The Studs Are Here!

Sadly, no, not that kind.

Friday was a busy day. Solo and I met with P to review the Training Level dressage test we'll be doing in Virginia. It started ugly, with Solo insisting on being a redhead, throwing himself around and whining in protest. I stopped, took a deep breath, replaced the rage with zen and we started over.

The test is far more complex than we've done before -- which turned out to be a good thing! Figures and transitions fire in rapid succession, which means Solo never had time to get all stiff and brace-y, which means all of a sudden, I had a supple horse on my hands!

In bigger news, though, Friday was Stud Hole Installation Day. And I don't mean a pit filled with cabana boys. Although that would have been exciting too.

Having never seen the process of drilling and tapping shoes, I of course had to whip out the camera to capture Stud Master Johnathan (aka Hoof Shaper Extraordinaire and Fixer Of All Solo Foot Problems) as he single-handedly wrestled uncooperative steel shoes into submission. It looked strikingly similar to convincing Solo to do dressage.

First you drill the holes.

Then you use the tap to cut threads in the steel.

Solo supervises.

Then you install the shoe while the dogs mug you for hoof bits.

This process was HARD work. I suspect that Johnathan may have chased me off with the hoof nippers if I had asked him to do all four feet. Luckily for his shoulders, I did not want to stud the front shoes -- I do not want to slow down Solo's front feet while galloping and jumping as that would seem to court disaster for over-reaches and blown out tendons.

The end result: four nice neat holes, shown here with plugs intact.  And of course, four lovely reshod feet, which is a typical result when Johnathan applies his awesomeness to the Shiny Red Beast.

Yesterday, I screwed in four road studs for our jump school just to see how everything worked. Lesson: screwing in studs is a meticulous process that takes a long time. Will not be doing that unless I have to!

I am now off to read even more about studs while hoping that I don't manage to make any giant mistakes and hurt my horse. No pressure or anything.

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On The Way To The Farm This Evening...

I stopped by the local post office.  Which means our three lucky contest winners, Braffie, molly, and sumaclab, will be receiving an exciting giant envelope soon.  Some sooner than others since for some reason Mr. Shiny favoured the Canadians with his nose!  My apologies for the delay but Solo takes forEVER to address a package. Just because he has no thumbs...

Yesterday morning, Solo and I met with P for a dressage lesson to chat about the new challenges the Training Level test has to offer.  Basically, it adds 15 meter canter circles, extended trot, extended canter on a circle, and a stretchy circle.  Both extended gaits only ask that you develop them, which allows for more gradual transitions, easier on horse and rider.  Solo loves nothing more than stretching so I think we're good there as well. 

Tonight we did a very small jump school. BO had set up a four-bounce gymnastic line that I wanted to work, as well as a couple of oxers.

The gymnastic went great -- I only set the jumps at about 2', except for the last one which was maybe 2'9" or so. I wanted to focus on the rhythm and letting Solo work it out. He worked through great as we added one vertical at a time until he bounced through all four, curling beautifully over the last.

Then we rode each oxer, the first I set with barrels beneath it, the second I spread a big blue tarp under to mimic a certain liverpool that will be coming up soon. Wow, it's amazing how nicely jumps flow when I just keep my leg on.

After Solo jumped each one, I felt a little catch in my throat. My horse was finally strong enough that he was jumping casually up and around each jump, using muscle and balance instead of simply hurling himself to the other side. This is a really big deal for a giant-shouldered-downhill-motivated beast. So, yeah, I was pretty much speechless -- this means that Sunday WASN'T a fluke. This means...watch out, Training Level, here we come.

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Why Do We Keep Doing This?

Solo's had the week off while I have been dragging boats through the mud at work.  Even while being attacked by nettles and mosquitoes, I was coasting on a multi-day post-horse-trial high. 

I finally got back in the saddle in today's perfect sunshine and we took to the woods.  Between flushing turkeys and quiet rat snakes, under crying catbirds and bickering redtails, there was plenty of time to breathe and think.

Shouldn't you be annoyed, my brain queried?  You finished LAST, out-competing only those poor souls who had the shoddy luck to get eliminated.

Yeah, I told its annoying whine, but 2/3 of it was a GREAT ride.

I made mistakes.  Big mistakes.  I'm pretty sure anyone watching me thought, oh dear, that poor girl, who let her in?  So by all rights, I should be mad about it, right?

Here's the thing:  I'm still thrilled about it.  And THAT is the reason I love this sport, the reason all my friends are rolling their eyes because I sound like this:  "eventing horse horse eventing eventing eventer horse jump eventing eventing horse evented eventing."

It's because at the end of the day, it's not all about the ribbon.  Although note that I will still squeal like a little girl if I ever win a ribbon.

But what it's all about is my journey with my horse. 

It's all about how exciting that round, powerful jump felt underneath me on Sunday because that jump didn't exist two years ago.

It's all about the lessons in pace and balance I finally managed to digest and apply to my courses.

It's all about seeing myself finally starting to THINK while I am riding.

It's all about my pride watching my red horse grow and develop into an athlete.

It's all about the sheer joy of watching his ears search out and lock onto obstacles, showing me that he knows and loves his job.

That is why I'm not mad.  Because the only person I am competing with is myself.  The only test is whether we can go out there and put in a better performance than we did the time before, whether we can conquer harder tasks with a more developed skillset.

Because when we're out there on course and my center is balanced over Solo's and I can feel the energy from his hind legs finally pushing up into the bridle and I can fly on the arc of his bascule over a broad table, I know exactly what it's all about.   When I can feel that, it doesn't matter if I am first or 20th or 500th.

There, in that moment, there is no question why we do it.  There is only the doing and the fervent hope that we get the chance to do it again.

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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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