Went for a lesson earlier this week. It was, in technical terms, hotter than three hells. I also had a mild headache, an intermittent stomachache, and an all-over malaise. The desire to give it all up for Tiddlywinks was strong.
Hmmm. Lessons have been going well. No big shows until the middle of next month. The world would not stop turning if I skipped today. Ahhh. I sat on a tack box with my eyes closed, basking in the thought of the AC at home. As I sat, unmoving in mind and body, I realized that, yes, I would like a lesson. I was here. The covered arena would provide shade. Might even be fun. Got on. Had a excellent lesson.
Why? Partly, the Aspirin and Pepto kicked in. Partly, in giving myself permission, I took the pressure off. What I really wanted to do was ride, thank you very much.
I need to do this with my own horses. I get into a state of mind wherein if I am not pushing myself to give 110%, seven days a week, I am a failure. Such a schedule is not good training, not healthy, and not possible. It is the quick route to crazytown, witness Tuesday’s post [Hi There]. I know this. Can I change this? Ha! I just yell louder at myself.
I would never treat another person the way I treat myself.
A multi-purpose device that allows women living in poverty to more effectively clean, dry, and carry around their reusable menstrual pads, thereby making periods safer, and less disruptive to their lives.
[This is “Flo”]
August hath dawned. Both horses arrived in August. That means
1) We’ve had Rodney for five years; Milton for one.
B) Coggin’s tests are due.
3 or C) Time to revisit my ongoing quest for decent show names. This nonsense will continue until either I find names I like or I show and am stuck with what I have.
Parameters as before: Help Me Name My Horse.
Prize as before: $25 at Amazon or online bookseller of your choice.
New this time: two horses, two prizes on offer.
Current Front Runners
Barn Names, i.e. Rodney & Milton
Milton: Monochrome Rainbow
Previous Attempts
Milton: Canadian Cold Front [2014]
Rodney: Just Roscoe [2010], Perpetual Motion [2011, unofficial], Start Your Engines [2012, unofficial], Rodney [2013], Start Your Engines [2014]
Continuing to repost the entries from my previous monthly blogs Back To Eventing and Back To Riding.
I wish I could say rereading this flash from the past led to deep insight. Alas, no. Mostly I recall the deep despair and am stunned to ponder that it has been almost four years since. OTOH, Rodney is a much happier horse.
Sherlock Holmes: [extremely irritated] Oh, hell! What does that matter?! So we go around the sun! If we went around the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn’t make any difference! Benedict Cumberbatch in “The Great Game” Sherlock [BBC 2010]. Courtesy of Wikiquote.
Rodney has added separation anxiety to his repertoire.
Monday: In the morning, as usual, he had a session with his heating pad to loosen a back scar from a foalhood injury. He stands. I do daily crossword puzzles. Fifty minutes is the longest either of us can go before terminal boredom.
For the afternoon groundwork session, I wanted to restart hillwork. To be as simple as possible, I chose a short, gentle slope within sight of the barn the entire way. He was nervous but in a different way than going towards the ring. Garden-variety separation anxiety. More than I cared to see, but nothing unusual.
Tuesday: Hubby goes out each morning before work to count noses and feed carrots. This morning, he used the daily treat to lead Rodney up the hill sans halter. They got 75% of the way before any stress occurred. During our heating pad session, I pondered how to play off this. Rodney is too much of a carrot mooch to use carrots regularly. Instead, I would put a hay pile at the top of the hill as goal and reward. To be even easier, I would put a second pile for the mare so that he would be walking toward company, thereby easing his separation anxiety.
That evening, we led both horses up and Rodney followed reasonably well. Hubby stayed at the top with Mathilda while Rodney and I turned around and came back down. He wasn’t relaxed but, again, did reasonably well. Then I turned to go back up the hill and
KA-BOOM
Hooves and horse everywhere. I let go of the leadrope. He tore up the hill (?!) bucking and kicking. Upon arriving, he didn’t stop (?!?!). Instead, he flew around the pasture (?!?!?!) finally fetching up in the barn/run-in shed where I caught him easily.
After one of these outbursts, he calms right down. If I may project, he looks as if even he doesn’t understand why he does this and is a little ashamed by his behavior. He comes over and puts his head down to my chest to be reassured and loved on. After that, he walked up the hill a few more times. Not serenely but obediently. Still, the cloud of despair had already engulfed me.
Perhaps it was time I faced facts? Perhaps, despite two wonderful rides when I tried him out, he would always be too unpredictable? Perhaps, I would never ride, much less show him? It was a dark night.
After mourning the death of my riding career (I don’t see going through this again) and lamenting the loss of the embarrassingly large number of blue ribbons we were going to win, I began to wonder, does it matter? If my darkest dread is realized, how will that change what I do tomorrow?
In 23 years, hubby and I have shared our household with 14 cats, 5 dogs, and 3 horses. The only animals we relocated were one overly-sensitive kitten who needed a quieter lifestyle and another kitten to a friend. One reason we took so long to find a horse was that we knew we would have him or her for the next 20 years.
So, Rodney is here for the duration.
Will I leave him in the field to rot? No.
Will I stop grooming and socializing him? No.
Will I stop working with him – to whatever extent he allows? No.
Many things matter in theory. In practical terms, not so much.
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(Removed admin notes. KTW)
Tuff Rider from Carousel Tack Shoppe. Blue for Milton, green for Rodney. No, I haven’t. However, both horses have done groundwork wearing saddle. Baby steps.
Virtual Brush Box 