To Show or not to Show

Subtitled: Just when I thought I had it all figured out.

A had another good lesson last week. Gailey is as sound as she's been in a long while. We're both having fun, things are going well, and oh, no, here it comes again. Out of the mouth of my trainer: "How many scores do you need for that USDF medal? Have you considered showing this horse again? This is the soundest I've seen her in a while."

That dreaded four-letter word. You know the one.

SHOW.

Yup. That's the one.

It's expensive, nerve-wracking, at times demoralizing, and other times a heck of a lot of fun. Why I'm entertaining the thought of doing this again, I swear I should be smacked up the side of the head.

I'm no good a horse shows. I suck in fact. And by sucking, I get embarassingly low scores and suffer the pitying looks of my barn friends. Why would I consider putting myself through this again. Last year, I swore was my last show. My fragile self-confidence can't handle the whispers and comments behind my back or even worse, to my face. Such as, she can't ride that horse. She needs to get a different horse. I could ride that horse much better than her.

I know what you're thinking: Oh, she has show nerves. Man, I wish it was that simple. The truth is I don't, exactly, not really, not like many people. I sleep fine the night before a show. I don't get butterflies when I ride into the ring. I don't have problems eating (unfortunately) before a show. I can remember my tests. So what is it?

If I knew that, this wouldn't be such a delimma to me. I just don't ride tests well. And my mare, for all her talent, doesn't show well. She tries too hard, over compensates, second-guesses me, memorizes the tests, then gets mad if I don't ride the test she's doing in her head.

Okay, well, I should be able to solve that, right? I wish. For some reason, when I get in a show ring, I lose my judgment (I know what you're thinking--Ah, ha! She does get show nerves.). I ride the tests pretty accurately, I just can't seem to get a good handle on whether or not the horse is forward enough, round enough, through enough. My subconscious tries to send me signals, but my conscious mind ignores them.

My trainer and I have also come to the conclusion that I am often saddled with reverse prejudice. What's that? Well, in dressage there's a lot of talk about non-traditional dressage breeds facing breed prejudice in scoring. In my case it's the opposite problem, the judge sees this big beautiful mare floating around the outside of the arena, and thinks what a lovely mare (truthfully, I can't tell you how many times, they've also told me that as I ride by before my test starts), As soon as we enter at A it all goes to H@#$ in a handbasket. I stiffen (okay, I know, show nerves), she stiffens. I hang with my hands, she opens her mouth and pulls. Her head goes up, she plows on her forehand and speeds up.

Meanwhile, the judge's expression has gone from one of expectation to looking like she's swallowed a lemon.

I swore after the last two years, I'd never put myself through this again. I spent more time hiding in my horse trailer or camper and crying than I did having fun. This is supposed to be fun, right?

But...

I really want that medal. I've done this for too long not to get one lousy little medal. Okay, I could borrow a friend's upper-level horse, zip through the tests, and be done with it. But I really want it with my horse, the horse I bought as a baby.

What am I getting myself into? Is it really worth it?

I'm not sure. Those trails behind my house are beckoning to me, but so is that medal. What should I do?

I Love This Horse

Recent posts by a couple of the ladies on EI about medical issues with their horses made me pause to think about Gayliena, aka Gailey, my Hanoverian mare (If you're into breeding by Grusus/Grunstein out of EM Apfiel, Akzent/Cavalier.)

I'm not one of those dressage riders with unlimited funds. This will probably be the only horse I'll ever own of this quality. I would be devastated if something happened to her, not just because I couldn't replace her monetarily but because I'm so attached to her.

Granted, I haven't been the most dedicated rider this past year. I'm lucky to get to the barn 2-3 days a week, as opposed to 4-5 days a week before I became a published writer.

Regardless, I adore MY horse. She is my horse of a lifetime. This year she turns 14. I bought her as a green-broke 3 year old. If you've been following my posts on this blog, you know that she and I have been through a lot together, including trailering traumas, lamenesses, and various other issues over the years.

Yet, through all the ups and downs, I wouldn't sell her for any amount of money, and I did turn down some lucrative offers in her younger years. To be honest, I know she would have gone far in dressage with a better rider. She'd have won a lot of ribbons and probably easily been a Grand Prix horse. To give you an idea of how wonderful of a smooth mover she is, a doctor friend of mine told me once that if I would have just sold her my horse, she could have ridden up until she was 8 months pregnant.

Instead, she's stuck with me. I'm not a bad rider. I mean, I've been doing this for a couple decades. But my body isn't really coordinated, and this dressage stuff is hard for me. But I keep plugging on. Once in a while, I forget to try too hard, I relax, and it all comes together.

Like a former trainer told me once, the horse doesn't care if it wins blue ribbons or scores high. It only cares that its treated well and ridden kindly.

So Lately, I've been pondering how lucky I was to have known this beautiful creature for eleven years. Last Thursday night, it was really driven home to me. I've been on deadline for a book. The only time I've managed to ride in the past few weeks was during my lessons. So I mounted up on Thursday night, feeling pretty good for the first time in several weeks. It was one of those all-too rare rides that all you can say is "oh, wow."

The second she started out in the walk, I knew we were in for a good ride, and we were.

When I think of dressage, I think of these moments. I hope that everyone who has ever tried dressage has had the good fortune to experience such moments when everything comes together. When your horse is up in front of you, eager to go, but waiting for your aids. When such raw power surges under you that you're in awe. When it takes the slightest pressure from hands, legs, and seat to perform the movements.

That's how I felt. As we moved into a trot, she started to fall on her forehand and plow into the reins. I caught her with some well-placed half-halts. She rocked back. Her shoulders came up. Her butt tucked under. I sat in. It was like sitting on a big comfy couch, yet with incredible controlled power. I can't explain it, but I wish I could. If you've felt it, you know what I'm talking about. I came across the arena in half pass. For once, my legs, seat, and hands actually did their respective jobs. I weighted my inside hip bone, kept my inside leg on, kept her bent around my inside leg, pushed her over with my outside leg. I stayed straight instead of twisting and kept some tension on the outside rein. Oh, wow, over she went like it was nothing!!!

Okay, now we're going to canter. Lately, she's been dumping and taking off. I asked for the canter. She lifted into this beautiful uphill canter, light on the reins, collected but ready to go. We did shoulder-in, half pass, haunches-in like they were the easiest things on earth. We came down the diagonal and changed leads. Again, easy as can be. Uphill and clean. We slipped from a canter to an uphill forward walk. She sauntered around the arena on a loose rein, quite pleased with herself, as she should be.

Wow! Wow! Wow!

I needed that boost, that encouragement to keep at this, to remember why I do this.

I love this horse.