Long Dazed And Confused At Longleaf: Part III

After sleeping off Saturday's exhaustion, Sunday's task seemed so simple:  jump one little course and then go home.  Easy peasy, right?  Ha!

Back in my magistrate suit I went -- only, no, wait, blessed be all things, jackets were waived!! The heat and humidity climbed and as a result, I was given a reprieve from the silly outfit!

I walked the course early in the morning with C and EHF and watched some Training and Prelim rides. I had it down pat.

Only to discover as the Training divisions ended that the Novice course was completely different. Of course it was.

EHF and I dutifully walked the course again. Bobby Costello was out with that damn cute puppy, so we had to take a break for some petting as well. EHF was drawn in by the puppy eyes...

The time came. Warmup felt good. I concentrated hard on jumping Solo up into the bridle as per David's instructions. Keep the leg on, keep the hand soft, but stay connected to the horse...

We went into the arena and we rode all 8 jumps. It felt fantastic. I rode forward to each jump, kept Solo balanced and focused, and the distances just happened as we rolled along in rhythm. I only wobbled at the combination - Solo wasn't quite in front of my leg, I peeked a little at the first element, which the previous horse had refused, and we got a bit of a bumpy ride there, but it was all clean.



I was STOKED! THAT is how we are supposed to ride! I patted my boy and rode to the exit gate after 8 successful leaps. The ring steward stared at me and would not lower the string.

I glanced around worriedly. Was I supposed to do a trick to get out? Had I forgotten some secret ritual? Then I noticed the time clock.

It was still running.

"Hey, my time is still going!" I told the steward. "Yes, it is," she answered cryptically. I look around some more, standing by the gate in a confused stupor.

"Number 9! Number 9!" I hear some guy muttering from his golf cart.

Pssshhh, I thought, 9 isn't my number, why is that guy so weird??

Finally, I look behind me and damned if there isn't NINE JUMPS ON THE COURSE. "OMG, I am a moron," I groan, as I turn Solo and make a beeline for the last jump, which he clears neatly.

We were just standing by the gate pondering the best approach to the last jump. I swear. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So we have 347 time faults or so and apparently if you stop and stand there for a while in the middle of your course, you get 4 jumping faults, but I'm still laughing. And the judges are laughing, as I am sure are many of the spectators. Well, at least I can entertain a crowd!  Sadly, this is not captured on video because EHF thought we were done too!!!

In the end, we finished DFL, but I feel good about it. I feel like this was the most educational and most useful of all our horse trial experiences. Despite my pilot errors, my riding was the best and most relaxed it has ever been in competition. Solo's jump rounds were both round and powerful and miles ahead of where we were a year ago.

Bring it, Virginia!

For more action shots, check out the always-beautiful work of Brant Gamma -- she captured some great stills of Solo and although I hardly need more pictures of my horse jumping things, I am sorely tempted by a few of these. Brant and her team always produce gorgeous images; they are not the cheapest but I do my best to support them because they do an exquisite job!

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Long Daze At Longleaf: Part II

EHF poses with our first XC jump

And then it was me & Solo. Two hearts pounding along with the gallop. Two sets of eyes hunting for the next jump. A hot wind in my ears mixed with the rush of air from Solo's nostrils. The universe ceased to exist except for me & my horse & a galloping track.

I had a plan. I wanted to try to stay close to pace instead of simply letting Solo gallop at HIS pace, which always brings me to the finish line a full minute early.  I knew we had five open gallopy jumps to warm up over until we got to an extremely tough bending line at 6 (feeder)-7 (wide ditch)-8 (rolltop) that I think could more accurately be described as a bent, stretched out coffin (photos below).

Then the rest of the course was simple fly jumps, banks, & ponds that we had all jumped before.  The point of this entire competition was to prepare us for Virginia & our big move-up.  The score didn't matter; what mattered was that Solo & I emerged with a clear idea of what we needed to work on as well as a sense of confidence & preparedness to tackle what was to come.

Jump 6 -- Feeder

Jump 7 -- Ditch; child hazard removed before jumping

Jump 8 -- Rolltop directly following ditch

We ran smoothly together, Solo eagerly seeking out each jump. He took a huge launch at 3, a tall brush fence at the bottom of the hill. It felt like flying. It WAS flying. We clocked along the front field and crossed the steeplechase track to the infield, where our metaphorical -- and soon to be less so -- coffin awaited us. It started well.

I sat down and put my leg and eye on that ditch. Solo cleared it with a teensy bit of room to spare...

If you walk right in front of a camera, yes, I WILL post your saggy britches online.

I was so excited -- we were rocking and the lurking ditch was vanquished!! Yeeeha...shit.

Someone celebrated their ditch victory a little bit too early.  And forgot to RIDE the third jump.  Son of a #@#$@%!!!  And the helmet cam tells no lies -- when I felt Solo waver on our crooked and disorganized approach following the enormous ditch leap, I apparently stared at the jump.  A big Solo no-no.  NEVER STARE AT THE BASE OF YOUR JUMP.  To Solo, that means "it is obviously deadly, do not go here." 

We were fine on re-present, but you can't take back those 20 penalties.   This would bump us from the middle of the pack where we were tied for 13th out of about 24 or so, down to 16th.

Important lesson: never celebrate before you cross the finish line and never NEVER lose your focus on course. 

But it was a lesson I was glad to have -- as my courses get bigger and more technical, it's a critical and well-timed reminder that I need to be a thinking rider 100% of the time.  Combinations, related lines, and curves are soon to be a very real part of our competitions and this really drilled home what it will take to come home clean and safe at the next level.

I know you already scrolled through this whole post looking for the helmet cam video, so here it is.  BUT, I'm not thrilled with this one.  Somehow the lens has ended up so you have to tilt your head to the left while watching.  Must fix before next use.  It's a learning curve.  I hate it when things don't cooperate according to the perfect little plan in my head.  Like my entire life.    



Pace goal:  achieved.  I was only about 10 seconds off the optimum time.  Learning goal:  TOTALLY achieved.  Strengths & weaknesses clearly pointed out.  Now it was time to tuck Solo in again & start thinking about the coloured poles that Sunday would bring...

I am now going to sleep off a long field day which included three hours of more winching of boats & trucks in the slickest mud I have ever met on the steepest, most rutted hill I think we have yet managed to find.  After you unwind 40 meters of steel cable for the 4th or 5th time, you're kind of over it.  The next person I meet who says government workers don't do anything is going to get punched in the face.

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Long Days At Longleaf: Part I

After spending all of today winching trucks up muddy hills at work and then pulling into a hotel standing in the midst of last week's North Carolina tornado carnage, my brain is not quite functional.  My apologies.

I feel confident saying that this weekend was the most educational horse trial I have ever competed in. I feel equally confident saying that I hope to god no one was watching.

After a rainy Friday spent packing and buzzing around picking up last minute items, I loaded up one Solo and one Eminently Helpful Friend (EHF) who, in some enormous lapse in judgement, had agreed to come and crew for us. We managed to pull in to the Carolina Horse Park right at 8:00 pm with just enough light to bed Solo down and drag our tired selves to bed.

I leaped out of bed with a smile when the alarm went off at 4:30 am on Saturday morning, unable to wait one more second for dressage in the sandbox. No, you're right, I cursed and groaned and stumbled blindly about in the dark. I can't believe I do this for 'fun.' I believe EHF contemplated multiple ways to off me and take the truck keys. But we managed to get Solo his breakfast so that I could prep for my horrendous 7:42 dressage ride time.  Because who doesn't look awesome dressed like an 18th century English magistrate?

Because we'd had some struggles with dressage saddle fit this week, I elected to ride in my close contact saddle for all three phases. But I knew Solo's problem went deeper as soon as we got to the foggy mudhole which was the warmup. His jaw was so locked that I couldn't convince him to bend to the left. He felt even underneath me and moved forward well enough, all that was left to do was do the best we could. *sigh* I think I would pass out from shock if we ever got to do a dressage test at a horse trial where Solo and I were relaxed and at our best at the same time. But because one of my promises to this blog is honesty, I'm posting the test anyway.



The judge was far kinder than me and gave us a 37 and called Solo a "neat horse." I actually did NOT ride with my body in death clench while holding my breath for three full minutes, so that's an improvement. But Solo did not go well. I was frustrated for both of us because he is capable of truly lovely movement and I want people to really see him shine. But it was over and done with, so at least we could move on to the fun parts.

Stabling next to us were two Area II Adult Rider friends; R, with his lovely Prelim horse, and C, with her charming Training gelding.  And C always travels with my best event buddy, Russell the Russell, the only terrier I have ever actually loved.  He is so....un-terriery, I want to squeeze him until he pops in a ball of white fur!  It is always nice to be able to share dressage commiseration.  Although both C and R had quite nice tests so I suspect they were just being accomodating...  *suspicious glance*

Besides having heaps of great Adult Riders, Area II is a place where, if you forget to set the parking brake on your truck, you will probably run over a USET-type rider. Over the course of Saturday morning, C introduced me to both Holly Hudspeth and Bobby Costello. Hopefully I managed to keep some semblance of a normal look on my face when conversing with either. I was particularly impressed with Bobby -- he was open, friendly, hilarious, and ever-present through the entire event with cheerfulness oozing out of him, even when he was helping check folks like bleary-eyed me in when we appeared for dressage warmup at oh-dark-thirty Saturday morning.  Oh, and he has the cutest puppy OF ALL TIME.  USEF clearly missed out by passing him over for an eventing team coach, but I have to say, I'm a little bit selfishly glad that we get to keep him.

But then it was afternoon and it was time to gear up for our cross country round. I'd dutifully walked my course and set my watch and visualized my run and charged the helmet cam. Solo was booted and taped and bounced out of the stall -- I swear he knows what the cross country boots feel like! 

We sent EHF off with camera in hand and made our way down the long trail to the warm up, where, after Solo got over being a barn sour Shetland, we set our sights on the startbox.  Our very favourite starter was hard at work keeping everyone on schedule while making sure we all started our courses with a smile.

And it was time. As I pushed record on the helmet cam, little did I know what was in store over the next five and a half minutes. All I heard were my nine favourite words:

5...4...3...2..1...Have a great ride!!

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SFH Has An SFO

The O is for Owner. In case you wondered.

Lesson: do not fire off an angry email to your saddle fitter because you are exhausted and frustrated and you had a bad day. They are not actually your best friend so they won't get that you are just tired and frustrated. They may get quite offended and take it personally. Oops. My bad.

On the other side of a long night, I have decided I will not put Solo up for auction on eBay as things are probably all my fault anyway, in some way shape or form. We can only work with what we have. Today is "nice hack in the woods" day and tomorrow he gets to just have a bath and chill out in his pre-competition day off. Hopefully, he won't hold a grudge.

I have just dropped my entry for for the Virginia Horse Trials in the mailbox -- for Training Level. No takey-backeys now. Next month we'll have to take a deep breath and go for the big game.

We've also got our ride times for Longleaf Pines this weekend. I must have pissed off the organizer.

Dressage: Saturday at 7:42 am. Owwwwww. 
Cross Country: Saturday at 1:44 pm. Hmmm, maybe enough time for a nap.
Stadium: Sunday afternoon in reverse order of placing.

You will be able to watch and groan/cheer here with live scoring.

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SFH

Not familiar with that acronym? Well, it is what I own: a Stupid F*cking Horse.

Just in case you thought life with Solo was all sunshine and rainbows, I am here to reassure you that that is certainly NOT the case.

Sunday, we had a brilliant cross country school. We did our first ever true sunken road: a 3' log in, two strides, drop off bank, two strides, up bank, two strides, jump log out. We also schooled our first prelim-type of water question which ended with an up bank out of the water and one stride to a big log. Solo didn't get it at first: what the why is this log so close to the edge and what am I supposed to do about it? But we worked it out and he got it.

A decent dressage school last night, although Mr. Fussy Pants was in fine form. He did give me some really lovely uphill, slow, cadenced canter work that made me giggle with happiness.

Then tonight. SFH. My goal was to do a single run-through of our test for Saturday, which is Novice Test B (I HATE Test B). Instead, I got SFH hanging on the left rein, fighting me at every bend, chomping at the bit, cocking his head, and generally being a fury-inducing beast.

It wasn't pretty.

Some of it may well be due to what appears to be a continuous change in saddle fit (let me fully express my saddle fit rage sometime), but really, it is NOT dramatic enough to merit all out rebellion.

SFH is lucky that I am at least courteous enough to release my fury in a series of exclamations that would make children's ears melt off, but I do not, say, beat my horse. I try to keep my aids steady even though I am not speaking very nicely at all.

Oh well, he doesn't speak English.

I am sure he will redeem himself at some point, but for now, I will pout.

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