Please Press Pause

Taken from the tractor seat...

Letting the diesel idle, I pause the tractor on a berm in the top pasture.  It’s that quiet intermission when the sky holds its breath as the treetops cradle the last wedge of setting sun.  There’s a marked contrast between east and west; the latter glows in warm orange as the pond reflects a silver version of the same scene and the darkening pines set off the beauty of the painted clouds. 

Off to my left, though, the eastern sky has less placid thoughts.  Bulging piles of pink thunderheads rumble between strobe flashes of cloud lightning.

In between the two – there is me.  Me and two grazing horses, each with an ear cocked to the storm, should it decide to change direction and chase them to shelter.  Tonight, though, the front holds its course, withholding water, but consoling us with a cool wind to dry out the sticky air.  I never want to leave this moment.

If only that were possible.  But I can close my eyes and sneak back there in my mind once and a while.  In the meantime, responsibilities await.  Some are fun (build farm stuff!), some are not (read federal register notices!), most lie in between (find vanishing fishes!).

Horse Things Still Happen

No more poison ivy rubbing!

To my great incredulity, there is progress in some areas (hey, this is rather a feat these days!):  I have finished fencing taping off the main portion of my lower creek pasture so the horses can enjoy it complain that it's itchy out and there are bugs. 

Encore is back in work, errrr, well, let's use that phrase lightly, shall we?  Look, I sweat A LOT, and when it's 80% humidity at 8 pm...  But he's had a couple very nice long-lining sessions (once we were clear that yes, you do have to go forward even though you are in one of your pastures) and the rest of my focus has been on trotting/cantering hills and small obstacles in a balanced rhythm and some bareback lateral/transition work to build his hind end back up.  That butt strength is his critical and most difficult training need, just as aerobic conditioning was for Solo.

I just might give myself permission to take one lesson as a gift to myself in hard times.  Dangit.  Now that I've typed it, Encore is in his paddock right now, looking for something poky or a rock with a usable edge.  Or a stick.  Or a clod of dirt.  *eyeroll*

Are any of you managing to get in some ride time in the burgeoning sweatbox???

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17 TFS Tips For Thriving In Southern Summer

This past December...

Ah, Carolina summer, you have returned.  I noticed your chortling embrace when I took two steps out the back door & then needed to change my shirt because all of my sweat came out at once.

OH, BUT IT'S BEAUTIFUL IN MAINE TODAY! 

I can hear the gloating from you Yankees (hee), but I can take it:  I'll be enjoying my t-shirt XC school in February while your tears freeze onto your snow shovel.  I did my time.

For my compatriots who spent their younger years chipping vehicles out of solid ice blocks & kicking giant ice cubes in the shape of five-gallon buckets & dragging full muck buckets in sleds across snow...and bolted when they got the chance--

I wanted to share our tips for living and working (oh yes, I sweat & carry heavy things all day long and then come home and -- sweat & carry heavy things; it is possible that I am stupid.  Oh wait, I own a horse; scratch that: definitely stupid) in our "included free with purchase!" sweat box.

WHAT HAVE I DONE?  HELP ME!!!

If you (and/or your horse) are new to this dance with 100% saturated air that does not produce rain, you are probably staring with dismay at your car, a mere 100 feet away from your front door, perplexed as to how to get to it & still arrive at work without looking like you LITERALLY just stepped out of the shower -- a really smelly shower with no towel.

I promise, the first summer is the worst, but that is why I am here for you, & why you obviously make smart choices by reading this ridiculous awesome blog.  We can all learn by experience, but you aren't required to.

ALL YOUR PROBLEMS, SOLVED

Humans:

(1)  Take your time:  there is a reason we do everything slowly, including speech.  Moving quickly = more sweat.  Sitting in the shade drinking iced tea beer = less sweat.

(2)  Read this post.  Cotton is NOT your friend.  Ever.  Unless you enjoy slowly suffocating in a blanket of your own perspiration.  Stalk those amazing technical fabric running shirts (bite me, equine brands who want me to pay $50 for a t-shirt, er, bless your hearts, I’m a “normal” person, not made of disposable cash), you can find them on sale at a myriad of sporting goods/outdoor retailers for $12 or less.

(3)  Read this post.  Oh, CoolMedics, bless your heart (practice this phrase, it allows you to say anything without actually insulting someone).  Evaporative cooling is indeed a sound scientific principle – WHEN EVAPORATION ACTUALLY OCCURS.  5000% humidity, not so much.  Thick layer of soggy textiles = misery.

(4)  I wear a handkerchief under my helmet.  (1) Stops profuse sweat from running into my eyes when riding (it burns us, precioussss!) and (2) when I pull off my helmet, I immediately put my head under the hose and soak hair & fabric.  I’m aliiiive!

Jacket-free in the arena at Five Points HT

(5)  Speaking of helmet, you better still be wearing it!!  >:(  It also keeps the ticks/spiders/branches/bird poo out of your hair, as well as said sweaty, nasty hair out of your face.  Same goes for the XC vest.  At a certain point, it’s just bloody hot no matter what.  Never compromise your safety.

(6)  Speaking of attire, seriously, skip the butler jacket unless absolutely required.  I dehydrate FAST because I sweat a lot.  Even in my awesome wicky outfit, if I don’t follow my strict hydration rules & keep eating protein, I will throw up/pass out/prefer to die.

All of our competitions at CHP will waive jackets as soon as it gets steamy out.  In addition, at ANY USEA event where all three phases occur in one day, you NEVER have to wear a jacket.  A technical, tidy polo or show shirt of your choice is fine (it doesn’t even have to be white, *gasp*).  Read the rules.   

If you stubbornly refuse to part from your black coat and come down centerline red-faced & drenched in sweat and then fall off after your test due to heat exhaustion, you do not look “respectful,” you just look (well, floppy & damp) not-very-smart and I dislike having to worry about the safety of fellow competitors (yes, I’m that person).

(7)  Never forget your SUNSCREEN SUNSCREEN SUNSCREEN SUNSCREEN.  And a wide-brimmed hat with a mesh top is a wonderful thing in the sun when you are not mounted.

(8)  Permanently attach a water bottle to your body or the nearest fence post/jump standard/truck hood.  When I am doing field work & riding in the evenings, I can drink 3 L of water in one day & never have to pee.  It all comes out my pores (yes, I sweat like a pig, I don’t glow, I’m not a “lady”).

If you feel thirsty, you are already dehydrated.  I don’t even buy bottles smaller than 1 L – I keep about six in my refrigerator and refill & rotate (REUSE YOUR BOTTLES!).  I will also never again live without an icemaker in the freezer. 

(9)  Elaboration on hydration:  I have made a rule that when traveling to a competition or lesson, I must drink 1 L of water on the way there.  NO EMPTY BOTTLE, NO EXIT TRUCK.  It’s hard, but trust me, it makes a huuuuge difference.  The next bottle is half Gatorade (G2, less sugar), half water.   

Tip from an ex-semi-pro mountain bike racer & over-educated gym rat (ha, not me):  Sports drinks by themselves are too concentrated for your body to absorb unless you are performing at like a super-marathoner level.  Or riding David O’s circles of death.  Your metabolism changes modes depending on activity level & if you don’t cut it with water, you’ll just pee it right out.

(10)  Once you go outside, stay out there.  I find it much harder to go in & out of air conditioning, having to re-adjust every time.  I put on my super-wicking outfit, grab my armful of fluids, & I don’t come back in until I am done.  Naturally, frequent drink breaks in the run-in are highly encouraged!

2008!  Solo had a mane...in the upper Yadkin River.

Horses:

(1)  The hottest hours of our days are from 2-5 pm, NOT noon-1 pm (we like to be different).  I try to ride after 6 pm whenever I can.  That said, you DO need to spend some time riding in the heat to heat-condition your horse.  His metabolism can adjust, but to do so, he needs to do some work in the mugginess.

But I’m wayyy past the age where I feel driven to make myself miserable just because…why?  I’m not competing at any level at the moment, my TB does not need to work every. single. day. to stay strong and fit.
 
(2)  I hose my horse before AND after I ride.  There’s nothing wrong with tacking up a wet horse, he’s going to be sweaty soon anyway.  It is CRITICAL while hosing to constantly scrape water off.

Water is a thermal insulator & you can bake your horse in an aquatic oven if you just cover him with water & let it sit there.  The heat is then trapped in his body, which can cause metabolic distress in a big fat hurry.  As you scrape, you will notice the water you are scraping off gets hot almost instantly.

Keep hosing & scraping until that water is cool, especially big muscle groups, like his haunches & neck, & large blood vessels between his hind legs and on his chest.  You can hold running cold water on his jugular vein from his throat to his chest for a few minutes for systemic cooling.

(3)  Fans for everyone.  Small, medium, large, big-ass, plug-in, battery, solar, who cares.  We have physical battles over the space in front of/under the fan.  When in doubt, BUY MOAR FANS!



(4)  Not all shade is your friend.  I prefer open-sided (or 1-2 shade walls) shelters on top of a hill for the horses (breeze, if there is one).  Don’t let the woods lure you in; angry hordes of swarming, maddening vampires await (some call them deer flies).

I didn't want to mow, so I delegated...

(5)  Fly sheets are great…until it’s 102.  The fly boots stay on, but masks & sheets come off over about 85-90.  It’s just. too. hot.  Unless you jump in the pond.  ;P

(6)   Equine electrolytes, but not for the reason you think.  Just like humans, most of the time, the equine metabolism will just pee out the salts in any electrolyte you give him, whether it be paste, or loose salt, or licky blocks.  The important thing is, it makes him thirsty.

For heavy work such as competition, or long trail rides, I’ll give 1/2 a tube before the ride and 1/2 a tube after to encourage drinking drinking drinking.  The boys have access to their favourite pink salt at all times.  Lots of sweat is good – as you probably know, if you don’t see sweat, call a vet (it’s a poem!).

(7)  Horse not drinking as much as you’d like?  Make his water trough more fun – dump in ice, throw in some apples or carrots.  Moisture-rich snacks are welcome, like watermelon, cool beet pulp or alfalfa slurry, or freezer pops (hey, Pete likes them, except for peach).   

And keep it clean:  watch for algae build-up, food dribblers, unwelcome addition of poo (horse, bird, fish) or corpses (beetles, mice, raccoons…hey, it can happen).  If he’s in a stall, multiple buckets are always a good idea.

Now I need to go eat an ice-cream sandwich before I drag some pastures while profusely worshiping the tractor’s sunshade.  Let me know how you beat the heat and still have pony fun!

Bonus if you know the movie

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I Love My Hippopotamus

Especially when he does landscaping, too!  It's Mr. Shiny's favourite part of summer.



Apologies for crappy cell phone vid, interesting things always happen when you don't have the real camera nearby!

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The Journey Of The Tragic Hero

Quiet Moments

I apologize for the rather scattered nature of my last post, but hopefully you were sufficiently distracted by pictures of pus and PONY!

PROBLEM

I have been thinking a lot about this blog lately (among other things, my brain is a hamster on drugs, remember).  Because there is a conundrum.  Longtime readers know that my writing (ok, world) centers around Solo and his big little brother, eventing, horsemanship, and associated topics. 

As our Facebook page notes, it focuses on “being an adult amateur, putting your horse first, and fighting for your goals in a sport that has no mercy for the unprepared or faint of heart (or wallet).”  Aside from an occasional note about the unique challenges (and sometimes awesomeness) of my real job, my personal life is, well, personal.  For myself, the latter is neither relevant nor appropriate content re: my mission statement.

That being said, those of you who have been wonderful supporters along the way also know that my policy is 100% open honesty (pretty sure that’s redundant but my level of give-a-shit is low right now).  Result: conundrum.

SOLUTION?

But I think I have made a decision (reference said hamsters above while laughing about lack of decisiveness in statement of decision).  Although TFS (Team Flying Solo) is an entity I often reference, as is (now) FSF (Flying Solo Farm), the title of this blog remains “We Are Flying Solo:  The Journey Of A Horse & His Girl.”  Just like Solo’s name, there are many layers there, but our story IS about the journey.  And no journey (except maybe a really boring one) is complete or worthwhile without highs AND lows.

Go Pandas! They get to wear polos now?!

If perchance anyone who went to high school with me reads this post, they will giggle at the title along with me.  But it is also A Thing.  I had the same, phenomenal, AP English teacher both my sophomore & senior year of high school.

Mrs. Bricking was the kind of teacher who challenges you to constantly raise the bar, with the motive of opening the minds and eyes of 15-18 year-olds, who are sure they know everything, to a broader view of the world, and the powerful themes and tools that great literature provides.

I totally just used Spiderman; but he fits

Which brings me to the title:  it was there I learned about this nearly ubiquitous tool of story-telling.  The “Tragic Hero” is the main character, usually the protagonist (read:  good guy/woman/thing), and we love her (gender pronoun chosen for simplicity).

She is rife with good qualities, but she always has a “Tragic Flaw,” an Achilles heel, which is required, otherwise you wouldn’t have a story!  It may be an unrequited love, a physical weakness, a negative personality trait, what have you.

As a result, she travels the worn path of the “Tragic Journey.”  Its outcome is uncertain, but there will always be a build-up, a “Tragic Fall” (yeah, everything is Tragic, LOL, goes back to the Greek Tragedies of Sophocles and his peers) to the nadir, the lowest point of the journey.  The Hero(ine) must then struggle to rise from this nadir in order to triumph (or not) in the end.  Think about your favourite movie or book plots – see it?

THAT’S NICE, BUT WHAT, SO YOU’RE A HEROINE NOW?

Hardly.  But that is how I arrived at my conclusion that there is a story that I have not yet written down which needs to be told, because it most certainly is not only a part, but both initiates and shapes OUR entire journey.

A few of you know the details, but I experienced my own nadir in a trauma like no other several years ago (not horse-related) and it continues to haunt my steps.  No doubt you have noticed a change in the blog and I can tell you that it is not, in large part, due to the purchase and move to the farm.  Rather, the reverse is the case, where Flying Solo Farm was born of the Tragic Fall in an attempt to salvage what pieces of the future remained.

BFF & the amazing Texas Pete at Uwharrie NF

IT ALWAYS TAKES A TEAM

So I hope that you can be patient with me as the epileptic hamster tries to find his way back to the wheel in the dark.  Blindfolded.  On three legs.

I do count myself very lucky in having BFF and Erica, who have been unbelievably awesome help, along with THREE incredible neighbours, the wonderful network of Area II Adult Riders and the eventing community. 

They’ve got my six and I am also thankful every day to my mother, who helped make it possible for me to have the most wonderful scenery ever, including my two orange buddies, in which to negotiate the maze and find my way back to this woman.

Gallop (or walk, or just hug) on and don’t worry:  my ridiculous dorkiness and penchant for crazy adventures which never go according to plan remains intact, so you need not cry yourself to sleep that your life shall be unfulfilled without the TFS posts (haha).  Writing is wonderfully cathartic and I hope to continue to share posts with you and of course am reading all of yours!  

And I am still determined as ever to get my amazing Encore (daily thanks too, CANTER MA!) to a T3DE, it’s just going to take a little longer than planned (oh wait, it was a horse plan, that’s a given).

Evening therapy sessions by the pond

One very tired Eventer79 --

Out.

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My Horse Has Itchy Intestines

Lovely

Apparently.  Since on Sunday afternoon, I was presented with the delight you see pictured.

While I spent THREE HOURS clipping and probing and tweezer-ing and hosing and de-ticking (at least he’s patient), I told him next time he had an itch, he could just politely point it out so I could take care of it instead of over-dramatically experimenting with self-gutting on his own.  He already looks like burn victim, having used every reachable surface to scratch half the skin off his face.  He’s that little kid that you have duct-tape oven mitts when they get chicken pox so they won’t claw their skin off.  Only I don’t have enough oven mitts for every post.  And tree.  And rock.  And his entire body.

Ah well, I hadn’t used the emergency vet number in a while.  It was just hot enough and swollen enough and oozy enough that I wanted to make sure I had covered all my bases before someone came to check it out Monday and give him a (naturally, expensive) steroid shot.

Here I would like to pause and note the already employed strategery.  This adorable, wonderful, maddening horse is wearing fly boots, fly sheet when it’s not too hot, fly mask, eats garlic, gets fly spray, is treated with a tick drench, and is groomed often.  I will also note that Solo, aka I Used To Be A Giant, Accident-Prone Parasite Magnet…is fine.

He got his shot and I got permission to spend even more imaginary money on things that aren’t even fun, like antihistamines for the season.  He likely got a bit itchy from tick bites, started scratching on the TREE WITH THE FATTEST POISON IVY VINES and then the oils worked their way into broken skin and it all became a systemic cycle of itchiness.  I moved him out of pasture with said trees but then jinxed myself by observing on Saturday that he was healing nicely.

*pause for multiple eyerolls*

Remember this horse (2012) casually loping 3'7" in the chute?

On the plus side, he had the good grace to at least injure himself in a “no tack goes here” spot (I had noticed the scabs and thought movement from a ride might work out the fluid of the swelling; it did, but by the time I got the saddle off, it blew back up and on closer examination, the depth of drama was revealed).  Time is hard to come by at the moment, but I was determined to carve out 20 minutes, climb on and at least remind Encore what standards look like.
 
That ride…was our first proper jump school in – I’d actually have to look in my own archives it’s been so long – at least seven months.  We hacked next door to Trainer Neighbour’s Jump Field, adjusted a few rails, and assured Encore he would not die alone while OTHER HORSES DID INTERESTING THINGS RIGHT OVER THERE!

After perhaps two or three dressage schools over the last two months and a couple good trail rides with hill work:  The Pro still has it!  I channeled my inner David O. voice, focusing on being patient, consistent, and soft in my hand while not forgetting I have legs (what, I STILL have to think about them?) to keep his butt engaged and his poll up.  When Encore got antsy, I heard Becky in my head repeating, “Don’t torture him, give him something to do with that energy!”

C'mon, let me take you for a ride! (High Time Photography)

Reward:  Encore didn’t touch a rail, and our final jump was a 3’4” vertical from a solid rhythm where I stayed soft, kept my shoulders up over the apex, kept my butt off his back coming down, and we cantered away forward, but relaxed.  That arc where we both get it all right at the same time – I have a vague memory of that feeling.  Definitely time to get off now and don’t screw it up!  

Maybe we should all spend a little less time beating ourselves up for not riding “enough” (who defines that anyway??) and lower the pressure by just enjoying time on the back of a horse.  Letting ourselves be pleasantly surprised when picking just a detail or two for focus results in an improved bigger picture.  It doesn’t have to be a jump.  It can be a transition into a trot, three steps closer to that horse-eating tree stump, a more responsive halt, a more accurate turn, or even an anxiety-free hack in the woods.

That's a challenge for all of us -- let me know how it worked out for you!

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