It’s amazing the transformation that can evolve over the course of a year.  Even more so, the evolution that is possible over the course of ten years.  July 9th, 2008- a day that forever changed my life. This is the day that a spunky, full of life, 5-year-old grey Arabian came into my life. He didn’t know it, and I didn’t know it – but God had brought us together to begin an incredible journey — one that would forever change us both.  His name was TEF Lunar Eclipse — Lunar for short — or, Looney Tunes, a nickname he quickly earned at our barn.

A little background information: I knew very little about horses then. I knew that they were beautiful, and strong, and I knew that I felt like the best version of myself when I was with them. I had taken several years of riding lessons, and became quickly addicted to the newfound feelings of power and strength that they lent to the humans they allowed upon their backs.  The days where we got to take the horses out on trail rides in place of class were my very favorite days.  This was my first experience of a true connection with a horse — “hearing” their thoughts, and instinctively knowing what their next action would be.  I had a friend who owned a few horses, and was getting into endurance riding — she let often me ride one of her horses along with them on trail, and I was completely hooked. So long as we only walked and trotted, that is — I wasn’t comfortable with any kind of speed; it felt so scary and my riding skills left much to be desired at the time.

I spent my nights searching the internet for the horse that spoke to my soul– and immediately found him. Only, his listed price forced me to gloss past his ad again and again. I went and met several other horses, not feeling any connection with them, and kept coming back to Lunar’s photo online.  Knowing I couldn’t afford him, I emailed his owner to ask if I could just ride him just one time, as I had fallen in love with him and wanted that once-in-a-lifetime chance to go out on a ride with him. And she said yes! (Love you forever for that, Kelsey).  Meeting him in person was all that I hoped it would be.  He was still very green, but I fell in love with his energy and his presence and I knew he was the one. A few emails later, and we can fast forward to the beginning of our journey together.

And here he is sometime around 2004– I’m guessing as a yearling. 🙂

It wasn’t all fun and easy after that.  The next year would be one of the most trying years of my life in making the quick adaptation to life with a young, green horse. I didn’t know any tricks of the trade, yet, and Lunar quickly learned that I was a pushover.  I had very little confidence on trail, and he knew it.  He spooked more than I can count– accompanied by a quick drop of the shoulder and 180 degree spin — to which I almost always bit the dust– and he would take off galloping for home.  The worst part was that I knew it was coming– but wasn’t a strong enough rider to sit his spooks.  This is where I began to gain my own strength and fitness- in desperately attempting to stay on, and in walking the trails home behind him. Turned out he was also a mighty fine jumper, because I always found him standing in his shed with a buddy, looking at me like “’bout time you made it back”. (We would always ride out a locked gate to get to the trails).

Come early 2009, Lunar and I began participating in limited distance endurance rides (25-30 miles). Together as a pair, we made countless mistakes. In our very first competition, I fell off. So did my friend. Bless the volunteers up trail who caught both horses as they came galloping in rider-less.  I had no idea about pacing, or herd dynamics, or the need to start young horses slow to build a strong engine and a smart brain. All Lunar knew was, he was young and fit and wanted to win.  We foolishly won our third ever 25 mile competition, in 3:13:00 — much too fast for the mountain course we were on.  Our next ride would result in our first pull – metabolic – where I learned that he would not, in fact, pulse down when running in 100+ degree temps and 100% humidity.  After that pull, I started growing a brain of my own.  I learned that I needed to ride longer and slower and build Lunar up the right way.  We moved into the 50 mile distance that fall, and I finally began to feel like I was the one in control of the speed and pacing. I learned that I needed to keep Lunar as fit as possible in order for him to be able to maintain his happy paces in competition, with easy recoveries and without injuries.

In 2010 we started to truly become a team.  Following six solid 50 mile completions, I began considering the longer distances.  Rather than jump right up to the 100 mile distance, I thought it would be safest to attempt a 75 miler first.  That summer, we entered the 75 mile distance at the VT 100 – and it became one of the best and worst rides of my life.  The best part: I was introduced to the wild and amazing world of ultra-marathoners.  I had no idea that so many people would set out to run 100 miles on foot.  I thought they were all crazy.  They all thought we were crazy, too, for setting out to ride 100 miles on a horse.  I remember the incredible buzz of that day, like it was yesterday.  Watching the runners start at 4am, a beautiful sea of headlamps disappearing into the darkness of trail ahead, followed by the 100-mile horse and rider teams at 5am, on a quest to catch the runners.  We started the 75 mile ride at 9am– with a quick shortcut to get us on trail with the 100’s– and I was instantly in love with this magical trail event.  It was so much fun riding alongside runners, making conversation and enjoying the trails together.  And the runners had aid stations everywhere! This was something we didn’t have in endurance riding, and it was amazing to be handed a slice of watermelon and a margarita by a group of joyful volunteers while heading down the trail.  There was a constant excited chatter as to the blazing fast pace of the front-runner in the foot race – which happened to be Andy Jones-Wilkins this year – so funny how life always eventually comes full circle.  My incredible day was brought to a screeching halt at the very last vet check of the night.  It was at mile 63– and Lunar and I were in the lead in the 75 mile ride. My world caved in as I was asked by the vet if Lunar had felt off on trail at all.  A volunteer trotted him again so I could watch, and a small hitch was evident in his hind leg. Our race had ended– but my incredible passion for the longer distances had just been fully lit.

Following that 75 mile disappointment, Lunar and I went on to an additional six solid 50 mile completions.  I looked long and hard at myself, and decided that I needed to become a stronger partner for Lunar.  I took up trail running to gain strength and allow me to get off Lunar’s back for long climbs, saving his energy for times on trail where we could move out.  We spent a full year building our bond, sharing countless hours on trail and learning to think as one.  The summer of 2011 came our time to shine.  Now we were both fit, and we took on the Old Dominion as our first 100 mile competition together.  To spice it up a little, we did it “Cavalry” style – with absolutely no assistance from the outside.  I had to carry everything we would need from the start, and no one could hold Lunar or help me in any way throughout the entire competition.  I spent countless hours planning, packing and repacking saddle bags with all that would be needed to make this a success.  Went on training rides with weighted packs, configuring everything to prevent bouncing and rubbing to Lunar’s back.  My biggest worry was running out of food for Lunar.  On ride day, we took it easy and definitely turned our relationship inward on that journey. Our ride time was 19 hours, 43 min, 41 seconds – but with the hold times, we used nearly the entire 24 hour time limit to complete our journey.  I will never forget the feeling of trotting down that Virginia road toward the finish line as the sun again began to rise, knowing we had just completed 100 miles together, with absolutely no one to rely on except ourselves.

I left that competition on top of the world.  We had finished in last place, but it was our most meaningful completion to date.  I had become a stronger rider, a stronger horsewoman, a stronger partner for Lunar.  I began looking to the future with a new fire, knowing I had a horse who had the desire to win the long races.  Having taken the OD so carefully, we set forth to re-attempt Vermont.  This time, at the 100 mile distance.  We had a wonderful crew and I ended up pairing with another rider, Claire Godwin, nearly from the start.  I felt her behind me just after catching the 100 mile runners early in the day, and our horses fell into pace with each other while weaving skillfully through packs of runners.  Claire and I had what can only be described as a magical ride on that day.  Our horses paced so well together, and we worked together to keep our horses cool and happy throughout the day.  Throughout the day, we worked to pick off riders and make our way up the pack, finishing nearly in daylight and in second place overall.  Our ride time was 12 hrs, 27 minutes.  Magic, elation.  Those are the only words I can use to describe the feelings of that day.  Finally everything had come together, we were now functioning as one.  We finished off that season with a truly magical 50 mile win in Fort Valley, VA. Life was good – I felt beyond blessed to have been given this incredible equine partner to grow with and finally succeed.

Lunar and I went on to have many more happy years as a team, and added a second horse to the mix, Rubys Tuesday, along the way.  Lunar became a mentor to so many young horses, Tuesday included, during that time.

Struggles in my own personal life ultimately forced the sale of both Lunar and Tuesday in the summer of 2016.  This left an enormous void in my life, especially the great joy I found on trail and in the mountains.  Beginning in early 2017, I took up trail running as my new full-time hobby– went back to Vermont to volunteer for the medical team at Camp Ten Bear in July and vowed to myself that I would run it the following year.  I hired a coach – Andy Jones-Wilkins – and we set out to accomplish what seemed like a monumental goal.