You Should Sell That Horse

Considering the previous subjects of this week's posts and the fact that I went to a horse show last weekend and had lousy performances, I thought this would be a fitting subject for my blog this week.

When I finished my last class on Sunday, I rode out of the arena with those prophetic words ringing in my ears. You see, I've heard them over and over in the past several years from friends, trainers, and casual acquaintances. Though, my very best friends never say those words to me, nor does my current trainer. They all love my mare and understand her.

My previous trainer did, though, which is why she's a "previous" trainer. In fact, she announced during a lesson, "This horse is too difficult. You should sell her and get something easier for an amateur to ride."

Then you have those railbirds and armchair trainers who offer their expert opinions, sometimes to your face, sometimes behind your back but in front of your good friends. "She should sell that horse. She can't ride her. She's too difficult." Truthfully, if I wanted their advice, I'd pay for it. They are still riding as amateurs, right?

Okay, my mare is difficult but not in the way you're thinking. She doesn't buck. She doesn't rear. She's so easy to sit, everyone who rides her thinks she's like sitting on a couch. She doesn't do anything bad. She's great on trails and generally unflappable.

So what's the problem?

She's big, a huge mover, and she uses her movement against me by falling on her forehand and going faster and faster. I respond by pulling. She responds by pulling And so it goes in a vicious endless circle neither of us seem to be able to break. Not a good recipe for winning dressage scores.

And from that comes: You should sell this horse.

I can't sell this horse. Aside from the obvious fact that she and I have a bond forged over ten years of going through all kinds of experiences together, I can't sell her because no one else would understand her idiosyncrasies. If you've read this blog, you know about her trailering traumas and issues with small enclosed places. Would anyone else understand how very real these issues are to her? Would they realize that she isn't just being stubborn?

How about when she gets worried at a horse show and tries too hard by second-guessing what I want next? Would a new owner understand that she wasn't being belligerent, she was actually being the opposite?

And who would look at me with those big doe eyes and nuzzle around for hidden treats in my pockets? Who would wait at the paddock gait for me when she sees my truck coming up the driveway? And who would be there when I just needed a big chestnut shoulder to cry on? Or someone to listen without making any judgements?

So, no, I'm not selling this horse. Not today. Not tomorrow. She's mine. I love her, and I have a responsibility to her to see that she doesn't go to someone who doesn't understand her history or her fears. Owning her has humbled me, and I consider that a good thing. I, too, was once an armchair trainer of the worst kind. Now I know how hard it can be and have sympathy for any rider who is trying their best to do right by their horse.

So that's why I have this talented, though difficult, mare that I don't win ribbons on and don't seem to be able to do her justice. You know what? She doesn't care if we win ribbons. She doesn't care if she scores 50s or 70s. She just wants to be understood and treated fairly. That's all she's ever asked.

There is more to riding than ribbons.

So needing a break, I brought my mare home this weekend from the trainer's and let her be a horse. This is her working hard at eating down my overgrown pasture.