The struggle of falling out of practice

I walked into this new barn...

...for my first lesson with a new trainer...

... I haven’t ridden with any manner of consistency since February...

... that was 5 months ago...

...I haven’t **cantered** with any consistency for, well......

Ok. So when was the last time that I jumped??

I pondered this for quite a while. It must have been 2016. So, 3 years?

NOPE! It’s 2020. It has been 4 years since I’ve jumped. 

Surely, she’s not going to have me jumping my first lesson. I mean, she’s going to have to get to know me and whip me into shape and get me riding like she wants me to...

So, I arrive in plenty of time to watch the previous lesson wrap up. Young girls are hopping adorable Welsh ponies and the occasional Thoroughbred over classic hunter-style fences. There is a gymnastics exercise, an outside line, and a slightly bending diagonal line. 

She’s tough on these girls. By that, I mean that she asks for exactly the exercise she laid out, and she expects the girls to to do the work to gain their mounts’ cooperation. 

She is also fair and compassionate. She sets them up for success with a less-complex exercise before sending them on to a more-complex exercise. 

I’m introduced to “Cherokee”. She’s a cute little chestnut Quarter Horse mare with a kind eye. She’s already tacked up and waiting for me. All I have to do is get on and start warming up. 

Cherokee has a REALLY P-O-K-E-Y walk. I feel like I have to actually *kick* every other stride to keep her walking. Holy cow... How is she going to coach any kind of riding for me if I can’t even keep this horse walking??

We start trotting, and I’m DEFINITELY kicking to keep her trotting... Well, there’s no pony stick at hand, but we’ve got some spurs! Let’s see if that makes a difference!

Sure enough, when I have to nag just to maintain the trot, I applied a little spur. Cherokee was unimpressed and continued to require nagging. So, took my spurs, lifted her rib cage, and said, “Look mare, I mean it! I refuse to work HARDER than you just to trot around the ring!”

In response, Cherokee said “Oh! No problem!! I just wanted to make sure that’s what you REALLY wanted to be doing!”

And I didn’t need a spur after that!

We spent time finding suppleness and stretch, we spent time finding balance, then we did a little bit of cantering. I tried to find the right combination of cues to get a nice transition. I used my inside leg to lift the shoulders, I used my outside leg to maintain the bend and strike off, and I used a touch of rein to help her balance... but I was still missing some ingredient for a smooth depart...

Coach said “Try scooping your outside seat bone!”

Oh, holy wow, the difference that made!!

And it was indispensable on our circles!!

My core was already crying a little as I tried to maintain good balance and position, follow my horse’s annually broad back, and incorporate details like “scooping my outside seat bone”...

Then, Coach sent me to the fences!

We started by trotting into the gymnastic line, and she said something that spun my world around: “Ride the back get to the fence...”

She said it as if she were talking to herself, like it was something she would think to herself as she were riding the same approach...

It never occurred to me which end of the horse I was riding to the fence! I think I was inadvertently riding the FRONT end of my horse to the fence!

Over the next several fences, that single statement made such a difference, I had to tell her about it. She said, “That’s fantastic! Another one I say a lot is ‘wiggle your toes’. It really seems to make a big impact.”

Well, now, I had to ride to the next fence and try to wiggle my toes!!

Oh, what a feeling!!!

We continued on over who-knows-how-many jumps and combinations. Coach was gushing about how fancy Cherokee was looking over the fences. At one point, she expresses, “You have beautiful hands, and Cherokee just loves the space you’re giving her to work in.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. It came to me as the greatest compliment I have ever received. It was exactly the confidence boost I needed that day. 

I had walked in with doubts about my fitness (proven to be lacking), doubts about my abilities (unfounded), and doubts about what my new coach would think of my abilities (unfounded).  

Moral of the story:

Don’t let your doubts stop you!! Charge on ahead and tackle the challenges as they come!

Man, it felt great to be jumping again.....

I may have done a Thing... a while ago.....

So, I bred my first horse....

You may remember the adventures of the Perfect Pink Pony (aka - Whisper)...

After much deliberation and some happy circumstance, I embraced the opportunity to breed her for my very own foal!!

I had hit the road to start a new job, so riding and competing went on hold for a while. We didn’t have a purebred stud picked out for Whisper, so I bred for my half-Arabian in 2017. 

It was all I could do to keep up with the pregnancy while continuing to learn the finer points (frustrations) of the new job and gallivanting all about the countryside. Next thing I knew, we were only a few months away from impending birth, and I didn’t have even one name on the list of possibilities!!

🤦‍♀️

So, I made a list of possible traits that we could expect:

- colt or filly

- chestnut or bay

- solid or spotted 

So, that would mean one of 8 combinations:

- solid chestnut colt

- solid chestnut filly

- solid bay colt

- solid bay filly

- spotted chestnut colt

- spotted chestnut filly

- spotted bay colt

- spotted bay filly

Does that mean my list of possible names should have at least 8 on it??

🤔

There’s a funny story told by the group that I work with. The punchline is: Whenever someone asks about our system, the answer is always “bad barcode”.  Now, you wouldn’t believe how many times we run into bad barcodes in my line of work.... I got to thinking that no matter how the spots lined up, my scanner would never be able to read it.  So, if I got my spotted bay filly, I should call her “Bad Barcode”!

...then, I got to thinking about the other extreme... what if I got a solid chestnut colt???

...Bad Barcode... 🤷‍♀️

In the end, it turned out that only one name was going to be on list of possibilities for this particular foal.....

And on March 28, 2018, we welcomed into the world the first horse I ever bred:

Arabian Breeder’s Sweepstakes nominated

Half-Arabian solid bay colt

SEP Bad Barcode

Reboot.....

I’m sitting in the truck. I’m not driving. I’m in the passenger seat. 

I have insulated muck boots on. I’m wearing my down coat. It must be winter. 

My vest is... on the floor? It looks kind of dirty. I must have fallen off of a horse. 

The display in the truck is showing a name that I recognize. Dad?

I can hear his voice over the speaker. Oh, good. The people that matter are being notified. I’m going to be OK. 

(Why did he buck you off?)

“Because he’s an asshole.”

(Really??)

“Yes. I surround myself with assholes.”

(Hey, wait!! Are you calling me an asshole??)

“Well, yes. Yes, you are.”

I take a deep breath and lean back into the seat...

.....REBOOT.....

I’m sitting on a bed of some sort. The tiny “room” didn’t even have a door, but the curtain is pushed all the way open.  

I’m wearing insulated muck boots. I’m wearing breeches. I must have been riding. 

I’m not wearing my vest... I’m not wearing my coat... I’m cold...

There’s a collar around my neck........

Crap. 

I must have fallen off of a horse...

I want to lay down. Can I lay down?

(Yes, but don’t go to sleep.)

I cover up with my coat. That’s better. I’m not so cold now...

Something is poking me in the back of the head!

(It’s probably the collar)

Can you take my bun out?

(I guess so. How’s that?)

Oh, MUCH better! Thank you!!!

.....REBOOT.....

Why do I have to sit up?

(These nice ladies are going to take you for a scan.)

Oh. Ok. 

Did they put me in a wheel chair?

Oh, lay down on this table? Ok. 

Don’t move. I’ll try.....

I keep rebooting, you know.....

I don’t mean to be uncooperative...

Oh, look! That’s the scanner machine! I guess it’s not an MRI because I’m still wearing my watch.... I wonder what that thing is moving in the slot there.....

Oh, we’re done? Great!

How many times did you have to restart the scan because I forgot to keep still?

Oh. I must have done really well. I wish I could remember....

.....REBOOT.....

I’m in the cubby again. This feels familiar. The curtain is open. 

“How many times have I rebooted?”

(Quite a few)

“I’m tracking time, now.”

(Oh, really.... What time is it?)

“... I don’t know...”

(What day is it?)

“... I don’t know...”

I have to pee. 

“I have to pee...”

(Let me get the nurse)

“Yes, I think I can pee in the cup. Can you help me? I just need an extra hand...”

“Can you just hand me the cup after I’m situated? Ugh! I forgot about this collar!”

(You have pee all over the cup - and your hands!!)

... I want to cry...

“I’m sorry.... I forgot about the collar!! I can’t actually see what I’m doing!!”

(It’s ok. I’m here. Let me help you with the toilet paper...)

I’m sitting on a bed. I want to lay down. 

Yes, I can lay down. 

Oh, look. There’s mud on the bed! I must have laid down here before. *sigh*

Where is my vest? I’m cold!

I’m covering up with my coat.... That’s better...

.....REBOOT.....

They are taking the collar off. There’s no bleeding on my brain. 

Oh, good!

Can we put the collar back on??? It feels better when it’s on... my neck doesn’t hurt as bad, then.......

There’s no blood in my urine. They can send me home now. 

Thank goodness!!!!

Does that mean it’s ok to sleep now?

(Yes)

Oh, thank goodness!! I’m exhausted!!

I can walk. 

We walk out of the ER, and I manage to climb into the truck with plenty of assistance. 

(You need to take a shower)

Ok. Am I capable of that?

(Why don’t you give it a shot and find out?”

Ok!

My neck hurts. 

My left shoulder hurts. 

My left arm hurts. 

I peel my shirt off and it’s COVERED in dirt down the RIGHT side... so why does the LEFT side hurt????

Somehow, I managed to get clean...

We picked up dinner on the way home. 

I *DEVOURED* dinner....

... I guess I was hungry...

So, tell me what happened again?

(You were riding Cupid. He bucked your ass into the dirt. You swore you were ok and got back on the horse. We finally talked you into getting off. You put the horse away. And I took you to the ER.)

I’ll never remember that part.....

It’s been 21 years since my last concussion. At least I was wearing a helmet!

....I’ll be replacing that ASAP....