TDN Weekend December 2016 Issue 9
Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/1045316
The plain bay horse rolled his wide eyes back ner- vously, snorting and leaning backward as I stepped in front of him. "That one," I called to the herder. He had a craziness about him, sure, but I liked it. It was 6 a.m. on day two of the Mongol Derby, and the evening before I had slugged through a torrential rainstorm on a horse that wouldn't go past a trot. I didn't want to risk that again. Fiery he was. We raced up and down mountains and across marmot hole-infested plains. Rocketship re- peatedly went down on his knees, face, belly, etc., but somehow managed to not lose total control, or me. "I'm actually going to die," I thought as we hurtled across a vast spread of knolls that I felt sure his hooves would slip between. I cringed as he tore across piles of rocks, but stone bruises? Not a concern for this dude. By the time I arrived at station six, my third stop of the day, I was riding with a group of guys from Austra- lia. I wasn't afraid to admit that exhaustion and pain were catching up to me. "Do you guys mind if I carry on with you to the next station?" I asked. "I'm getting a bit tired and sore and the company will keep my spirits up." They didn't mind. In fact, one even hooked me up with some super painkillers. "Take this; you won't feel a thing," he said, dropping a small white pill in my hand. I know: this is how a mediocre horror film begins. But one can get pretty desperate out on the steppe. And these guys seemed okay. Soon, a blissful numbness washed over me, and I'm sure I spent the rest of the day telling the guys how happy I was. We rolled into station seven, one of the most beautiful stops on the race, with 15 minutes until cutoff time.