My Worst Fall.

I was eleven.
Or maybe I was twelve.
I don't remember.
I had been training a horse who was hott off the race tracks.
Again.
I was twelve.
His name was Bear.
He was a beautiful bay thoroughbred.
It had been a full month of training when we went to our first schooling show.
Little did I know, it would also be our last.
Bear and I were quietly warming up for dressage.
He was not the only horse I was showing on that day and
I recall telling my friend Emma that "I just want to get through the show."
I didn't care if I won.
I knew I was showing Bear solely for his experience.
There happened to be a noisy truck and trailer barreling towards the warm-up arena.
I remember looking down at Bear beneath me, and I remember him taking a step backward.
And that's all I can remember...
Here's what I was told:
Bear was rearing.
I didn't have any control.
Then!
Bear lost his balance and started to tip backwards.
He "curled up into a ball" and fell straight back on top of me.
My mother saw Bear running back towards the barn with a fellow rider galloping after him. 
My mom said, "She's gonna get back on this horse!"
But the rider who ran back with the horse told her otherwise.
I can't imagine the fear my mother must have felt when she found me on the ground shaped like a pretzel and saying nonsensical words.
I was rushed to the hospital.
God was surely looking after me. 
I came home later that day, extremely sore, but nothing broken.
Not even a bruise.
The worst part was that the doctor said I couldn't ride for two weeks.
Longest two weeks of my life.

Bubble Boy

Yesterday, I got to the barn approximately 6:50 A.M. 

I was brushing off my horse when  I realized his leg was swollen.
"Gasp!"
was my first response.
Then I called my mother.
She asked if there were any cuts around.
I said yes, but it was much higher than where the swelling was.
She said that gravity makes that happen...
I walked him
and hosed his leg off for ten minutes.
The swelling didn't go down.
That night we gave him some antibiotics.
Swelling decreased a little.
Who knows what he did to get that cut on his leg?
You know, there comes a time in every rider's life
when she is tempted to tape her horse up in bubble wrap.
Also known as....
no turnout
supplements galore
blanket frenzies
clean stall freaks
retard guards
mineral blocks
hay hangers
futile toys
no dandruff
no sun-bleaching
no frolicking
no fun
ever.
Sound familiar?
Now, I am not suggesting that if any of the above are performed,
then your horse is a bubble boy...
but I am suggesting that if you do several of the above,
then you most likely have a bubble boy on your hands.
Let a horse be a horse, people!
Even if that means they get hurt every once in a while.
This doesn't mean I don't love my horse.
My horse will be fine in a few days.
So you can keep your bubble wrap.
I don't need it.

Almost died... again.

Never underestimate the power of a pony.
I've trained quite a few ponies...
None as ruthless and stubborn as this one.
He's pretty is as pretty does, as my mother says.
The other day we were outback jumping alone
when he decides to take off running.
(This happens often... no big deal)
My instructor always tells me, "When he takes off
You need to run him until he can't run anymore."
So I do.
Only it takes like... forever!
On this particular occasion we happened to take an unexpected tight turn,
galloping on a patch of slippery hay.
This is not good.
The pony slips.
He scrambles hastily beneath me, trying to regain his footing.
He does this for literally... ten seconds.
Which seems like forever when you're imagining this is your death!
I watching this below me (without a helmet on), fatalistically thinking, "I'm gonna die."
I am balancing over this pony while his nose is on the ground,
my feet are practically touching the ground,
and he is still scrambling to stand.
He stops.
On all fours.
Blowing.
I'm breathing pretty hard too.
We both stand shocked.
I look down at him and yell, "YOU JUST SAVED MY LIFE!!!!"
....."AND ALMOST KILLED ME AT THE SAME TIME!!"
Next time I ride him, I'm wearing my helmet.

High Expectations.

Yesterday, I had a bad ride.
Every once and a while,
when I am stressed and have other things on my mind,
when I have other things to do,
when I am pressured by tasks I need to get done,
I have a really bad ride.
I'm unfocused.
I'm frustrated.
Tense.
Sometimes these rides are so horrible and horrendous
that I think in my head that I should sell my horse and quit riding forever.
I know, I'm such a drama queen.
Only lately have I noticed that I have that mindset in other areas of my life.
Quitter mindset.
If something is not perfect, or how I expected it to be, or easy,
then I think I should throw it out of my life completely.
Which is completely wrong!
I love my horse!
I never would want to sell my horse...
(even though I could get thousands of dollars for him...)
Never!
And one bad day throws it all out the window?
No.
Tomorrow I will have a great ride
because it's my fault we had a bad ride to begin with.
I cannot expect my horse to be perfect everyday
(epecially in the case of not riding him three days prior!).
I cannot expect myself to ride perfectly and completely focused everyday.
I cannot expect anything to be perfect.
Especially  in relationships....
With humans who walk on two feet...
Or with animals that walk on four.

Briar Fox Farms

This past weekend my horse and I competed in our first preliminary event.
We had our usual sub par performance in dressage...
Stadium proved to be very smooth and pleasant.
We almost knocked down 5A
and again almost hit the second obstacle in the triple combination.
But we came out with a clean round... and 3 stinking time faults.
"What the..."
Were my thoughts exactly.
Warming up for cross-country, two riders ahead of me came walking back without finishing the course.
Sort of not a good sign....
I told my mother, who is also my trainer, that I should probably bring a whip.
I'm so glad I did because it saved my butt over three fences.
I used it for the bank-down, the water complex, and the trakehner below.
My trainer gave me the courage I needed with the words,
"You're ready for this.  You have schooled harder jumps than these.  You can do this."
We were the only ones who made it through the cross-country course without any jumping faults.
We had 7.2 time faults.
My AMAZING horse....
We won first place.

Obligation or Recreation

Think about your favorite athlete.
Whether it's Karen O'Connor,
David Beckham,
Peyton Manning,
or Michael Jordan...
A significant reason they have become so famous
is because of their raw talent.
A more significant reason for their stature
is because of their dedication to developing that talent.
Horseback riding works the same as any other sport.
How would someone know they are a prodigy without having mounted a horse?
It takes more than natural talent.
It takes more than skill.
It takes commitment.
It takes sacrifice.
It takes pure love of the sport...
not the fame that accompanies being in the sport.
Before cantering around the stadium course
with a blue ribbon attached to your boot,
you had to sweat a lot.
You had to cry a little.
You had to work your butt off... sometimes literally.
You might have even had to bleed.
You had to wake up every morning knowing you were going to ride later,
Wear riding britches everyday,
Tie your boots everyday,
Drive to the stables everyday,
Groom your horse everyday,
Tack up your horse everyday,
Ride for about an hour concentrating on solely this,
Listen to an instructor critic your every move,
Untack your horse everyday,
Wash your horse everyday,
Drive home everyday,
And repeat the process tomorrow.
This is why most kids quit once they get to high school or college.
You can't just pick up and go on a road-trip with friends.
You can't just veg out on the couch and watch T.V. all day.
You can't let more than one day go without riding.
That is, if you aspire to compete without humiliation.
Don't grow weary, my dear friends.
It may seem obligatory.
But
without our obligations to the sport,
then it wouldn't feel recreational anymore.
It's work...
most times.
But sometimes...
it's divinely beautiful playtime.

What's in a Show Name?

Horse names.

It's not the same as naming your dog. 

Horse names must include show names.

i.e. horse's name is Dusty, and his show name is Eat My Dust....

Most names come from breed-line, registry, etc.

As there are in every barn, there are staple stable names.

Star

being the most staple of them all.

I apologize if your horse's name is Star... but I mean, come on....

I'm trying to think if there are any more that I can think of...

without offending anyone I know.

I have seen the name Billy the Kid more than once at a show.

And the name All That Jazz.

Sometimes our barn tries to keep to a theme concerning the names of new arrivals.

The first theme was Whinny the Pooh.

We had a horse named Eeyore who began the whole thing.

He was mine at the time.

Named so because he was slow.

Next came a horse named Bear...

Short for Pooh Bear, which no one ever called him.

That's as far as that theme went.

Then there was the car theme.

Three newbies named Truck, Diesel, and Chevy.

How sad.

The accidental theme our barn has going is the card theme.

Ace, King, Queen, Jack.

We don’t have Queen anymore. 

But I promise no one made this a theme on purpose.

I will say...

the most clever show name I have ever known

in my entire career in horse trials

was a name I only just heard this year: 

"Your Mom"

It was quite entertaining to hear the announcer say,

"Next we have so-and-so.... riding Your Mom."

Can't Today.

Everyone, who has a horse, can understand the guilt
and regret
that goes along with having to skip a day of riding.
It's not that I don't have the desire to ride... it's because I can't ride today.
And I still feel badly about it.
My poor horse.
No one to brush him today.
No one to exercise him today.
There are many reasons for missing a day:
Sick, tired, stressed, no time, too hot outside, too cold outside, cramps, homework to do, test to study for,  vacation, weekend getaway, deadline to meet, wedding, birthday party...
Endless excuses.
Today, my excuse is that I'm too exhausted to do my horse any good.
If I rode tonight, then it would only make something worse.
Besides!
I am a firm believer that if you give a horse one day of rest during the week, then the horse will perform better overall.
It's true.
They have done studies.
But will my horse forgive me tomorrow?
I can see it in his huge, shiny brown eyes... "Where were you yesterday?"
Sigh.
I miss riding him.
Even if it's just been one day.
When I ride him, it's like the whole world is pure and good.
The ground I walk on becomes a haven.
Safe from hurt
and brokenness.
Safe from self-inflicted oppression
and stress.
Safe from my own shortcomings.
Safe from inconsistency.
Just riding.
Just focusing on this.
Nothing else.
Nothing in the world can harm me when I'm riding.
Except for maybe a little sunburn....
Anyway, maybe my horse doesn't notice if I miss a day of riding...
But the innermost part of my essence thinks he really does.

Galloping Day

My sense of euphoria.
My interpretation of complete liberty.
My obsession.
It's kind of like letting your hair down and taking your make-up off.
It's like driving with the windows down, singing at the top of your lungs. 
It's like getting pulled-over by a police car for the first time.
It's like having an intimate conversation with your crush.
It's like running through the rain and mud with lightning flashing all around you.
 It's like letting go of childhood pain and moving forward with forgiveness.
Uninhibited.
Freeing.
Terrifying.
Enrapturing.
Frightening.
Releasing...
There is a moment,
while my thoroughbred is cantering,
that I decide
to let go,
to allow my horse to run without any restrictions.
Initially, there is an adrenaline rush, elevating through my veins and draining out the pours of my skin.
Hooves drumming beneath me.
Deafening wind blasting past my ears.
Then, I wonder, will I be able to bring him down?
My arms pull.
My heels sink deep.
My speed is unimpressed.
I continue fatalistically galloping, deciding to at least savor my demise.
Promptly approaching the end of the grassy pathway,
I try once more to shorten our stride.
I stand up, lean back, and I pull with every trace of muscle I possess.
He reluctantly slows to a walk.
Then we turn around,
walk back,
and do it again...

Unfeigned Fear

Last night,
I walked down to the barn at about 10:30 P.M.
The barn contained about thirty horses, three kittens, and me.
I reached for the light switch, and my hand returned with dusty cobwebs.
I tacked up my horse,
walked out to the indoor arena,
switched on the lights,
and mounted.
As we were serenely walking along, suddenly,
a bat starts flying above our heads!
My first thought was that it was going to turn into Edward Cullen....
Mmmhmm....
My second thought involved a bloody scene around my jugular.
The brown bat whirled and spiralled around us.
I tried to pretend that I was undisturbed.
My horse's walk soon turned into a prance. 
He could smell my fear.
I refocused on my horse's gate,
while periodically peering over at the revolving bat.
Eventually, the bat went back to it's cave...
wherever that might have been...
and I continued my ride.
(Not without trying to avoid that corner of the arena.)
There is always the possibility of running into another one of God's creations when I ride. 
It could be a coyote, a turtle, a cow, a turkey, a stray dog, a bunny, or a bat...
My horse especially is afraid of squirrels....  I know, right?
This facet of forest creature encounters is not present in all sports.
But one factor does exist in every sport:
Fear.
Last night it came in the form of a bat...
Or was it in the form of my thoughts?
Or in the absence of my courage?
Whatever the case might have been,
I am sort of really sad he didn't turn into Edward.

Having Withdrawals?

Addicted.
I am addicted to riding.
If I am without it for even a day,
I start having withdrawals.
I get anxious
jittery
flustered
distracted
and emotional.
I will say, I am emotional most times.
Let's say the severity of my emotions accelerate.  
I am not even aware of the symptoms and why they are happening.
Returning to the magnificent aroma of the stables.
Returning to the presence of my best friend.
Returning my hand to the forehead of my horse. 
Returning to the saddle.
It's like a drug.
Suddenly the evidence of my withdrawal dissipates.  
Oh how I missed you!
My fuzzy friend who will never judge me
who will never disappoint me
never get angry with me
who will never break my heart
who will always forgive me
who will always be there for me when I need a warm body to cry with.
No matter how much fun I had on vacation,
Nothing compares to the unmitigated bliss
 of wrapping my arms around the neck of the this beautiful athlete...
And life-long friend. 

In the beginning...

Oh my goodness.

I do not like teaching beginners how to ride.

Don’t misunderstand me... I admire their effort.

And it can be very rewarding at times….

I just was not gifted in the vicinity of teaching beginners.... 

ESPECIALLY, when it comes to helpless beginners.

Helpless beginners are helpless.

(I know, so profound.)

They constantly blame the horse for not doing this or that.

These helpless riders accuse the horse of being stubborn or stupid.

When, in fact!! It is the rider’s ignorance and lack of effort that is the cause of the horse’s unwanted behavior.

So. Incredibly. Frustrating.

This is a valuable lesson that my mother ingrained into my mind ever since I began my career in riding: It’s always rider error.

If your horse is not turning,

If your horse is not bending,

If your horse is not going forward,

If your horse is not stopping…

It is absolutely

100%

always

the rider’s fault.

It’s like riding a bike for the first time and figuring out how to maneuver and break…. No one blames the bike for not stopping or turning.

I had to vent.

My apologies.

Discrepancy... and then some.

Blog.

Not something I ever thought I would do…

Until it was imposed on me to create one.

Secretly I have always wanted to do this.

I like to write.

I unquestionably do not have the required attention span to write a novel.

Probably not even an adequate amount of attention to write a short story.

But a blog I think I can do

My computer does not even think that blog is a word….

keeps underlining it in squiggly red.

Horses.

This is my passion. 

Cute little tidbit: it’s the second most dangerous sport next to motocross.

I jump over trees and skyscrapers and run through treacherous waters!  

Oh yes.

Okay, slight hyperbole.

To those who enjoy horses….

From afar…

or from their warm, hairy withers.... 

This is for you.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to attempt to wake up early to ride.

I’ll letcha know how it goes…