1. Advance Horsemanship WTC Adult – 3th of 4
2. Advanced Equitation WTC Adult (Pattern) – 2nd of 4
7. Pleasure Horse or Pony WTC Adult – 4th of 4
Thank you to Courtney Huguley for the willowy Whiskey. (W is big for an ASB. Shorter than Rodney, but legs everywhere.)
After the intensity of dancing on the big stage, I didn’t fancy taking Dottie for a shuffle around the barn floor at a hoe-down. Instead I rode Whiskey, a five-gaited horse who is rearranging his world view to include being a three-gaited Academy horse.
Apparently, the rack is similar enough to the canter that a) the rider must be very clear about which gait is intended, and b) five-speed horses are allowed to canter faster to prevent confusion. This is a learning curve for me. I do such a good saddle seat canter (Really, it’s stellar. Alas, no one cares. Saddle seat is all about the trot. But I digress.) that I have a habit of asking for too much (too slow) from horses who aren’t up to it.
In warm-up, I was all, ‘Eek, a new horse’, and Whiskey was all, ‘Eek, a new place’. So, the first class was decent, but conservative. Second class, similar. I managed to get my hands up and heels out for equitating.
Whiskey went in the ring with his second rider.
By the time I got back on, the multiple classes had taken some starch out of his bloomers. I felt comfortable pushing him for more flash. The winner of my first two classes was another woman from my barn on Snippy. She was going down. We dazzled the trot. I got the canter lead. I sat his canter. First place was ours! Until he lost count of his legs and fell out of the canter. Right. In front. Of the judge. Quickly repaired, but damage done. Bzzzzzt. Last. Oh well, if one has to have bad horse show karma, Winter Tournament is the place to have it.
~~~ Photo by Olivia Grace Wood. Dramatic back-lit filtering by me.
Policy question. So, how do I label an image after fiddling with it? I want to credit the photographer. OTOH, what if they are appalled at what I hath wrought? Any copyright experts care to weigh in?
Friday Morning
2. Academy WTC Equitation–Adult, 2nd of 10
7. Academy WTC Pleasure–Adult, 3rd of 10 Saturday Morning
31. Academy WTC Equitation–Adult Championship, 4th of 10
36. Academy WTC Pleasure–Adult Championship, 3rd of 10 Sunday Morning
63. Academy WTC Pleasure National Finals–Adult 2nd of 10
71. Academy WTC Equitation National Finals–Adult, 2nd of 8
All classes with Dottie, courtesy of Courtney Huguley.
Photos & video by a friend of Stepping Stone Farm. The soundtrack, Dottie by Danny & the Juniors, was paid for.
Life with La Prima
The ballet metaphor [A Change in Attitude] continued through the show. When we went for our first stroll around the property, I took Dottie up to see the ring. She stood in the gate looking about, a dancer understanding her space.
The saddle was her tutu, which had to be adjusted just so. The show bridle was her pointe shoes; the work bridle, her ballet flats. Impatient to get on stage, she was worse in the warm-up ring than I was. In the ring, she demanded my full attention. I could not fuss, nor over-ride, neither could I phone it in. I must be there with a steady arm in second position to provide guidance and support.
Maybe it’s a silly metaphor, but it’s one that worked for us. We had a few bobbles, but we never had a moment when both of us weren’t trying 100%.
Day-By-Day
Thursday was warm-up rides for riding and driving. Washing tails. Warm-up for the kids who arrived in the evening. Bog standard National Finals T-minus one.
Thursday night, I was a tense mess. My chance of breaking out of my red rut rested entirely on the first class. Historically, the judges at this show have the habit of sitting on their cards. In other words, the placings didn’t change from Friday to Sunday. (More on these statistics below.) My place in the first class would determine my weekend. I was right. Second on Friday, second on Sunday. In the end, I felt different about the reds than I thought I would.
In the first class on Friday, Dottie spooked several times at her shadow on the arena floor. I had the feeling that the lighting was NOT up to La Prima’s standards. The second class went better. They tended to all weekend.
On Friday night, I was over it, the whole Academy experience. What was I doing? Nothing was changing. No matter what I did, I kept coming in second. In the normal course of things, I would move out of Academy and up to suit OR stop this ex-pat life [Nice Horses and Lesson Programs] and figure out a way to jump something. Since neither were an option at the moment, I was stuck in an eternal Academy limbo. I tried to be grateful that at least I had Academy limbo to be stuck in. You can’t – I can’t – force yourself to be grateful, even when you know you should be.
Saturday placing was fourth and third. I had a choice to make. I could struggle along with what I had and probably, possibly place second or third (only three ribbons given). Or I could make a change. In past years (2014, 2015), the change has been sartorial. When I laid out money for custom clothes [New], I announced that I would NOT be changing these.
In three of the last five years, one rider has won all six Adult WTC classes. In the other two years, one rider won four or five out of the six. Of the ten Sunday finals that I watched or rode in, only two have been won by someone other than the winner from Friday. Plus, barn gossip said that the horse who was dominating my division was doing the same in other divisions with other riders. Good on them for having a nice horse. However, it meant that a come-from-behind upset was less unlikely.
It was time to put the pedal down. Hero or zero. I decided that I felt more confident doing this with the work bridle. Dottie was, of course, perfectly fine in her show bridle. That problem was that I was not strong enough to partner her when she was in toe shoes. I would be better if she wore her ballet slippers. It was a risk. It could all have gone wahooni-shaped.
Should I have worn the work bridle from the start? Pointless as the question was, I pondered it. I decided no. All the time learning to finesse the show bride had given me a clear idea of how I wanted to ride with the work bridle. Here’s a over-fences analogy. Let’s say you are comfortable jumping 3′. Then you start jumping 4′. When you drop back down, 3′ feels like a piece of cake. It was like that.
On Sunday morning, I practiced my pattern. It was not our friend: up the long side, trot half circle, halt, canter half circle, finish the line, halt, reverse, trot back. Essentially asking if you could pick up your left canter lead and your left diagonal. These were the two things Dottie and I had trouble with. I had already blown the left canter depart in two classes (8-2-2, thank the stars for 3-judge classes. In the other case, I think they were all looking at their cards.) The left diagonal was a problem unless I made a point of reversing, straightening her out, and getting her onto the new outside rein. This significantly added to the time I took to reverse, which significantly added to the screaming from my spotters to get a move on. By contrast, Sam and I can do a fabulous turn-and-burn.
The Sunday classes both went as well as I hoped they would. I felt more confident in the work bridle. I was less worried about pissing her off and consequently able to stay steadier. My rail work was the best I’ve done in a saddle seat show, particularly the second class. My pattern was accurate and not at the pace of a NASCAR race. I held my halts and got the correct lead/diagonal. As I sat in the final line-up, I looked up at the sign over the ingate, and thought, ‘Okay Nationals, that’s all I got.’ What I got was good enough for National Finals Reserve Champion.
It wasn’t a matter of Whatever I do, I stay in the same place, it was a matter of working my butt off to stay in the same place.
Will I try again next year? Who knows. Clearly, I am unable to predict my own future [Hidden Message].
Right before I left for Nationals, and well after my frustration post for Saturday was written & scheduled [Here I Am], I figured out two things.
Discovery 1: Theory
Dottie has the soul of an artist. Or, at least, what I imagine the soul of an artist to be. She is the aging ballerina who still lives to dance. She may lack the raw power she once had for jetes and pirouettes, but she has arm extensions that make the angels weep.
As a counter-example, Sam has the soul of a technician. If you ride him a certain way, he will canter brilliantly. Doesn’t matter where or when: in the covered ring, in the big ring, at home, at a show, on the rail, off the rail. If you do x, he will do y.
A few days before the Alabama Charity Show, I had a great lesson on Dottie. ‘Ah ha,’ I says to myself, ‘I know how to trot Dottie.’ Went to the show. Did the exact same thing. ‘No! No! No!’ says Dottie, ‘This is a totally different situation. We must dance THIS WAY.’ Which left me sitting in a lump, thinking, ‘Whaaaa?’
Still struggling with the double bridle and still struggling to get my shoulders back. [Show Report]
Dottie is a passionate, spontaneous individual who creates her reality in the immediacy of the moment, instead of relying on a set of rigid formulae that might have no bearing on current conditions. As a person who fell off the left side of the Myers-Briggs personality test, I am far more Sam-like in my outlook.
My narratives for Dottie included elder stateswoman or maternal guardian of her young riders. Not a bit of it. The rider’s role is the male dancer, lending support when the prima ballerina takes center stage. You might need to support her more than you would a younger dancer, but Oh, she is worth it. Once I started thinking about her this way, her whole personality made sense. We got along famously. [The Power of Narrative]
Dottie is not a diva. She doesn’t demand attention and adoration. She’ll take it (won’t we all?), but she doesn’t require it to function. She simply wants to dance.
Discovery 2: Tylenol
Lately, my meltdowns have been accompanied by crying jags. At one point before a lesson, I was crying so hard that I was shaking. I slugged some Pepto for my stomach. As I stood at the bathroom counter, I remembered when pain-relief had turned out to be the answer [Antibiotics as Mood Elevator]. I took two Tylenol.
The tears stopped.
I don’t know why this works. I don’t feel pain before I take pills. I don’t feel less pain after I take pills. I simply stop crying. I don’t know why it has to be Tylenol. I’m not messing with success. I do it. It works. That’s good enough for me.
One possible reason may be the body’s response to chronic pain. Apparently, if the nerves keep sending the same pain message, the body stops listening. Nor do I see a point in going to the doctor. Modern medicine has a hard enough time with chronic pain. They’d never cope with chronic non-pain.
I am not stoic. I am the farthest thing from stoic. All of this happens on a level below my consciousness. As I have said elsewhere [The Old Grey Mare], I live in my head. I tend to leave my body to get on with it. I may not have been paying sufficient attention.
In a related experiment, I took ibuprofen before bed. Sleep has always been my answer to any problem. Stress? Yawn. Stomachache? Nap. Sick? Go to bed until it passes. So, I was sleeping enough hours, probably too many. It’s possible that my mystery non-aches were keeping me from sleeping well. I’ve been exhausted all summer.
I still stress. I’m still me. Now, when I start spinning out of control, I can console myself that the cause is physical rather than existential.
Sadly, the solution has limits. My system can only tolerate so many meds [Let The Blithering Begin]. All I need to do is invent a chronic OTC analgesic that does not rot my stomach, or worse. My medical advisor tells me if I can could do this, the world would be my oyster.
An update of an earlier post [10 Tips for Daily Blogging], specifically to help bloggers finish the November #bloglikecrazy challenge. However, this advice applies to anyone who struggles with daily blogging.
Why Listen To Me?
I have been blogging daily since December of 2011. This is post #2126. In five years, I have missed 27 days in three breaks, scheduled and otherwise. Since August 25, 2014, I have not missed a day.
I have not monetized my blog; I can’t help you work with brands.
I don’t promote my blog; I can’t help you drive engagement.
I put a post out the door every day; I can help you with that.
Lack of Ideas?
1 Mine Your Mail. Send off a rant to a friend? If you felt strongly enough to type a message on the subject, then you feel strongly enough to get a blog post out of it. Same holds true for snarky text messages. This was #5 last time.
Use everything. My friends find text from my emails reappearing on posts. [10 Tips]
2 Go Off Topic. Readers come to a niche blog to read about a niche subject. Horses, in my case. However, your readers are full-developed human beings, with a ranges of interests unrelated to your niche. If something fascinates you, chances are, it will fascinate your readers.
3 Ask Your Friends. Friend send you a cute picture? Blog post. Get their permission first. Most people will say yes. Some will say no. Try to work something out. If they don’t want their face/identifying details to appear, can you crop the photo/edit the text? If not, move on. Their level of privacy is for them to decide.
4 Ask Your Friends II – Vicarious Travel. Friend or family going somewhere interesting? Ask them for a guest post. If they are not into writing, how about a stand-alone of a statue that catches their eye? The majority of my travel posts are guest posts [List of Travel Posts].
6 Think Big. Find an idea that you can string into a related series. A cooking blog could do a recipes on the same ingredient over the course of a week.
7 Ask for help. What do you readers want to hear about? Ask a question. Take a poll. Even if the response is crickets, at least you got a post for that day.
Lack of Time?
8 Generic Back-ups. Stand-alone photos work best. A quick, evergreen tip would also be useful. Interesting/cute, non-time-specific images/text that you can put up when you are stumped. In fact, if you are posting such an image, consider saving it as a reserve for a digitally rainy day.
9 Explain Your Problem. Life get in the way? Tell your readers. Let’s say you have a mommy blog and your kid announces that she needs a scale model of the solar system for the next day. Log on. Write two sentences. Boom. Done. Your readers will identify. I don’t have kids and I can identify. Plus, you get a second post when you come back to explain.
10 Admit defeat. Some days it simply isn’t happening. It’s okay to say so. I like to think it humanizes me. No one can accuse me of posting only the happy bits.
Virtual Brush Box 