not much of a groupie...but left to my own devices, I am a complete social hermit, and also a somewhat lazy runner, so I figured the motivation of going to new trails and staying with a group will be good training for me and my future running plans, and it'll also help me be more social and interact with people in a positive, fun environment.

By the time I got to the trailhead, there were a dozen cars there, and people starting to cluster together. Running shoes, GPS watches, hydration packs...yup, I'm in the right place. I used the few minutes that it took to park and get my stuff (headlamp, water, phone) to gather my wits, scope out the setting, and start making my way over to the group.

This is the hardest part for me. I'm not good at initiating, and the socially insecure part of me wants to huddle back and be a wallflower, and wait for someone to notice me. I think, if my expectation had been having the red carpet rolled out for me just because I was a new face that showed up, I would have been sorely disappointed. Groups like these probably get new faces showing up every week -- and many that probably never return. In a brand-new environment like this, people don't know that I am shy and reserved. They're not mind-readers -- to them, someone that isn't initiating or making an effort to be a part of the group may be stand-offish, or giving the impression they don't care to be a part of what is going on.

You get out what you put in. For me, at least, this means having to make that first move, which is, at the very least, intimidating. (Apparently this is also Psych Eval Friday.) As I approached the group, I had scouted around for what looked like a friendly face and found one. Maybe it was a case of two newbies gravitating towards each other, but after I introduced myself, she also said it was her first time running with the group.

She was very nice -- a recent college grad who had just moved here from the east coast, looking for the social aspect of running and meeting people in a new area -- and we spent some time chatting. More people started showing up, then the run leader came over to meet the new faces. He welcomed both of us, then gave a brief rundown of the distances/approximate speeds each group was planning to do. Funny enough, where we had clustered was right where the Fun Group was gathering, so that was a chance to meet the woman who would be leading the fun group, and start talking with a few other people who were gathering around.

The run itself was a blast. As advertised, the Fun Group was exactly that -- fun, energetic, encouraging. I was not the slowest one there, and even if I had been...it wouldn't have mattered. No judgment on anyone or anyone's pace --- just enthusiasm for the fact that we were out there. Even a missed turn at a 'Y' in the trail that netted some of us a slightly longer reading on our GPS was met with a laugh and cheers of "Bonus miles!"

After the run, a group invasion of a nearby restaurant is held and all who can make it are welcome. I figured that would be a good way to further participate in a group setting, and food/drink tends to be a good icebreaker. It was a ton of fun -- I sat with Sabrina, who had led the Fun Group run, and chatted with her quite a bit. I felt very welcome and included, to the point where I have decided that I will be doing the group runs weekly, even if I have to drive a bit. (If people from Phoenix could drive out to Mesa, I can do the same...it's only once a week. And with luck, maybe I'll find someone in the group who lives near me who might be willing to carpool.)

(A funny aside: When I completed the 50 at Man Against Horse in 2009, I sort of bemoaned the fact that the first place runner had finished like three hours ahead of me. [Even taking into account the almost two hours of mandatory horse hold times and no mandatory hold times for runners, that's still over an hour faster than Mimi's four hooves traversed the course.] Turns out that first place winner was Jamil, the group run leader and one of the Aravaipa Race Directors. Small world.)

photo snagged from the Aravaipa Group Trail Run
Facebook page...dusk on Wednesday night's run

Reflecting on this got me thinking back to the last time I was embarking on a new endeavor: My first AERC ride. I had come out of the NATRC world, so at least had the "distance riding" experience...but there's not a ton of crossover between the two organizations here in the southwest, so knew no one going into endurance. Going into NATRC, I had ridden on my dad's coattails of meeting people -- he's a naturally social extrovert who can talk to anyone, so I sort of hung back, messed with my pony, and let him break the ice.

My first AERC ride, it was me and the pony. Dad drove/crewed...but it was just me and the little white mare traipsing around camp, checking and vetting in, and on the trail. It was my show, so to speak, and it was on me to step up and say "Hi, I'm new here."

The first person I met at my first AERC ride (Man Against Horse 2005) was someone I still ride with today -- Lancette. She was a friendly, welcoming smile as she pointed out a good place to park and the general lay of the land, and again the next morning as she passed me just a couple miles into the ride, making sure I was doing okay. To this day, she is still a friendly, welcoming smile who is now loaning me horses, making sure I'm still able to get some good saddle time and trail miles in, and someone I consider a good friend.

I don't know if I've just been extraordinarily lucky to have had such positive introductions to breaking into new settings? I know I'm grateful that is has been so positive and welcoming...but I also don't think it just happened that way. For me, at least, I feel like I was proactive in setting myself up for success...

• Embrace the newbie status. I am an endless researcher and information gatherer. When I go into something, you can almost guarantee I've spent countless hours on the internet, scouring resources and finding out ahead of time as much as I can about what I'm getting into. But once I'm there, I am the newbie who knows nothing. The best knowledge and experience comes from doing, so until I've actually done something, I'm going to keep my mouth shut, no matter how much research I've done and how much I think I know, and learn from those around me who have done.
  
• Low expectations (of yourself). I came into endurance with years of riding experience on my side...but the ability to execute a perfect equitation pattern doesn't mean jack-all when your pony has just run through a prickly pear and is spinning circles around you as you try to remove the needles...
• I figured we could finish our first 25...and that was my only goal. Just finish in time and both of us in one piece. (Surprise, that ended up being the fastest I've done that particular ride.)
• My realistic goal for the 7k was just to finish and not break myself.
  
• Low expectations (of others). I don't mean that in the harsh, cynical way of "If you expect nothing from people, you'll never be disappointed." What I mean by that is I don't expect to be treated "special" just because I'm new. Basic courtesies are appreciated, and anything beyond that is bonus points.
• What got me thinking about this specifically is the topic of discussion that comes up on endurance newbies "not feeling welcome." Playing devil's advocate for the side of the experienced people: New people come into a sport or activity all the time that don't stick with it. It is draining and disheartening on the experienced people to invest in someone who may or may not be committed to the sport.
• People have been friendly and welcoming to me in NATRC, and endurance, and trail running. But in both NATRC and endurance, I noticed a shift in people's attitudes after a season or two -- I had put enough time and rides in to prove myself, that I was dedicated and I was serious, so now it was "safer" to put some of their mental time and energy into me.
• I am fully anticipating the same thing happening with the trail running. Right now, I am a neon green newbie with nothing other than my word to say "I'm serious about this." Actions really do speak louder than words, so I know it will take showing up at practice runs, putting in the training time, and toeing the start line of races to prove this isn't just a passing whim.
• Time and place. In a competitive race/ride setting, there is a lot going on. Very experienced people often have a lot going on with preparation, or are mentally keyed in to their own prep, so use discretion about when to ask a thousand and one questions. I know  people personally who are as nice as can be outside of a ride setting, but get very intense on ride day - it's nothing personal, they just may not be the best person to consult as an on-site mentor. Same with management -- on event day, they are juggling more balls in the air than they can count, and probably half a dozen crises on top of that.
• If you're very fortunate, you will have a mentor that has taken you under their wing and will advise you along the way. If not, try to research and find things out ahead of time. Some rides are now offering a "new riders briefing" that follows after the standard ride briefing, as a way for new riders to ask any questions that weren't covered in the regular briefing.
• Here's something I noticed...blogs and bloggers are a good way to get information. Most of us bloggers write down our ride stories because we like relating our experience and are probably willing to talk about it. Question? Search out ride stories on a particular ride and post a comment. While I am in no way an official mentor, I am always happy to answer any questions I can that people post or email relating to endurance, a particular ride, trails, hoof boots, or whatnot. (See my little "Ask me about Endurance Riding" graphic on the sidebar?)
  
• If you're like me, and your default setting is "social wallflower": Take the first step. (Again, this is the hardest one for me!) Don't assume people will know you're shy -- maybe they are, too. Or they just figure you're not interested in talking to people. Specialized settings -- like ridecamp or a trail run -- that cater to a specific activity are my favorite settings, because it tends to provide an automatic icebreaker of subject matter to talk about and get a conversation going.

Well, that went way longer than planned...and deeper into my own personal psyche than I usually provide on here. Doing more running is giving me a lot of think time, which in turn tends to result in blog posts...which I hope provide at least some food for thought somewhere along the way. The fine print disclaimer on all of this, of course, is that it has just been my own personal experiences...Your Mileage May Vary. 

Blog Hop: Why Did You Start?

Mel linked to an article of "Why the Heck Some Good Runners Started Running in the First Place". I won't spoil it, but it's a good read -- and some of the reasons are definitely not what you would expect!

The blog hop question is simple: Why did you start riding and/or running in the first place?

Riding: I think horses have always been in my blood, plain and simple. My great-grandfather was an officer in the Polish cavalry, so blame a throwback in genetics. I have photos of me in a baby stroller, no more than a year old, staring fixedly at the ponies in the corral at the petting zoo. Forget the goats, the sheep, the chickens. I wanted the ponies. (Not that I remember this.)

And when I was young, I went through a litany of activities, like all young girls do, trying to find their place. My parents only stipulation was that I do one activity at a time, and that if I decided I didn't like something, I had to at least finish out the season/lesson course/whatever measure of timing is used to determine little kids' activities. Ballet, gymnastics, t-ball, Girl Scouts...and horseback riding.

Throw enough mud at a wall and something eventually sticks...horses stuck. I honestly don't know why. I had such a rough start to the whole horse experience that I probably should have been scared off of them for life. I guess if something's meant to be, that's the way it goes.

Running: I've dabbled in running off and on for years, usually forced through gym class requirements, and occasionally a wild hair when I would get tired of my pony being fitter than me. This time around, I was initially motivated by getting Artemis. Once she hit 6 months old back in the spring, I knew I needed to start doing more than just walks to burn off some of her energy -- I only have so much time to be out walking before I have to be back home for work, so a 10-mile walk in the morning wasn't going to happen. Since she was still young, we started off very slow, very short distances...but it was more intensity than just walking. As she got older, and fitter, we increased distance. And because I was giving her such a slow legging up, I wasn't subjecting myself to my usual over-ambitious, under-conditioned running attempts that made it so miserable in the past.

I hit the running path hard at the beginning of the summer after the break-up of what I thought had been a good, pretty serious relationship. Perhaps a questionable motivation...but I discovered how much of an escape running is for me. It's something that is between me, my body, and the ground. I can control what happens, insomuch as anything in life can be controlled. My success is tied in to me and whatever effort I put into it, with some pretty direct and immediate feedback. It's head-space time for me, whether it's to think, or try to clear my head.

Horses are my passion, but I'm liking how well running (especially trail running) seems like it'll be able to co-exist with it.

"5 Qs with Mel", Go-Pony style

Mel adapted her post from one at ultrarunnerpodcast.com to be more endurance/horse-specific and invited us bloggers to respond in kind, so here goes...

hiking with Artemis, July 2014

Name: Ashley Wingert

• Enough people know me/come here from Facebook that my identity isn't exactly low-profile. If you're gonna identity theft me, just know the highest $ thing I have associated with my name is my student loan...so if you feel like giving me an excuse to get rid of that, have at it.
• I also respond to "Ash", "the girl with the white pony", or "the Renegade boot girl."

Age: Late 20s. I have a birthday next month and will still be in my late 20s.

Where do you live: Valley of the Sun...just outside of Phoenix, AZ.

Family Status: Me. Pony. Puppy.

1. How long have you been riding? Endurance?

• Since I was seven years old, so 21 years this summer. A little bit of everything -- started with English huntseat, moved to a couple of years of Western, then all around with POA showing. Distance riding since 2001 (NATRC), and endurance since 2005.

2. What does a normal training week look like for you?

• Currently? Somewhat pitiful, due to my in-limbo status of having a competition-retired horse and working for the means to be able to acquire another one. I still try to ride Mimi at least once a week, in the arena if nothing else, and try to catch ride with friends with extra horses when I can.
• When I was actively competing Mimi, I would usually ride 2-3 times/week. Had to work around my school schedule, Dad's work schedule, and the fact we had to drive to the barn and trailer out, so we usually rode both days on the weekend, and schedules permitting, would try to get out once during the week. We would usually shoot for 20-25 miles over the weekend, and a shorter, 6-8 miles during the week.

3. Any advice for endurance riding spouses?

• I'll let you know if I find one.
  The most important thing is someone that understands and supports the fact that my life passion is my horses. I don't much care how that manifests itself, whether it's in the form of someone who is happy to stay at home and hold down the fort while I'm gone, or someone who enjoys camping and being outdoors and coming to rides with me (although the latter would be pretty awesome). I don't particularly want/need to find someone who rides, but does at least have the ability to know which end the food goes in and which end it comes out, and comfortable being around horses.

4. Where will this sport be in 10 years?

• The cynical side of me says "I hope there is a sport in 10 years." That's the side that, because my job involves being on the computer all day, sees entirely too much of the drama on discussion forums, and people grumbling, and in-fighting, and bad attitudes. I see loss of trails due to development or bureaucracy, loss of rides with no one stepping up to take over and fill in the missing ride weekend gaps. I've personally experienced the effects of an economic downturn and how difficult that can make horse keeping, let alone competing.
  But that's my cynical side.
• What I hope to see?
• It's encouraging to see how many more people are in approximately my age bracket (+/- 10 years, so roughly the 20-40 age range) than when I first started. Hopefully that leads to an increase in membership, or at least not a decrease. I think fresh blood being brought in helps breathe new life and ideas into any organization.
• More technological adaptation. As technology gets more and more accessible, I think we'll probably start seeing more of it being used -- GPS tracks, more accurate maps, more streamlined timing systems.
• More veterinary advancements and rider education/awareness. As Mel put it, shifting from a culture of automatic blame/shame -- "Oh, your horse is being treated, you're a bad rider and raced your horse" -- to an understanding of the value of early intervention therapy to keep a minor problem from becoming a major one, and that all horses can and will have a bad day at some point.

5. What was your best race and why (AERC endurance – or if you are primary in another discipline, than your best ride in that sport).

• A toss-up between Man Against Horse 50 in 2009, and Valley of the Sun Turkey Trot 50 in 2009. MAH was a really hard ride, and a monkey off my back after being pulled the year before. It was a hard enough ride that I have friends who won't/don't like to do it, so to have my little pony complete it was one of my proudest moments ever. VOTSTT was a hard ride, mentally...felt like the longest 50 ever, and the pony just kept trucking along. Riding the last 5 miles in the dark was just magical and solidified my love of night riding and the feeling I'm going to like 100s.

Bonus question: What’s your favorite beer?

• Currently, the fridge is stocked with Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy, which tells you what I tend to prefer -- lighter, more fruit-flavored types. Not a fan of anything really bitter. Can handle strong (I do love Guiness ) as long as it's smooth. But I prefer hard ciders, wine, or vodka + mixer.

So, there ya go! Feel free to grab the questions, post them on your own blog, and share the information love!

An InLinkz Link-up

blog-iversary

So I sort of let the blog's anniversary (8 years as of April 23!!!) slip on past with little-to-no fanfare...

Most of the time it doesn't seem like I've been blogging that long. Probably because I am inconsistent, not at all prolific, and sometimes goes for chunks of time running radio silent, or with one post a month. And then I go do something radical like this month and give you three posts in a row.

Sometimes I feel like I don't have a ton to talk about, especially now. I don't have my pony in my backyard to talk about her daily antics, or even close enough by to justify frequent trips to the barn just to see her. Would love to...but a barn that's 25+ miles one way means that's just not practical. And when I do ride...there's nothing particularly earth-shattering about another round of arena circles.

I know things will change...this is just another "season" in life...but in the meantime, it means I'm a bit uninspired right now. But the silver lining of the whole thing is that it is giving me a chance to do things like spend time with my boyfriend and explore some non-horsey pursuits, and put a lot of time into my puppy during this critical and impressionable age of turning her into a good canine citizen.

boating out on Saguaro Lake last weekend...an area with
a lot of my favorite riding trails as well

lots of playtime with the puppy...
Artemis is just over seven months old now and
turning into an awesome companion dog

The biggest obstacle to my being a really good blogger is my inherent lazy streak. (This is my biggest obstacle in writing, period. That, and my tendency to overthink.) Or lack of good subject material. (Okay, not that there's ever truly a lack of good material when it comes to horses and endurance, but right around the time I think,"I should do a blog post," I can't think of anything to write about.)

I can appreciate that blogging has made me a better photographer in that I try to take more photos. One of my big regrets of my early years in distance riding was I didn't have a camera, or was too busy just trying to stay alive that I couldn't be bothered to take photos. When I'm busy actively riding, I have very little faith in my ability to handle reins, camera, horse, and staying in the saddle all at the same time...I want a helmet cam.

I do wish I had done a better job of tracking and logging information from the start, though. I would love to know how many hours and training miles I've logged on Mimi over the last 13 years (we started conditioning in the summer of 2001). Lesson learned: I will attempt to do a better job of tracking things with the next horse(s). Even if I'm too lazy to bother with computer programs, a large handwritten calendar should do the trick.

So I never thought I'd make it this long with blogging...I'm notoriously bad at sticking with/finishing anything...so for me, that's doing pretty good. Guess I'll keep on keepin' at it...

Mimi and I on "mini Cougar Rock"
Desert Forest NATRC March 2007
Wickenburg, AZ
photo by Ray Brezina

Whirlwind; or, Catch-Up, Redux

Even after 5 years of blogging, I still have some issues with consistency.  I don't blog for a bit, say due to life circumstances and lack of time.  So I get out of the habit.  And I don't blog.  And I don't blog.  And suddenly, I've got all this stuff that's happened, and I feel overwhelmed trying to catch up on everything...so I figure, I just won't.

And then I can't figure out what to blog about.

Ugh.

I haven't really been up to anything monumentally exciting.  This is Arizona hibernation weather, the time of year where the pony thanks me for not riding her.  The closest national forest trailheads -- and 20* cooler weather -- are currently closed (at least as of last week) due to the extreme fire danger, and probably won't open again until we get some more rain, so that put the kibosh on the vague "let's go ride in the mountains" plans we had floating around at the barn.

I did have to go out of town a couple of weeks ago.  My grandmother passed away, and we all went back to Pennsylvania for her funeral.  Was not impressed with East Coast humidity.  My hat's off to all endurance riders back there who successfully cope with it.

Work continues on...in short, I LOVE IT.  Finalizing Tevis plans for next month.  Rough schedule is I'll be in Auburn Tuesday/Wednesday, then up to Robie Park Thursday/Friday for booting.  Ride Day Saturday, the plan is to be at the Hwy 89 crossing in the morning to shoot some video, then up to Robinson Flat, then back down to Foresthill, then to the Finish.  Yeah, I'm going to try to be a die-hard and stay up til the wee hours of the morning.  I just might be a bit crazy.  Massive quantities of caffeine will be involved.

Plans to try to meet up with several blog buddies...definitely looking forward to that!  One of my favorite things about endurance has been all of the great people I've met and friends I've made...that alone has been a major motivating factor to still keep my foot in the door of the sport, even during my competition-hiatus period -- I would really hate to lose contact with so many of the great people I've met.

I'm also starting to put together a blog list that I'll be putting on the Renegade news page -- a list of "affiliates" of sorts, such as distributors or riders who use the boots that keep a blog and talk about the boots.  If you're interested in having your blog or web page put on the list, let me know!

Tevis is a month away...let the countdown begin.

I still need to do an updated hoof post...will get photos this weekend when I'm down at the barn.

Only Temporary

Just a little something fun I did tonight:

Only temporary.  :)

I've toyed with the idea of getting a more permanent tattoo off and on for the past few years, but haven't been brave enough to make that final step.  One, I have a dislike of needles.  I don't even like getting shots.  Heck, I don't even like watching my pony get her shots.  Two, I don't have world's greatest pain tolerance.  Not sure that makes me the ideal candidate.

But I do like the idea of getting one with very personal meaning and symbolism...meaning something to do with my beloved heart-pony.

I've seen some very cool designs along the way...might see what I can manage to create in Photoshop.