Fried To Champion

Is there anything better than the night before a show? All the possibility lying in front of you when even a bad trip is still a day outside on a horse. Joy creeps up on you when the beginning of the season lays out waiting to see what will happen.

I decided on show morning it was time for Bandon to move-up to actually being ridden in the warm-up ring. For those that don't know, warm-up is an entire afternoon's worth of riders of different levels with horses of different experience crammed in getting the nerves out of themselves (or their horses) and maybe attempting to fly over some jumps without wrecking.

Everybody is moving, in close quarters. For an off-track who is only schooled alone at home, this is a bit of a shock.

Before now I'd walk Bandon fully tacked around the arena to let him get a feel for the place before chaos erupted. I might back him once or twice, then get out of there. I mount at my trailer, and we warm-up in the fields. It was an okay plan, still I felt like we always did better after our first class was over and maybe if I could do that break-in ride in warm-up and he'd already be "on" for the first class.

We entered warm-up at a walk, halfway down the rail Bandon was straining to dance sideways and about that time a horse landed a jump right next to us and proceeded to canter off. It was way too much for Bandon. His fuse blew.

I got some circles to calm him and a little trot work before we left the ring. He was tossing his head the way he does when frustration takes hold. We went back in as soon as the ring cleared of all but one pony, and I asked him for a simple two jump line. He landed bucking and was hard to rein in. Backed again. Walked a bit. And warm-up was closed, our class was next.

Bandon was not at all mentally calm and we managed to disagree through two classes before a small jumping round where Bandon hit the end line at a dead run and coming off the last fence. I had no control except to one rein stop him. Deep breath, I hadn't come off and he was stopped, I asked for a nice long trot circle before exiting the ring.

With a blown fuse it was anybody's guess what to do. Time seems to heal it more than any action I've tried in the past so I sat on him under a tree awhile then took him to the side and asked for walk circles - verbally scolding the violent head tosses - then back under our tree. We did this until I was getting trot circles off to the side with no head tosses and I could halt him from a trot.

Next class I had the same jump line that he bolted on (a straight line heading for the entrance gate) and I made a plan to jump the second to the last fence, then immediately pull him off the line, circle another fence, and approach the last jump. I was riding now for training purposes and not worried about the judge. It worked. He was listening and softer. Every class after that he improved until we won a jumping round, won a flat class, and ultimately won a Championship in that division.

Looking back it's easy to see that some time and patience helped me succeed with him and it all sounds pretty plain. That's not being very fair to a rider reading this though and I'm compelled to add that a peek in my mind shows that this almost didn't happen at all.

I'm human. I think the things you think too. I sat on my horse after the last bad round, a horse who was no longer responding predictably, and I immediately thought I should scratch the day and haul home. I was mentally pouting while my face was smiling. Not only did I feel like I'd screwed up seriously by asking for the warm-up ring he clearly wasn't ready for, I was afraid. Dead running towards a jump wasn't a feeling I wanted to repeat.

I'd blown it. All the anticipation, the rides, the fees, the late night horse bath just to get ready, trailer packing, tack cleaning, for a terrible ride that showed my horse a bad experience and scared me.

Bandon, wearing the cooler that Whisper won years ago, after his pre-show bath

Then I reached down and draped my arms around his heavily-shedding neck and realized that he hadn't thrown me. Yes, his mind had clicked back to a place I didn't want it to be (demonstrated again when he pinned ears and tried to bite his TB show buddy) and I wasn't sure how to train out of it, but so what. Make a plan and get something done. Now.

And boy did he. Walking back to the trailer with our ribbons in hand a lady asked me if that was the same horse I'd been on earlier, I was proud to say it was.

Writer's note : Rivermont Farm shows now work with the Jockey Club and offer their Thoroughbred Incentive Program!

Fighting Butterflies

The deciding factor in a good competition, where preparation and training are otherwise equal, isn't always raw talent. Instead, how the person competing holds together under pressure determines outcomes.

Driving my oldest son to his first scored archery tournament, I could tell he was nervous. His face was tense, he (like his mother) started rambling about random topics. I hoped to teach him something I learned over a lot of years of standing on start lines.

1) Get used to it.

That swirling bit of nerves that can overwhelm people the first time they enter a competition, isn't something you should aim to conquer. Don't waste your time trying to fight it down. It's there. Get used to the feeling, get friendly with it, and find your way to perform with it along side you.

2) Re-define it.

It's not nervousness. It's not fear. It's excitement. You are really excited and you are getting pumped up to perform. You are excited at the possibilities in front of you.

3) Watch what you say out loud.

Telling your friend that you probably won't do well for such and such reason isn't okay. That's giving yourself an excuse to fail. Saying out loud that you are scared or nervous doesn't help either. Say that you'll do your best.

4) Give yourself permission to fail.

There are so many times I intended to make it to the line that I couldn't for various reasons. That is the worst. Going and doing it and making a mistake is miles better than the ones who couldn't get there in the first place or were too scared to put it out there and try.

5) Expect to own it like you were born to it.

While it's okay to fail, imagine the success. How each step done perfectly right feels. See yourself with your butterfly stomach knowing exactly what to do and it coming so easily as if you were born to do it.

"Train like you've never won and show like you've never lost."

Sage Advice

Recently my score in the game of "Farm Girl Life" has been elevated to ninja level. Not only did I manage to get a gray pony clean, standing in the mud pre-dawn on horse show day for my kids, I also found a lost grazing muzzle, in the dark, among the tall grass this morning.

The ponies are thrilled with the grass height, carefully getting long stalks into the grazing muzzle holes to slurp down like spaghetti noodles while the big boys are too busy playing in the cooler air to even notice.

While my farm skills might have scored well, my horsemanship was strained. Bandon and I had a week-long falling out that hit my heart the hardest. It's hard to say exactly what went wrong, the symptoms though were clear. He began to bolt.

It was mixed in with acceleration at all gaits in general. Leaning. Bracing. All the things you don't want. Once he bolted the first time, it became alarmingly regular about 20 minutes in on our rides.

We're on the right track to work through it now and I'm thankful for two good trainer horse friends that I can contact anytime and say, "I give up, I'm never riding again" who talk me back into sense. I made the mistake once of contacting my husband with this first and his enthusiasm to sell the farm and have a normal life was slightly unsettling. Trainer friends rock.

Horses are great at taking you to amazing levels then sometimes bringing you right back down. This can be a bitter pill to swallow when you find yourself sitting at the start. Again.

Through the turmoil of Bandon's fighting nature, the kids were getting excited about their show coming up.

Mikayla had already snuck off to a show with me for leadline once and ever since her brother and sister have been asking when their turn would come. Meanwhile, Sage has also become more experienced in her trot work, at times getting frustrated and wanting to give up, and I felt she was ready to show the level below trot to see the fruits of her labor.

Pegasus has not been off site with us before, his history on showing is not really known. Spotlight has been off site and is decent but can be a little bit of a handful. I decided to put her on Pegasus.

The show was a lot of fun and Tristan earned a ribbon in leadline on Spotlight...

while Brianna had her turn on Pegasus. It was a different leadline than we had done before, the kids being asked to post at the walk and the judge asking them a few questions. I was proud of the kids and proud of my hubby who was attached to the notoriously bitey, Spotlight.

Sage was in next and I couldn't believe the emotions coming up in me. I wanted so much for her! I also wanted her to earn it and make her own path. I try not to talk too much about the kids and their riding because really those are their stories and not mine, but Sage ended up teaching me something that's worth sharing.

Sage went in behind another horse and Pegasus was okay but not great. He was not interested in stopping though his rider kept at it.

In the next class, Sage and Pegasus were the only entry. He was not having any of that. He would not move off onto the rail from the gate. She fought him as he turned left, right, backed, sideways, Sage kept at it. She spoke to him so quietly I couldn't hear what she was saying and I was pretty close by.

I thought any minute she's going to start to cry or give up. He yanked the reins out of her hands. She picked them back up and kept working.

The judge flagged me and said it was okay if I went in and didn't help her, but just was another body in the ring so Pegasus wasn't alone. I walked a good distance away from the team as Sage worked out her pony and rode as the judge called commands.

At the end the judge congratulated her on a nice ride, a cute pony, and a great leg. Sage didn't say a word, sweat pouring down her little face, her hands shaking from her show nerves.

Out we went and I thought of all the things I should say. I wanted to congratulate her on her tenacity. I wanted to apologize that at her first solo ridden show she had such a challenging pony. I wanted to build her confidence up but not take away anything from her own sense of accomplishment. I wanted to tell her that I hope she never ever gives up and I'm sorry it didn't go quite as planned.

Before I had a chance to decide which words to form, she asked me if she could hang her ribbons over her bed and she was beaming.

That. That is what I learned from my little girl and what I'll take back to my next ride.

The First Time

You know the moment when you realize that just a few days have passed in reality but in your world it seems like life was altered and a month's worth has happened? That's how Friday to Monday feels to me this weekend.

The Jockey Club started a program recently to help encourage more owners and riders to choose Off Track Thoroughbreds and as a result, give more racehorses a chance at a bright new career when they were done racing. The Thoroughbred Incentive Program offers classes just for Thoroughbreds across all disciplines.

Riding in Thoroughbred events has long been a dream. In dogs the dream was to win at the National Specialty for my breed (which we did!), this was the horse version of that. There are three in particular, the Thoroughbred Heritage Horse Show in Virginia, the New Vocations Show in Ohio, and the Totally Thoroughbred Show at Pimlico in Maryland, that held my gaze. I watched an HRTV special on the first show at Pimlico last year and I was hooked. The leadline classes crammed full of little kids in silks perched like ticks on their big, sweet, Thoroughbreds made my heart melt. Listening to riders talk about how much they loved their horses and how proud they were just to have made it to the baby level divisions was equal with how I felt about mine. It was about the horse more than it was about the event. These were my people and I wanted to show with them!

The Thoroughbred Incentive Program would be another way to get a taste of this.

I had applied to the Jockey Club for TIP numbers on both Czech and Bandon last summer. After our schooling show journey had gone from uncontrollable to relaxed, I was comfortable with the idea of taking the boys out. I searched the database of events and didn't come back with very much. A few rated shows in my region offered the TIP but only for the highest overall horse at the entire show and we weren't likely to be in those leagues with professionals. The one show I found that offered the TIP in classes and divisions was a little over two hours away and I entered.

Czech was still on a slow return to work, increasing the strength in his rear to better support his stifles, so it would just be Bandon and I this time. I was half wondering if I was jumping in over my head and half excited to get our first time under our belts so we could gain experience to get closer to goals of a ribbon.

The class list was a little Greek to me. I picked it apart and determined that I had to make a choice. I wanted to do Jumpers. Bandon and I were ready to spread our wings at the lowest jump height after the schooling shows. However, the TIP division (a hunter division) that was appropriate for us would not allow us to jump higher at the same show. Jumpers is measured in meters putting us 1" above allowance to also enter the hunter division. I had to choose one.

I used the system I used for years deciding on dog events. "If this went terribly, would it still have been fun/worth it?" The only one I could say "yes" to was the Jumpers.

I entered Jumpers Warm-up, Low Jumpers, and one TIP OTTB In-Hand class.

I think Czech will be an excellent candidate for the In-Hand class the Jockey Club offers and since I had never seen it or tried it, Bandon would be my guinea pig to gain experience.

Not only was this a rated show that was HUGE, it was also at the Horse Park in Georgia where the Olympics were held in '96. Gone were our days of tacking up out of the trailer, Bandon would have to stall, something he hasn't done well for me off-site before.

To be there in time for our 8 am Jumpers Class to start, we would need to leave the house by 4:30 am at the latest. Having no idea if Bandon (who is reluctant anyway) would load into a floodlight-lit trailer, I started asking him at 3:30 am.

Clearly I am not sane.

My trailer training paid off and we were on the interstate by 4. At the show, he went into the stall on high alert but not spinning and covered in froth. I'll admit I had to find a bleary eyed fellow competitor to tell me how to open the stalls that were done in a way I'd never seen before. If our beginning was learning just how to open the stall, how was this going to go?

I left Bandon to go register and saw my first glimpse of the Jumpers arena. Holy bleep. Compared to my 4x4 post and pvc rail fences, these things were enormous. Solid. Very scary.

I texted my fears to a friend, breathed them out, and let them go. Bandon couldn't know I had any doubts. I had to have full confidence this was something we could do or I would not be fair to him.

When the course was posted, I left his side again (this time more agitated as a horse two stalls over screamed constantly) and went to conquer another show obstacle, memorizing the course.

Umm... what does Prem mean? JO? I know my class numbers... why are some A and B? OMG, is that a combination with an oxer? Bandon's never done that. Is that a two stride combo? Bandon's never done that either!

I walked the course after asking a really nice girl why there were two courses listed for my class number (one was the Jump Off round we were to do immediately if we jumped the first round - Preliminary - clean). I realize that some of  you may be asking, "How does she not know all this stuff?" right about now. I ask that you remember that I've never trained with a Hunter Jumper trainer. Even in my younger years of training I was doing Dressage and three-day. This was all new.

The jumps looked too tall. I wondered if I'd measured mine at home wrong (Sunday morning first thing I went out to my arena and measured, yeah, I had measured wrong).

I knew the course. I decided to trust that my amazing horse could do it and I went to get him.

It all happened very quickly from there. He fought me while tacking. Biting and once trying hard to kick me. In the scuffle I threaded his noseband on the off-side THROUGH the bit ring. I wouldn't find that out until later thought.

We got down to the ring. He stepped on me twice. Crowding me hard and fighting any cue I gave to back up and yield before giving-in to my communication and doing what was asked though never once dropping his head. I was on him and asking for movement, circles, turns, lines, leg yields. He was obsessed with the dozens of horses in the warm-up ring, shaking his head hard the way he does when he is stressed.

We warmed up our own way and when the gate steward called for my first class to go, no one said a word. All sitting on their perfectly still mounts pointed at the ring, I was the only one dancing and jigging in loops.

"I'll go"

Bandon has always taken care of me, Bandon has always thrown himself into his job. I believe we COULD do this.

First jump he seemed surprised at the height as his front legs grazed the top rail. We were running. His nose was trying to touch the arena roof. Jump two he didn't want to touch again and we jumped way over, I felt my heels anchor me to him and gave myself a moment of applause for some form of eq.

Jump 3, we were heading into a combination. Oxer B he leaped so hard he jumped me out of the tack and for a moment I remembered my fall while jumping and felt my heart rise in my throat like a big lump. We landed together and I was in awe of the power underneath me. Four, we were over. Five, Six, and Seven I was using my reins harder than I ever have with him as he was riled up in the moment. Eight was the last combination and as we headed for it I questioned how he was going to land the way he was traveling with such huge strides, and then clear the last solid looking jump.

He either felt my question or also questioned because he stopped dead in his tracks. Instead I asked him to go do one more fence before coming back to me and trotting out. I have no idea if I broke etiquette doing so, I just knew my horse needed to succeed before we stopped.

Bandon was borderline uncontrollable at that point. I was equal parts in total awe that we'd made it around and frightened a bit at this new beast under me. He was tapped into full war horse mode and I'd never been on that before. I wanted to loose rein walk him, I wanted to stay on his back until he settled, he was having none of it. I used a solid fence outside the arena to stop him for a second so I could get off. His eyes were distant and not at all connected to me. I was just a toy on the end of the bridle. The bridle. OMG. I see the noseband error for the first time and fix it.

Keeping him walking, I watch the riders behind me. I see some of the crazed frenzy that Bandon gave me as more horses go around the ring and leap the obstacles. I learn that this intensity is fairly normal... along with a lot of martingale use.

It felt like no time at all had passed when the steward asked if I was ready for my round. I felt my heart rise up my throat again. We had only done the warm-up trip over the course, the judged course was running now. I almost formed the word, "scratch", instead I got back on.

Moments later we cleared fence one, landed in a gallop that flew me past fence two in a blur as I pulled him up on the far side of the ring and didn't care about anything except making this positive for him. Our "show" was long over, this was about me and my horse as I trotted him through the course, past the jumps, asking him to breathe and think as he became tightly coiled each time we came near a jump.

We left the ring and I patted my horse.

In 30 seconds I'd learned more about him, about me, and about what real Jumpers IS than I had ever known.

Hours later, as we got ready for In-Hand, Bandon again was in biting and kicking mode. He didn't care about my space and I was feeling my calmness fleeting as nothing I did made me important to him and his world at this show. At one point I used a dressage whip to communicate space as a barrier at his chest, he almost broke it in half.

In his bridle ringside for the last part of our show day, a few moments of him appeared. He would drop his head or chew his mouth a moment, before going back to crowding and pushing. I tried to praise these moments though in hindsight I should have done it more. I was tired and a little miffed at the constant fight he was giving me, it was hard to find a soft place in me to connect with him genuinely when he did offer them. More praise is a goal for next show. I remind myself how Bandon drapes his body all over Czech in the pasture for reassurance and how Czech calmly tolerates it, only disciplining him when he crowds in ways that are rude to him. I make it a goal to learn the difference between rude/unsafe crowding and Bandon seeking reassurance.

His track trainer will tell you, Bandon is a fighter. He is open to having a conversation with you if he trusts you. He is also responsive to correction if he's getting out of line. If you break that treaty though, correct at an inappropriate time, he goes into self protection and can be very hard to get back. However, he's also super responsive to praise when it's earned.

The judge for the In-Hand class marveled at his dancing feet as we came in for the line-up, once asking me if I could please make him still. At one point she even took the reins a second and said, "here, like this... oh he's not going to be still, is he?" Nope.

I played with him and moved him enough to get him still for the line-up evaluation, though all four feet were not square for very long.

His jog was beautiful. We placed third in a large class and I had my Jockey Club ribbon.

Lessons I learned from that are: 1) Czech is definitely the show pony for that job 2) Wool jackets and tall boots are the devil's invention on a 94 degree day in full sun 3) ditto on the black gloves

Bandon loaded up quickly and we were headed home.

On the way, we became stuck in two major traffic jams on a highway and an interstate. I was so sad for my boy in the trailer back there, breathing all those fumes, hot, kicking at my trailer sides wondering why we were still. I cursed each driver that jetted in front of me as I'd left just enough space between myself and the car in front to be able to stop without hurting my horse.

I reconsidered my goals. These all Thoroughbred shows I dreamed about are each a day's full travel away. In this for my horse and our partnership as much as anything else, was that a fair thing to ask?

Bandon and I will again see the Jumpers ring at a large rated show. Thinking back on it here now I still am amazed at what we did. I had no idea it was going to be what it was, and I'm glad. If I had known ahead of time the challenges we'd face I probably wouldn't have entered there and may never have tried. It was very intimidating. Instead, we've done it. Going back to do it again with more experience and training will be so much fun!

Meanwhile, our goals are set for Czech and I to do Adult flat classes and TIP In-Hand. Bandon and I will come back to TIP in the lower hunter division and get our accuracy, confidence, and adrenaline working for us at that level to prepare us for Jumpers again.

The weekend taught both of us so much. When we come back again, it will be somewhat familiar, the first time is done.

"Horse Sports are the only athletic event where the athlete must be prepared that his/her equipment may be nervous. It's an entirely different mental game." Sports Psychology Study 2013