The funny things that horses do.
By Terri Rocovich
I am always puzzled when people make the comment that horses are not very smart and even go as far as to say they are stupid. To me, these people have never spent time just observing horses and watching their complex social interaction and interpersonal relationships. I have a fairly small training barn that averages about 12 horses in residence and I love watching the interaction between each of the horses. I am a strong believer in letting a horse be a horse, even if they are a high priced dressage or event horse, they still need to have friends and be part of a herd. Because of this premise, we figure out which horses get along and every horse at my facility, with a few exceptions, has a turn out partner that they can get time to hang out with, graze together and often times play to their heart’s content.
One of my horses is a 20 year old thoroughbred named Pete. Pete is a precocious character whom has a sweet, kind nature but who also has a very high opinion of himself. Pete has had a good life, being the favored son and enjoying much success competitively but Pete has also had very complicated relationships with his fellow equines. When I first purchased Pete back in 1999, he fell madly in love with my mare Carrie. He was obsessed with her and she, being the ultimate equine cougar, exploited his attachment to maintain control and make herself feel younger. When Carrie passed away, Pete suffered through every stage of grieving and would not even consider accepting a relationship with another horse for several years.
Now 4 years later, he has developed an interesting friendship with one of my other horse’s Hank. Hank is a paint/pinto (I always get the definitions confused) who I took in as a rescue 3 years ago. I will tell you more about Hank’s amazing journey in another blog, but he has become both sibling rival and partner in crime to Pete and I think he is helping to keep Pete young. The other morning I got a kick out of watching the two of them taunt each other. Hank has been on a bit of a diet lately (I kind of went a bit overboard on the rescue him nutritionally thing) and he finishes his food before Pete. Their paddocks share a pipe fence (they have stalls with attached paddocks) and Pete, purposely pushes his feeder closer to the fence so Hank can see him slowly finish his food but Pete keeps his hay just far enough way that Hank is not able to grab any through the fence. Hank responded by taking his nose and sliding shut the door to Pete’s stall, essentially shutting the door in Pete’s face. Pete of course took his nose and slid the door open again which Hank in turn shut the door again and turned his butt to Pete’s corral.
Now you tell me that horses don’t think, don’t plan their actions and don’t have all the nuances to their relationships that we have to ours. Pete and Hank at various times compete with each other for my attention, they love each other, they hate each other, and they are each other’s playmates and rivals. They entertain each other by removing the other’s fly mask or bell boots and have become artful at redecorating each other’s blankets in the winter.
They are only one example on the many interesting interactions that happen daily around here. I love watching it all. It is always fascinating watching the changing dynamic when a new horse comes on the property. What kind of funny things do your horses do? Do they have a BFF? A rival? Do they get jealous of each other or a newcomer? Do you think your horse is smart? I know mine are, although we do have a few in the barn who ride the short bus. I’d love to hear your stories. Tell me if your horses play tricks on each other or have lovers quarrels or sibling tiffs. It is all so interesting and entertaining to me, certainly better than any soap opera or reality show that I have ever seen. Maybe that is it. Horse lovers need their own daytime drama – “As the stable turns”, or “All my Foals” or “The Stallion” or “Survivor – Pasture edition” what do you think?
Monday, November 9, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
A Horse with a Heart
I'm very happy to welcome back guest blogger Francesca Prescott.
He was coming down the long side of the arena the first time I saw him. Big and bay and muscular, he had an elegant, easy walk and a confident, somewhat debonair allure. His broad forehead and kind, golden eyes were enhanced by a neatly plaited forelock. He wasn’t a particularly big horse, but he was round, compact and well-proportioned, and his thick, strong neck was shown to advantage by a set of perfect plaits. His tail was thick, long and glossy. But what struck me most about Kwintus the first time I saw him was the perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped white mark on his forehead. Okay; geometrically speaking, the white mark is actually more of a diamond shape. But to me it will always look like a heart, probably because I fell in love with this horse the moment I laid eyes on him. He had something special; a charisma, a presence, a gentle and endearing “cuteness” that made me feel happy. I glanced at Olivia, my fifteen-year-old daughter, hoping she felt the same way. I knew my eyes were sparkling, but were hers? This magical moment took place two and a half years ago, when Olivia and I travelled to Germany accompanied by our trainer, Marie-Valentine Gygax (who, in my opinion, has to be the best, most patient and enthusiastic dressage trainer on the planet), to look for a dressage horse suitable for both of us. Our needs were pretty straightforward: we wanted a horse with three good gaits and a good character at a good price. Ideally, we’d imagined buying a horse aged between eight and ten, but we were open-minded, which is a good way to be when you want to buy a horse. As a case in point, during our first trip to Germany two months earlier, we’d fallen for a six-year old mare with a sweet character and a trot to die for. Unfortunately, a few weeks later, an intensive vet check revealed that the mare had a triple heart defect. She and we were not to be. It was a major disappointment, not to mention a financial setback for our limited budget. We’d already spent a substantial amount of money on plane fares and car rental, and during that initial horse-hunting weekend, had clocked up 800 exhausting and exhilerating kilometers dashing from one yard to another to try various potential mounts (Horse shopping? What a rush!). And while there was no end to the offer of dressage horses for sale in Deutschland, many of them were either beyond our means, or, for one reason or another, not suitable for a young rider and her middle-aged mother. Most of the good quality horses we could afford were young and inexperienced, and the idea of buying something so green made me nervous. I was an experienced rider, but had hardly ridden at all for seven years, having lost my nerve following a bad accident with my four-year-old Dutch warmblood. I was also concerned about putting my inexperienced daughter on something bound to unexpectedly explode, which at some point most young horses inevitably do. No, I wanted a horse with a little more mileage, one that was “safe” and uncomplicated. Basically, I was looking for a schoolmaster. But the problem was that nice, ten-year-old schoolmasters always come with stratospheric price tags. Without access to a stratospheric bank account, keeping an open-mind was definitely a must.
“Well, supposedly there is a very good horse at my friend Norbert’s yard, not too far from here,” said Holger, “The thing is that this horse is already fifteen-years-old. I wanted to show him to you the first time you came, but was told he’d just been sold to Japan. However, that sale fell through. I wasn’t going to mention him this time because I remember Marie-Valentine saying that fifteen might be a little too old. But I’ve been told that he’s an excellent horse, the ultimate schoolmaster and has competed up to Prix Saint-Georges.”
While my interest sparked and my ears pricked, my daughter looked disconsolate. “I don’t want to look at a fifteen-year-old horse,” she sighed. “I don’t see the point.”
“A fifteen-year-old horse who has done Prix Saint-Georges can teach you everything,” replied Holger, sitting back in his chair, stretching his legs and crossing his hands behind his head. “In fact, for a young rider like you, an experienced horse like this might really be ideal. It’s worth going to take a look at him, anyway.”
But Olivia wasn’t convinced. She thought she’d be taken to see something resembling the poor old burnt-out riding school horses she’s spent years coaxing around arenas back home. Having lost her heart to the prancy little six year old mare with the heart malfunction, she didn’t want to be coerced into settling for an ironing board with a cast-iron mouth. Nevertheless, between the three of us, we managed to convince her to give this old fellow a chance, and drove over to Norbert Van Laaks’ stunning stables.
Well, it didn’t take long to convince anyone. Because, as I mentioned earlier, this “old fellow” had nothing in common with an ironing board. We watched, our mouths curled up at the corners, as one of Nobert’s riders put Kwintus through his springy paces, our curly mouths widening into delighted grins when Marie-Valentine took over to personally test the horse prior to handing him over to Olivia. When my daughter swung into the saddle, she discovered equestrian sensations she’d only ever dreamed of. Within a few minutes she was over the moon and beyond, being given a private lesson by one of the most notorious trainers in the world (Norbert Van Laak coaches the Canadian team) who talked her through her first flying changes, appuyés and pirouettes. Kwintus’ ears flicked back and forth as he did his best to understand her somewhat muddled instructions. The elegant little horse was the perfect gentleman, even obliging her with a pirouette on the wrong leg when Olivia got her aids in a twist. As far as I was concerned, that was it. With that unbalanced, wonderfully wonky, extra-generous pirouette, I was terminally smitten. Finally, it was my turn. I’d ridden maybe ten times in seven years, but as soon as I sat on Kwintus, I felt as though I was…well…coming home. Frustratingly, while my body remembered everything, my muscles had a terrible time coordinating the memories. I bounced and jiggled most mortifyingly, but Kwintus didn’t bat an eyelid. It was as if he was saying, “Don’t worry, I know my job. Just try to let me know more or less what you want me to do, and I’ll figure out the details. I’ve been here before, so no stress, honey.”
Kwintus is now seventeen years old and in better shape than ever. He lives the life of Riley fifteen minutes away from my home in Switzerland, and whinny-chuckles whenever we greet him with a “Hi, Kwint!”. He introduced my daughter to dressage competitions, winning her a first place during their first outing together with an impressive score of 69%. He’s given me back my confidence and taught me all the high level fancy stuff. Riding him is as riding should be: sheer pleasure. On top of this, he also has a great sense of humour, and is the most affectionate, sweet-tempered, generous horse I’ve ever known. The marking on his forehead may be - geometrically speaking - shaped like a diamond, but Olivia and I definitely see it as a heart.
Of course we do; we love him to bits!
With love,
Francesca Prescott
“Mucho Caliente! – Wish upon a Latino Superstar”
An effervescent romantic comedy
Available in print from Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com, as well as in Kindle and as an e-book
http://www.francescaprescott.com/
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Unpredictable
By Laura Crum
Reading Jami’s post early this week had the effect of reminding me how unpredictable life is. Just as I toddled down to the barn last January expecting to catch my son’s horse for his little friend to ride and instead found Henry colicked, dealt with the colic persisting for 48 hours, eventually culminating in our sending the horse to colic surgery to save his life (they removed a stone the size of a big cantalope), and plunging me into three months of rehabbing the horse…well, Jami’s story reminded me that you just never know what will happen next (and I hope your mare is doing well, Jami, and your husband, too). Its not that I don’t know this truth intellectually, but sometimes life seems calm and predictable, as if nothing will change. Its an illusion, I know, but life can seem stable, reliable, downright boring. I think we all forget that it isn’t really like that. Until something happens to remind us.
So yesterday, when I took my son for a ride on the beach, the unpredictable quality of life was big in my mind. Though I love riding on the beach, and in most ways its very safe (big, wide open, nice soft sand, few obstacles), it, like all public places, is unpredictable. People show up with surfboards, kites, tents, big billowy dresses, wild dogs, fishing poles…etc. You never know when your nice quiet ride will become a spookfest. And though I’m pretty Ok with my horse being boogery, I am not Ok with my son being scared, or God forbid hurt. So, I worry.
But it was a beautiful day, perfect for a beach ride, and I don’t want to spend my life hiding from shadows. I hauled Henry and Sunny down to the beach and we climbed on.
Henry and Sunny both felt good. It had been a week since we rode them and they are fat. (An aside—its not entirely my fault they’re fat—they’ve been eating the acorns dropped by the oak trees in their corrals). I felt a little nervous. My mind was on the unpredictable…combined with two steady horses who were feeling good. But we rode down the beach with no problems.
Sun glittered on the water. It was low tide (which I had checked ahead of time, always being one to minimize my risk of problems) and the waves rolled gently a ways away. The temperature was in the low seventies. Our horses marched down the smooth, firm wet sand, looking alert and very happy to be there. My kid and I watched the pelicans dive. It was beautiful. I started to relax. We were having fun. We were about halfway through our ride and everything was great.
And then…. Two helicopters appeared in the distance, flying along the water line, flying very low. Who knows why, but aircraft seem to like to do this. But helicopters are the worst—they’re so loud. I had almost been killed once, riding a spooky horse on the trail when a helicopter came over, flying low.
However, I’d had helicopters fly over me when I was riding Sunny on the trail and he was fine. In the minute remaining I got Sunny next to Henry. I told my son to shorten his reins and get hold of the horn. The helicopters were almost upon us, the noise was deafening. Henry’s head came up and his eyes got big. He started to move backwards, as if to get away from the choppers. My son said, “Mama!” in a frightened voice. I grabbed Henry’s halter, which he wears under his bridle, crowded Sunny right up next to him and said, “Whoa.” Sunny stood like a rock, unfazed by the choppers. I held onto Henry. On another horse it might not have worked. But Henry is a steady trooper. He stood still. The helicopters passed overhead and went on down the beach.
I let go of Henry and told my kid he’d done fine. We were both a bit shaken. We rode on, but I had a tight ball of fear in my stomach. My mind was fixed on the unpredictable. What if the helicopters came back? What if Henry panicked and ran off? What if my kid fell off and was hurt or killed? What if…? You can imagine.
My kid was not as spooked as I was. When we turned around to ride back, he asked if we could lope, which is something we often do. I was a bit dubious. But the horses seemed fine. So we kicked up to a lope.
Now it was Sunny’s turn. He felt good; he wanted to run. I held him in and he crowhopped and bounced around. It felt like I was riding a pogo stick down the beach. Sunny can’t really dish anything out that I can’t ride, but I also can’t pay attention to much else riding a horse who is behaving like a pogostick. Henry was rapidly loping away from us. I was in no position to keep an eye on my kid. So I called a halt.
“We need to trot,” I said.
So we trotted down the beach. It was almost as fun as loping. Sunny settled into a steady gate, still feeling good, but not fighting me. We trotted a long ways, all the way back to the parking lot. The horses were relaxed and seemed happy. The choppers did not come back. But I have to admit, I was relieved to get back to the rig. We’d had a nice hour’s ride on the beach with only a couple of setbacks. All in all, a success. But “what if” was still big in my mind.
It wouldn’t have taken very much to turn our nice ride into a disaster—I was acutely aware of that. The unpredictable is just that—unpredictable. I pondered the broken bottle I’d seen on the beach, remembering a friend whose horse had stepped on just such a bottle riding across a field and cut his pastern to the bone. The unpredictable.
No, I don’t want to spend all my time riding around my own little arena where I feel safe. But I do, at times, struggle with this fear of the unpredictable. I’ve tried to minimize the risk by buying two reliable horses, and I think this choice has paid off. But as demonstrated yesterday, any horse can spook.
So my question for today is this. Do some of you struggle with this issue? And what are the choices you make? I know there is no simple answer. The unpredictable is just that. If we ride horses and love horses, we are taking a risk, both of getting hurt ourselves and losing the horse that we love. However, life itself is one big risk, and nobody gets out alive. It doesn't make sense to me to give up horses because they are one more form of risk. But I also struggle with my huge need to keep my son as safe and happy as I can. I'm never sure where the line is between acceptable risk and undue risk. I’d welcome any advice or insights from other horse people on how you cope with your fear/anxiety about this.
Reading Jami’s post early this week had the effect of reminding me how unpredictable life is. Just as I toddled down to the barn last January expecting to catch my son’s horse for his little friend to ride and instead found Henry colicked, dealt with the colic persisting for 48 hours, eventually culminating in our sending the horse to colic surgery to save his life (they removed a stone the size of a big cantalope), and plunging me into three months of rehabbing the horse…well, Jami’s story reminded me that you just never know what will happen next (and I hope your mare is doing well, Jami, and your husband, too). Its not that I don’t know this truth intellectually, but sometimes life seems calm and predictable, as if nothing will change. Its an illusion, I know, but life can seem stable, reliable, downright boring. I think we all forget that it isn’t really like that. Until something happens to remind us.
So yesterday, when I took my son for a ride on the beach, the unpredictable quality of life was big in my mind. Though I love riding on the beach, and in most ways its very safe (big, wide open, nice soft sand, few obstacles), it, like all public places, is unpredictable. People show up with surfboards, kites, tents, big billowy dresses, wild dogs, fishing poles…etc. You never know when your nice quiet ride will become a spookfest. And though I’m pretty Ok with my horse being boogery, I am not Ok with my son being scared, or God forbid hurt. So, I worry.
But it was a beautiful day, perfect for a beach ride, and I don’t want to spend my life hiding from shadows. I hauled Henry and Sunny down to the beach and we climbed on.
Henry and Sunny both felt good. It had been a week since we rode them and they are fat. (An aside—its not entirely my fault they’re fat—they’ve been eating the acorns dropped by the oak trees in their corrals). I felt a little nervous. My mind was on the unpredictable…combined with two steady horses who were feeling good. But we rode down the beach with no problems.
Sun glittered on the water. It was low tide (which I had checked ahead of time, always being one to minimize my risk of problems) and the waves rolled gently a ways away. The temperature was in the low seventies. Our horses marched down the smooth, firm wet sand, looking alert and very happy to be there. My kid and I watched the pelicans dive. It was beautiful. I started to relax. We were having fun. We were about halfway through our ride and everything was great.
And then…. Two helicopters appeared in the distance, flying along the water line, flying very low. Who knows why, but aircraft seem to like to do this. But helicopters are the worst—they’re so loud. I had almost been killed once, riding a spooky horse on the trail when a helicopter came over, flying low.
However, I’d had helicopters fly over me when I was riding Sunny on the trail and he was fine. In the minute remaining I got Sunny next to Henry. I told my son to shorten his reins and get hold of the horn. The helicopters were almost upon us, the noise was deafening. Henry’s head came up and his eyes got big. He started to move backwards, as if to get away from the choppers. My son said, “Mama!” in a frightened voice. I grabbed Henry’s halter, which he wears under his bridle, crowded Sunny right up next to him and said, “Whoa.” Sunny stood like a rock, unfazed by the choppers. I held onto Henry. On another horse it might not have worked. But Henry is a steady trooper. He stood still. The helicopters passed overhead and went on down the beach.
I let go of Henry and told my kid he’d done fine. We were both a bit shaken. We rode on, but I had a tight ball of fear in my stomach. My mind was fixed on the unpredictable. What if the helicopters came back? What if Henry panicked and ran off? What if my kid fell off and was hurt or killed? What if…? You can imagine.
My kid was not as spooked as I was. When we turned around to ride back, he asked if we could lope, which is something we often do. I was a bit dubious. But the horses seemed fine. So we kicked up to a lope.
Now it was Sunny’s turn. He felt good; he wanted to run. I held him in and he crowhopped and bounced around. It felt like I was riding a pogo stick down the beach. Sunny can’t really dish anything out that I can’t ride, but I also can’t pay attention to much else riding a horse who is behaving like a pogostick. Henry was rapidly loping away from us. I was in no position to keep an eye on my kid. So I called a halt.
“We need to trot,” I said.
So we trotted down the beach. It was almost as fun as loping. Sunny settled into a steady gate, still feeling good, but not fighting me. We trotted a long ways, all the way back to the parking lot. The horses were relaxed and seemed happy. The choppers did not come back. But I have to admit, I was relieved to get back to the rig. We’d had a nice hour’s ride on the beach with only a couple of setbacks. All in all, a success. But “what if” was still big in my mind.
It wouldn’t have taken very much to turn our nice ride into a disaster—I was acutely aware of that. The unpredictable is just that—unpredictable. I pondered the broken bottle I’d seen on the beach, remembering a friend whose horse had stepped on just such a bottle riding across a field and cut his pastern to the bone. The unpredictable.
No, I don’t want to spend all my time riding around my own little arena where I feel safe. But I do, at times, struggle with this fear of the unpredictable. I’ve tried to minimize the risk by buying two reliable horses, and I think this choice has paid off. But as demonstrated yesterday, any horse can spook.
So my question for today is this. Do some of you struggle with this issue? And what are the choices you make? I know there is no simple answer. The unpredictable is just that. If we ride horses and love horses, we are taking a risk, both of getting hurt ourselves and losing the horse that we love. However, life itself is one big risk, and nobody gets out alive. It doesn't make sense to me to give up horses because they are one more form of risk. But I also struggle with my huge need to keep my son as safe and happy as I can. I'm never sure where the line is between acceptable risk and undue risk. I’d welcome any advice or insights from other horse people on how you cope with your fear/anxiety about this.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
My Week with Cellulitis
I got a call late last week from the barn. My horse was in great distress and one hind leg was swollen up like a balloon from the hip down to the hoof. They'd already called the vet. I left work and hustled to the barn.
They weren't exaggerating. My poor mare was in major pain, breathing hard, sweating, depressed, and shaking. She could barely support herself on a single hind leg and it shook from the stress of all that weight. Gailey is a really good patient, thank goodness. She really just wants sympathy. If she could, she'd crawl in my lap to be comforted.
The diagnosis was cellulitis, an infection under the skin caused by bacteria. That's about all I know about it, other than it can be dangerous and painful.
The pictures below were taken a day later after the swelling had actually gone down (believe it or not). So we started on a regimin of injectable antibiotics, a diuretic, and painkillers, and a some kind of special lotion because her skin was weeping.
Meanwhile at home, I have a sick husband with a screwed up back and a bad cough. So that's how my week has gone. Take care of the horse after work: Give her meds, unwrap and hose her leg, put the lotion on, re-wrap her leg, walk her for 5-10 minutes, then put her away. After that, it's home to take care of the hubbie.
The horse is faring better than the hubby. Her leg is almost back to normal size. Unfortunately, the hubby's cough turned into walking pnuemonia. He woke me up at 1 am this morning because he had trouble breathing. I ran him to emergency, and they ended up admitting him. Here I sit in his hospital room, which is actually a quite nice private room with two chairs and a couch. In a few hours, I'll run to the barn and treat the horse.
Which by the way, I found out that another horse at the barn came down with cellulitis yesterday. I understand that's unusual as it's pretty rare. Is that a strange coincidence or what? What the heck could have caused two horses to come down with an infection in the hind leg within a week of each other? I'll probably never know.
The other good news is that I have major medical insurance on her. Which is wonderful as the vet bills are mounting, and we aren't done yet.
So that's my week. This next week has to be better.
They weren't exaggerating. My poor mare was in major pain, breathing hard, sweating, depressed, and shaking. She could barely support herself on a single hind leg and it shook from the stress of all that weight. Gailey is a really good patient, thank goodness. She really just wants sympathy. If she could, she'd crawl in my lap to be comforted.
The diagnosis was cellulitis, an infection under the skin caused by bacteria. That's about all I know about it, other than it can be dangerous and painful.
The pictures below were taken a day later after the swelling had actually gone down (believe it or not). So we started on a regimin of injectable antibiotics, a diuretic, and painkillers, and a some kind of special lotion because her skin was weeping.
Meanwhile at home, I have a sick husband with a screwed up back and a bad cough. So that's how my week has gone. Take care of the horse after work: Give her meds, unwrap and hose her leg, put the lotion on, re-wrap her leg, walk her for 5-10 minutes, then put her away. After that, it's home to take care of the hubbie.
The horse is faring better than the hubby. Her leg is almost back to normal size. Unfortunately, the hubby's cough turned into walking pnuemonia. He woke me up at 1 am this morning because he had trouble breathing. I ran him to emergency, and they ended up admitting him. Here I sit in his hospital room, which is actually a quite nice private room with two chairs and a couch. In a few hours, I'll run to the barn and treat the horse.
Which by the way, I found out that another horse at the barn came down with cellulitis yesterday. I understand that's unusual as it's pretty rare. Is that a strange coincidence or what? What the heck could have caused two horses to come down with an infection in the hind leg within a week of each other? I'll probably never know.
The other good news is that I have major medical insurance on her. Which is wonderful as the vet bills are mounting, and we aren't done yet.
So that's my week. This next week has to be better.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Riding Smoky
by Laura Crum
Not so long ago I would have told you that I didn’t plan to ride any more young horses. And I meant it. I never thought I’d climb on anything less than eight years old and a reliable, broke horse ever again. I’ve trained somewhere upwards of a hundred colts in my life, but since then I’ve taken quite a few years off to be a mom, I’ve grown middle-aged and stout, and I just don’t feel up to riding/training young horses any more. Sounds fair enough, right?
But then my friend/boarder took a three year old colt in exchange for a debt and asked me if I’d train him (I trained a few other horses for this friend that he liked.) I said no. I said I was done with training horses. We turned the colt out in my sixty acre pasture and let him learn to be a horse. We sent him to a trainer we both trusted. And now Smoky is five years old, a green broke horse, and back in my barn. And guess what? I’m riding him…and enjoying it.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow I became convinced that I’d feel OK on Smoky. And from the very first time I rode him, I felt fine. Yes, he’s green, and requires support, guidance and correction that the mature horses don’t need. But he’s kind and willing, a bit lazy, and shows no real resistance. I feel very safe on his back. He lopes nice circles in the arena and goes down the trail without spooking at anything. So far so good.
And then, yesterday, the wind was blowing like crazy. My son was determined to ride. I saddled Smoky, and the colt was looky. Why wouldn’t he be? The trees were crashing around; I heard one go down up on the ridge.
“We aren’t going out on the trail today,” I told my son. “are you sure you want to ride? Its awfully windy.”
“I can go faster than the wind,” my kid replied.
Great.
I saddled Henry, my son’s horse, who appeared completely calm and unworried by the wind. At the same time I regarded the obviously anxious Smoky, who wasn’t very happy about the blowing trees. And I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
I could cope with Smoky being looky and/or jumpy—I knew that. But I wasn’t sure I could do this and still keep my focus on my kid and his horse. And when I ride with my kid, my focus is on him, and keeping him safe and happy. And even Henry is capable of spooking if a tree tips over right next to him. So I felt anxious—worried that I couldn’t deal with all these factors.
In my younger days I’d have stuffed the worry down and climbed on the colt. But I’m older now and a mom. I took a step back mentally. What is important here? What is important is keeping my kid safe. It will do this colt no harm to stand saddled and tied for a few hours and not get ridden. It will, in fact, do him good. And I climbed on steady Sunny and rode with my kid.
My son had a ball, loping endless circles on a wild windy day. His grin was a mile wide. I kept my eye on Henry, who remained completely relaxed the whole ride. It all went well.
And when I unsaddled the gang, I was glad I’d paid attention to my instincts. Not just because everybody was happy and healthy, but because I’d been relaxed and enjoyed my ride. I had done no harm by not riding the colt when I felt anxious. I’ll ride him again, many times, I hope. I had simply done a smart thing.
So I want to put this little wisdom I’ve gained out to all the others out there who, like me, once rode better than they do now. I’m finding its Ok to limit myself to what I feel comfortable with. I don’t need to beat myself up over being afraid. I can enjoy riding Smoky when it feels right, and I can do him no harm by giving him some time tied up and saddled when it doesn’t feel right (and by the way, this is an old horse trainer’s trick for getting horses broke—lots of time standing around saddled.)
I read a very good blog post on Janet Huntington’s Mugwump Chronicles blog on this same subject the other day, and it really inspired me to keep trusting my instincts. As a fiftyish “re-rider”, my main goal is to keep myself and my son safe, and my second goal is to have both of us relaxed and happy horseback, rather than anxious. Pushing myself to do what I don’t feel comfortable with does not further these ends.
And it still turns out that I can ride young horses (gentle ones, anyway) and enjoy them—as long as I listen to my instincts.
Anyone else have any insights to share on this subject?
Not so long ago I would have told you that I didn’t plan to ride any more young horses. And I meant it. I never thought I’d climb on anything less than eight years old and a reliable, broke horse ever again. I’ve trained somewhere upwards of a hundred colts in my life, but since then I’ve taken quite a few years off to be a mom, I’ve grown middle-aged and stout, and I just don’t feel up to riding/training young horses any more. Sounds fair enough, right?
But then my friend/boarder took a three year old colt in exchange for a debt and asked me if I’d train him (I trained a few other horses for this friend that he liked.) I said no. I said I was done with training horses. We turned the colt out in my sixty acre pasture and let him learn to be a horse. We sent him to a trainer we both trusted. And now Smoky is five years old, a green broke horse, and back in my barn. And guess what? I’m riding him…and enjoying it.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow I became convinced that I’d feel OK on Smoky. And from the very first time I rode him, I felt fine. Yes, he’s green, and requires support, guidance and correction that the mature horses don’t need. But he’s kind and willing, a bit lazy, and shows no real resistance. I feel very safe on his back. He lopes nice circles in the arena and goes down the trail without spooking at anything. So far so good.
And then, yesterday, the wind was blowing like crazy. My son was determined to ride. I saddled Smoky, and the colt was looky. Why wouldn’t he be? The trees were crashing around; I heard one go down up on the ridge.
“We aren’t going out on the trail today,” I told my son. “are you sure you want to ride? Its awfully windy.”
“I can go faster than the wind,” my kid replied.
Great.
I saddled Henry, my son’s horse, who appeared completely calm and unworried by the wind. At the same time I regarded the obviously anxious Smoky, who wasn’t very happy about the blowing trees. And I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
I could cope with Smoky being looky and/or jumpy—I knew that. But I wasn’t sure I could do this and still keep my focus on my kid and his horse. And when I ride with my kid, my focus is on him, and keeping him safe and happy. And even Henry is capable of spooking if a tree tips over right next to him. So I felt anxious—worried that I couldn’t deal with all these factors.
In my younger days I’d have stuffed the worry down and climbed on the colt. But I’m older now and a mom. I took a step back mentally. What is important here? What is important is keeping my kid safe. It will do this colt no harm to stand saddled and tied for a few hours and not get ridden. It will, in fact, do him good. And I climbed on steady Sunny and rode with my kid.
My son had a ball, loping endless circles on a wild windy day. His grin was a mile wide. I kept my eye on Henry, who remained completely relaxed the whole ride. It all went well.
And when I unsaddled the gang, I was glad I’d paid attention to my instincts. Not just because everybody was happy and healthy, but because I’d been relaxed and enjoyed my ride. I had done no harm by not riding the colt when I felt anxious. I’ll ride him again, many times, I hope. I had simply done a smart thing.
So I want to put this little wisdom I’ve gained out to all the others out there who, like me, once rode better than they do now. I’m finding its Ok to limit myself to what I feel comfortable with. I don’t need to beat myself up over being afraid. I can enjoy riding Smoky when it feels right, and I can do him no harm by giving him some time tied up and saddled when it doesn’t feel right (and by the way, this is an old horse trainer’s trick for getting horses broke—lots of time standing around saddled.)
I read a very good blog post on Janet Huntington’s Mugwump Chronicles blog on this same subject the other day, and it really inspired me to keep trusting my instincts. As a fiftyish “re-rider”, my main goal is to keep myself and my son safe, and my second goal is to have both of us relaxed and happy horseback, rather than anxious. Pushing myself to do what I don’t feel comfortable with does not further these ends.
And it still turns out that I can ride young horses (gentle ones, anyway) and enjoy them—as long as I listen to my instincts.
Anyone else have any insights to share on this subject?
Monday, October 26, 2009
Horses and Life Lessons
In my recent posts I have talked a lot about searching to find balance with the many demands on my time and having a renewed faith that I wasn’t the only horse crazy out there. In her recent post Laura wrote about finding her balance and purpose in motherhood and Michele wrote about the joy and angst of being a horseshow Mom. Well, I personally feel that there is no greater gift and no job more important than being a Mom. Although it never worked into the cards for me to experience motherhood, I take my role as “Aunt Terri” and a mentor to numerous kids very seriously. I believe deeply in the adage that “it takes a village” and get great joy being a second Mom to all of my students, helping them reach their goals, consoling when things don’t work out, giving them the occasional reality check and setting the right example.
In the horse show world, trainers get to observe every kind of parent. The helicopter, the worrier, the ones who are living vicariously through their children, the ones who apply too much pressure to win (those don’t last long at my barn) and thankfully most often the self-less, supportive parent who is content to stay in the shadows and allow there kid to shine. Regardless of the variations in parenting styles, most parents with children who participate in equestrian sports are very involved parents and in my book that is what matters most. With the numbers of latch-key kids, and parents too busy with their own lives to barely have a conversation with their teenager, I applaud any parent who is involved even if I do need to rein them in from time to time.
As a trainer and riding instructor, most of my career has been involved with an incredible organization – The United States Pony Club (USPC). Now don’t let the name fool you, not everyone rides a pony, the organization was founded in England where the word “pony” refers to a child’s mount. The USPC is a non-profit organization that, through a well established curriculum, teaches equestrian skills to children from as young as 5 or 6 through age 25. In addition to an emphasis on horse care and teamwork, USPC offers instruction and achievement ratings in 3 tracks – Eventing, Show Jumping, and Dressage. Rating levels start at the “D” level for beginners and progresses up to the “A” level for advanced riders. USPC offers great fun and camaraderie for its members and also boasts graduates that are equestrian stars such as Olympians Lendon Gray, Karen O’Conner, David O’Conner, Stephen Bradely and Gina Miles, individual 3-day Event Silver Medalist from the Bejiing Olympics.
But I think the most important things that Pony Club, and horse ownership in general, helps to produce is responsible, caring adults. The upper level ratings, B, HA and A for Pony Club are quite intense both in the sense of jumping heights upwards to 3’9” at the “A” and doing 2nd and 3rd level dressage, but also in the respect of performing under pressure after months and even years of preparation. Now how many of us have had to produce at work under deadlines and other pressures and how many of us have had to learn the hard way, that if you really want to achieve a goal you work hard for it, sometimes for a long time, and even then not everything always works out like we hoped. How many of us today know someone who thinks that life itself owes them something and these individuals just don’t understand that achievement and rewards are more about tenacity and perseverance than luck and entitlement.
All of these important life lessons are learned in the Pony Club program. I was just reminded of this fact this past weekend. I have been a National Examiner (the person that evaluates riders at upper level ratings) for Pony Club for over 10 years. This past week I was in Virginia conducting a “B” level rating and all but one of the candidates fell short of riding up to the B standard. This made for a disappointing and disheartening weekend for candidates and examiners alike. But amazingly at the conclusion of the rating on Sunday, each of the girls went out of there way to thank me and tell me they had learned a lot and they appreciated the kind and empathetic way we had conducted the rating. They all felt that, in spite of the disappointing results, it had been a positive learning experience and they were going to regroup and try again in the future. Now how many life lessons is that, wrapped up in one weekend. Grace in defeat, gratitude, seeing the positive side to a bad situation, accepting constructive criticism, maturity and class in disappointment, perseverance, and being tough enough to pick yourself up and try again. Boy, I know a lot of adults who would not have maintained that good of an attitude.
Yesterday I was sitting in the Dulles airport waiting for my delayed flight to finally take me back to California; feeling very worn out, a bit defeated and wondering why in the world I do this (God knows it is not for the money) when my cell phone rang. It was a call from one of my fellow examiners telling me that one of girls who had had to withdraw because her horse was not performing well, had called another PC examiner to say that even though she had not passed, it had been a great experience and that she hoped to see us again. This young lady, who had been in tears the day before, was happy, grateful for the opportunity and determined to try again. Oh yea, that is why I do it.
What life lessons have your horse experiences taught you over the years? What experiences from your horse life do you take with you into your professional life or even your role as a parent? Do you feel, like I do, that what I have learned from horses has taught me to simply be a better person overall. I’d love to hear your stories.
Terri Rocovich
In my recent posts I have talked a lot about searching to find balance with the many demands on my time and having a renewed faith that I wasn’t the only horse crazy out there. In her recent post Laura wrote about finding her balance and purpose in motherhood and Michele wrote about the joy and angst of being a horseshow Mom. Well, I personally feel that there is no greater gift and no job more important than being a Mom. Although it never worked into the cards for me to experience motherhood, I take my role as “Aunt Terri” and a mentor to numerous kids very seriously. I believe deeply in the adage that “it takes a village” and get great joy being a second Mom to all of my students, helping them reach their goals, consoling when things don’t work out, giving them the occasional reality check and setting the right example.
In the horse show world, trainers get to observe every kind of parent. The helicopter, the worrier, the ones who are living vicariously through their children, the ones who apply too much pressure to win (those don’t last long at my barn) and thankfully most often the self-less, supportive parent who is content to stay in the shadows and allow there kid to shine. Regardless of the variations in parenting styles, most parents with children who participate in equestrian sports are very involved parents and in my book that is what matters most. With the numbers of latch-key kids, and parents too busy with their own lives to barely have a conversation with their teenager, I applaud any parent who is involved even if I do need to rein them in from time to time.
As a trainer and riding instructor, most of my career has been involved with an incredible organization – The United States Pony Club (USPC). Now don’t let the name fool you, not everyone rides a pony, the organization was founded in England where the word “pony” refers to a child’s mount. The USPC is a non-profit organization that, through a well established curriculum, teaches equestrian skills to children from as young as 5 or 6 through age 25. In addition to an emphasis on horse care and teamwork, USPC offers instruction and achievement ratings in 3 tracks – Eventing, Show Jumping, and Dressage. Rating levels start at the “D” level for beginners and progresses up to the “A” level for advanced riders. USPC offers great fun and camaraderie for its members and also boasts graduates that are equestrian stars such as Olympians Lendon Gray, Karen O’Conner, David O’Conner, Stephen Bradely and Gina Miles, individual 3-day Event Silver Medalist from the Bejiing Olympics.
But I think the most important things that Pony Club, and horse ownership in general, helps to produce is responsible, caring adults. The upper level ratings, B, HA and A for Pony Club are quite intense both in the sense of jumping heights upwards to 3’9” at the “A” and doing 2nd and 3rd level dressage, but also in the respect of performing under pressure after months and even years of preparation. Now how many of us have had to produce at work under deadlines and other pressures and how many of us have had to learn the hard way, that if you really want to achieve a goal you work hard for it, sometimes for a long time, and even then not everything always works out like we hoped. How many of us today know someone who thinks that life itself owes them something and these individuals just don’t understand that achievement and rewards are more about tenacity and perseverance than luck and entitlement.
All of these important life lessons are learned in the Pony Club program. I was just reminded of this fact this past weekend. I have been a National Examiner (the person that evaluates riders at upper level ratings) for Pony Club for over 10 years. This past week I was in Virginia conducting a “B” level rating and all but one of the candidates fell short of riding up to the B standard. This made for a disappointing and disheartening weekend for candidates and examiners alike. But amazingly at the conclusion of the rating on Sunday, each of the girls went out of there way to thank me and tell me they had learned a lot and they appreciated the kind and empathetic way we had conducted the rating. They all felt that, in spite of the disappointing results, it had been a positive learning experience and they were going to regroup and try again in the future. Now how many life lessons is that, wrapped up in one weekend. Grace in defeat, gratitude, seeing the positive side to a bad situation, accepting constructive criticism, maturity and class in disappointment, perseverance, and being tough enough to pick yourself up and try again. Boy, I know a lot of adults who would not have maintained that good of an attitude.
Yesterday I was sitting in the Dulles airport waiting for my delayed flight to finally take me back to California; feeling very worn out, a bit defeated and wondering why in the world I do this (God knows it is not for the money) when my cell phone rang. It was a call from one of my fellow examiners telling me that one of girls who had had to withdraw because her horse was not performing well, had called another PC examiner to say that even though she had not passed, it had been a great experience and that she hoped to see us again. This young lady, who had been in tears the day before, was happy, grateful for the opportunity and determined to try again. Oh yea, that is why I do it.
What life lessons have your horse experiences taught you over the years? What experiences from your horse life do you take with you into your professional life or even your role as a parent? Do you feel, like I do, that what I have learned from horses has taught me to simply be a better person overall. I’d love to hear your stories.
Terri Rocovich
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Finding Balance
By Laura Crum
No, I’m not talking about the sort of balance we need to stay aboard these horses and not end up on the ground at their feet. I’m talking about a different sort of balance…the sort we need in our lives. Terri wrote in a recent post that she needed help finding a balance between writing and riding. I don’t know that I’m in a position to offer much help, but now that it’s the rainy season here in coastal California, and I’m not riding as much as I was, I’ve started to think more about finding balance in my life.
This “balance” is, I think, going to be different for every person. For myself, I am balancing my son’s needs and wishes, our needs as a family, my horses, my writing and my garden. All of these things take up a lot of time. And I totally sympathise with Terri’s point that it seems like there are just not enough hours in the day. For sure, one thing or another is going to be somewhat neglected.
So, I’m going to start out with a funny statement. In my case, balance involves not prioritizing riding too much. And due to my past, that’s hard for me to do. It’s a long story, which I’ll tell in a future post, but I have a huge tendency to feel guilty if I don’t ride my horses five or more days a week. And right now I am actively choosing to prioritize my family’s needs and my kid’s needs. He will only be young once. I want to be there for him and also to enjoy this experience of raising a child to the fullest. So, in a way, you could say that both my riding and my writing have suffered since I had a child.
The funny thing is, I don’t even want to go back to the way I was pre-child. I prioritized riding and writing to a huge degree—to the degree that I felt trapped by my obsessive need to pursue these two things. I have to tell you, the truth is I prioritized riding and training my horses to such an inordinate degree in my twenties and thirties that, well, I’m not gonna say this ruined my first marriage, but I will say it contributed.
So, Ok, I have come to believe that over-prioritizing riding doesn’t work for me. Not just in the sense that it doesn’t work for my family, but also that it doesn’t work for me as a person. Sometimes I actively don’t want to ride. I want to work in my garden or go on a hike, or do some sort of expedition with my family. I want to be able to feel good about this. And because of my tendency to feel guilty when I don’t ride (because of my background with horses), I sometimes have a hard time feeling content when I don’t ride a lot.
This reached a crisis in my life about ten years ago. I had been riding, training and competing obsessively for twenty years. I felt guilty if I didn’t go to a competition every weekend, or didn’t practice several times a week. At the same time I had a property that I loved and I really wanted to spend long, lazy days working in the garden. The two desires were a huge conflict for me. And in a fit of pique I gave up competing.
Well, it wasn’t exactly a fit of pique. I had grown sick to death of the nasty things people do to themselves, their horses and others in order to win. I had ceased to see winning as desirable. I was sick of feeling like I “needed” to go compete every weekend. So I quit.
(I am not intending to criticize all those who like competition, mind you. Not everyone is nasty in the interests of winning. Nonetheless, I saw a great many horses crippled—and subsequently thrown away like broken sporting equipment-- and a great many people were less than kind to others and miserable themselves—all because they so needed to “win”.)
Anyway, I quit competing. I kept my horses. I still rode. I had a young horse I was training. But I didn’t let competition, and the need to train for competition, dominate my life any more. I worked in the garden a lot. I was happier.
Then I got pregnant. I gave up riding. I still had my horses, but my old team roping friends rode them for me (these were good rope horses and my friends were glad to borrow them). I had my baby. And it wasn’t until my little guy was six months old that I got back on a horse again (with my baby in front of me in the saddle). Over a year without being on the back of a horse.
And it felt just fine, actually. I was in no hurry to get back into riding again. I got on a horse once every month or two…until my kid turned three and began actively lobbying to ride. So then I began to ride a couple of days a week…but every ride was with my son. We walked, trotted and loped in sedate circles, that was it. This went on for a couple of years. And I was still perfectly content.
I learned something. I still loved my horses. I fed them morning and evening. I enjoyed them. I did not give one of them up. But I did not need to be obsessive about riding and training. Things went along just fine when I wasn’t obsessing.
I should add into this story that I keep my horses either turned out in large pastures or in big corrals (100 feet by 100 feet on average) where they can run and play if they are not ridden. They are never confined in small pens or stalls unless they need this due to injury…etc. And in the years when I rode very seldom, as I said, my friends did ride the using horses regularly.
So, fast forward to the present. After several years in which my son rode in front of me, I had a year of hand walking, longeing and ponying Toby the pony (with my kid aboard) and a year of riding alongside my kid and Toby in the arena. All pretty sedate. And then when Toby died two years ago, I bought Henry for my son, and Sunny for me (our two “bombproof” trail horses), and my kid and I began to go out on the trails.
For the first time in ten years, I had a horse that was solely my horse again—nobody rode him but me. And guess what? I began to obsess on getting him ridden. I also had a new event. I fell back in love with trail riding, the passion of my teenage years, which took a backseat to various sorts of cowhorse-type competitions in my twenties and thirties. Suddenly I wasn’t happy if I wasn’t out on the trails at least four days a week.
And you know what? This did not work to my advantage. Obsessing on riding and being unhappy when I couldn’t get it done made me, well, less happy. It took the major setback of Henry’s colic to get me to revaluate my priorities and start trying to find that balance again.
So now, once again, I’m back to riding when it works out and relaxing about it when it doesn’t. In my life, realistically, this means riding about twice a week, more often in the dry season, less often in the rainy season. The horses seem perfectly happy with this. Once again, I’m happy, too. I’m finding out that balance for me, means not prioritizing riding too much.
I don’t say this would necessarily be true for others. In fact, I’m hoping some of you will explain how you get balance in your own lives. Perhaps for some it means riding more often, and cutting back on other activities.
OK—I see I haven’t even touched on the issue of how I balance the writing into the equation. But this post is getting too long and I need to go feed my horses. So, a future post on how I fit writing into my life will be forthcoming.
Also, for those of you who write to me in the comments that you have posted something on your blog that I might be interested in, I do try to go to your blogs and read. But my computer is old and cranky (I mean seriously old and cranky—it is twelve years old, uses Windows 95, and has a dial up connection) and I frequently can’t view blogs. And it takes forever to get the comments to come up, so I don’t try to post comments on other blogs any more. I did make it to Kate’s blog and got to read about her horses. And Jackie of Horses and Turbos, I tried to get to your blog to read about your trail rides with Starlette, but I just couldn’t get it to come up on my screen.
Cheers--Laura
No, I’m not talking about the sort of balance we need to stay aboard these horses and not end up on the ground at their feet. I’m talking about a different sort of balance…the sort we need in our lives. Terri wrote in a recent post that she needed help finding a balance between writing and riding. I don’t know that I’m in a position to offer much help, but now that it’s the rainy season here in coastal California, and I’m not riding as much as I was, I’ve started to think more about finding balance in my life.
This “balance” is, I think, going to be different for every person. For myself, I am balancing my son’s needs and wishes, our needs as a family, my horses, my writing and my garden. All of these things take up a lot of time. And I totally sympathise with Terri’s point that it seems like there are just not enough hours in the day. For sure, one thing or another is going to be somewhat neglected.
So, I’m going to start out with a funny statement. In my case, balance involves not prioritizing riding too much. And due to my past, that’s hard for me to do. It’s a long story, which I’ll tell in a future post, but I have a huge tendency to feel guilty if I don’t ride my horses five or more days a week. And right now I am actively choosing to prioritize my family’s needs and my kid’s needs. He will only be young once. I want to be there for him and also to enjoy this experience of raising a child to the fullest. So, in a way, you could say that both my riding and my writing have suffered since I had a child.
The funny thing is, I don’t even want to go back to the way I was pre-child. I prioritized riding and writing to a huge degree—to the degree that I felt trapped by my obsessive need to pursue these two things. I have to tell you, the truth is I prioritized riding and training my horses to such an inordinate degree in my twenties and thirties that, well, I’m not gonna say this ruined my first marriage, but I will say it contributed.
So, Ok, I have come to believe that over-prioritizing riding doesn’t work for me. Not just in the sense that it doesn’t work for my family, but also that it doesn’t work for me as a person. Sometimes I actively don’t want to ride. I want to work in my garden or go on a hike, or do some sort of expedition with my family. I want to be able to feel good about this. And because of my tendency to feel guilty when I don’t ride (because of my background with horses), I sometimes have a hard time feeling content when I don’t ride a lot.
This reached a crisis in my life about ten years ago. I had been riding, training and competing obsessively for twenty years. I felt guilty if I didn’t go to a competition every weekend, or didn’t practice several times a week. At the same time I had a property that I loved and I really wanted to spend long, lazy days working in the garden. The two desires were a huge conflict for me. And in a fit of pique I gave up competing.
Well, it wasn’t exactly a fit of pique. I had grown sick to death of the nasty things people do to themselves, their horses and others in order to win. I had ceased to see winning as desirable. I was sick of feeling like I “needed” to go compete every weekend. So I quit.
(I am not intending to criticize all those who like competition, mind you. Not everyone is nasty in the interests of winning. Nonetheless, I saw a great many horses crippled—and subsequently thrown away like broken sporting equipment-- and a great many people were less than kind to others and miserable themselves—all because they so needed to “win”.)
Anyway, I quit competing. I kept my horses. I still rode. I had a young horse I was training. But I didn’t let competition, and the need to train for competition, dominate my life any more. I worked in the garden a lot. I was happier.
Then I got pregnant. I gave up riding. I still had my horses, but my old team roping friends rode them for me (these were good rope horses and my friends were glad to borrow them). I had my baby. And it wasn’t until my little guy was six months old that I got back on a horse again (with my baby in front of me in the saddle). Over a year without being on the back of a horse.
And it felt just fine, actually. I was in no hurry to get back into riding again. I got on a horse once every month or two…until my kid turned three and began actively lobbying to ride. So then I began to ride a couple of days a week…but every ride was with my son. We walked, trotted and loped in sedate circles, that was it. This went on for a couple of years. And I was still perfectly content.
I learned something. I still loved my horses. I fed them morning and evening. I enjoyed them. I did not give one of them up. But I did not need to be obsessive about riding and training. Things went along just fine when I wasn’t obsessing.
I should add into this story that I keep my horses either turned out in large pastures or in big corrals (100 feet by 100 feet on average) where they can run and play if they are not ridden. They are never confined in small pens or stalls unless they need this due to injury…etc. And in the years when I rode very seldom, as I said, my friends did ride the using horses regularly.
So, fast forward to the present. After several years in which my son rode in front of me, I had a year of hand walking, longeing and ponying Toby the pony (with my kid aboard) and a year of riding alongside my kid and Toby in the arena. All pretty sedate. And then when Toby died two years ago, I bought Henry for my son, and Sunny for me (our two “bombproof” trail horses), and my kid and I began to go out on the trails.
For the first time in ten years, I had a horse that was solely my horse again—nobody rode him but me. And guess what? I began to obsess on getting him ridden. I also had a new event. I fell back in love with trail riding, the passion of my teenage years, which took a backseat to various sorts of cowhorse-type competitions in my twenties and thirties. Suddenly I wasn’t happy if I wasn’t out on the trails at least four days a week.
And you know what? This did not work to my advantage. Obsessing on riding and being unhappy when I couldn’t get it done made me, well, less happy. It took the major setback of Henry’s colic to get me to revaluate my priorities and start trying to find that balance again.
So now, once again, I’m back to riding when it works out and relaxing about it when it doesn’t. In my life, realistically, this means riding about twice a week, more often in the dry season, less often in the rainy season. The horses seem perfectly happy with this. Once again, I’m happy, too. I’m finding out that balance for me, means not prioritizing riding too much.
I don’t say this would necessarily be true for others. In fact, I’m hoping some of you will explain how you get balance in your own lives. Perhaps for some it means riding more often, and cutting back on other activities.
OK—I see I haven’t even touched on the issue of how I balance the writing into the equation. But this post is getting too long and I need to go feed my horses. So, a future post on how I fit writing into my life will be forthcoming.
Also, for those of you who write to me in the comments that you have posted something on your blog that I might be interested in, I do try to go to your blogs and read. But my computer is old and cranky (I mean seriously old and cranky—it is twelve years old, uses Windows 95, and has a dial up connection) and I frequently can’t view blogs. And it takes forever to get the comments to come up, so I don’t try to post comments on other blogs any more. I did make it to Kate’s blog and got to read about her horses. And Jackie of Horses and Turbos, I tried to get to your blog to read about your trail rides with Starlette, but I just couldn’t get it to come up on my screen.
Cheers--Laura
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