Subject: Michelle Shaw - Mustang - Pan Am

It's 4 AM, Sunday morning, August 26, and I am experiencing the
defining moment of my life. I am in Vermont, aboard the Mustang,
Robin Hood, owned by Dr. Philip Ottinger. Unfortunately, Phil can't
be here to share the moment, but I have other support: my husband,
crew, and team officials. Hood and I cross the finish line, I jump off,
and promptly burst into tears. We've just completed the 100 mile
course of the 2001 Pan American Endurance Championship.

It was a long time in coming, and involved tremendous dedication from
all parties. Robin Hood had been selected for the 1999 Pan Am, with a
different rider, but I had had to withdraw two months prior to the race
because of an abcess in his neck and ensuing medical problems. I started
riding Robin Hood in December of 1999, and though I really didn't know
if he could make a comeback, and though he was the first Mustang I'd dealt
with, Phil kept encouraging me and telling me how to relate to him. At the
time, I had no idea of the depth of the horse I had under me.

For the next year and a half, making it to and competing in the Pan Am race
became my focus. It was a long process of bringing Robin Hood back to
fitness after his metobolic problems, while at the same time learning the differences
between dealing with Mustangs versus other breeds. I had come to endurance
riding from a background of three day eventing, so was more accustomed to
"hotter" breeds, such as thoroughbreds and Arabians. I quickly got used to
Hood's dependability, but it took me a bit longer and a few mistakes to finally
understand some of the metabolic issues Phil had been warning me about. We
ultimately got to the point that we could relatively easily "top ten" the 50 milers,
and I started looking to the 100 milers for our qualifying races. My husband was
very good to put up with all of my idiosyncrasies during this time. I was adamant
about not doing anything that would distract from or potentially jeopardize Hood's
training schedule. (Yes...the word "anal" does come to mind!)

The final few months leading to the Pan Am race, including the day we were officially
selected to the Pacific North squad, saw us on the Pony Express trail. During the months
of June and July, 2001, about 60 riders, including my husband and myself, rode 50 miles
a day, 5 days a week, for eight weeks, completing the entire original Pony Express route
from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Virginia City, Nevada. Not all of us rode every single day,
but we and our horses were there for the entire trip. It was quite an adventure, and I
wouldn't have missed it, bit it did have an impact on Hood's condition for Pam Am. Robin
Hood has a very upright lower leg and hoof conformation, and it can be rather tricky to shoe
him correctly. Normally, he goes in Sneakers (Eqithotics, Inc.) put on by Kirk Adkins, but
with two months on the trail, I had to have a local Wyoming farrier shoe him midway through
to California. His angles got a little off, and Hood wound up getting sore in his heels. I had to
send him home to Kirk in mid July, and so could not complete the final stages of his conditioning.
Instead of peaking for Pan Am, he was standing in a stall resting his feet. Robin Hood is a horse
who does his best when he's worked every day.

Eventually, Kirk got Hood sound enough to be ridden again, so we set off for Vermont two
weeks before the race. My husband, my dog, Robin Hood, and I in our two horse gooseneck
with living quarters. We made it almost to Salt Lake City (home is Sacramento, California area)
before the first breakdown. Yes. First of many. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say
that on that trip back East, we had three major truck breakdowns, and in between, we borrowed
a truck from a friend in Park City, Utah, returned that truck and picked up ours, spent the night in
the yard of a friendly rancher, got to know a very nice man named Francis who is the caretaker for
the Sidney, Nebraska fairgrounds, got more intimately familiar with roadside rest stops than anyone
should ever have to, and learned of every Ford truck dealer and diesel mechanic between Ogallala,
Nebraska, and Davenport, Iowa. Throughout it all, the Mustang was a trouper - took it all in stride
even while wondering how many times we were going to practice getting in and out of the trailer, and
enjoyed quite a bit of that lush Midwestern brome grass that grows along every road.

We finally did arrive in Vermont, actually back on schedule thanks to a couple of all-night drives, and I
had one week to not only let Hood recover from the journey, but also try to salvage some sort of
conditioning regiment to get his muscles active again. It was not to be. This time, I was thwarted by a
mysterious hind leg lameness that appeared out of nowhere. The Western veterinary medicine diagnostics
indicated a fetlock problem, while the acupuncturist argued that it was in the hock. You cannot even begin
to imagine the state of agitation to which this reduced me! We had worked so hard and come so far to do
this, and now we might not even be able to start. We poured as much Adequan and Legand into him as we
could, and I gave him even more time off. It worked. Five days later, we started the 2001 Pan American
Championship at five in the morning. It was a good race, but all the problems we'de had coming into it took
their toll. Robin Hood was tired by mile 50, sore in his heels by mile 60, and my mile 70, I came o the
conclusion that he had done enough for me. It was time to quit. We came to a spot where our support crew
could meet us, and I told them what was going on, and that I had decided to pull from the race. Meanwhile,
Robin Hood was happily munching away on as much food as he could stuff into his mouth. Before making
my withdrawal official, the assistant team chef d'equipe, Terry Benedetti, and I watched while my husband
trotted Hood for one final assessment. He looked good - seemed to have gotten a second wind. I decided
to press on to the next veterinary checkpoint. After all, it was the Pan Ams, and one doesn't quit lightly from
something like that! Hood seemed to have sensed what was going on, and he buoyed my spirits for that next
leg. It was almost as if he was saying to me, "Come on - we can do this!"

Throughout that next (and last) 25 miles, we alternately carried each other. I hiked beside Robin Hood for
most of the distance, and we walked together in the dark. From sunset until the time we finished, in the dark
of very early morning, we were by ourselves on the trail. There were times when I would give in to doubts
that we could do it in the time allowed. That's when he would carry me along, his footsteps sounding like a
metronome in the night, proceeding ever onward. I know horses fairly well, have ridden hundreds of them,
and have about 5000 lifetime endurance competition miles, but I have never before experienced anything like
that journey with that Mustang. I wasn't just dragging a horse over a 100 mile course. I was competing beside
a courageous and understanding soul and partner. We both chose to give it all we had, and that result was
incredible fulfillment at the personal level. No - we did not win the race, but I know I had the best horse there!

I wrote this in part to share my experience, but also because I want you to know about Mustangs. They aren't
just backyard pets and pleasure horses. If you gain the trust and respect of a Mustang, that horse will rise to
whatever occasion you ask. There is a depth of spirit and wisdom in them that can give you a true partner in
whatever equine activity you wish to persue.

Written by Michelle Shaw 11-23-01 to Dr. O.