An open letter to my betta...

Dear Sir Tom,

In a way, you were just one of dozens of bettas I've had in my 20+ years of keeping fish. But the similarities end there.

You came into my life when I needed you most. You see, the day before we took you home, I lost my beloved oscar, a fish with a personality larger than the 180-gallon aquarium he resided in, a fish that was so special to me in so many ways. My husband took me to the fish store you were at and insisted that I pick out a new betta. Your little 4-gallon tank had been standing empty for months since the last betta I had (and at the time, my favorite betta of all time) passed away.

I watched the rows of small bowls, a betta in each. You stood out right away with your big red combtail fins and even bigger attitude. You know how you male bettas like to threaten each other through the glass. You took it a step further--I was convinced you were about to jump right out of your bowl and into your neighbors' bowl!

Of course, I picked you. After all, you reminded me of my oscar--an ornery little S.O.B. But my heart was still grieving for the loss of my oscar and I put you in your new home rather unceremoniously.

A couple days later, I noticed you were gasping for air at the surface of the tank. What was wrong? Was it the water? I had cleaned the tank before putting you in it, but maybe something had happened to the chemistry as it stood empty for months. Or, despite your attitude, had I picked out a sick fish? I looked closely at you and noticed a tiny bit of cat hair sticking out of your mouth. Having four cats, it was inevitable that a hair or two would end up in the aquariums.

I netted you in a white brine shrimp net and, with tweezers, carefully pulled the hair out of your mouth. You stayed still, as if you knew I was trying to help. The hair turned out to be from one of our Maine Coons and was over 4 inches long. How you managed to get almost all of that into your mouth, I have no idea.

But thanks to this bizarre and funny incident, I began to really like you. I named you Tom (ie, tomcat) then added "Sir" because you're too fancy for a simple name like Tom.

The betta before you had lived for just over two years and I didn't think I would ever have another betta live that long. But you surpassed that, and then some. You lived life with a vitality that I had never seen in any other betta in my life. As you moved through your little tank, you would open your fins wide with each pause, as if reminding everyone around you of your beauty. You killed almost all the algae eaters I put in your tank with you, except one. And that one was chased mercilessly on a daily basis until a couple weeks before your passing. You made me laugh every time you bit my husband and I when we fed you. It's a good thing you were so small! Your tank is next to our piranha's tank and when you would swim over to his side, he would come over and watch you. You are both members of our family and although Flipper probably just wanted to eat you, I found it very endearing.

You were there during some of the hardest times of my life. I remember feeding you during this time and being stricken with how normal it was. It was a sense of security in a surreal world. And last but not least, you really helped me get through a time of heavy grief due to the loss of my oscar, and for that I am eternally thankful. So thank you, Sir Tom. Enjoy the Big Pond, and try not to kill too many algae eaters in there.

Love, me

Limerick: Research Subject

Well, it looks like there's a part two to Limerick's pseudopregnancy story.

The year began uneventful--she started her heat cycles in March and they continued somewhat regularly until late April. But that's pretty much where they ended. After that point she did not display any obvious heat symptoms. I didn't think much of it until I noticed her udder in early May.

The reproductive vet told me last year that her teats would never go back to normal again; that I was to expect them to remain larger than normal. Okey dokey. And true to his word, her udder dwindled down to nothing while the teats themselves remained kind of puffy looking.

But in early May, the udder began to bag up again and her teats slowly grew back to the sizes of last summer. Familiar with the routine, I decided to wait and see what happened. And nothing did for a while. She did not have any heat cycles. She was pleasant to ride (most of the time! She did have some silly moments, but nothing related to going into heat). Then this past Saturday, May 30th, I took her down to graze on some grass. Within a moment of arriving I noticed something falling from her udder area. I looked and saw milky white droplets dripping rapidly from each teat. Witch's milk!

The dripping slowed after a few seconds until a single drop hung from each teat. When I got home, I emailed the reproductive vet because I knew he would be very interested in this. And indeed he was--he wanted to see her as soon as possible. We set up an appointment for noon on Tuesday.

(I love seeing Limerick in the middle of the work day!)

When she saw him, her eyes went wide. That's the guy that always puts his arm up my butt!

He performed the usual ultrasound and rectal exam (everything pointed towards another pseudopregnancy) and this time drew blood for a hormone test and after 20 minutes of dodging flying hooves, he managed to get a sample from her udder.

All of this is for the vet's personal research. He is now drawing blood from her twice a week to see if there is a pattern in the hormones. We'll see what happens....Limerick may be a medical oddity, and a research subject, but she's still my baby.

Photos & videos from Sunday

My husband took some pictures and videos of me riding Limerick this past Sunday. She was being a goofball and the goal of the ride was to just keep her steady and calm. I succeeded...somewhat. Typically, I make her work hard if she acts silly but on this day, the footing didn't allow for it--outside or in.

We started in the outdoor arena, which was a slop from the heavy rains over the past couple days.

Telling my husband that I'm going to head indoors because the footing is just horrid.

"Come on, Limerick, you can eat grass later!"

Lim waiting for me to open the gate to the indoor arena.



In the indoor arena, Cashel fly mask off.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6IPn-zJe8k

A nice walk...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XY9exPPnE6I

A nice trot...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEEVZJ6um5I

A not-so-nice trot. She kept trying to either walk or canter here, so I had to work to get her moving at a steady pace. She sprinkled in a couple clownish head shakes, too--one directed at some pigeons nearby.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xr8gh-SsCLI

Here, I'm encouraging her to give me a nice, quiet canter. As mentioned before, if she's being silly then I normally make her work hard but today, the footing was just too awful for that. Instead, I went for the "let's attempt a slow, quiet canter" approach. It worked...for a short time! Then she decided to throw out another goofball move.

(Right before she acts silly, you can see a huge wet spot on the arena footing. For whatever reason, this spot was making her act up. She even jumped the entire thing the first time I tried to canter over it)

Finally, I decided to give up on the cantering and brought her back down to a trot. She eventually gave me a nice, forward trot with no silliness and I called it a day!

Dapples!

Limerick's spring dapples are back, and better than ever. She had her first bath of the year last weekend.

I don't know why she has more and more dapples every year (she hardly had any 14 years ago) but no complaints here, of course! Perhaps it's some sort of genetic coat thing.

She's been doing really well lately. A couple weeks ago, I raced her along the fence line of the outdoor arena (her in it, me out of it) and she was moving with a huge, flashy trot, her tail straight up. She truly looked great.

With my ultra-running training lately, I haven't been able to ride as much. But I'm taking most of the summer off from training so I'll be able to get a lot more riding in.

Clinton Lake 30 Race Report

The day—the running of the Clinton Lake 30—was a cumulation of months of training, but was also a training run in itself for the McNaughton Park 50-mile. Some people told me to take it easy at Clinton Lake and save something for McNaughton. Yet others told me to go out hard and fast, to make Clinton Lake a bigger effort than it needed to be, in order to make up for the 20-mile gap in between the two race distances.

I opted for the latter, not because it made sense, but because I wanted to! I wanted to push myself and see what I could do. I was secretly hoping for a sub-6 hour finish.

My husband had to work until 6pm the day before Clinton Lake so not long after he arrived home at 7pm, we made the 2-plus hour drive to a Super 8 motel in Le Roy, about 20 minutes from the Clinton Lake start area.

The stress of the late drive combined with anxiety about race day made for a bad night’s sleep. The too-soft bed and flat pillows helped none. When I did sleep, I would dream of running on trails and tripping over roots, jerking myself awake.

I awoke at 5am and, after struggling to get the room microwave to work, nuked a large cup of McDonald’s coffee that we had purchased the night before. No matter what, I can’t start my day without coffee! I showered and got ready, and then my husband drove me to the race start area.

The morning was much colder than expected. I had hoped to mingle with other runners before the race but instead choose to sit in the car with my husband, the heater blasting. I wasn’t concerned about the race weather—it was to be sunny all day and I knew that the temperatures would be climbing into the low 50’s later. Perfect running weather! Before long it was 7:20—almost time to start.

I lined up a bit behind the leaders and off to the side. Even though I hadn’t run the course before, and had been warned about the difficulty of it, I wasn’t nervous. I was pretty sure I could nab a sub-6 finish, providing nothing went wrong. But of course, in an ultra, anything can go wrong!

The race started and the leaders dashed ahead. I held my pace as we ran out of the parking lot and up a hilly asphalt road. After a quarter mile we turned into the woods and onto singletrack. I quickly picked up a pattern. I would run behind a slower runner for some time then, when the coast was clear, pass them on the side of the trail. After a few miles I became hot and knew I would have to swap my winter cap for a baseball cap and take off my polyfleece shirt when I got back to the start/finish area on the loop.

I quickly discovered that I was pretty good at running down hills. During my first ultra a few months prior, I would lean back and “brake” into the downhills, which led to horribly sore quads by race’s end. But I had been working on this over the winter. This time, I leaned into the downhills and let my feet take small, quick steps beneath me. I pictured myself running like a cartoon character—an upright figure with a circular blur of legs below. It worked! As long as I watched carefully for roots, rocks, and sudden drops, I was able to hammer it down and overtake people. It was also a helluva lot of fun.

The hills were never-ending. Up and down, up and down. I had trained myself to recover on slight uphills, however, so I never felt exhausted. The only issue I had was with the muddiest section of the course—a stretch of ankle-deep mud on a downhill. Rather than heading over to the leaf-covered, firmer muck on the right side of the trail, I found myself following the runner in front of me right into the worst section of mud on the left side of the trail. My feet slipped out from beneath me and I landed in the mud. My water bottle—tip included—absorbed the worst of the impact.

Argh! I tried to wipe the bottle tip clean as I ran but needed water to clean it well enough to use it again. After the bottle was re-filled at the next aid station, I cautiously drank from it then spit water onto the dirty bottle tip until it was clean, all while running. Success.

I got to the start/finish area—and the end of the first of three loops—under the two hour mark. I quickly swapped caps, took off my polyfleece shirt, and yanked off my right shoe and sock so I could glob Vaseline onto a hot spot. At the same time a volunteer came over to take my water bottle and fill it. Shoe and sock back on, and water bottle returned, I hit up the porta-john. Then I was ready! No, wait! I had to get some food. It was a mental juggle to remember everything.

My second loop was more of the same, except I was alone for almost the whole way around. I hammered it down the hills, power-walked the steep uphills, and recovered on the flatter sections. My Garmin told me I was going at an average of 9:30 minute/miles during the flatter sections and it felt like I was hitting the downhills closer to 7:30 minute/miles. I knew I was going a bit fast but I felt awesome so I kept it up.

Well, awesome other than a bit of nausea.

I hit the start/finish area again at just under 4 hours. I was still feeling pretty decent, but not as good as before. I grabbed a couple ginger chews along with the usual Shot Bloks. A sub-6 was still possible but not looking as likely. But I was going to try! And with luck, I would get my second wind.

A mile into the final loop, my batteries began to die. Fast. One moment I was thinking you can do it! And the next moment I was walking…on a flatter section...with no intention of running again anytime soon. The nausea was worse than ever and I was thirsty despite drinking more than enough. Or was it too much? My fingers were a bit puffy and my wedding band, which is normally easy to remove, was tight on my finger. I realized I was over-hydrated and had taken too many S-caps. That explained the nausea and the wall that I had run into.

After walking for nearly half a mile, I resumed running. But it was a slow, shuffling run—a big change from an hour before. A few moments later my tired foot stubbed a tree root while going down a hill. I flew forward like Supergirl and, after landing on my right knee and hip, slid down the hill on my side. Sometime during the slide I had rolled onto my back as I laid there helplessly, I began to laugh. Another runner—a woman I had passed on the first loop—was approaching. She had seen the whole thing and when she saw me laughing, she laughed too.

I got up and, after a quick mental check to make sure no body parts were mangled, resumed my shuffling run. I tripped over another root a few miles later but since it was going uphill, the fall was far less dramatic.

This time around the hills seemed endless. I would walk then remind myself that I was almost done, just a couple more miles, just a few more hills, think of the ice cream and brownies and I could eat afterwards, think of the comfortable couch awaiting at home. And with these thoughts I would begin running again but it wouldn’t last.

On the last hill of the course was a neon green sign with “Are you loving the hills yet?” handwritten in black marker. I had thought the sign was amusing on the first loop but now it was a beacon for the finish. Last hill, last quarter mile, almost there! And who was standing next to it but my dad, camera in hand? What a welcome sight!

He walked with me to the bottom of the hill then, when we got to the asphalt, I ran the rest of the way to the finish. The clock said 6:35—about a half hour later than I would have preferred but, given how difficult my last loop had been, I was happy with the time. Clinton Lake is a much tougher course than Farmdale and the fact I was able to do so much better, and not be overwhelmed by the hills (just my own fueling issues), was a testament to my increased fitness.

Let's see what happens at McNaughton Park.

Are you loving the hills yet?

After loop 2.

Half a mile to go.

A different farrier will shoe Limerick tonight....eeeks.

I never thought I'd see the day, but a different farrier needs to trim Lim's hooves--which happens tonight!

My usual guy threw his back out some time ago. Lim had an appointment with him on March 6 but he was unable to make it. When I asked him to recommend another farrier for the time being, he said he could come out and do Lim's feet himself when he had a better day.

Unfortunately, that day never came.

I know enough about back injuries to realize it might be a while before he can do Limerick's feet. In the meantime, they haven't stopped growing! So, I am finally resigned to finding someone else for the time being. I hate doing it but I have no choice.

The farrier I used before my current guy made Limerick lame, in more ways than one, so I am understandably worried and apprehensive about this. But again, I have no choice.

We'll see how it goes tonight.

At least I know Limerick isn't carrying a phantom foal. When I rode her on Sunday, she displayed obvious signs of heat. She was energetic but had a hard time channeling this energy. I had to strongly encourage her to use that energy to move forward. If she had it her way, she would have stopped to throw a temper tantrum every time another horse was ridden near her.

I don't usually get impatient with her but on Sunday I admit that after she tried to point her hindquarters at a horse for the second time, I made it abruptly clear to her that I wasn't going to tolerate that. I quickly turned her nose towards the offending horse and did a kind of shoulder-in away from that horse. I took her crankiness and turned it into work.

She was a bit better after I did this a couple times and settled into a nice, long-strided trot. After a few moments of this lovely trot I called it a day. When you're working with a mare in heat, it's better to err on the side of caution and end the day on a good note, no matter how short that note may be!

The spring heats are always the worst but at least she's settled down a lot in her older years.

I've been riding (and owning) her for 14 years this month and she's really come a long way from the temperamental fireball she once was. My mom can definitely attest to this. Limerick is like a fine wine--better with age!

On the running front, I'm running my second ultra-marathon this Saturday--the Clinton Lake 30. I feel far more prepared for this one than I did Farmdale. I'm excited and nervous! I feel like my legs could pull off something good but anything can happen in a race of this distance so we shall see.

An update!

Wow, I didn't realize how long it had been since I updated my blog. It seems like just a couple weeks ago that Limerick's photos were taken as she galloped and played in the snow.

The snow has melted, the spring rains and fog are coming and going, and pretty soon it will be trail riding season!

In early February, I received a letter from the barn stating that the board was to go up by $50. Yikes. Since the board hadn't been raised in two years, the amount wasn't very surprising. Unfortunately, the letter arrived at a bad time for me, financially.

The letter also noted that the cost of the middle barn stalls was to remain the same. These were the stalls that I had moved Limerick out of over the summer. There was nothing wrong with them, really, they were just old and had no runs. They used to be pretty dark, too, but windows had been recently installed in them so they were brighter during the day.

Since Limerick didn't use her run all that much (the only difference was she opted to crib outside on the door to the run rather than inside the stall) and she was turned out every day, I decided it wouldn't be all that bad to move her back to the middle barn and save $75 a month.

So I did that during the last weekend of February.

Around the time of the letter regarding board increase, my husband made a feed store run for me. He texted me from the feed store to tell me that they only had two bags of the feed I wanted. Ugh...frustrating!

It seems like every other time I get feed, there is some sort of problem. They're either out of pelleted or texturized, or they only have X bags when I want to purchase more, or the price of the bags has suddenly gone up, or blah blah blah.

As I made a note in my day planner to go back in two weeks for yet more bags, if they even had them, a small voice in my head dared to ask, What if Limerick was switched to Equine Senior?

Purina Equine Senior. It is fed by my barn and included in the board cost. I do not get a discount for feeding my own grain, so if I move Limerick to a new stall and switch to the feed provided by the barn, I would be saving around $150 a month.

Hmmm. Two years ago I wouldn't have even considered it. But now? Limerick is doing extremely well. She grazes on pasture grass in the summer with the rest of the herd, sans grazing muzzle. She eats the same hay as everyone else, unsoaked. She looks and feels wonderful. The danger of reoccurring laminitis appears to be long past.

To be sure, I did some research. The NSC (starch and sugar) levels of Purina Equine Senior aren't as low as Buckeye Safe N Easy, but they're not as bad as I thought they would be, either. Senior horses appear to do very well on this feed. I inquired with my farrier and vet. My farrier said "go ahead" and my vet said that it would most likely be okay, but to be safe we should run an insulin test on Limerick after she has been on the Equine Senior for a couple weeks.

Deal!

Well, the test was done last Friday and the results are in--her insulin levels are excellent, nice and low. I will continue to monitor her but both my vet and I feel she will be just fine.

And last but not least, she loves that feed!