History Keeps Quietly Moving

My husband's aunt happens to be one of my most favorite people. When she invited us to Alabama for an early Thanksgiving lunch, I got barn chores done in record time so the kids could get loaded up and start asking, "Are we there yet?" and "What country are we in now?" an hour in on the trip.

Once we were there I met all sorts of extended family I'd never met before and got my hands on my brand-new sweet baby nephew. After awhile, a man said something about horses.

I probably looked like a dog who just caught sight of a squirrel.

The conversation turned back to stories and relatives I didn't know as I remembered mention at one point about Chris's aunt having a brother-in-law who traded mules, this must be him.

Once everyone started to split off and talk, I hunted him down and tried to act casual.

"What type horses do you have?"

"Tennessee Walkers."

Drat. I don't know much about them. I'd ridden a friend of mine's once on a trail ride and honestly I didn't fall in love with that particular horse. I knew the controversy around them though and I didn't know this man at all or his relationship with horses. So I asked him, "Do you keep yours flat shod?"

"No, most of mine are bare right now. I don't pad. Mine have been natural movers since my Grand-pappy started with them. I've got a horse who can move smooth as water and keep up with yours."

I liked him instantly. He had been in mules awhile, but Walkers and Spotted Saddle Horses (that he had to teach me the distinction between) are what he's always had. He talked about the steeplechases that ran every year by his farm. He mentioned a friend near St Simons also in horses, at this point I'm pretty sure I had stars in my eyes when I asked and he talked about his friends riding on the beach.

I wanted to ask how he felt about the controversial training techniques used in the saddle horses, without offending his breed. He quickly covered the topic himself though, agreeing that while he had some of the best horses there were, they would never be the top winning horses because you can't achieve that without changing them.

He gave me hope. There was no regret in his eyes whatsoever about his choice in his breed his whole life to not win but preserve them. He hadn't ridden a horse himself in awhile, not since his back surgery put rods by his spine. When he said, "I probably won't ever ride again now." I felt sad but he didn't look it, he was clearly comfortable enough with what he had done that more was no longer necessary.

We get so caught up in right now. Who is winning? What is winning? Who will be winning tomorrow? What's wrong with the sport?

That it's easy to forget that there are people out there, on their own farms, doing it the way it's been done for a hundred years. Telling me with pride stories of how the blood that runs in Tennessee Walkers came from the same horses used in the Civil War.

Not a few minutes earlier in a room of relatives he had lamented over there being a lack of people these days who could even sit a horse, with a tired expression on his face like he'd given up on the whole of it. Now lit up, showing me photos of his (they were gorgeous) horses, I could see him spark the same way I do.

If you begin to get tired of the current state of affairs in your particular breed or sport, remember there are people out there, good horse people, quietly continuing on the right road that's been laid for them by generations before them if you are willing to find them.

Snow & Goodbyes

We had a crazy week of snow in our area two weeks ago, the water bucket ice breaking was a little more fun when it came with playing in the snow with the ponies.

It was a short lived enjoyment though, as I'm sure many of you who get snow regularly understand, it wears out its messy welcome quickly. Add to it my oldest daughter slipping and falling hard on the ice, breaking her arm, and we were over it. Unfortunately it's now back again, snowing as I type, with winter storm warnings lighting up my phone.

We also had a heavy loss to our little family, my Matisse. I'm glad she was able to play in the snow one more time before we had to suddenly say goodbye a week later.

I was there when she was born and she has been with me since before kids, marriage, horses, any of it. She and I traveled the southeast together, won everything we could, and she helped me raise my babies when it was time for that too. Matisse was amazing and her passing has left a huge hole in my heart I've been struggling to deal with. Her constant presence at my side in the house is painfully missed. Today is the first time I got back in the saddle since the snowfall two weeks ago.

The boys help me heal in a way only they can.

As death has a way of prompting, I spent an excessive amount of time wondering if I'm doing it all okay. Am I giving enough of myself to the humans and animals I love? Am I doing enough? Am I setting myself up for some future regret? AM I DOING ENOUGH?

I recently read "Saving Baby" by Jo Ann Normile. Saving Baby has the subtitle; "How One Woman's Love For a Racehorse Led Her To Redemption". It sounded right up my alley. I wanted to help racehorses maybe the book contained things that would help me on my journey.

Boy was I right about it steering my journey, but in all the wrong ways. First you should know that there is not a positive thing said about racing in the entire read. I get it, she was at a lower end track and conditions were bad. I appreciate her honesty. That being said though, she described stall as jail. She listed things that most trainers do, with no explanation as to why they are doing it (most cases to protect the horse). It was all the awful and terrible and believe me, there is plenty of it.

Yes, racetracks can have terrible stories. Bad trainers. Bad owners. Shady business. It's money and animals and the two rarely mix without there being a morally loose screw ruining it for those that genuinely care. You will find the largest heap of this at the lower end tracks.

There are also trainers who care and do the right thing by their horses.

It's a slippery slope, like dog breeding. Good dog breeders have contracts that require dogs come back to them if ever unwanted, even microchipping the puppies before they leave. They screen for health issues before breeding. They take the greatest care in starting puppies right and working to find the exact right home for each puppy (most spoken for before they are even born) and only breed in an effort to make better dogs or keep a great line of healthy dogs going. Then you have puppy mills and backyard breeders who breed whatever, whenever, who fill the shelters with unwanted dogs. Mass public blames every breeder for killing of shelter dogs, when in reality a great breeder's puppy would never end up there.

So too is horse racing. A good trainer's horse would likely never see the suffering that is portrayed over and over in the book as happening to "all racehorses". Is there a problem? Yes. A lot of them. Should all owners/trainers/breeders be condemned with a broad stroke? No.

The slaughter of horses is gone into multiple times in the book, something she plays off for the first half of the book that she didn't understand was ever taking place, then revisits in vivid detail over and over. If you don't know how a horse is slaughtered, you should before you decide your stance on the slaughter issue. Most horse people do know and I tried to skip over each part that went into it.

Her own horse, her first racehorse, Baby, dies. Shattering his leg on the badly maintained track mid-race. Being put down, to my remembering horror, just like Lake was here at my farm.

She spends decades trying to "save Baby" (aka redemption) by forming CANTER. She helps hundreds upon hundreds of racehorses. She takes credit for being the first to push a big recycled racehorse movement in the sport horse world. Only Jo Ann never finds satisfaction in it, always seeing Baby in that one horse she couldn't save. Crying over every horse that a trainer wouldn't release to her even though she took twelve away from the track that day.

Taking a years-overdue vacation with her husband and spending it still saving horses, all night, all day. Late to her daughter's own bridal gown fitting. There were always more and "what if that one horse was just like Baby and I didn't make the time to save him".

It was never enough. It was painful. Over and over again. Her family relationships suffered. Her own personal horses never saw her and she felt the overwhelming regret of it when it was their time to pass. In helping hundreds she found no solace. I tossed the book in the trash as soon as I was finished with it. It was a plea for help with no end and I was left feeling raw and exposed to a problem I had no hope of solving.

Saying goodbye to my best little furry friend last week rammed this home to me. The years I managed her around the kids were the hardest to reconcile in my head. She was so great with them and I was just busy, no extras for her for all that time. The times I did spend with her, the adventures we had together, that is what eases my heart each day and I wish for more.

I've always said "one day" or "if we won the lottery" I would take in racehorses, desperate to feel like I'm helping in some bigger picture than just myself. I don't think I realized I am. I have two in my pasture right now. They have a great life because of me and the time I spend with them is all I have and it's precious. Having time to slowly groom Bandon because he likes to feel like a colt who has a mother to groom him, playing keep away with Czech, and teaching Spotlight new tricks to show the kids would be lost as I networked and worried about horses out of my control striving for more and more lives saved.

Maybe saving my racehorses, is enough.

Prospect Horse

When I finally saw the start of a huge dream begin to unfold as we made arrangements to get our first off the track horse to rehab instead of keep, I had no idea what was waiting for us as we went through the loss of Lake.

As I do barn chores everyday, Whisper's stall stares at me with "What next?"

I still want to help racehorses. I do NOT want any additional "forever" horses of my own (save for one special guy Chris and I agree may retire here one day). I also do not want another horse who is broken from the track and at greater odds to either be forced to become a forever horse here or to have the injuries worsen. I've paid attention to the numbers, I understand the odds of these horses is more grave than I initially thought.

A prospect horse is an idea, taking a fresh, sound, off-track and spending time on the horse to make him suitable to resale. This would be beneficial to the horse we take and if it all went well, we would re-coop money put into the horse. A hugely satisfying venture for the horse and for me.

It's also a gamble. The horse could get sick. The horse could get injured here. The horse may not have a sound mind and be difficult to re-sell. The horse could sell then not workout and I would feel it was my duty to provide a safety net for the horse.

There have been horses that crossed my path in the last few months that I could have helped. One slaughter-bound OTTB gelding I tried for and was deeply hurt to find out that he was not at all who they claimed (something I should have learned after experiences with horses that are listed one age and actually another) and that the horse was in a shady deal that you couldn't really save him from. I went so far as setting up quarantine for him before I realized that he was never going to make it out of there.

My other option, of course, is to do nothing. Keep my happy herd of three and continue on working the pony to be good for my kids and my own boys for myself. This is the smartest option of all. It's also the most self-serving where, to be honest, I'm left at the end of the day feeling like I'm not doing any good for the world outside of myself and that's hard for me. I need to help and contribute to the world and I'd like it to be by helping OTTB's.

I'm happy to say that I'm smarter about things after living through these horses and experiences. I don't trust what I don't see with my own eyes (or listings), I know that if it's too good to be true something is wrong, and I've barricaded my heart and my pocketbook a bit against the long shot cases that are good for neither.

I guess we shall wait and see...

Careers In Horses = Poop

A few weeks ago I got a call from the Elementary School my kids all attend, asking if I would come and be a speaker on career day. I laughed and asked what it was they wanted me to talk about because I didn't make a dime working horses. She said that there were a lot of kids interested in horses and if I could just come and talk about working with them that would be really great.

The day started getting my own kids ready in their career day outfits of choice. While it does make me smile that I have 2 girls in breeches heading to school today, I'm also happy to see that 3 others wanted totally different jobs. Being as passionate as I am about horses, a part of me wants to see my kids light up with it to and another part of me wants to be sure that they choose what they love and not just something because it's what makes me happy.

I arrived to find that I was booked every session with a full room of kids in various outfits (some equestrian related) asking great questions.

I talked about all sorts of careers with horses from transportation to farrier work before talking a little about taking off-track racehorses and what it meant to help them learn new jobs. I showed a video of Bandon winning a race and a video of him jumping that the kids enjoyed, I told them before it started that Bandon was the horse that won and they still cheered for him like crazy as he came down the stretch, urging him to run faster.

The most surprising thing was what I hadn't thought about that kids didn't know. Most kids thought horses only lived about 6 years, that a pony was a baby horse, that farm workers got Christmas Day off, and not a single one could tell me what the person who takes care of hooves is called.

I worked to avoid the word "slaughter" at all costs, still one kid in each class asked what happened to all the racehorses that didn't have a place to go. The nicest answer I had was to say that in some places horses are eaten the way that we eat cows. That silenced the room every session when I said it and I quickly changed topics. One little girl though raised her hand with little tears in her eyes asking me what horses were made out of that made people want to eat them.

Another student asked me if it took so much time taking care of the horses and cleaning stalls, why didn't I just hire someone to come and do it for me? She was wearing really expensive clothes...

One boy wanted to know who was taking care of my horses now. I answered that I take care of them.

"No, right now'"

"Well, I got up at 5 this morning to do all of their chores and turn them out so that I could be here at school"

"But are they alone right now? You can't just leave them alone, can you?"

The best part of my day was seeing my son who was in the 3-5th grade age range that I was a speaker for, sign up for my session AND hug me at the end. This boy is way too cool for his Mom to be seen around him at school and he walked over, told me I did great, and hugged me! Woo-hoo!

Poop is a classic word that will make even the 5th graders giggle if used often enough, fly life cycle is way more interesting when you include reproduction of bot flies, and there are a lot of kids out there with that spark in their eye I know I had when I dreamed of one day being lucky enough to be on a horse even if it was an industry where not much if any real money is made (as I was sure to point out to each class).

When I came back to watch the school parade through town I had that wonderful sense of belonging. Kids that had been in my classes all high fived me, I knew some of the parents names and called them and teachers friends. I think that we may need to stay right here a lot of years.

Starting Over

I suppose you go into every new dream naive. If you could see all the blood and guts of it, it sort of ceases to be the new dream and starts to be reality.

My dream to be an after-jockey was soaked in naivety.

Yesterday afternoon I sat in the deep grass of the pasture looking at Whisper grazing in front of me, Lake lying in the barn behind me, already gone. I spoke some choice words to God and questioned over and over again why Lake had to survive a broken leg to go on to race again at the track only to come here for a new start and break the same leg again. He was meant to die here apparently. I don't know. I'm angry and sad and disappointed. We gave him 100 hours of the freedom of turnout, more than he had before, way less than he deserved.

Within an hour of his passing two extremes happened. The first was Lake's former owner/trainer (who I was on the phone with as the vet was there with Lake) offering me support and another horse whenever I was ready. The second was a call from a horse rescue coordinator questioning how and why this happened on my watch, hanging up on me before I could compose an answer through my shock. It was awful.

In response to Lake's trainer yesterday I said, "No". I didn't want another horse. I wanted Lake. I could never do this again. The Seven Hearts OTTB foster program is over.

I was naive to think I could take them in, help them, then say good-bye. I know that this circumstance was extreme and adopting out is a happy good-bye, still I hadn't been able to prevent the intense way my heart  bonds to those soft Thoroughbred hearts

In the pre-dawn hours this morning I went out to do chores and clean stalls. The shocking hole of emptiness stared at me. In 2 short weeks we had gotten used to Lake's head over the stall door. His halter hanging on his hook. Now it all looked so barren.

I turned back to Whisper and got to work. There is a little secret horse folks have, while it may seem icky to a lot of people, cleaning stalls is actually a wonderful way to clear your head. It takes no brain power and your mind is free to work out whatever it needs to while your body goes on auto-pilot.

I kept coming back to how it was just such a sad thing that Lake was so young. What a waste of a wonderful personality in such a gorgeous animal. What a waste.

Then I walked by the empty stall and "what a waste" came back to me again. Lake's life was gone but there were more behind him begging for another chance at their own life and I had space. Space that was going to waste.

Someone said once that when an animal dies the solution is getting another, immediately, to help you heal. A heart with a gaping hole obviously has room to fill.

I don't know when it will be, but I do know it will be a resident, not a foster, when the space becomes full once again.

I was naive to think that my small farm with a small herd could handle the intense change that a new member brings when you have the turn-overs of foster. I was naive to think I could handle working closely 3 times a day with any animal and not loving it with all my heart.

An After-Jockey

The dream of what I wanted for my life started innocently enough with a 4th grade assignment. What do you want to be when you are 18, 21, 30, and 50 years old?

I wanted to be a jockey. No question. Nothing in the world sounded better than that to me and I was sure (as the 5 years and running shortest member of my entire class) I could fit the physical standard, only needing training and time.

It wasn't the most obvious dream, I'd never even ridden a horse other than being thrown into a saddleseat saddle on one of the neighbor's Morgans for a lap around a round pen.

I came home with the project and my Mom said, "that's great, but what are you really going to be? You can't really be a jockey... maybe a teacher?" It's understandable that a recently widowed mother of two would want to be sure her daughter, who stayed up nights reading The Black Stallion series, had skills that would pay bills in the real world.

It hadn't occurred to me that I couldn't do it so I tucked it away, agreed with my Mom, and started spending a lot more time along the neighbor fence line talking to horses until I was old enough to work at a barn in exchange for riding lessons.

Many shows, rides, and years later I had a big fall and broke my back. In recovery from that, teenager stuff began to really get in the way. By 19 I was married to my high school boyfriend and all dreams were snuffed out. Life was "you can't, we can't, I won't"

Without getting too personal, a lot changed 10 years later with my divorce and then marriage to Chris. Way more than just adding triplets to my family. Looking back a sort of monumental moment was when Chris walked in the door with a brochure from a hippotherapy center, where he had been on a call for work, saying he had a place for me to ride horses if I wanted to. A tiny little window opened back up on a life I'd let die. I literally climbed off the table I was standing on (settle down, I was painting the bathroom while the babies were napping - sitting still is not my strong suit) and let it all begin again.

Next came the call for Promise, my adoption of her and her foaling Pirate. Then Whisper came off track and for a split second on her back for the first time, I realized that I was sitting on a racehorse. Not a jockey, but still I was sitting where only they had. I had delusions of grandness.

Whisper knocked me on my butt and all of the delusions right out of me. I almost sent her back. I was completely unprepared for what she came with and who she was. I learned. In the process I fell in love with everything OTTB. I rode a few other off-tracks, got to know them, and understood a connection that they offer that I'd never known before.

A few times I stopped everything and checked in with the family. I'm running with a dream here, but are the kids okay? Is everyone getting enough of me? I'm I juggling okay? Is my time taken from them losing more than I'm gaining? Nope. They were thriving. Adding Ben only made it better for them and included them more.

I poured over OTTB ads. Scanned through the pleas for adoptions, the "Free to good home"s, the "Please take this horse before trainer sends away" (aka slaughter). I wanted to help them all but realistically, horses live a LONG time and are not easy or cheap to keep. Any addition of horses meant needing to be prepared for decades. I didn't want to make a commitment like that beyond our own 2 horses. But I did want to help.

Chris and I had a long talk about where we wanted to go with all of this and made a choice for what our little Seven Hearts Stable would be. We will be opening our doors late autumn as an OTTB foster location. Taking one to start, then seeing how it works. Helping a horse who is coming off the track to transition to a riding horse that is ready to be adopted out to an excellent new home, so we can take-in and help another.

I'm a 33 year-old mother of 5 who is very in touch with my own mortality (an excellent bonus that comes from being a parent..yes, that's sarcasm). So will I ever be a jockey? No. I will be the very next best thing, maybe even better thing, in the whole world to me. Someone who helps save racehorses.  An after-jockey.  Yep, I just created a word.

Seven Hearts Stable is working hard to get ready for it's first OTTB foster. I can't believe my life right now and if any of you out there are "stuck" I urge you to take a look around, especially at the things you've convinced yourself you don't want anymore because in truth you believe you can't and it will hurt to be disappointed again. I can tell you change does hurt a lot and has it's terrible dark moments. Screw the hurt.  Push for the dream.

Real courage is knowing your licked before you begin, but you begin anyway. - Harper Lee

Gratitude

As I'm not-so-patiently waiting on Whisper's injuries to heal and her hoof to grow, I've been lucky enough to ride Scooter. Scooter is the horse that took me on a safe trip for the 10k race and also one of the mounts I had at the IEA show.  He's an awesome school horse who's steady, has a good sense of humor, speed when he feels like you're balancing well with him, jumps reliably even if you get in front of the motion, and is affectionate when he bonds to you. I'm getting spoiled falling in love with the sweet natured gelding.

Trail rides with an alert but safe horse, bareback rides in the evening with any and every horse nearby, and enjoying riding with friends, playing with him like I remember playing with my horses as a kid.

At the end of the day though, I'm missing riding my own horse.

I might spend my whole life chasing what I'm looking for with Whisper, but I couldn't trade that now for anything. Then again, maybe that's just easy to say when I'm soaring over jumps on the back of a wonderful little gray gelding.

"By the time you've had a relationship with a horse for awhile, there are characteristics in the way the horse behaves with you and around you and responds to you that are directly (related) to some of your traits as a human being. Whether it's insecurity or aggression or fear or hate. Horses are a mirror for our souls and they never lie" Buck Brannaman

Ride & Run 2012

The Ride & Run was created as a fundraiser for 4 local youths and 2 adult trainers entry into Mustang Heritage Foundation's Extreme Mustang Makeover events.

A human runner runs a 5K in their age division. Their times are recorded and then the horses start their portion, with riders navigating a 10K at one of three pace divisions. There is an "optimal time" in each pace division (not told to us in advance) and any time beyond that is added to our runner's 5K time for final score.

To say it was fun is the biggest understatement I could make. The only thing that could have made it better was to skip the motel Gloria and I stayed at the night before, I'm pretty sure they used that place to film Hitchcock movies.

For the event, my partner was Gloria, Emma paired with Catherine K, and Carla with Amy. We saw our runners off to the start line then walked the long hike back to care for the horses until we thought they would return.

Our runners completely surprised us though and I was heading back to the finish line when I began to see them coming back towards us, finishing way earlier than we expected. They did great! Gloria ran a personal best! I was so proud of our teammates!

For the Ride part I rode Scooter, while Amy took Dollar and Catherine K was on her Jack. The boys got along perfectly and even when we asked them to stretch out and run together the first time, no one was shoving for lead or straining against the bit. They paced together, each taking turns being brave in front as leader if another balked.

We came out of the start gate, around the perimeter of a high caliber cross country course. Riding beside those jumps was intimidating, it's hard to imagine competing.

We followed a bush hogged path around over a bridge and into the woods. Here we had to slow down a little thanks to the slippery rocks that were all over the pathway. Water crossings weren't an issue, though our horses all would have preferred to jump it if it hadn't been 3 strides across.

Around another field and we could see pastures of beautiful horses, one had to be an Andalusian with her forelock coming near her nostrils and her mane spilling all the way down the height of her shoulder. Back into the woods and another water crossing we tried to pick up the pace but tight tree crossings and an affection for our own knee caps, kept it to a walk.

Out in the open for a large lap between two paddocks holding around 20 horses together. The horses were all keyed up watching all of these strange horses come barreling down their fenceline and as we asked Scooter, Jack, and Dollar to run, the horses were right there at our shoulders running and squealing too. For a moment I could imagine being out in the wild riding in a herd... having some of the horses running with us be mustangs just added to the fantasy.

We were chased by loose dogs at one point and had a hard time picking nice footing through a tight fence line in single file. Down by a large pond and we were back on the bush hogged path again.

Then both Catherine and Amy started noticing that we were heading back where our last 1-2 mile loop began. Having a really terrible sense of direction, it took me a lot longer to catch on to where we were and what had happened.

After riding beside the pond, the bush hogged path turned sharp right. So we did too. About 50 yards past that turn, beside a kid's swingset basically in someone's backyard, there was a tiny little sign that directed us to go straight. We missed it.

Second lap around the horses running up beside us it was clear our horses were beginning to tire. They weren't struggling by any means, just the freshness of pace was gone.

Back by the pond for the second time, we let our horses walk so we could have a finish at a run.

When we went the right way, we were running up a steep hill, back onto the cross country course, and straight for the finish. We were urging our horses on and laughing in the breeze.

Dollar was in the lead and also saw the finish line. He went from a canter to a dead stop 3 feet shy of the line almost getting Scooter's face up his butt and Jack barely missed wrecking. So our big finish line crossing turned into a walk and our 10K ride turned into more like a 12K.

It wasn't possible to have had a better time, beautiful sunshine, cool breeze, great girlfriends, and happy horses. Three in our group was perfect for the paths we could run side-by-side, and the boys got along better than any group of horses I've ever seen work together.

Equitation

Defined as "the skill and theory of riding horses", equitation also refers to a rider's body position when mounted.

Bottom line, coming from a loooooong ago Dressage background, I knew my equitation (or EQ) wasn't close to what it once was. I also remembered the blisters, sweat, and muscle pain it took to get my previously good eq, when I was younger and bounced back from things more quickly than I do now. 

That little voice in the back of my mind kept chirping at me to fix my foundation before what I was doing now became such a strong habit that it was even harder to fix. This voice was small enough to snuff out with a little effort until I knew I was going to ride in front of people at the IEA show last month. Then I wanted perfection that there was no way to get in the time frame I had. 

I can crucify myself in all the photos of me riding in the blog to this point. 

It was time to do the work. Katie Miller is a trainer and riding coach at Lonestar who excels in horsemanship, equitation for older riders, and handling problematic horses. Once I knew she was a trainer I could trust with me and with Whisper, I signed up for a lesson and prepared for the worst. Unfortunately, Whisper's leg injury became full blown right about then and there was no way to use her. I had the pleasure of riding Scooter again instead and did my very best to try and take in all Katie was teaching me. I knew what she was saying was right, I was completely prepared to feel awkward and stiff, but I had underestimated my overall lack of muscle tone in the correct areas. It also brought back some deep back pain I had back when I gave up riding all together.

When I stand normally (my normal position is my hips sort of angled with my belly button forward and my rear pushed back) my spine pushes through my skin like this at my last few ribs.

Feel your own back and you'll notice a lovely indentation that does not exist in me since my eventing fall and subsequent back injuries as a teen. When I tuck my hips under, straightening the back line and opening the hips to a correct EQ position, this is more pronounced and I feel like there's nothing supporting my upper body.

Frankly, that pisses me off, especially since it's what made me quit, and I'm determined now to find some muscle groups I can focus on to compensate and hopefully ease the lasting pain after a ride where I hold correct position. From that lesson until today, I've worked on my position driving the car, exercising the dogs, and even prepping dinner. Patience is not my virtue and I'm hoping to change the habit of poor form as fast as possible. 

It does feel really great when you get it just right, one jump with Scooter in our lesson I nailed position and it was like sailing a boot on a glass lake. 

Whisper's leg is healing up nicely with one tiny exception. It's bald. All of that rinsing to flush the wound + all the rain we've had almost daily for weeks now + thick winter hair on her legs not allowing rapid drying = rain rot. Treating that and it should be gone or well on it's way out.

We've ridden twice this week and she's riding well. I'm so focused on my seat position and feeling the bones and angles correctly that I don't care if she avoids an entire half of the ring. She's happy about that.

As I hear the wind outside tonight it's clear that the spring storm season is upon us and it'll soon be time to pack up horse clothing and bring out fly gear. I'll close today with a look back at Whisper's fashion from the 2011 season. : My husband has 2 jackets and a shirt that match Whisper's main blanket, of course he was the one who picked out the blanket, hmmm...  

Quote for the day from the birthday boy, Dr Seuss : "Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting... so get on your way!"

Do something, anything, today to bring you one step (even a small one, no leaping required) closer to what you want to achieve. 

1 Week, 5 Horses, 47 jumps

Whisper had to have a shoe replaced and she still was moving "off" on her right hock that swelled badly after a stall kicking session, so I gave her a full week of nothing but being a horse, checking that leg, and bute as needed for inflammation.

Meanwhile, I've been working on my half of our riding partnership and rode 5 different horses in the last week. Going up a gear higher than I've asked for is a top Whisper complaint. Riding the hippotherapy horses at Walker Therapy, giving them both exercise and mental stimulation, my legs screamed for a horse that would move without constant urging. In 2 hours of that style riding I got tired and put Hunter and Sage up on the horses to help me out.

Next this week was Dollar, a fantastic QH gelding at Lone Star. Amy let me take a trip on him in the late day sun to work some jumps. I've jumped Whisper a little bit, well maybe "jumped" is a bit of a stretch... I needed more air time and some practice at slightly higher set bars to get ready to help out the farm's IEA team. Dollar is a wonderful smooth ride but even he helped me appreciate Whisper's impulsive trot that shoves me out of the saddle to post with no effort. Anyone else see the lazy rider pattern here emerging?

My husband, ever the supporter of my equine ventures, came to ring side to watch me jump Dollar (did I mention he also thoroughly enjoys opportunities to laugh with me if I make a fool of myself and my "jumping again after x-years" was a great possibility for that). He grabbed a few shots but had the camera set to long exposure in full sun, this is the best one.

I had forgotten how amazing and freeing jumping is. There is that wonderful moment of air-born immediately following the surge of energy it takes a horse to propel itself through the air. So much fun even if you're only clearing 2'3" verticals. My equitation was far from stellar and hopefully months from now it'll all be a lot prettier when I'm doing it on my own non-forgiving gray mare. Maybe by then there will also be a lot less day-after soreness that's real high point is giving good joke fodder to my ever-so-sweet darling husband.

Recently I've talked a lot about the gorgeous t-shirt friendly February we were having. As much fun as that was, it didn't last for the Staramia Team's IEA show. Early morning warm-ups happened in a balmy 25 degrees (adding in wind). Temps dropped through the day with a few snowflakes mixed in for entertainment. There was an arctic weather and wind advisory for Saturday, Sunday it was 8 degrees. Yee-haw.

Long explanation short, IEA riders draw horses they ride at the show. The teams all bring, or lease, appropriate horses to be in that IEA show's pool of horses to draw from. Before horses are drawn, they are ridden by warm-up riders over the full course of jumps for the show stewards to watch and be sure the horse is qualified to be ridden at IEA events by entered riders in two main level divisions. Then after the draws the real show begins as riders enter the ring on their new mounts.

I mounted up on Dollar, then a team horse another rider had, needed a new rider and before I blinked I was up on a thoroughbred I've never ridden and jumping a 2'6" full course. Per photographer Marc Mesa, "blue is not your color, you should breath so I can get a good shot". Breathing or not, I stayed on and the horse cleared a pretty round.

Off him, up on Dollar and repeat at 2'.

That afternoon I rode another horse I haven't before had the chance to ride, over crossrails. Scooter is a sweet souled 15hh gray gelding. He was not thrilled at the wind blowing sudden gusts and picking up everything in it's path, I was surprised to find that a simple neck pat was all needed to make his world right and he threw his heart into the course in front of him. I set him up poorly and managed one refusal followed by a complete course clean.

Dollar, me with frostbite, Scooter

Sunday I had commitments in the afternoon so I just came out to do a 2' jumpers course on Dollar in the early morning. There were a lot of moments in that ride I wanted do-overs that weren't just related to my rusty equitation. I got behind him at one jump where the sun was blinding us both and I also let the sun complicate the brick wall landing. Even with the "should have"'s, nothing is quite as much fun as jumping. Hunter, my avid little photographer, took his camera. Here's his favorite, Dollar and I approaching the wall.

Chaos of jumping in the collision course warm-up ring was a great trial by fire. My confidence is growing and it seems easy to think of jumping in an open arena. It was also nice to have my oldest kids there to watch, the hot chocolate shared with them after was very good, and the Staramia riders had a nice showing the entire weekend.

Did I mention with wind it was 8 degrees? It's true the "wind of heaven blows between a horse's ears" but that wind sure as heck isn't a tropical one.

All of this riding was a great way to break-in my Valentine from my dearest, some new paddock boots. Big plans, girl, big plans.

"Your journey has molded you for greater good, and it was exactly what it needed to be. Don't think that you have lost time. It took each and every situation you have encountered to bring you to the now. And now is right on time" Asha Tyson

My Short Story

I've loved horses as long as I can remember. I poured over every Marguerite Henry book, imagined riding Walter Farley's Black Stallion, and collected Breyer horses that I groomed so well the paint rubbed in places. My friends and I held mock horse shows winning ribbons made of scraps of fabric and puffy paint. From the waist up we were rider and our legs jumped the show jumps like champion steeds.

I was very lucky to grow up next door to a Morgan horse farm. I could see the horses through the deep woods of our yard playing in the pasture in the winter after the leaves had gone. My Aunt had an elderly QH that she offered for us to take and we found a neighbor open to pasture boarding. I had started taking a few riding lessons, saddleseat, the year before and I was over the moon at the idea.

Muchacho was everything a little girl's horse should be. Dead calm, very tolerant, ready to go anywhere I pointed him at his leisurely pace. When my dreams moved me towards becoming a really good rider I started lessons at a Dressage barn and began jumping.

A few years later I was riding anything I could, training some young Arabians, and working a job at a petstore to fund the habit in addition to working 2 years and a full summer at a large cat facility with tigers. A few bad riding falls, a concussion (yes, I was wearing a helmet at the time), some lost teeth requiring jaw surgery, a fractured spine, and riding became painful. Something to endure.

My Mom moved us to Georgia and we ended up living in a home that was an extension of a Paso Fino farm years past it's hay day. The farm owner allowed me to take on her older Paso Stallion, Flashy. He was so much fun and as easy on my back as a horse could be. Before long, teenage things consumed my life and I was living on my own at the age of 16. Horses weren't possible. They were a painful memory of something I loved but could no longer have. All of my previous dreams of a college equestrian team spring boarding me towards a great trainer and on to high caliber riding or being a jockey, were replaced by how to pay a bill.

I tried to fill the hole in a way I could financially handle, I bred diamond doves for awhile, did some sheep herding with my little Sheltie and started to feel better. I worked as a Vet Tech during most of this time so animals were everywhere all the time. I got my first Siberian Husky and really tapped into that competitive drive to do the best I could with my animal going into showing, obedience, working titles, and finally agility. Full circle I had gone from show jumping horses to the dog form modeled after that very same sport. I love this sport and these dogs still very much and I'm looking forward to starting a new puppy next year.

Then one spring day in 2010, my husband came home after meeting a client and proposed an idea. The client ran a hippotherapy center and needed volunteers to come ride and exercise the horses, was I interested? I had so long ago set down the dreams of horses that I didn't know if I could pick it up again. All of my tack and gear sold years ago when I let it go for good. Could I even ride anymore? Did I remember all of the small pieces that come together that is horsemanship? 15 years away from it, maybe it was easier to just stay away at this point. I have 5 kids now and the dream that was horses seemed like a lifetime ago. I was a professional dog trainer and should stick to what I've created... then again....

I started riding the therapy horses and began to love them all over again. I didn't remember a lot, it was pretty humbling (and continues to be) to re-learn all the things that were forgotten. But it was more good than bad and I enjoyed the time I could escape there.

Then the weekend after Thanksgiving, one year ago today, the post came that would change things forever for us. Horses, horses in dire straights who needed saving. Could I help? I could help, with lots of help from others, and my in-laws wanted to help and take a horse too. Promise came into our lives at that point, Beauty into their's, and started us down the path where we met Cheryl and three weeks later, Whisper.

With time, some fighting the system, and love, Promise and Beauty foaled in early springtime babies they were carrying through their ordeal, and they continue to do well in their retired horsey lifestyles.

One full year after they joined our lives, here they are today ; Promise and Pirate, Beauty and Star. Promise will always have a special part of me, seeing her with Pirate, carefree and happy is a kind of wonderful that's hard to explain. She is living the good life on acreage with her own tree stand, stream, and plenty of room to play with that crazy mule of her's at my friend, Maggie's place. Promise remains slightly lame on her right hind, but gets around the pasture just fine. Beauty and Star live on acreage of their own at my in-law's.