My Other Favorite Blue

It's time to tell another story I've alluded in previous posts. Here is a better look at my profile picture:

As you can tell by the ribbon I am holding, this was taken at a horse show. But not just any horse show: this was the very first one I'd participated in since I was sixteen. Twenty-one years had passed in between. So the mere act of riding in this show was a pretty big deal!

Once again, like the opportunity to go foxhunting, this event was courtesy of my second-to-last lesson barn. I had been riding there for about nine months, I think, when I was told about the Academy show they had coming up. I wasn't sure what "Academy" meant but turns out that means strictly for lesson students. I double-checked to make sure but yes, I was eligible! I instantly knew I wanted to participate, even though the thought made my stomach churn.

Time to drag out and dust off my tall boots. These had been languishing since after my first couple of lessons at this barn (I had quickly learned that everyone lessoned nowadays in half chaps and paddocks, which suited me fine). I also purchased a new pair of breeches and black gloves. Other than that, no fancy attire was required so I was all set. I actually could have showed in the half chaps and paddocks but since I had the boots I wanted to wear them, dorky as they are.

I signed up for the Age 18 & Up division (hah), which consisted of two OF classes and one flat class, all Hunters (I don't think there were any Eq classes at this show, or maybe I wanted to skip them). I didn't know what horse I'd be riding but I figured it would be the famous red-headed mare Polly, since I'd been put on her quite a bit in lessons. This was okay; she was a pain in the neck but when properly motivated - and I had hopes the show atmosphere would help - she was a lovely jumper and mover.

The big day arrived and I arrived early at the barn in a state of high anticipation, excitement and nerves. My family tagged along for moral support as did my friend C, who had recently become LiRoi's mom and didn't want to ride in the show. I went to pay my fees and get my number and was told that sure enough, I was supposed to ride Ms. Polly. However, when I went to her stall, guess what?? Someone else was there. The person who was grooming her who told me, "I don't know what the deal is because *I* am supposed to be riding Polly," and she didn't seem inclined to budge. Uh-oh...

Along came my trainer, who looked at me standing in the barn aisle holding my saddle and grooming bag and appearing somewhat stupefied. She laughed, jerked her thumb in the direction of another stall and said, "What about Marbles? Have you ever ridden him?" I was a bit taken aback because no, in fact, I had NOT ever ridden Marbles and I didn't necessarily think the day of a horse show was the best day to "break in" a new mount! However, if I wanted to show, and I really did, it looked like this would be the case. My trainer told me I should do fine with him and that I wasn't too tall to ride the pony, for that is what he was (about 14.1 and a half, but definitely a pony).

I went in the stall and introduced myself to Marbles. He had a bit of a sour expression but he seemed to appreciate my grooming efforts, especially the Grooma being used on his neck. That elicited a nice stretch and a flappy lip. I laughed because the top of his rump was filthy, something I've often found to be the case with school ponies who are often groomed by little kids who can't reach there. I tacked him up and climbed aboard, with only about ten minutes to go before the first class which was OF. The pony felt absolutely wonderful; I've always liked the small ones and he had smooth and pleasant gaits. I felt an instant connection with him. We did a little W/T/C and hopped once or twice over the jump set up in the warm-up area. I found out he had auto-changes and was given the world's fastest lesson in how to ask for them. Auto-changes were something only one other horse I'd ever ridden (American Mare) had as an option and to be honest, I really didn't know what I was doing! All this hurrying-up was actually a good thing because I literally did not have time to be nervous.

Into the ring we went, for eight fences. It wasn't a large (2') or long course but in my mind it might as well have been the Grand National. Somehow we got around, in halfway decent form, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief when we exited. Wow! I'd done it! Actually completed a jumping course at a show (keep in mind, at this point I could barely make it around five jumps in lessons).

When the other adults were done (there were five of us altogether) we awaited the results. To my utter and complete shock, my number was called first. FIRST!! What? I didn't even know the horse I was riding, for pete's sake! As I was handed my blue ribbon and cute green picture frame trophy, I told the judge, "You've made an old lady very happy today," and she responded, "Well, you earned it!" While Marbles still wore his grumpy expression (which I soon learned was typical for him) I was grinning from ear to ear, as you can see in that photo.

I wish I could tell you I went to further glory in the show but I left too long for a fence in the next jumping class, causing me to lose a stirrup and some control, and finished fourth. Then Marbles tried to bite everybody that came near him in the flat class, causing us to be yelled at several times by my fellow riders and us to finish dead last in fifth place. I was a bit disgusted with Mr. Crabby Pony following the latter excursion but still floating on a cloud after that first big win.

Here we are with all our loot:

It truly was one of the proudest days of my life.   

 * * *

I'm sorry I have been absent from the blogging scene. I have something going on physically (still in the pending diagnosis stage) that makes typing (and would make riding) a bit painful, and also some other "life happenings" that have left me in not much of a mood for writing. However, recalling happy events and thinking about horses helps me to stay positive, so I'm going to try and put some stuff up here. I have more to say about Marbles, for one thing. The little curmudgeon became extremely dear to me!

In the meantime, here's one last photo from a much earlier horse show of mine, when I was about seven. I assume I was in mid-clap, given the ring-side location, but it looks a bit like I was praying (that I would be assigned Grey in my next class, maybe?). At any rate, I think this appropriate because I'm definitely appealing to The Man Upstairs right now for help and guidance in dealing with things. Here's hoping He is listening. Thank you for reading!

BB&G, Part 1

This will be one of my "writing my memories down because I want to" posts... hope it's somewhat entertaining!

***

Anyone who's been around this blog for a while knows that I started out riding H/J at Tricorne Farm in Holmdel, NJ when I was but a wee tyke (5). I stayed there until I was 12 years old, but then things weren't going so well (didn't care for the new trainer) and it seemed like time to make a switch. So where did I go?

Better Barns and Gardens.

Nope, I'm not making that up! The giggle-worthy name was cooked up by the trainer/person in charge and the "silent partner" actual barn owner. The barn was a single pole-style main structure with about 14 stalls and a tackroom, and the "garden" was the flower beds on either side of the main door. The rest of the facility consisted of a nice-sized outdoor ring, a small stone building that was optimistically called the "office," a hay/shavings storage shed, two huge pastures, and two homes - one extremely old and uninhabited and the other a farm house, probably built in the 30s and occupied by the trainer and her three children. The buildings were located at the end of a long dirt lane that ran alongside the main pasture.

The barn had just opened and my mother's good friend's daughter was taking lessons there, so on the strength of their recommendation over I went. I was a bit intimidated by the trainer lady at first; she was a bit older than my mom, and very forthright with her opinions. Keep in mind that my self-esteem was practically non-existent at that age (middle school = HELL, no?).  Fortunately, she mixed compliments in with her criticism so I decided I could live with her training style.

On the other hand, Trainer's kids absolutely reveled in giving me a hard time. A sensitive, insecure, straight-A student with braces and a flat chest? Oy. Might as well have painted a bulls-eye on me. There were a son and a daughter older than me, and a daughter who was a year younger. All three of them treated me like I was the dorkiest, most socially-unacceptable person they had ever met. It didn't help one bit that the son was pretty cute so of course I developed a mad crush on him... or that he was dating Mother's Friend's Daughter (who, by the way, was none other than the exact same person who I was sent with to Little Hope Ranch. Gaaah.)

Enough about my social angst. What about the horses and the riding? THAT part of BB was really good. There weren't a lot of horses, but the ones I rode the most were great. Photos are very sadly lacking from this riding era, so unfortunately the only one I can find to share is this crummy Polaroid I took out in the big pasture:

The white horse is American Mare, my main mount. I think she was about 15 when I started riding her, and 15.1hh. She was a registered Paint, as she had one dinner plate-sized splotch of chestnut hair on her flank, and chestnut cheeks, and those just barely qualified her as such. She was a very good show horse and before I met her had earned several ROMs from APHA.

Mare was a very well-trained gal and taught me a lot. She was a great "next step" type of horse for my riding ability. Among many things, I learned what an extended trot felt like and how to ask for it, how to do a turn on the forehand, how to jump bareback (she was extremely comfy) and how to get a white horse clean. Incidentally, KEEPING her clean was another matter: I'd spend hours shampooing and scrubbing the day before a show, tuck her in a well-bedded stall for the night wearing a sheet, and then arrive at 5:00 AM to find she'd managed to lie down in a poo pile or two and accumulate lovely stains. Baby powder was my friend!

Mare also pulled like a freight train when she got excited (at least when I was riding her - she went like a dream for Trainer's Daughters), so another thing I learned was how to use a Pelham. Even then, our jumping rounds, especially on an outside course like we had "back in the day," were less than things of beauty. Just picture me pelting around a large grass field at warp speed, screeching to a halt in time to pop over the rustic jumps. (It probably wasn't quite that bad but I do remember being scared a lot of the time.)

The best part of riding Mare, and indeed, riding at BB, was that my trainer turned out to be a very enthusiastic proponent of 4-H. I'd had zero exposure to the program before this and was excited to find out I could be part of a club despite the fact that I didn't own a horse. Our new club met twice a month at Trainer's house and I was soon plugging away on my Horse Project. We also formed  a Horse Bowl team and I eagerly joined that as well.  (More about 4-H experiences in next post)

My mom was willing to leave me at BB for long stretches, so I really became a barn rat at this place. All kinds of things went on there, good and bad, as I'm sure you can imagine. Some of my favorite memories (most of which my mom knew nothing about*):

- Taking the dare on touching the hot wire on the pasture fence. What I didn't notice was my challenger, who touched the wire to demonstrate that it didn't hurt, used the BACK of his hand. I put my palm on it and got "stuck" for about five seconds, which didn't feel too good.
- Jumping on bareback and riding the horses in from the pasture with nothing but a halter and lead shank. Big fun to someone in a lesson program!
- Learning how to braid manes and tails and getting good enough at the former to charge others $$.
- My darling dad staying up all night to take me to the barn at 4:30 AM for shows.
- Riding in the horse van on the way to shows (a real "horse box" type like nobody uses in the US anymore) between horses and getting green sneezy-snot in my hair.
- Being exhausted, filthy and sweaty after being at the barn on a really hot day and walking allllll the way down the lane to meet my mom, then sneaking in to cool off in the neighbor's pool. I'm sure they wondered about all the horse hair in the filter!
- The barn lane itself. Driving down this became quite an exercise in auto preservation over the years, as enormous car-swallowing, axle-banging holes and ruts developed (in the summer, muddy swimming pools, and in the winter, frozen mini-ponds) and the BO never paid to have it graded. I actually took perverse pride in my ability to navigate it as you had to be a "regular" to know the way. I'd be practically standing up in the station wagon, hollering, "Go right! Now left! MORE left!" at my poor mom as we tried to wend our way through a 1/2 mile of torture.
- Holing up in the "office" and spending hours and hours happily reading back issues of Paint horse magazines, looking for mention of horses I knew (especially Mare).
- Scrubbing "my" white horse until my fingers were raw, including using water and bleach with a Brillo pad to get her pink hooves clean.
- Learning how to use horse clippers and do fetlocks, bridle paths and whiskers.
- Riding through the pain of hideous, raw shin rubs and the joy of getting my first pair of real leather tall boots, which finally eliminated them.

* (And never will, I guess, because she sure doesn't read this blog!)

So between the good riding, hanging around the barn, the 4-H activities and dealing with Trainer's lovely (koff, koff) kids, I was getting quite an education.

The most amazing thing was the condition of Trainer's house. Now, my own house was never what you'd call immaculate. My mom had better things to do then clean all day. But this place... whoa. Cat hair, dog hair, and just plain old dirt all accumulated in vast abundance along with myriad flotsam and jetsam related to horses and riding. Broken halters draped on the lampshade? Check. Hairy, muddy brushes? Check. Random animal-chewed leather items, whip handles, dirty polo wraps, rusty bits, discarded horse shoes, faded ribbons, dog-eared magazines, stained saddle pads, and tarnished and bent trophies? Check. You name it, it was flung around that house. I would literally have to clear a space to sit down, and the whole place stank of cat pee to boot. Yes, my mother did know about all this but she told me later she just closed her mind and told me to shower when I got home. :-)

And then there was the night when the house caught on fire during a 4-H meeting...

* TO BE CONTINUED! *

Saddle Fitting - What's That?

Here's what I knew about saddle fit for both horse and rider when I bought my current one in 2000: next to nothing. For the horse, I knew it had to have wither and gullet clearance. For the rider, I knew my knee shouldn't hang over the edge of the flap, and I should be able to fit four fingers behind my butt. That's about it! As a life-long lesson student I'm afraid I never really had to think about it. When I went saddle shopping, I focused on the following, in this order:

- Price (< $1,000)
- Quality
- Fit for me
- Appearance

When I was little and riding at Tricorne Farm, I used the saddle that went with the horse or pony I was assigned to that day. I cringe when I see photos of my small self floating around in a ginormous hunk of leather on the back of some patient 16hh plodder. Bet it made my legs stronger, though!

This photo isn't quite as dramatic, as I was more like eight years old than five (my age when I started at Tricorne), but I guarantee you those leathers were wrapped at least once. I can remember them having to be wrapped two or even three times.

This is "Budweiser," a Belgian X schoolie who had to have been even taller than 16hh. I'm modeling the rubber tall boots I wore for a few years. Hot in the summer, FREEZING in the winter - it's a wonder I still have all my toes - and loose enough to go around my chicken legs twice. Have to say they really didn't look that bad, though.

When I was a teenager, I used the "in" brand borrowed from my trainer's daughter for shows. It was a Crosby Prix de Nations, of course - the must-have saddle of the 70s. I don't remember what I rode in for lessons; something that must have fit me and the two lessons horses okay. I always desperately wanted my own saddle as a kid but my parents didn't see the need. I remember watching the price of a PDN go up... and up... over the years in the Millers catalog and lamenting the fact that it was getting further out of reach by the minute (I think it hit a whole $500!). Why we didn't look for a used one, I don't know...  When I finally accumulated some of my own money I wasn't riding anymore (Sr. year of HS - story for another day) and spent it on a trip to Europe.

Now, thanks to the Internet, I am vastly more educated. I don't have my own horse, so I've still never tried to fit a horse exactly, but at least I know more about my own choice. Luckily, it wasn't half-bad: it's a 17" Dover Circuit Elite.

Not mine, but looks just like it.

The Dover catalog states this is their best-selling saddle, and they also have some quotes from trainers saying it fits a wide variety of horses. Neither of the trainers I've ridden with since acquiring the Circuit Elite have complained about it not fitting a lesson mount, thank goodness. I was glad that at my most recent barn all the horses went in a wither-relief pad (either wool or faux sheepskin) and a regular pad, so that helped, too.

I have been very happy with this saddle and it's garnered quite a few compliments. I see that Dover has upgraded the leather since my purchase; a good thing, since it took a lot of elbow grease and Lexol to break in the flaps on this one (and remove a bunch of superfluous dye). Still, I have to tell you it was made a lot better than a low-end model from Beval that I also looked at. I was not impressed with the unmatching leather on that one at all - and they were the exact same price.

When I finally do get my own horse I will be sure to have a saddle fitter out. I would have no problem replacing the Dover if that's best, as I've learned I could use something better for myself anyway (narrower, more forward flap, for starters).

If you noticed, I was talking about my "current" saddle. My first one was none other than a Crosby PDN, purchased well-used in 1988. I still remember how beyond thrilled I was when I saw it for sale on a flyer hanging up after the 4-H show at the Ohio State Fair. I couldn't believe it - my dream saddle, in my size, for $75! The ironic part was I wasn't even riding then, but I didn't care (and I also didn't really have the $75, being right out of college and living on my own). I drove two hours away to pick it up and was so excited that I actually pulled over at a rest stop to hang the thing on a guard rail and sit in it. Lord knows what passing motorists thought I was doing.

Another 11 years went by before I had the opportunity to ride in this saddle. It was now 1999, and you know where this is going... much to my dismay, flat saddles were largely gone from the H/J world. Everyone had padded knee rolls again. My rock-hard, needed-reflocking, slippery PDN was not only not in fashion, it revealed itself to be mighty uncomfortable. I had never noticed when I was a kid but I sure did as an adult! It had to go... hence the search that resulted in the Circuit Elite. I looked for a used saddle to no avail, as I would have liked something already broken in.

The longed-for Crosby is now adorning a display shelf in my bedroom. I know some people still love them, and I'm sure I could sell it to one of them or a person just starting out in English riding, but for now it's merely a decoration:

I have published glimpses of this display shelf before. Coming soon: a post where I explain everything up there! And, I told you the panels need restuffing... ugh.

Of course nowadays the most popular models are nothing less than pillowy mock-couches - I'd love to see some of these Junior riders get around a 3'6" course in that old PDN, wouldn't you? ;-)

Ground: 1 Me: 0 (Maddie)

Imagine you're me, and there are two horses you ride most often in your lesson program. One is a Paintaloosa pony gelding, about 14.2hh. The other is an approx. 18hh Percheron mare. Now which one do you think it would be "best" to unexpectedly dismount? Probably the pony, seeing as he's almost a foot and a half closer to the ground....

Unfortunately, as you've probably surmised, I did not fall off the pony. No, in true Murphy's Law fashion, my last fall occurred from the lofty Percheron. Here we are at a show, so you can hopefully see I'm not exaggerating her height:

This was taken by my 6' tall husband, and really doesn't illustrate how tall she actually was. I'm 5'6" if it helps any!

Maddie arrived at my old lesson barn with a black TBx colt by her side. I was enthralled with her from the start, as I'd long thought Perchies were beautiful horses and I'd never had the opportunity to really get up close to one (other than petting the occasional carriage horse on the nose). She belonged to the BO and I had no idea what he planned to do with her. Her tail was docked so I knew she must have been trained to drive.

One day I was out with my friends grazing our horses after a lesson. To my great surprise - for I had no idea she was even a riding horse, and for that matter had never seen anyone riding a draft horse at all - the BO came trotting along on Maddie. We could tell she was not thrilled to be parted from her foal, because she was neighing at the top of her lungs every other stride and pulling towards the barn. It looked pretty exciting. I called out to the BO, "Better you than me!" and he responded, "Hah - just wait, I'm putting her in the lesson program!" My friends and I looked at each other like, okaaaaay... They had their own horses so didn't need to worry, but I certainly wondered!

The colt was duly weaned and sent back to the breeder (it hadn't been a package), and true to BO's word, Maddie was promptly put to use as a lesson horse. I did not think *I* would ever ride her, though; I mean, what did I know about drafts? Apparently that didn't matter because one day I showed up for my lesson and there she was, next to my name. Yikes.

Picking her enormous feet proved to be a back-breaking challenge, as did currying and brushing such a vast expanse of horsehide. Fortunately she was a good girl in her stall; since she took up so much of it, if she'd been bad she could have squashed me like a bug, especially while I was standing on an overturned bucket to clean her rump. The only trouble I had with her was bridling. She rather liked to raise her head, and that's a real issue when head-raising means it's 10' in the air. I was forced to develop a routine of, "Feed peppermint, stuff in bit whilst Maresy is chewing."

Once aboard Maddie, I found I was in for a treat. She was amazingly athletic for such a big girl, and had delightful gaits. A big, springy trot and a rolling canter, which covered a lot of ground without being so fast that it scared me. And she simply loved to jump! I think she was pretty green over fences, but her form was fine and it really was a blast. One thing that I especially appreciated was 2'6" looked much smaller from that view. :-)

I did have to ride Maddie in a different manner than I was accustomed to, namely with my hands higher, and really balance her between hand, seat and legs, but it was fun and a good challenge. While I missed my favorite pony a bit, I sure did enjoy the big gal.

A humorous post-lesson anecdote: the first time I rode her, as usual the other ladies and I took our mounts over to a grassy area to graze them afterwards. This was actually one of my most favorite aspects of the day, and we girls would stand around for at least an hour, chatting about this and that, while the horses happily munched. Suddenly Maddie's legs started buckling. I practically had a heart attack - what the heck was the matter with her? Had I killed the big mare with my inept piloting? Her knees hit the turf, then the rest of her body followed with a loud grunt and a thud. I must have been open-mouthed with horror - and I don't think my friends knew exactly what was going on, either.

Well, you guessed it - somebody was looking for a nice roll! Giant hooves waved around in the air as she flung herself from side to side. We onlookers were cracking up in relief. Maddie finally levered herself up off the ground, gave an earth-shaking shudder, and went back to grazing like nothing had happened. I quickly learned to expect this behavior from her after every lesson, and looked forward to the awesome sight of such a big horse contorting herself with glee on the grass.

The day I fell off I was in a de facto private lesson since my usual buddies weren't able to make it. Maddie and I were jumping a little course, and I remember turning towards a fence on the diagonal. I can't recall if we were trotting or cantering, but whatever we were doing, I completely misjudged the distance. Maddie floundered over the jump, and I was popped loose from the saddle and wound up sitting on her neck. I clung there like a monkey, really not wanting to hit the deck. Many horses in this situation panic and take off but God bless 'er, Maddie simply ground to a halt as I was forced to let go. I pretty much rolled off of her and hit the soft sand of the arena on my butt. It felt like a very long way down!

So, certainly no big deal as far as "wrecks" go. My trainer was not sympathetic in the least and quickly pointed out that I'd gotten Maddie to the fence wrong, which I freely admitted. I can't remember if I got back on but I'm pretty sure I did, since the only thing that seemed to be bruised was my pride. The next day, however, I felt some after-affects, namely a very sore neck and shoulders, which I think I got from trying to stay aboard.

I rode Maddie in the last horse show I participated in, an academy show. I was grumpy about riding her for a couple reasons, mainly because I'd hoped to show the pony, and also because she'd managed to get herself absolutely filthy. I had no time to bathe her so despite coating myself and my nice show outfit with a thick layer of dust we were not too spick-and-span for the show ring.

Nonetheless, we made a fairly good account of ourselves, as you can see by the ribbon haul.

I believe that's a first, a third and a sixth. I know perfectly well where we got the sixth; it was in one of our over-fences classes and I'm sure there were only six horses. Miss Maddie Moo unaccountably decided that she'd rather not jump the last jump and ran out to the left. This was not her usual behavior, at all. In fact, I don't think she'd ever refused or run out on me ever before. And it was towards the in-gate, too! I was Not. Happy. with her. We circled, I hauled for all I was worth on the right rein, and got her over the jump, but it wasn't pretty.

The first-place winning effort I also remember well. This was in Equitation on the Flat. I remain very proud of that one, and have the nice medal I won (around my neck in photo) prominently displayed. It was a good day overall and I treasure the memories. (Note: my vintage "tall" dress boots, ca. 1978. They still fit and are in excellent shape, but are obviously not the current style. Maybe I could have a cobbler add a snakeskin Spanish top? :-))

In addition to her being a lesson horse, the BO used Maddie as his hunting partner. They made quite a picture in the field with her braided up and him in his pink coat. This went on for a couple years, and she seemed to enjoy it very much. Unfortunately, the big mare developed a chronic lameness. This was after I'd had to quit taking lessons, so I wasn't around the barn and don't know what happened. Eventually she was bred to the BO's TB stallion and had another beautiful black colt. Sadly, I don't know where she is now... and I'm a bit afraid to ask. I'd rather just remember the sweet girl who I nicknamed "The Fridge" (her back was the same height as mine) as she was, who taught me that draft horses can be absolutely wonderful riding horses. Vive La France!

Flying With Peter Pan

Well, hello there, if anyone's still listening! I guess my blogging muse has largely deserted me lately. That and I was gone on a college orientation/vacation trip for 10 days... had a terrific time at the Jersey Shore. Yes, that place. However, our version looks more like this than the one you see on the wretched show. I know these aren't horse-related, but please bear with me while I defend the honor of my beloved native state! You will note that there is not a Snooki in sight. :-/

Beach approach - Normandy Beach, NJ

Our beautiful Atlantic...



Getting ready for 4th of July fireworks show, held in honor of my dad who loved all things that went "BOOM!"

At any rate, a post by my friend Jessica over at Hopeful Jumpers has inspired me to, ahem, dive back into a blogging, in order to relate a couple of tales of equestrian mayhem, RiderWriter-style. Jess was able to list her recollections of almost all of her falls. I'm afraid I long since lost track of how many times I've parted company with an equine, but I know it was a least a dozen by the time I graduated from HS. In later years, it really hasn't been very many - and thank goodness for that, since God knows I sure don't bounce like I used to! At any rate, I vividly recall my two worst childhood wrecks, and also the last time I came off. I've already written about one of the kiddie incidents in this post, so I won't repeat myself, but here is the other one. This wound up going rather long so I'll put the story of the most recent fall into my next post.

*

One of my favorite lesson mounts as a kid at Tricorne Farm was the wonderful Peter Pan. Peter was a buckskin large pony, about 14hh, of indeterminate breeding. This boy was full of ponytude, but he could jump the moon. Purportedly at some time in his career someone had taken him over a VW Bug! I remember being told that story and somehow not doubting it was true. I don't really recall now why I liked Peter so much; whether it was his devil-may-care attitude, athleticism, or comfortable gaits, I'm not sure. However, I do remember the time he nearly - and I'm afraid I don't exaggerate - killed me.

I was about 10 years old, and we were on a group trail ride instead of a lesson. To get to the trails we we had to leave Tricorne by the front entrance, cross a road, and then immediately cross another road (we were right by an intersection). Then we would go straight up a small but steep hill. The initial trail forked near the top and sometimes we went one way, sometimes the other. On this particular day, our trainer had warned us that when we went up the hill we were to take the left branch of the trail, not the right, but she didn't say why. Peter and I clip-clopped across one road, across the other, started up the hill, and then.... when I tried to turn left, Peter decided he was going right. He yanked the reins out of my hands as I was leaning forward trying to grab mane and lunged upwards.

The next thing I knew, there was a tremendous blow to my chest and I was lying on the ground. A large branch had fallen directly across the trail, just high enough for Peter to fit under it but not me. I had the wind knocked completely out of me, between the branch hitting fore and the ground hitting aft. I couldn't move, and lay in stunned shock trying to figure out what had just happened. Of course the tears soon came and I know I was totally hysterical. Everything hurt. Peter, to his credit, did not go far once he'd unloaded me in his little burst of freedom, and eventually I was able to mount up and ride him back to the barn. The trail ride obviously was cancelled.

The real issue with this incident came afterwards and still haunts me. What if that branch had fallen just 8" or so farther from the ground? It would have connected with my neck, not my chest. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you if that had happened, at the very least I would not be sitting here today typing with both hands. I was very, very lucky, indeed. I know for a fact that other trail riders and foxhunters have not been so fortunate.

I still loved and rode Peter Pan after this plenty of times, including the time when he ran off again and carried me right into the road - I can't put that incident in "falling-off stories," since I stayed on, but gee whiz, I guess the guy must have really wanted to do me in!

Grounded/Belmont Thoughts

*Sigh* No, I'm still alive and kickin' here in the heart of the Midwest. I'm just feeling rather discouraged on the riding front. We took a harder look at the finances involved to send the first one off to college, and OUCHIE, ow, ow ow. It ain't a pretty picture. So, Mommy's Expensive Hobby is pretty much going right out the 'ole window for now, I'm extremely sorry to say. No more Pebbles or Snickers for me for the foreseeable future. I will get on my friend's Giant WB LiRoi when I can (difficult while she's involved with polo season) but other than that, I think I am grounded. Sadness...

I'm thinking I need to get this book!

Salt was rubbed in the wound when an email arrived the other day announcing the Academy Show taking place in a few weeks at the new barn. Why I should feel bad about this is beyond me; why do I have a mad yearning to go out and (probably) embarrass myself in front of others? Why do I positively long to participate in this event? If I did sign up (unlikely if only because I haven't lessoned in a least a month and they would probably laugh at me/not allow me to do it), I guarantee you that I would spend the entire week beforehand in a frenzy of nerves.*

This is despite the fact that I probably would only enter a couple of flat classes. Not up to jumping any kind of course unless it was trot x-rails... which I would do if they had a "Flying Fossils" division for the likes of my 45+ year-old self. I hardly think I should be in the ring with itty-bitty kids! :-)

Furthermore (can you tell I'm justifying this all to myself), I would not be happy showing in my current breeches and helmet, even in an academy show. So there's another (at least) 100 bucks I don't have. Okay, okay, I guess I could stand to turn up in those items if I had to, but displaying my muffin top and less than fashionable helmet makes me feel like a frump before I even get on a horse. All I can say is, the kid had better be grateful and I had better not wreck some body part critical to riding before I'm able to do something for real again. Cancel the hang-gliding lesson forthwith, LOL!

***

Okay, enough with the pity party! The Belmont Stakes is fast approaching, which of course has the horse world talking Triple Crown. The media has managed to get some quotes from none other than Mrs. Penny Chenery, the lovely, wise and impeccably classy owner of my hero, Secretariat. Like me, she is not a fan of I'll Have Another's connections, but she thinks he can win the race. I really, really, really wish I also thought he could... but I just don't know. A rested and ready Union Rags and Dullahan stand a very good chance of blowing yet another TC attempt. I will be interested to see how young jockey Mario G. fares in his races at Belmont this week. I particularly hope he gets to ride another O'Neill horse in the mile and a half race in which it's entered, because that would be the perfect practice for the Big One on Saturday. The horse had a bruised foot but as of yesterday Doug says he's ready to run.

I just came across this interesting story (on COTH Racing Forum) about Flower Alley, I'll Have Another's sire. Must be nice to have a spare $165K lying about to buy a horse just because you like the name of the sire and dam, eh? :-) I also have been quite curious as to what effect IHA's recent success has had on Flower Alley's stud fee, previously a modest $7500 - now I know!

Eugene Melnyk was just on HRTV, and told the story of his acquiring Flower Alley.

He was at the Keeneland September sales in 2003 - the year Funny Cide had won the Kentucky Derby. He had already made his selections, and was waiting as the sale progressed. Looking through the catalogs, saw there was a son of Distorted Humor out of Princess Olivia. Olivia was his 1 year old daughter's name, and he always called her "Princess". Told his people to check the yearling out, and if there wasn't anything wrong with him, to go ahead and get him. They replied that he didn't look bad, so they bought him. (According to the Keeneland site, for $165k, which was the lowest price he paid of the 13 horses listed he bought at that sale. Two individuals were $1.75 and $2.8M)

Then he had to include his 4 year old daughter's wishes, so he let her help name him. She wanted it to be something pretty, so selected Flower Alley, a location in Barbados they all knew.

As a late foal (May), Flower Alley didn't blossom until later in his 3 yo year. But of course went on to win the Jim Dandy, the Travers, and then almost caught St Liam in the Breeders Cup Classic.

Oh, yea, and is the sire of I'll Have Another. And his book went overnight from 57, to a full book of 120 after the Derby, also after doubling the price overnight.

* I have got to write a post about what happened at my second-to-last horse show. Let's just say little sleep for the prior three days and absolutely no sleep the night before definitely did me no good...

Long Arms, Short Reins

OUCH. "Ben Gay, Take Me Away"....

Yes, I know - I am mixing up some advertising slogans here, namely those of a certain strong-smelling human liniment and equally fragrant bath salts. I KNOW you all know what Ben-Gay is - as riders I think we are all in need of it at one time or another (I actually prefer some stuff called BioFreeze. Active ingredient is menthol, so you're quite minty-fresh, but it works great.).

I realize some of my readers probably weren't around during the era of the "Calgon, Take Me Away" commercials, so here is one for your viewing pleasure.


As a side note, I can practically tell the year this was made by mom's professional attire - remember when bows were in? I can also tell that the guys in the suits at the advertising agency were really pleased with themselves for paying tribute to Today's Working Woman. Of course I had to crack up at the actual bathing scene. Yep, all of us over-stressed moms have a swimming-pool sized tub surrounded by marble columns in a palatial bathroom, not to mention a hairdresser on call to arrange our luxurious locks in tasteful updos before we climb into the mountains of bubbles... *eyeroll*

I'm thinking about this ad right now because I wish I had a combo of the two products to relieve some of the muscle aches and pains I'm currently experiencing. However, they are not attributable to traffic, the boss, the kids or the dog: I'm sore for the best of reasons, because I made it to the barn for a lesson on Saturday! I'm not quite sure why I'm so uncomfortable this time, because I did my Gatorade/vitamin/Advil routine, but my inner thighs are killin' me.

Trainer M put me back on my friend Pebbles, which suited me fine. In my current state of un-fitness, I appreciate a horse I have to slow down versus one on which I have to use leg, leg, leg to get a decent trot. It's funny, I got used to my last trainer constantly telling us to go faster at the trot, so when Pebbles volunteered her speedy gait as soon as we set off on Saturday, I thought all was fine and dandy. I was literally brought up short when M told me to take it a little easier on P's short QH legs. I was thinking, "Hey, this really wasn't MY idea," but of course I obeyed!

I am very grateful to a poster on the COTH Hunter/Jumper forum, who asked the other day for suggestions on keeping her hands forward. I have continued to struggle with keeping mine forward as well as lower. The one thing that someone shared which really "clicked" for me was a piece of advice she'd gotten from Anne Kursinski, which was "Long arms, short reins." I needed a little phrase to keep in mind and this must have worked pretty well, because in this lesson instead of "Hands lower, reins shorter," I got "Bend your elbows when you're asking to slow down!" Sigh. It's always something, right? :-)

After the usual W/T/C warmup, I did a little two-jump course of diagonal gate to diagonal gate, trotting into the first jump and cantering to the second. I wasn't particularly thrilled to not be starting with a crossrail and got a bit nervous, which never helps my jumping form, but we did okay and I think only had one sticky fence the entire time we were jumping. It did help that the gates were almost on the ground, therefore not even 2,' and they were straight across, not curved. I've really had an issue with the latter kind ever since the lesson when good old chestnut mare Polly got it into her head that we needed to vault the side of one, nearly putting me into orbit (it was at least 3').

The jumps were just this kind of gate, no rail above.

At my last barn, the trainer wanted me to do a five-jump course after two lessons, and this was after a 10-year hiatus from riding. I gamely attempted to comply but finally had to tell her I just wasn't up to it, physically or mentally. So trainers obviously think I am capable enough to do what they're asking. I keep telling myself this, but it's still hard to psych myself up for jumping anything that's not a trot crossrail. Another "nervous factor" was Pebbles kept getting a little strong before and after the second fence. I know my braking afterwards was not very graceful (that's mostly when the "bend your elbows" comments were coming as well). Over the jumps, I did fairly well, but my legs were definitely flopping more than I'd like. Yeah, I don't think I'm quite ready for bigger fences! :-/

The leg-flopping was due to three factors: nerves, fatigue and worn out knee patches on my breeches. I wore my older pair and the synthetic suede is absolutely shot, cracking and missing entirely in some places. On the upside, these pants are not so tight around the waist that I can't actually tuck a shirt in, wear a belt and look a bit more tidy. My other pair give me a hideous muffin top that I am not about to have on display, so the polo shirts have been untucked. I really need to get some new breeches. There was another post on COTH last week discussing this very topic, specifically which breeches work best in hot weather, and I now know what kind would hopefully work on my shape. Unfortunately, they're Tailored Sportmans (Trophy Hunters, to be exact) and cost about three times more than I want to spend. But they come in low rise, side zip with a wide waistband and I'm pretty sure that's what I need. The local tack shop is having a sale this week so I might just wander on over. People think buying a bathing suit is bad - hah, they've never had to find breeches!

I guess I'm probably ouchy because I jumped a lot more in this lesson than I have in other ones (I went through the two-jump course about six times). I found out that I literally cannot maintain a 2-pt in canter, too; the 15 seconds I attempted of that might well be what's done me in. Prescription = more saddle time, of course - I'm working on it!

I Love Pebbles!

To continue with my theme, no, I don't mean these (yuck!):

Talking about this pretty girl:

Whaddaya know, another chestnut mare! The folks at the barn joke about how many redheaded females they have in the lesson program. Luckily, none of them seems to be equipped with the mega-attitude sported by my old pal Polly, so it's okay by me. Pebbles is another QH, I think around age eight. She's nicely-conformed and a very comfortable size, around 15.2.

I have to tell you (I think we're all girls here - if not,  guys be warned, you might want to skip this paragraph), I didn't know if I was going to make my lesson at all last weekend. About 45 minutes before I had to leave home I was hit out of the blue with absolutely monster cramps. The kind where you're thinking (if you've had kids), "WHENISTHEBABYCOMING, oww oww oww oww oww OWWWWWW!!!" Yeah, great timing. Bouncing up and down on a horse sounds simply delightful when you're doubled up on the bed in agony, feeling like someone is twisting your insides into a knot. Boy, was I mad! How dare my girlie parts throw a fit right before the highlight activity of my week! I started taking Advil and doing what little of my pre-ride stretching I was capable of. (Lying on stomach to do "Superman" back stretch? NO.) Four Advil later, I had staggered to the car, still in misery. Usually it only takes 15 minutes or so for relief but not this time. Determined not to ruin my ride, I took another pill on the way - stomach/liver be damned. The first person I saw when I arrived at the barn was my friend Sally, who was grazing her horse. She made the mistake of asking me how I was and I'm afraid I told her, even though it should have been obvious from my squinty eyes and gut-clutching. :-) She said she'd had the same thing happen, but oddly, riding seemed to help. I grimaced and told her I certainly hoped so!

A girl who I didn't know came up to me as I was going across the parking lot with my gear. She said, "Are you RW? M wants you to ride Pebbles today. She's outside so you'll have to go get her." Okay, this was something new but no problem, I'm certainly capable of bringing a horse in. I asked if I needed to bring a halter, and where the horse was, since I was not yet familiar with the pasture arrangement at the new barn. I was told Pebbles was with another horse in a small paddock and I couldn't miss her. Okey-dokey.... I sure hoped so, because as I mentioned I'd been told there were quite a few chestnut mares.

Luckily, the teenager who lessoned after me last week had been assigned Pebbles, so I knew pretty much what she looked like. I put my stuff down over in the "lesson aisle" and went looking for a halter and lead. I should have remembered that halters were hung up in the schoolie tack room under the bridles, but didn't, so I wound up borrowing one from outside a stall (another school horse's, I know better than to grab a boarder's). Off to track down Pebbles...

Turns out, she was in a drylot paddock with Snickers! Miss Snickie acted like she was glad to see me, but I had to disappoint her and take Pebbles instead. The girls were by themselves and the rest of the school horses were turned out in an enclosure next door. Those accomodations were definitely not deluxe; no grass, just mud. The schoolies had a lot of hay to munch on and looked content, but I chuckled because they rated hot wire for their fence. The pretty and picturesque white vinyl is reserved for the grass pastures in the front of the farm where the boarders go. I've noticed that's typical of many farms!

Look around back and you may well find something else keeping the horses in. :-)

Pebbles was a bit snotty for grooming, and definitely girthy, but nothing too bad. I didn't feel that instant bond that I had with Snickers, either, but I was still looking forward to trying her out since she'd seemed nice during the few minutes I watched of the other lesson. It was pretty warm out and I was pleased when M poked her head in the barn and told me to meet her at the small outside ring.

I'm happy to report that somewhere between starting to groom Pebbles and mounting up, the Advil finally kicked in so I was no longer in excruciating pain when I got on her. Good thing, too, because riding in a larger ring outdoors gave me quite a workout! I pushed myself to keep going most of the time but whew, the 'ole lack of endurance definitely kicked in. I was very glad to find that Pebbles needed no stick and very little leg; in fact, I wound up having to half-halt and say "Ho" more than once to her. Funny how I have kept "stepping up" with the lesson horses in that regard! We trotted for a long time, and then after a break, cantered in both directions. I am still being told to keep my hands lower so I have to keep working on that. Canter departs were "eh" at first but by the third one, we did quite well.

Then it was time for jumping. There were five jumps in the arena, all set very low (last hole on standards, whatever that is). One was a crossrail on the diagonal and the others were verticals, set in two five or six-stride outside lines. We trotted the x-rail a couple times and then M said, go ahead and come around to the line. GULP! I haven't jumped a related distance in well, you know, years... We trotted in and yes, cantered to the second jump, and hey, I survived! I didn't remember to count strides, though, so I failed that quiz. Second time through I went too fast and we chipped with five and half strides. For the third time, M told me to keep cantering after the crossrail (I'd been coming back to the trot) and go around to the line. I had to give myself the Little Engine pep talk before setting off on this adventure. "YOU CAN DO IT! YES!" Thank goodness, Pebbles landed on the right lead after the crossrail, we kept going, and I am proud to say that not only did I canter through the whole line, I even managed to rate her and we got the six strides. HURRAY! :-) It was terrific fun and I was thrilled to end the lesson on a high note.

Pebbles was a very good girl, indeed, and I will be more than happy to ride her again. I was absolutely pooped after this lesson, though. Nerves, lack of fitness, and "woman troubles" will do that to you. I had a nice time grazing the mare after I untacked her and hosed her down (she was quite sweaty) and was amused to notice she really went for a particular kind of weed, even preferring it to the nice grass. The same weed is growing rampant on my lawn at the moment. I was really wishing I could pack up Pebbles and take her home for some natural (and attractive) maintenance!

Do you think the neighbors would mind? I KNOW the HOA and our town ordinance inspector would, unfortunately! "Livestock" of any kind is expressly forbidden...

I Love Snickers!!!

Nope, I'm not talking about these:

I'm talking about HER:

This 8 or 10-y.o. QH mare was my mount for my lesson on Saturday, and I LOOOOVED her. Of course I was delighted from the beginning that she was a dark bay mare with a crooked blaze, and if you have to wonder why, just look at the photo in my last post. I thought it was a pretty cool coincidence that she was channeling Zenyatta! In fact, I whipped my phone out and showed my new friend Katherine that the photo of Z and Baby is currently adorning the lock screen (and by the way, if you want to see some more incredibly adorable pictures of the mother and son pair, just check out their new Facebook page. I'm having a hard time deciding which is the sweetest!).

Snickers came right to the door of her stall when I opened it, which I always think is a good sign. (Butt to you, tail swishing angrily, ears back? Not good.) She was easy to pop in the cross ties, easy to groom, and acted like a little lady. Interestingly, the only thing she didn't care for grooming-wise was when I went to use my stiff brush on her lower left side, near her flank. She let me know that it didn't feel right. Other side was no problem. I filed that away for future reference.

My antique saddle pad looked rather well on her, too, if I do say so myself. Here we are just at the start of my lesson (thanks again to Patient Trainer M for me making her fill in for Annie Liebowitz):

I could tell from the second I sat on her that Snickers had a little more get-along than Ms. Slowpoke-But-Sweet Thumper. This was a relief, because while I'd recuperated pretty well (the Gatorade treatment continued to work), I didn't know if I had it in me to spend the whole lesson squeezing again! Anyway, she moved right out and I had little problem keeping her going the whole time. This was a great particularly because M decided to have us do quite a bit of trotting and then a number of walk-to-canter transitions.

The latter were necessary because I wasn't organized enough when I asked her to canter, and was also relying on the corners too much. M really wanted me to pick up the canter on the long side, but I guess I'm not confident enough in my aids so I was reluctant to do so. I finally succeeded, but not without almost completely cramping my outside calf up. It was a close thing. We were working on the right track, and my left hip also hurt pretty badly yesterday, so clearly there are muscles being put to use that haven't been in play lately!

Another thing we worked on was keeping Snickers straight. She's developed a pretty bad habit of carrying her head to the left all the time, so I was frequently reminded to shorten my right rein. I had a devil of a time getting her to go into the corners nicely on the right track at the trot. Didn't want to listen to/bend around right leg, AT ALL. To compensate, I'm afraid I kept crossing my right hand over her withers and don't think M didn't notice! I did remark after the lesson to M that Snickers had been ouchy just on her left side when I was grooming her, and we both kind of wondered if the behaviors are related. She has been seen by a chiro in the past so I think M will be keeping this in mind. (Note: All the time I was taking lessons in the past - if you recall it's been at least five years - I never even knew there was such a thing as horse chiropractors. Thanks to the interwebz and my extensive blog reading, I am now thoroughly familiar with them and the great work they do. One of the better things to come into the horse world in recent years!)

Right after I mounted up, I asked M about the hand-too-high thing and how I'd never been told this was a problem in the past. When she heard that, she said that it probably is a bad habit I've picked up just trail riding on Giant WB LiRoi. Funny the stuff we do unconsciously. I got told a lot again to keep them down, so believe me, I'm trying to focus on that.

So, are you wondering if I jumped the Scary Blue Wave again? Well, yes I did, and guess what, it went MUCH BETTER this time! We started out trotting a crossrail a couple times, and then M told me to keep going afterwards and come around over the blue wave (back at a trot, which I have to admit I'm still more comfortable with). We did that twice and I was super-pleased because I really didn't feel like I was landing in a heap as badly. Gettin' the mojo back!

In other good news, I put Lexol on the half-chaps, wore them around the house some more, and really worked on smooshing them down so they weren't rubbing those bruised areas. Something worked because I had almost no trouble with them during and after the lesson. Hurray! I was beginning to think I might have to sell them and get the standard height ones instead (these are X-Small Talls, a size I would not have guessed I'd wear despite my pencil-like shins. I know I have fairly long femurs but thought my tibia/fibula length was on the short side.). Still no horrible shin-rubs, either. Don't know why I didn't try narrower stirrup leathers a looooong time ago... argh.

After the lesson I untacked Snickers and asked if I could take her outside for a pick of grass. When I had arrived at the barn, I'd found my friend Sally grazing her mare outside and the latter was having a grand old time hoovering up the tender new blades. We've had hardly any winter here in MO and now it seems like spring is here in a hurry, so everything is growing. Yummee! Before we went out I dug out a horse cookie I had buried in my bag and fed it to Snickers. Here's a couple of short and dopey videos that I made of these occasions. I sure do love grazing a horse... best therapy there is.

P.S. Having not been around horses as much as I would have liked lately, and having spent a whole lot of time with my dog, I'm finding I tend to address the poor equines in the same tone I use with the dog. I keep telling them to "Stay," too! Has anybody else done this? Aside from Albert in "War Horse," that is... good grief. >.<

The Good, The Not-So-Good, and The Ugly, Part 2

One thing I noticed right away, which caused a bit of internal laughter, was the trainer was looking at her cell phone during my lesson. This continued for most of it. I was thinking, "Uh-oh, red flag here. That's a bit rude." However, I have to be prosaic about it. It's not like she's prepping me for the Maclay finals, after all, and she knows I haven't lessoned in a while, and I can kind of understand if she does not feel the need to knock herself out. So while it's not really okay I decided I could live with it. She did give me constructive criticism and appropriate praise at the right times, so she was paying attention when it was important (I also managed to slip in a little posting when I was supposed to be 2-pointing and vice versa, to give myself a break, so the lack of 100% scrutiny certainly wasn't all bad, LOL!).

Speaking of criticism: I was told almost immediately to put my hands further forward and lower down. My reaction was, "Say WHAT???" I never, and I mean never, in all my years of riding, have had a trainer tell me to do that. Well, that I can remember, anyway. Maybe when I was five or seven but seriously, I feel that I have a pretty accurate mental log of all my riding faults as they have been cataloged by various instructors over the years and I honestly do not recall having heard that before. Raise them higher, yes, but that was when I was riding the 18hh Percheron. But lower them, and move them forward? Nope. I thought this very interesting, indeed. I didn't argue, of course, and did my level best to comply but it felt most odd. Maybe I have developed a bad habit that I'm completely unaware of? I meant to ask the trainer about it afterwards, in a non-complaining, please-explain type of way, but I forgot, so this is a mystery I will have to pursue next time.

I surprised myself by doing fairly well endurance-wise with the trotting. Thumper continued to have the drags so I spent a lot of effort squeezing, clucking and occasionally tapping her with my stick. She was smooth, though, and really very sweet, so I cut her some slack because I know schoolies get tired. I did begin to think I would have my hands full when it was time to canter. Fortunately, we were good! The trainer told me not to let her trot and I'm proud of myself because I didn't, we went right into canter. Picked up the wrong lead at first in the second direction, but I asked her again in a corner and got it. I did get worn out in a hurry cantering - more squeezing/clucking/tapping required - so I we only went about one and half laps around in each direction; I start to collapse my chest and round my shoulders something awful when I get tired, so I try to quit while I'm ahead. (I have to admit I was thinking about someone's comment on a COTH thread. She said her trainer used to tell her students, "Tits to Jesus, ladies!") I apologized for my lack of fitness but was pleased when the other trainer, who by this time was hanging out in the ring, too, said, "Oh, that's nothing. We see a lot worse, you're fine!"

I took a nice long walk break after that and then the trainer asked me if I wanted to be done, or if I felt like doing a little jumping. I did, crazy me. She wanted to know if the little jump across the diagonal was okay, or if she should build something smaller. I said no, I would tackle the little jump. Of course, the minute the words were out of my mouth I was thinking, "WTH is WRONG with you, you've never jumped anything like that in your life! Why now, you idiot, when you've jumped nothing at all for freakin' years?!" So why the distress? Because the jump in question was this, only smaller:

Yes, the famous "blue wave" jump, bane of the equitation ring back at the Charity Horse Show! You can just see the end of this scary structure in the photo of me on Thumper in Part 1. I meant to take a picture of the whole thing after my ride but  naturallyI forgot. It really was tiny, they had the the waves as low as they would go, but good grief... I gathered my courage and did my best to move Thumper into a forward trot. The trainer emphasized this and said I needed to get up a head of steam or she wouldn't jump well. I did know that so I tried hard. Boink! We went over, I guess sorta to the right of the middle bump. I wasn't exactly sure where to steer, to be honest. You see how I titled these posts? Another "ugly" besides my lack of steering definitely is how I landed after every jump. I have absolutely no idea what my hands were doing but I know it wasn't elegant. Thumper cantered away and I inwardly cheered that I'd survived.

We trotted the fence twice, with roughly the same results - more speed needed going in, alas. Then the trainer said, "Let's do it again from a canter." OHBOYOHBOYOHBOY. Let me explain why I think this instantly threw me into panic mode. It's amazing how one bad lesson can have repercussions for years, isn't it? My old trainer always started us out trotting to a single crossrail in a lesson. Then she'd build another jump, either a bar or an oxer, about two strides away, and we'd trot in/canter out that combo. Sometimes we would keep going and canter to another fence, or a couple of them. That was it, the only time I really did whole courses was in shows. One day, after I'd been at the barn for about nine months, she built a two or three stride combination. We had to canter in. For some reason, I just Could. Not. Get. the distance to the second fence that day - I bungled it over and over and over. Trainer and I both got very frustrated! So do you know, following that lesson, trainer never once - for another two years - had me initially canter any jump or combo? We always trotted in during lessons, I kid you not. Somehow I got around some courses during the show I did after that, but in lessons - trot in it was.

So I had that swimming around in my head, and I guess that's why I freaked a bit when new trainer said, "Canter it." Yes, it was only one lousy teeny-weeny jump, not even a combo, but put it this way, my heart rate definitely accelerated and my hands starting shaking. Poor Thumper! God bless 'er, the little mare got me through. I asked for as energetic a canter I could manage out of her and we didn't totally botch things. Again, I'm quite sure I landed in a heap but I wasn't jumped loose, at least. The trainer was laughing at me a bit, because afterwards I was like, "WOW. Geez, I was scared." I probably was a little pale... She said I could quit then, but I thought to myself, nope, I am not going to end things like this. I asked her if I could do it one more time, just to prove to myself I could. She said okay, so over we went. Not graceful, but by golly, I did it. Yay, me!

After that I really was ready to be done, and we just walked around. Gabby Me kicked in and I chatted a bit with the girl on the B/W Pinto. I asked the trainer to take a picture of me and she was kind enough to comply. She also said, "If I'd known you had your phone I would have gotten some more of you, even jumping!" Uh, that's okay, I don't quite want to know what I look like doing that yet. Somehow I doubt GM would be pleased. :-/

I finally climbed down, and it was about then that I realized something miraculous had taken place: I had not a single, solitary pain in my shins. No rubbed-raw areas, at all! You have to understand, I have suffered, and have the scars to prove it, from horrid shin rubs while riding ever since I was a teenager. I have tried elasticized leg covers, Band-Aids, taller socks, etc. in an effort to avoid these but nothing has worked well (except tall boots, which I don't want to fool with for lessons, esp. not my antiques) - until now. I'm not sure if it was the new, narrower stirrup leathers or the new half-chaps, but something did the trick and boy, am I grateful. I used to keep on ridin' and ignore my bleeding legs but not having that going on is much more pleasant! (Incidentally, I have had no problem with the Wintec leathers on the dressage saddle while riding LiRoi.)

The not-so-good side of this is the new half-chaps also made some lovely bruises, right where my knee joins my leg on the inside. Where that big tendon comes in, but on the calf, not the tendon. I can't quite figure out what's causing this; it may actually be from bunching up of the Clarino knee patches on my breeches. Or, maybe the half-chaps are too tall.... I don't know. I've heard new tall boots can be a nightmare to break in these days so I guess some degree of suffering from half-chaps is to be expected. They aren't SUPER-bad and didn't bother me that much while riding so I'll continue to stick it out for a while.

I untacked Thumper and was not too embarrassed to ask Katherine (she really was nice, and turned out to be the niece of the human/dog/horse chiropractor my dog has been seeing, of all things) if she would show me how to properly apply the Miracle Collar. The mare got some scritches and pats and put in a stall to eat her much-deserved dinner (she actually lives outside, hence the blanket), and I headed back to the other side of the barn to set up another lesson. Yes, what a wacko, half kill myself and I can't wait to do it all over again! :-) I'm going back next Saturday afternoon. I will be happy to ride Thumper, or maybe they'll assign me someone with just a bit more oomph, which would be okay, too. All I know is that getting on a horse still feels like coming home to me. If/when that ends, I'll know it's time to hang up my saddle, but for now the view between a set of furry ears is all I want.

Oh, and the soreness? Not that bad, amazingly. I think I've discovered the secret, and since I love my readers, I will share it with you. It's just one word... *looks around to see if anyone's listening*... and it's, "Gatorade." Yes! I drank it before the lesson and afterwards, and I'll tell you what, I've never done better in following days. Something to be said for that football coach who thought of putting electrolytes in sweetened water! (I'm sure the Advil has helped, too... ;-)

The Good, The Not-So-Good and The Ugly, Part 1

Before anything else, proof. Here I am on "Thumper" on Saturday:

YESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! :-)

I have to tell you that writing this blog was absolutely an instigator to get me to take some lessons again. Knowing that I had a place to come discuss everything really makes me very, very happy! I don't even care if nobody reads it, I just always have so many thoughts and feelings about riding and horses in general, and heaven knows my poor family gets that glazed look after about five minutes of Mom babbling on and on... so writing here is awesome. I'm going to split this post so you don't get too much babbling!

I was really nervous all day Saturday before this lesson. Like, if I thought about going, my stomach did a slow twist, so I tried to focus on my work (I had to work from 9 - 3). Why was I nervous? Mostly fear, I guess. Not fear of falling off. I really don't worry about that, thank goodness. Fear of looking/acting stupid. Fear of suddenly forgetting everything I ever knew about riding or horse care. Fear of people being snobby or rude, because let's face it, you do run into those types at H/J barns (probably any horse barn). General fear of the unknown...

Oddly, by the time I actually got to the place I was doing okay. I reminded myself that I was paying them to do something, so I was the customer, and I had "rights," too, among them to be treated nicely. :-) Furthermore, I have at least one friend who boards there and she had assured me that I would be fine. I had no idea when she's usually at the barn, but was crossing my fingers that on a Saturday I might catch her. I laughed at the sign they had on the side of the driveway: "Old dog. Stupid Dog. Slow Dog. WHOA!" I was pretty calm when I pulled into the lot and parked my van between a Mercedes and a BMW (*koff*). I hopped out and snapped a few photos so you guys could see the farm. It's very nice and well-kept!

I gathered up all my gear (saddle, saddle pad, grooming tote w/ helmet and chaps, total about 20 lbs.) and stepped into the barn. Literally the first person I saw was my friend - hurray!!! A smiling face was just what I needed, especially since the teenagers milling around merely glanced my way and went about their business. Sally gave me a hug and proceeded to show me over to the gate to the indoor arena. There we greeted the two instructors, who were busy doing a group Jrs. lesson. I quickly learned that I needed to go back outside and around the corner to the school horse side of the facility, but before that I had some paperwork to do. I expected the latter - nobody lets you ride these days without signing your life away on a liability release.

Oopsie... guess what middle-aged lady was wearing her contacts, the ones with which she can't see up close without reading glasses, the latter being cleverly left back home. The only way I could see a thing was to go back outside into the intermittent sun, and even then I have the feeling my name/address/signature/insurance info. are probably not terribly legible on those forms! Saddles make decent writing tablets, though, come to find out.

Once the paperwork was dispensed with off I went (Sally had disappeared to put her horse away). I had been told I was riding a horse named "Thumper," who I assumed was a gelding. Well, okay, there was a chestnut horse wearing a blanket standing on cross ties in the aisle. Halter plate said "Tucker." It was a mare. Didn't think this was my horse... but wait a second, the blanket said "Thumper." ??? As I pondered this dilemma, a smiling girl came around the corner. "Hi," she said brightly, "Are you RW?" Yep, that's me, but more importantly, is this in fact my horse? She was!

Here's Thumper:

As always I apologize for my shite photography. In this case, I do have an excuse: I was trying to hurry up and get this before anyone spotted dorky moi taking pictures of the school horse. Isn't she cute? I found out from the young lady, whose name was Katherine and who proved to be very friendly and helpful, that they'd had Thumper for about five years but she didn't know her breeding/background. From conformation and shape of her head, I'd guess Quarab myself, but who knows. One thing was for sure: the little mare was an inveterate cribber and wearing a Miracle Collar. Hmm, something new for me, as I've never had to handle one before.

I groomed Ms. Thumper and Katherine brought me her bridle and a half-pad. My own saddle pad would do on the bottom. I hate to tell you how old the plaid thing is (it was made by Wilkers and I think dates to around when I graduated from HS - it came with my first saddle), but it's still functional. Thumper was a good girl and definitely had the "been there/done that" aura of a seasoned school horse, which was fine with me. No snorting, pawing steeds necessary right now. She did give me a wee bit of trouble when I went to bridle her, because literally the instant her MC was off and one tie unclipped she was all about cribbing on the stall door next to her. I've never had to deal with a cribber that dedicated, and now I know all the things I've read about them are true! (Wendy, I'm thinking of Jag, of course) I managed to wrestle myself into the new half-chaps and they felt okay.

When we were ready we went out to the arena. The big group of juniors had gone and I was alone but for one girl riding a beautiful B/W Pinto WB. My instructor was the head trainer, which was a little intimidating. I climbed aboard - and gosh, it was nice to sit in my own saddle again! :-) I adjusted the new stirrup leathers, which went okay, thank goodness. I had noticed in the tack room that all the schoolies wore those faux-sheepskin comfort girths. They are nice for the horses but whew, I'd forgotten how stretchy they are! I thought I'd gotten the darn thing pretty tight but was able to take it up two more holes once I was sitting on the horse. I finally got everything situated and we headed towards the rail at a walk....

A verrrrrryyyyyy sloooooowwww waaaaallllkkkkk. Oh, dear. Thumper was a sweet girl but turned out to not be terribly inclined to movement unless heavily encouraged, and I was immediately afraid that my out-of-shape legs were not up to the task. Squeezing really didn't do much and I almost immediately had to apply some mild stick to her backside. Shades of my old chestnut mare friend Polly! (But at least this one hadn't tried to kill me on the cross ties) The trainer told me to get up in 2-point, which they like to do to stretch riders and horses at the beginning of a lesson. That was okay, but staying in 2-point while also trying to squeeze Thumper on was rather difficult. I did my best and we walked a lap or so around the ring that way. Then we picked up a trot...

TO BE CONTINUED