I Ride

Written by an 87 year-old woman (who still rides) and had this to say about women & horses:

I Ride

"I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power and empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered out of reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet /farrier/electrician/hay delivery, change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long ride.

The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least I call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it 'the sickness'. It's a sickness I've had since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand the meaning of 'the sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and, in some ways, who we are as women and human beings.

I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap [I interject: HELMET!] down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust.

Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.

I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I do because I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend through the meadow, all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or any of the numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.

The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to find lakes that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite Stairway at Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the empowerment and joy in my heart.

I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how competent they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch. We haul 40ft rigs, we back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend the horses. We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the horse. We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and doctor. Your hands are a little rough and you travel without makeup or hair gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one."

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My New Best Friend

Maybe it's premature to rank them so highly, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE Solo's new shoes! Farrier was out yesterday -- we've been experimenting, trying to find a set of shoes that will fit Mr. Goldilocks "just right" and stop his forging ways.

My apologies, it's not the best picture, but it's the best you get from a phone with no flash in a stall at night! But up front he now has Natural Balance shoes with a wedge heel and we also put a slightly shorter shoe on the back -- he was having issues with the longer trailers we tried in the back, so those came off, yay!

End result, rode him lightly last night and he did GREAT! Not a single clinky forge to be had. And we incorporated our homework of adding a few 15 m canter circles -- and on the right lead (easy one) coming out of that circle, he sat down in the prettiest little uphill canter you ever saw.

Me = satisfied again. Anal hoof staring abated for the time being. Ok, you're right, I probably will still stare, but my eyes will be slightly less narrow now.

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Thought For The Day

I am cleaning out my old cell phone in preparation for switching to a new one, as the buttons are about to stop working (especially the one with the "e" on it!). I found these timeless words from God, aka Jim Wofford, stored in a note from our clinic last year. I stashed them in my phone to remind myself often to keep my horse training priorities straight:

Any system which disturbs the natural tranquility of the horse is flawed.

Need I say more? Words to ponder every day...

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Quiz Answers

Just because I know you were dying to find out, our two mystery horses from the 29 December 2009 quiz were successfully identified!

molly was the first commenter to successfully identify our stunning chestnut, Secretariat. A son of Bold Ruler, this red speed demon was not expected to have the staying power for the distance stakes races. It appears no one informed Secretariat of this. Not only did he win the Triple Crown in 1973, he blew it out of the water. In the Derby, he achieved the unprecedented feat of running each successive quarter mile faster than the one before it. That record still stands. He also won the mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths and in the fastest time for 1.5 miles on dirt ever before and ever since. He is still listed in "Top Ten" lists of great athletes even in non-horsey circles, won $1.3 million, and his blood lives on in his descendents despite his death from laminitis at age 19 in 1989. As an honor for a great legend, he was buried whole at Claiborne, where he still lies. He also sired the first TB yearling ever to sell for more than $1 million; the colt, Canadian Bound, brought a $1.5 million sticker price, but was a failure at racing. Secretariat later became known for his penchant for producing mediocre colts, but excellent broodmares. Interestingly, necropsy revealed that his heart weighed 22 pounds, the largest ever recorded for a horse.

The grey was a toughie, but Kate chimed in, solving the mystery (even I couldn't figure out who he was): Spectacular Bid. He was a Bold Ruler grandson who may have also been a Triple Crown winner, only the morning of the 1979 Belmont, "The Bid" stepped on a metal pin in his stall and his jockey was in a fist fight, the two of which together cost him the prize. Nevertheless, he won 26 out of 30 races and never lost between 7 furlongs and 1.25 miles. He won $2.8 million and was syndicated at stud for $22 million. He left Claiborne in 1991 and he died of a heart attack in 2003 in upstate New York, 27 years full of heart.

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In Which Solo Is A Guinea Pig

So we have this electromagnetic blanket sitting around the farm. It's on loan (or in storage?) for a friend of the BO. Now, scientifically, there is little data to suggest that magnetic pulse therapy is significantly effective and anecdotal reports show ceramic heat reflection technology to posses greater efficacy. But what the hell, the thing is sitting there and we've got nothing to lose, so we decided to try it out.

The book promised the horse would immediately take on a "calm, relaxed" demeanor. It did not indicate how you would recognize this if your guinea pig horse is generally calm and relaxed anyway.

It also had a useful Q&A section, covering important issues like: "Will this blanket make my horse a champion?" and offering the answer I hope no one paid money for: "No. Of course not. That would be impossible." Yes, those are direct quotes.

This helpful little manual also suggests you might get better results using the thing twice a day. Again, it did not indicate how one would do this without having an infinite amount of time to sit around and stare at a horse wearing a blanket. So, not so helpful really.

Supposedly, you have to use it at the lowest setting for three days, then you can begin to bump it up. I can't imagine anything more anticlimactic. You unroll all these cords and pieces and plug them into this giant silver box that looks like a 1980-model PC (see photo). There are junction boxes and switches and frequency settings galore. Then, with bated breath, you hit the "start" button. At which point precisely nothing happens. There are no lights. There is no sound. There is no heat from the pads. Your horse stands there staring at you contemplating the possiblity of carrots in your pocket. I was only able to figure out the thing was actually working by holding a magnet under each pad and as the machine pulses, the magnet vibrates in your hand. Thrilling.

So after day 1, I can report that my horse is calm and relaxed. Pretty much just like he was 30 minutes earlier, but it's a fun experiment.

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