To Ride or Not To Ride?

Hypothetical situtation. I am trying a horse for sale. Seller rides horse. I decide I do not want horse. Do I get on and ride anyway?

Yes
Anything is Possible: I could change my mind. Highly unlikely, particularly if the horse has physical issues, but theoretically possible.

Learning: It would be good practice for me in evaluating strange horses.

Counterphobia: One should do the things that make one nervous.

No
Bad Manners: Definitely not if the horse is thundering around the ring doing his impression of the Oncoming Storm.

Exertion: More work for the horse, especially in heat, cold, rain.

Liability: What if something happens while I ride? What if nothing happens and the horse comes up lame for another reason entirely & I get blamed? Granted this is an accepted risk of showing &/or trying a horse, but why expose myself/the horse if it is not necessary?

False Pretenses: Good practice for me is just using someone else’s horse for my own ends. (Update: and wasting the seller’s time.)

Therefore
Ride or not?

Boot Camp Begins

I have started my training in traffic management. At the National Academy Championships, one has to ride with more than two people in the ring. Plus, one has to ride with style in order to distinguish one’s self. Therefore, Instructor has started special Saturday group lessons for those of us headed to the finals. My first lesson was last weekend.

This is all new to me. Aside from the flat class in a hunter division, I’m used to being alone in the ring. Plus, I never played team sports. I’ve never had to evaluate moving targets in order to make game time decisions. For example, at my last show, the announced called for a walk. I “finished my pass” but landed in a wodge of other riders. After the class, Instructor told me that I should have trotted past to a clear spot. Same thing happened in the next class. This time I trotted past. Even though I was doing what I was told, it was taking too long. It felt wrong. That feeling was correct. In that situation, I should have stopped my pass early. So the rule is you trot past other folks to a clear spot. Except when you don’t.

If a rider gets caught in a traffic jam, it is judged to be the riders fault. She should not have been there in the first place. Per Instructor:

Most believe that if the horse in front of you comes apart at the seams and you fall prey to it and your horse and/or you make a mistake because of said first horse, you are also held accountable and you too will be penalized. This is because you should be “aware of your ring” and what’s going on in front of you. You should have enough horsemanship to maneuver out of said bad situation. In a defensive driving course I took many moons ago, to get out of a ticket, the officer unequivocally stated that there are NO accidents that aren’t unavoidable. If you are truly paying attention and are following the 3 second rule you can avoid any and all accidents. Same goes with showing in my book.
Courtney Huguley

The first technique we learned was the diamond. If you follow the rail at the end of an oval ring, you get a U-shape. Instead, you leave the rail, head directly to the apex, make a 90o turn, and zip to the other rail. This makes a V-shape. Riders use it to get clear of other horses but also to hot-dog. I likened it to taking the direct five strides between two fences rather than the bending six-stride line. Harder to do, but flashy if you pull it off. It’s all about maneuverability and showing off of same.

Sure, I grasped the concepts right away, but then, I used to write this stuff. I can spout theory all day long. Whether or not I can execute remains to be seen. Just because I can write about the preparation for Grand Prix (interveiw with Jessica Ransehousen in Dressage & CT, Sept 1997) doesn’t mean I can ride my way out of First Level.
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Other News
Camera ordered. Things should get more visual around here soon. Details as soon as camera arrives.

New Off Topic post: The Upside Of Negativity

Tailspin, How Art Thou?

It’s been a while since I had good, solid snit about Rodney’s current position in the universe. So, last week I had a long wallow in pointless angst. It was a shallow puddle, but lasted most of the week. Not sure if this is better or worse that the brief but bottomless chasms of despair.

A stint of Small Worldliness put me in the possible orbit of a Big Name Rider who knew Rodney in his previous, competitive life. The BNR was probably in the ring when the-horse-now-known-as-Rodney jumped 5’2″. I kept imagining the conversation when I tell him I bought the horse and then he asks me how the horse is doing. I don’t come off well in that exchange.

Why do I do have these internal conversations when they are neither fun nor productive? I have no idea. Nor do I see the habit stopping anytime soon.

I wrote this before Sunday’s horse shopping trip. Elapsed days or the expedition will have snapped me out of it by the time you read this. The problem with these bouts is that I get frustrated. When I get frustrated, I have less motivation to go out to the barn. When I’m frustrated, I have less patience with Rodney when I do get to the barn. Either way, no progress is made. And that frustrates me. Hello vicious circle. How I have not missed you.

Horse Shopping: The Endless Loop

Going out to look at a horse today (Sunday 8/11/13). He is half-brother* to a horse I like, so fingers crossed. Possible scenarios:

1) WTF? Seriously? Do you have any idea how lame/burned-out/awesomely badly trained your horse is? At any price? Much less the thunderously astronomical price you are asking?

Perplexingly, this is the situation we see most often. I may have mentioned it. Granted, my understanding of horse prices is stuck in the last century. Astronomical may have become normal in the interim. But I am right about the lame/burned-out/badly-trained part.

2) Lovely horse. Will be delightful in someone else’s barn.

While no more productive that scenario 1, ever so much more pleasant. Who doesn’t like to see nice horses? The last horse I tried before buying Rodney was a cute, little gray gelding. If I’d been in the market for a resale project, I would have brought him home. Last year, Hubby recognized the horse in a demo ride at the State Horse Fair. He is now a happy kid’s pony.

3) Yes, but …

This is the scenario that stresses me out. In the others, my path is clear. Either say thank you and leave or get the purchase process started and squee with excitement. What if my head says he or she is a perfectly suitable horse but I just can’t bring myself to commit? If you’d spent anytime in the rat’s nest that is the inside of my head, you would see how this could easily come about.

Hubby says I should listen to my uncle, whose advice would be to go with my gut. The subject was hiring employees but the process is the same. Any time he has settled for “the best available”, he has regretted it.

I tried that. During the last go-round I found a nice Thoroughbred/Danish Warmblood. This was when I had the discussion with my uncle (uncle here, horse here). I did not buy the horse. I bought Rodney instead. If I had gone with my head rather than my gut, I might have spent the last three years competing. By now, I might have moved up to Training Level in Eventing. I might have gotten my First Level scores towards a USDF Bronze Medal. I might have laid some seriously interesting rubber in a jump-off or two. I might have …

Second guessing yourself sucks.

4) A new horse for me.

Someone has to win the lottery, no?

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*HWC – yes, that one.

Conversations With My Stomach

At horse shows, I am too nervous to eat. However, if I don’t eat, I come over all weak and swimmy-headed. I can rally the energy to ride but the rest of the day is as much fun as a day-old omelet. I’m also told that not eating makes me a joy and a delight to be around the next day. To avoid this, I give my stomach whatever it wants.

Morning
ME: Motel continental breakfast?
STOMACH: You have got to be kidding me.

ME: Here’s an protein drink and a fruit bar.
STOMACH: Hmm.

A short while later
ME: What’s up?
STOMACH: I’ve decided I want oatmeal.

ME: Oatmeal is what we have at home. We are not at home.
STOMACH: I want oatmeal.

ME: You won’t like the generic stuff. You are thinking of the gourmet, steel-cut kind that takes 20 minutes to cook.
STOMACH: I want OATMEAL!

ME: Have a pretzel rod. Carbs and salt. I brought them because they made you happy during that long car trip.
STOMACH: F— you. I want oatmeal.

ME: Pepto-Bismol tablets?
STOMACH: I’ll take 2. No, make that 4. Then oatmeal.

Late Morning
ME: Cracker Barrel? Surely there will be something bland enough even for you.
STOMACH: Do not underestimate me.

ME: Okay, here’s the deal. Iceberg lettuce salad. Nothing tricky. Barely any taste. It’s water and fiber. It’s as close to our oatmeal as I am going to get.
STOMACH: Hmmmff.

Early Afternoon
ME: I know I have another class this evening but I need to eat something. Dinner is hours away.
STOMACH: A hot dog. I think I could cope with a hot dog.

ME: Snouts and nitrates shoved into a tube?
STOMACH: Yup.

ME: Here’s Sonic. I know their hot dogs come loaded, but maybe they have a plain version. Anything on the menu look good?
STOMACH: A pretzel dog. In fact, a Cheesy Bacon Pretzel Dog.

ME: Really? Covered in processed, liquid cheese food? With Bacon? Onions?
STOMACH: Yup

ME: You’re not going to give me attitude about this later?
STOMACH: Nope.

It worked. Go figure.