Why Attend

Having lived in New York, DC, and Pennsylvania, I’ve spent many hours watching the fall indoor circuit live. Back then, it was the only way to see the shows. Last week, I spent many hours watch Penn National streaming live on the USEF Network. I could watch the show in my recliner. I could watch the show in my pjs. I could take the show with me to the kitchen. I could chose from live stream, video recaps of winning rounds, or videos of entire classes. All for free with no travel. Given all that, would I ever attend any of the shows again? In a heartbeat.

The camera work was excellent and the video quality clear. Yet, I still missed so much. Moving down to the rail to get the up-close and personal view of a round. Moving up to rafters to watch the course as a whole. Peeking down the chute to see who is waiting to go, Hearing the footfalls, the snorts, the occasional “Whoa. Whoa” into the second half of a double. The smell of pine shavings, manure, and grease that says Indoors.

Then there are the ancillary benefits of actually being there. I love to see warm-up if I can wangle a pass. Or to wander around the barns and spot an AGA Championship cooler casually stuffed over a blanket bar. People watching and people chatting are equally entertaining. I can turn to my seatmates and begin talking, knowing that we already have enough in common. I’m not a shopasaurus generally, but there used to be a jewelery vendor at the Rolex trade fair who recognized me from year to year.

There is a herd mentality bonus of being present in Madison Square Garden when Leslie Burr (Lenehan/Howard) won rider of the year with a busted shoulder. It would have looked just as impressive on screen, but I’m glad I was there to see it. The same attitude keeps football arenas and baseball stadiums filled when the view is far better at home.

USEF Network: WIHS this week & the $250,000 Grand Prix from the National* on Saturday the 2nd. There goes my data plan. (*Yes, I still think of it as New York, even though it as been years since.)
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Gratuitous Cat Picture

Percy
Percy
Box is on a slant. Note the front paw preventing him from sliding.

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Text drafted.
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Had a cavity filled.
Feeling too punk to assemble the bits.
Back tomorrow.

Update, Tuesday evening: Feeling better gradually. It isn’t so much the dental work as the epinephrine in the Lidocaine that lays me low. If I remember in time, I can usually convince my dentist to use “the old stuff” without it. Doesn’t work as well and has to be re-upped halfway through, but doesn’t leave me with the shivers. When I go for my implant, they will have to use L for the vaso-constrictive properties. Oh, goody. Still, I’d rather be a regular at a dental office than with a cardiologist.

I spent Monday afternoon whining and feeling decrepit. Was I really getting so old that a relatively minor procedure could wipe me out? No. Husband says I was no different 20 years ago.

My timing was fortuitous. Mathilda is in a mare mood. When she gets like this, she has no sense of self-preservation. She will trot (!) around her pen, screaming for Rodney to come back to her. Yes, she trots. No, it’s not pretty. So, I sit with her while Rodney gets his field time. I bask in the sun, read books, and look like a hero. Shiny.

Boot Camp Battle

Back off peasant!
Back off, Peasant!
Saturday was the last boot camp lesson before Nationals. I was assigned Lola. Back in the spring, Lola and I showed to good effect [Report & below]. However, that was a class of four horses in huge ring. Boot camp is twice as many horses in half the space. Lola does not appreciate crowds. She had made her feelings known the last time I rode her [Boot Camp Bucks].

Of course, bad behavior causes worry causes tension causes bad behavior. Lola hopped and fussed around the ring while I snarled hysterically at anyone who got too close. There were small children present, so I tried to keep my language clean. Instructors kept telling me to loosen my reins, loosen them even more, and ignore the fact that I was going Mach 2 at a trot.

Finally, I called her a bitch, dropped my hands, and rode like a hunter. We got along ever so much better. I have far more authority riding from nearly 50 years of hunter/jumper/eventing/dressage experience than I do riding from one year as a saddleseat student. Plus, we moved on to canter. I am less likely to fret about a horse running away at a canter than at a trot. Go figure.

I can ride effectively or elegantly. Pick one. While the ablity to fall back on being effective is good for my ego, it does not bode well for my future as an equitation star. Before I congratulate myself too much on my equestrian brilliance, we cannot overlook the possibility that

a) We changed directions. Horses have definite preferences from one side to the other.

b) She got tired. Exuberance tends to diminish as the work goes on.

c) I am deluded. I am simply telling myself a pretty story to cover up the fact that I made a hash out of the ride. Witness accounts may vary.

OR

If you wish a more concise summation, see Dana’s Doodles here.

Lola & me on a better day. Maunter Photography
On a better day. Maunter Photography

Elegance Evolves

I seem to have helmets on my mind lately. (Helmets -> mind -> head? No? Well, at least I amuse myself.)

Last Thursday, I made a point of getting my paws on our iPad2 for the day so I could stream the sidesaddle division from Penn National. Back when I showed, we wore top hats for the flat and helmets over fences. In retrospect, duh. In my flimsy defense, I was always at the forefront of what was considered safe at the time. We have just gotten collectively smarter over the years. When the ASTM certifications came out, huntcaps were listed in catalogs as “Item of apparel only.” I had already stopped wearing them. Riding an OTTB helped with that decision. But I digress.

The Ladies Hunter Sidesaddle Under Saddle (non-jumping) class had five entries. Four wore standard plastic hardshells. In the interest of maintaining my helmet evangelist street cred, I will will only say that the helmets looked … practical. One woman had a black velvet, low-profile helmet with a fitted brown leather harness. I thought it looked just as lovely and elegant as a top hat.

It’s all what we are used to seeing. In another class, a rider had black stirrup irons. I imagine the idea was to blend,to not have the silver color stand out. However, I am so used to seeing that bit of shiny silver at the end of the rider’s leg that I don’t even notice it. The black irons drew my eye by omission. Where were her stirrups? Oh, there. I spent more time staring at her leg than I would have had she used standard stirrups. Similar tricks have been used for helmet harnesses. Clear plastic is supposed to be invisible, but sparkles in the light. Black straps are too much of one color in one place. Nylon is too sporty for traditional turnout. Simple brown leather straps fade into the background of all the other tack draped around the horse. In addition, her harness fit. It didn’t hang under her chin like a third jowl.

Progress doesn’t have to be ugly.

As I have said before, I love awards ceremonies, watching as well as riding in. For the Penn National classes, a friend with whom I used to show sidesaddle was the presenter. Cool.