Burnout Is Real

Yes, all work and no play makes Solo one very dull, crabby boy.  He pretty much gave me the horsey finger as I tacked him up the other day and then proceeded to stand there with his head hanging like I was going to take him out and beat him with a stick.  This, then, is the end result of working on dressage All. Winter. Long.

But there is an escape!  We have finally managed to work out how to access miles of wooded trails out the back gate.  And have been busy over the last few days trotting merrily along them.  Which Solo loves to the depths of his soul.  Now if only I could get him to translate that loose, back-swinging walk and forward, lifting trot to the arena!  But what I do get is a horse that returns to the gate at the end of our ride with bright eyes, pricked ears, and a spring in his step.

Moral:  even I, a HUGE proponent of getting horses OUT OF THE RING, can fall into the trap of working only on work, thinking it will improve one's horse in a continual, linear fashion, and forgetting that this causes one's horse to go insane with boredom.  Horses like routine, but they also like things that are fun, low pressure, and relaxing.  So give those ponies a break and head out to soak up some birdsong and spring sunshine.  Just don't forget the tick check afterwards...

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Ooooor Maybe Not

I should have known it seemed too easy!  My great and infallible plan to use Jeff as a fill-in for Solo's rest days has gone awry already!  Turns out the fellow who is supposed to start leasing Jeff in August (which is a good thing, as those two looove each other and go well together) is going to start riding him more this summer.  Dangit for my grand scheme though!  Although no one is riding Jeff right now, as he is lame yet again, having tweaked something during one of him many episodes of gallopingaboutpasturefornoapparentreason.

We have officially entered Solo's Season Of Enormous Sweating here, so the last few days we've just been taking it easy with lots of hosing and (EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW!) picking off of ticks, to which Solo is of course allergic and gets big, crusty, disgusting lumps from.  Which let me just mention how much I HATE ticks.  And I hate touching them.  And seeing them.  And generally co-existing on the planet with them.  I know, I know, I'm supposed to be all Biology Girl and crap, but ya know, no one's a saint.  I'll just own up to it right now:  if ticks went extinct, I would gladly throw a huge party and toast their arachnid demise.  There, it's out in the open.  So tell the next tick you see to STAY THE HELL OFF MY HORSE or else face the rather pointed wrath of my hoofpick (pointed, HAHA, get it??!).

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Reality Bites. But Only Gently.

Lifeshighway correctly observed the other day as we were talking that I "ride the bejesus" out of my horse. I believe Solo is inclined to agree. He is tired these days. And I need to be realistic -- he is 14 and he does not recover from things as fast as he did four years ago. After several mountain rides and a tough horse trial, he needs some relaxing time. The tough part is balancing that need with our need to stay fit for two more spring horse trials. Now that he is only two miles from my house, I'm also riding him almost every day. Judging from the way he planted his head firmly in the stall corner yesterday, he finds that unacceptable.

Enter Jeff, aka Title One (left). He is an 8 year old Hanoverian/TB cross and the BO's Novice level eventer. However, BO has just acquired a lovely 4 year old OTTB prospect and now has two horses to keep up. And I suspect a solution to my problem is right in front of me. I can ride Jeff a couple times a week and give Solo time to chill out. I also get the opportunity to learn from another horse, who is so absolutely opposite from my red QH that I wonder how they even do the same sport.

Jeff is a lovely-moving horse, with a silky smooth canter that he can click along in for hours. He will jump 3'6" without even appearing to work. But Jeff is quirky. With a capital Q. And probably capital-all-the-other-letters too.

He was started by a cowboy who riled him up then cranked him into a super tight frame and forced him through his paces. Result: irreversible damage to his body and mind. BO acquired him as a 3 or 4 year old and has worked hard ever since to try and soothe his fried nerves. Jeff is sweet as the day is long, but once out of the pasture, I rarely see the underlying worry leave his eye. To say he is sensitive is an understatement -- he will sometimes jump just because you touch him.

I sat on him for the first time the other day. From watching BO ride him, I knew he was a tough and unconventional ride. He doesn't like contact and has a hard time, due to conformation, really packaging himself; he prefers the longer, looser hunter outline. But I had no idea HOW tough he was till I landed on his back.

You can't ride this horse like a normal horse; applying any pressure in his mouth just results in either being ignored or tension. If you don't have every single muscle in your body soft and relaxed, forget any roundness in your trot work. Bending appears to require some level of magic I do not yet have.

In short, Jeff is a huge challenge for me and I think he has a lot to teach me. I am excited and at the same time a bit unsure if I will surmount it. But he will allow Solo some much needed breathers and help out BO while allowing me to still see my horse every day and keep my butt in the saddle with no extra driving. It's been a long time since I have regularly worked a horse besides my own...I have some figuring out to do!

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Back To Forward

So much to think about.

The lesson was good.  Although I could just feel Solo's indignation: I already worked hard on Saturday, what the hell is this about??!

Of COURSE, David makes us ride through a gymnastic to start off, after warm up with his obligatory Circles-Of-Making-Eventer79-Pant-And-Solo-Flex-A-Lot. He has some kind of psychic power to detect what you really don't want to do and then he makes you do that. Somewhat unsurprisingly, he quickly detects the source of our problems: I am riding too defensively, staying TOO far back and as a result, I am not moving with Solo over the jumps.

David: "I understand why you are doing what you are doing, but your upper body is saying whoa when you stay that far behind the motion."

Me (in my head): Yes, because I don't want to bloody fall off again.

Me (out loud): Yes, master. (or something like that)

David: "Once he is moving forward, trust him to do it and just support with your leg, but keep your upper body in a more ready, forward position."

Which, of course, worked like a charm.  Ahhh, smooth, lovely jumps -- why do they only happen when David is watching?

So when we start out learning to jump, most of us jump ahead, anticipating the jump too much, especially when we have learned in hunterland. Then we train ourselves to wait. Then we end up behind the motion -- although one of the eventing commandments is "Thou shalt remember that it is always better to be a little bit behind than a little bit ahead." Finding the happy medium is a bit like balancing a fork on the edge of a glass: for me, freaking hard!  Now my brain is going, Ok, stay back but not too far back, you need to be forward enough to go with Solo but not too far forward or else you will jump up his neck.  Yeah, no problem doing that every time on a course of ten fences.  Maybe I will just close my eyes and flap my reins at Solo while squawking, "Jumpy jumpy!"  That might create a higher proportion of successful jumps than my current method of confusing the snot out of myself.

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The Big E Part II. And Why Exactly I AM Happy About It.

Stadium Jumping
By the time they got around to stadium (yes, they ran the event in classic format with XC second and SJ last), my horsey was exhausted. I was exhausted and had pretty much reached the point where I was just ready to go home. The course was TOUGH. Lines wound everywhere including three jumps on a wavy bending line 5 strides apart and every jump was maxed out, including three HUGE oxers. Note: keep in mind especially jump 8 A and B (9 jump course) -- a two stride combo with a max oxer to a vertical; a challenging question asking you to jump in boldly and wide and then sit back and jump up and out over the vertical.  And yes, this is another year old picture too, of a much more successful day at a BN event.

I watched the first few rounds and it was obvious that ponies were T-I-R-E-D. Rails were dropping all over that max course. When I entered, I could feel that Solo's gas tank was hovering around empty and it was probably not going to be pretty. I need you to do one more thing for me, buddy, I told him, put your heart out there for me, we gotta get around one more time and then we can go home and take a loooooong nap.

The first two jumps on the course were a four rail vertical and then a long rollback to a stone wall with blue rails. I could feel my horse reaching deep just to keep going and I didn't kick, just squeezed and supported and told him Just give me what you got, buddy, I understand you're tired and we're just going to do the best we can. He couldn't quite get his feet up for the second jump and I heard all the rails crash behind me as we pointed towards the big oxer at 3. I knew that dropped us back to at least 6th place and I didn't care about it anymore.

I interject here: one of the things I am learning to love about eventing is that you really ARE competing against yourself. I know many sports say this, but here, it's really true. There are SO many variables and things can change so quickly, that I find myself really and truly measuring our performance solely based on the relationship that Solo and I have which allows me to know what my horse is capable of and then how do we measure up to that. If that makes sense.

And what goes along with this is the question of: how do you know when to stop? I've attended lots of *** and **** events and watched riders pull their horses even mid-XC when they felt that the horse was out of steam or it just wasn't their day. I can't even express how much admiration I have for the riders who make that choice. I wondered: would I have the guts to do that, to make that tough decision and make SURE you act in the best long term interest of your horse, no matter how much you paid to get there??

Turns out, I do. We negotiated the bending line of 4-5-6 and rolled back to a large natural oxer at 7. Remember that combo at 8? Oh and the ginormously wide oxer of 8A is blue too! With Tigger flags (how random). Solo looked but I sat down and said go. He went, but jumped it without much impulsion and went straight up and over and I believe I let out a rather loud squeak. When we landed, I felt immediately that the gas tank had run dry; he just died, but he still looked to the vertical at 8B and moved towards it. I didn't feel like I had enough horse under me to jump out clean and safely though and I did NOT want to climb over it ugly or crash; it was not worth giving my horse a bad experience. So I immediately pulled him out of the line to circle.

Yes, this would count as a penalty. And technically, according to the rules, if it's a combination you have to rejump BOTH elements. But I did not want to ask Solo for that huge oxer again. I just wanted to finish the two jumps left on course safely and make sure my horse was left with the impression that he can DO this and it's not scary.

So I made the decision. I only jumped the vertical at 8B, which eliminated me as soon as I did. But we jumped it clean, rolled back to finish the course at 9 and cantered through the finish flags with a big pat. At which point Solo slammed on the brakes with his nose on the outgate. Love ya, mom, but I am DONE! I laughed, gave him a big hug, and thanked him for his try.

He never stopped, he never gave up, and he tried with everything he had to get around that extremely tough course so I can be nothing but happy with him. I hauled him home, gave him his dinner and turned him out with his buddy feeling nothing but pride for his willingness to tackle the new challenges. As much as I hated seeing the big E by my name on the leaderboard, I realized what all those other folks who had retired on course already knew: the E has no power when you have made the decision to take care of your partner and make sure HE leaves the showgrounds with nothing but successful efforts under his belt.

So, homework!

Dressage: MEGA IMPULSION NEEDED. Especially at the trot -- we need energy, energy, energy and energy!

Cross country: We won't need to school before Longleaf, but I will just need to make sure that, as we did yesterday, we start off the course riding aggressively and I keep Solo in front of my leg to the jumps. We need FITNESS. Trot sets (boooring, yuck) here we come.

Stadium: We need more FITNESS! And we also need to learn how to jump max oxers. The verticals rode fine, despite the crashing down of one, that was just hanging tired pony legs. We will meet up with David O. tomorrow night to work on this after Solo gets two days to hang out and nap in the pasture.

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The Big E. And I Am Happy About It?

I'm going to break the sad news up front: I have no pictures. It is an unfortunate consequence of having no crew.

But whew, what an eventful day it was indeed! Where do I even start? I will attempt to make it as concise as possible! We hauled in to the lovely Thoroughbred Training Center on Friday night and I kicked my chicken biscuit wrappers out of the way to convert the back of my truck into redneck camping paradise. It's amazing what an air mattress and a pile of blankets can do...

Early Saturday morning I crawled out to layers of ice on all the windows, but Solo was cozy and warm in his lovely old barn, having vacuumed up every scrap of hay, ready to start the day.

Dressage
Wow, we had a tough judge! I was thrilled to pieces by our test -- Solo stayed soft and round for pretty much the entirety, aside from a few looky moments where he wanted to check out who was watching him. His canter transitions were, OMG AWESOME as he reached down onto the bit and stepped over his back; I have discovered the absolute key is me staying uber-soft on the rein during the transition. His circles were round and bendy and perfectly circley.  There's a random Solo dressage pic there on the left from last year just so you have something to look at.

We ended up with a 38.3, which I was pretty happy with, although the judge was pretty hard on some things, including 5's for our opening trots, ouch! Seemed pretty harsh just because we lacked impulsion, but oh well, every judge is different. She did give us 7's for our canter work, which is a nice change and left very nice comments at the bottom. We stood solidly in the middle of the pack in sixth place at this point.

Cross Country
The course was nice and gallopy and open, which is why I chose this event as a prep for our big recognized deal next month. However, during warmup, my ass kindly reminded me that my tailbone was still bruised from last weekend and every time I sat down to push it went OWWWWWW! Yay. Overall, it went well, although some of the jumps backed Solo off and I'd like him even more in front of my leg next time. Most things were very straightforward fly jumps, with only a few exceptions: there was a skinny, tall log between two trees, which makes a rather persuasive accuracy question if you would like to keep your face. The ditch was BIG and you had to weave around a corner and another jump just to get to it. Solo gave it booger-eyes, but he jumped it as I closed my leg and gave him plenty of rein. There was a BIG drop off a bank, but it rode really well and we stayed in balance and did not lose any momentum. The water was a simple run through and my cheater horse trotted, given he was pretty tired by the time we got there, at the end of the course.  There's another random XC pic for you from HT's past...

With a double clear finish (no jump penalties, no time penalties, thanks to us hauling ass up the last hill after glancing at my watch), we had now moved up to third! Yay! And ahh, pressure! One more phase to go, one very challenging stadium course to conquer. Could we pull it off after galloping such a long (19 jumps!) and hilly cross country course??

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Moment Of Truth

Keep your fingers, toes, and hooves crossed -- we are loading up today and heading out. Tomorrow will be our very first Novice Horse Trial. I hope to maintain proper vertical order and forward motion at all times!

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In Which Panties May Need To Be Changed

The last post was titled "Ups and Downs," not just because of the mountains because the day had a lot of ups...and a big down!

As we got back to camp, horses and riders both tired and hungry, I tied Solo to the back of lifeshighway's trailer after I untacked him for a few minutes so I could use the bathroom and change.  I returned a few minutes later to untie him.

And as I walked around the back of the trailer I heard a loud noise and saw my horse at the end of his rope, rearing and plunging as the entire 7' rear trailer door flipped end over end through the air.

This horse is going to kill me just by taking decades off my life at a time.

Yes, the metal door was detached from the trailer and flipped in the air to land phwaat on the ground.  What does one do when you see a situation like this?  Which, as we know with horses, may appear to occur in slow motion but actually occurs wham! in the course of about ten seconds.  Pretty much you stare for about a second with eyes like saucers and heart motionless as a cinder in your chest thinking Oh my mother-f@cking-god-of-all-things-unholy and then you go to your horse.

I approached Solo slowly as his adrenaline gradually diminished and I unclipped him, as he trembled with every muscle popped out at once. At which point he stopped shaking, sighed, and dropped his head to graze. Completely (thank you all powers that be) unhurt and holding no grudge against trailers for the unwarranted attack.

All I can figure out is that he somehow managed to pull his rope out and get it hooked under the edge of the door that I mistakenly thought was latched. He then threw up his head, freaked himself out, and lifted the entire door off the hinges with his short, muscly neck in about one second.

I have now aged roughly 7.62 years. The thought of what COULD have happened makes me throw up in my mouth a little. My horse appears to suffer no ill effects whatsoever. I think I even heard him giggle softly as he continued grazing.

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Up And Down

In a small feat of willpower (and no small amount of ibuprofen) after Saturday morning's hullaballoo (which also set off a burgeoning migraine, oh fun fun fun), I gritted my teeth and hooked up the trailer that afternoon. I was NOT about to let a little pain (ok, a LOT of pain) get between me and a camping trip on a beautiful weekend!!

I met our bestest riding buddy, lifeshighway and we settled into camp on the northern end of the Uwharrie National Forest. Even the worst day can be redeemed sitting in a recliner chair nursing a good beer on a gorgeous spring evening, serenaded by the soft sounds of settling horses and the squeak of bats fluttering overhead at dusk.

Lifeshighway and I have a dream. We dream of a day when we go on a riding trip and NOTHING HAPPENS. While we enjoy the fact that there is always a good story to come home with, it really would be great if we could have a whole trip where no one gets a traumatic brain injury or no horses get sucked into cypress bottom bogs (oh yes, we've done that one) or we don't get hopelessly lost and end up trying to race the sunset out of the woods.

Here's the thing: normally, I have an excellent sense of direction. I am great at reading maps. My job relies on this ability, as I am routinely navigating teeny rural dirt roads and using only GPS and terrain clues to find field sites in rivers. However, something happens when I ride with lifeshighway. I think she is my kryptonite. You know when you take a compass to a place with strong magnetic activity and it just spins in circles? Yeah, it's like that -- I think she actually has a spinning core of molten iron and as a result, my compass needle spins wildly and uselessly as we blunder about the Carolina piedmont.

Last time we rode Uwharrie, we ended up traversing the same 1/2 mile section of trail approximately 6 times, as we'd go one way, panic, turn around and go the other way, panic again, turn and go the other way, panic...Pete (lifeshighway's awesome little endurance Arab) and Solo were ready to toss us in the river and hightail it home on their own.

Sunday, we rode out with not only two different maps, but a GPS unit as well. And had a gorgeous ride on beautiful trails, up one side of each mountain and down the other. The trails there can entail some technical riding, which I enjoy, including some steep rocky sections where I quickly dismount and walk down, letting Solo find his own way without my hindrance. And if you go before the leaves come out, you can get great views from the summits, as Pete and lifeshighway demonstrate below.

In fact, I can say that the entire ride was completely without event. Ok, lifeshighway may have enjoyed a giggle or two every time I dismounted and got back on, going Owwwwwwww! Ow ow ow! but hey, I live to entertain. We spent about three hours exploring the highs and lows, the ridges and streams, and traversing the rocks and logs of the woods at a slow, steady pace. All in all, pretty much a perfect ride! Until we got back to camp...

The big red man enjoys the view. Possibly thinking Dear god, I have to walk back to the trailer through all THAT?!

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Always Listen To Your Gut. And Your Horse.

This one is for all y'all out there like me -- trying to bring a horse along without 50 gazillion dollars, reading articles about all these successful riders who never seem to have any real issues, and getting worn out from constantly smacking yourself in the forehead wondering why your horse endeavors just can't seem to progress that smoothly.

So Saturday was a gorgeous 75 degree, sunny, low humidity, dream of a spring day. I thought since we were leaving Saturday evening to head down to the mountains to camp, it would be nice to get another light jump school in. I hesitated a little (here's that smart lil' gut chiming in) -- I just jumped Solo on Wednesday so I thought, hmmm, is that overdoing it? But I convinced myself I wouldn't work him that hard, it would be fine.

We'd been working pretty hard on our dressage Thurs and Fri, practicing those canter transitions (still improving nicely, yay!) and some lateral work. As I warmed up Saturday morning, Solo stepped out nicely, but I could tell over our warm-up crossrail, he was feeling a bit tired and maybe a little sore. I pointed him at our gymnastic line of four jumps. And he stoppped soundly in front of the first one -- which from him I KNOW is a clear statement of No, thank you ma'am, I am tired and sore and not up to the hard work that is this gymnastic.

Ah, but I should have listened. Folks, it really IS ok, to do something else and come back another day sometimes. But instead, I stubbornly clung to some rhetoric that said I had to do this RIGHT NOW.

We came back to it again, he jumped the first X but stopped at the bounce vertical after it. Again, clearly telling me Lady, I have warned you that I am not up to this today. Again, I do not listen -- I lower the jumps and insist on being stubbon.

It should come as no surprise that the next time through, he jumped the first two in a sort of lurching fashion which threw me a little off balance, then spun out at the third one, neatly depositing me on the ground. Which by the way, also reinforced why I am the helmet nazi as I landed on my back and felt my head hit the ground with a soft thunk. Woulda hurt a lot more without that helmet on there. As Courtney King-Dye can tell you, if she ever gets to tell anyone anything again -- she is STILL in need of all the good karma you can send and still unable to speak or do much after fracturing her skull when a horse fell in the dressage ring with her. Like many dressage riders, she wore no helmet. Being a beautiful, talented rider sadly cannot save you from the fact that falls and horses are inevitable partners.

I grumbled and cursed but climbed back on, mostly unhurt aside from a few pulled muscles. However, it appeared I was still unable to learn even after being whacked on the head, so I tried that stupid gymnastic AGAIN. Pretty much same result, including landing on the ground AGAIN, despite some fairly impressive dangling and clawing in attempt to stay on that really only resulted in MORE pulled muscles.

At this point, I am more stubborn and idiotic than Satan's own mule, so I climb back on again and do the damn gymnastic again. This time, we do make it through, although Solo is jumping flat and hard, which means he is definitely tired. We do a couple single jumps, to make it positive and quit there.

Did I accomplish anything aside from making sure that Sunday and today, I limp around in astonishment that I cannot use any of my extremities without pain? No, I doubt it.

I did finally manage to learn something from it though: ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR HORSE. Solo is honest and generous but his body has limits and he tried hard to tell me that I was asking for too much. Even my gut knew that I should take it easy that day. Fortunately, pulled muscles and bruised bums will heal fairly quickly (but dear God, they sure hurt more as you get older, owwwwwww....) and I have no ego to bruise, so we'll be back on track shortly.

So don't feel alone next time you have a REALLY BAD riding day -- we all fall down and we all make bad calls and the best we can do is examine them and learn what NOT to do next time!

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