Gotcha Day, 10 Years and a Serious Lack of Shiny Rainbow Glitter Sparkles

Training Journal

If you’re riding a horse, you’ve already won.


Awareness of the outside world. Whatever: I Was Writing a Piece About Six Months of Quarantine and Annoyed Myself as I Wrote It, So Here’s Zoe Keating Instead. Six months? Nah. Can’t be. Counts on fingers. March (partial). April. May. June. July. August (almost over). Not six. Five plus. With no end in sight. Mouth hangs open.
Wrote the check for Rodney 10 years ago today.

I wish I could broadcast a message filled with unicorn farts. Serendipity! The unexpected road! How I have learned! and grown!


Sitting here, exactly where I was 10 years ago, with addition of a failed writing column (thanks Rodney) and 8 years of whining on the blog.

Have I had horses to ride? Yes. [Sam I Am] 2012

Have I had shows to attend? Yes. [An Attempt To Freeze Time] 2020

Would I have preferred to spend those years running and jumping? No question.

Do I have anyone but myself to blame? No.

Could I have done something about it if I had only gotten my shit together? Of a certainty.

Way back on the initial post for this incarnation of the blog, the first two commenters (Waves hi!) wrote about how setbacks can shake one’s confidence. Tru dat. Doubt eats away at your will, whispering of pointless futures. Just because you know it’s happening doesn’t mean you can stop it. [We Begin]

Get a new horse?

Tried that.

Milton’s Gotcha Day was August 23rd, 6 years ago. We all know how that went.

Get a third horse?

Not as obvious as it sounds. I had to look out of the state for Rodney. I had to look out of the freaking country for Milton.

We are deep into tailspin territory.

Before I pull up, I’ll add that the biggest frustration is the feeling of spinning my wheels. I haven’t done anything with the last decade except get older. I have been given the gift of time and have nothing to show for it in return, except for the morass of stagnation I have wandered into. [A Look Inside My Head]

Or maybe it’s just the horrible month of August. More than five months into a pandemic.

Stay safe. Stay sane.
Katherine Walcott

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