So. My husband decided to go back to school, enrolled, and quit his ridiculously stable, well paying, nightmare of a job, all in less than a month. I could not be happier for and with him, this decision will be a long process, but one which will open doors in our lives which will never close. (Go get um Sug!) Only conundrum, I bought a second horse seven months ago. Not a sales horse, or a project horse, a horse, my horse. I am conflicted on having this discussion out in the open, but since I don't advertise this blog anywhere, I think it would be safe to say, I can talk about how damn hard it is to feed, board, and live, with two horses on a plastic pony budget.
Lets start with the initial, "I've got this, no biggie!" feeling which happens when you initially revise the "new" budget. Its a big fat lie. Things are NOT OK. Subway trips three times a week? Nope. New boots for winter? Get ready to save for two months to afford the bargain brand. Horse needs a new blanket? Au naturel is the new Horseware Ireland, get with the program buddy! Going from a combined income sitting us solidly in the middle class tax bracket, to living on a part time position, is really, really shocking. I've never been a worrier, or someone who stresses easily, but money worries cause so much immediate, life altering stress that its unbelievable. I had phantom tremors. My hands would shake, my shoulders would ache, I would cry my eyes out driving to work. I was a mess, and Poplar was not even on the checkbook yet! She was still at the trainers, paid in full.
I got behind, spent my measly savings trying to catch up, and struggled to stay afloat, but my horses were paid for and that was a huge relief.
We can do this, and I feel like its an important thing to share, even as personal as it feels, because someone, somewhere is about to rip their hair out, living in the exact same reality.
Stick it out, you got this, they make 2000 flavors of Ramen.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Additional headache, heartache, and learning how to give.
We teach our horses how to give to pressure at an early age. They wear a halter within a month or so of birth, and we begin to gently push and prod, encouraging them to learn how to "give." I've been thinking on the concept of "giving" and how it can be applied to my own life in the same context as it is in the life of my horses. By teaching a horse to give, we cultivate their ability to listen closely, to learn to be soft, and to understand when we ask something of them. We use their very natures, and adapt their language to coincide with our own. When I am on the trail and I ask my horse to take a step sideways to avoid an obstacle, he simply takes two steps away from the pressure of my leg and continues romping down the trail. His day is not ruined, his ear may flick back to me for a moment, before they pierce down the trail once more. The pressure means nothing more to him than, "give," and there shall be release. I am learning to give in my own life.
I have a job that I both enjoy as well as detest. My husband is going back to school for a degree in dentistry which will eventually end up costing us more than my parents home is worth. I am owned by two horses, two dogs, and five chickens. My dog Lucy loves running alongside my bike. I love spending time with my horses. I thought I was stressed out in college, so that I would not have to be in the "real world." I feel bad, because I don't want to work 10 hours a day. I feel as though my proverbial rider, aptly referred to as "life's" trainer just screamed "Leg ON!" and I must either give or resist as a boot snaps me in the rib cage. I want to gnash my teeth. I want to scream at the pressures which have suddenly entered into my good living life. I want to shake my head, plant my feet and say "No no no! Not today!" But where will I end up? At the other end of the arena, with a boot still planted in my side, and an angry woman snarling at me for "acting like a turd today" as she firmly smacks me on the ass with a faded yellow twitch?
I know that when my horse does the same, I persist until I receive a "giving" response. So, I'm learning to give, to step out of the way of the rocks on the trail, and to accept that a bit of give now will reward me with the desired "release" one day down the line. I'm not going to stop riding, or biking, or watching late night movies with my husband. I am going to work harder so that I can enjoy the things in life which make me truly happy, I'm going to give, rock that half pass across the arena, and then canter on to halt. Salute. Breathe. Smile.
It all starts with "give."
I have a job that I both enjoy as well as detest. My husband is going back to school for a degree in dentistry which will eventually end up costing us more than my parents home is worth. I am owned by two horses, two dogs, and five chickens. My dog Lucy loves running alongside my bike. I love spending time with my horses. I thought I was stressed out in college, so that I would not have to be in the "real world." I feel bad, because I don't want to work 10 hours a day. I feel as though my proverbial rider, aptly referred to as "life's" trainer just screamed "Leg ON!" and I must either give or resist as a boot snaps me in the rib cage. I want to gnash my teeth. I want to scream at the pressures which have suddenly entered into my good living life. I want to shake my head, plant my feet and say "No no no! Not today!" But where will I end up? At the other end of the arena, with a boot still planted in my side, and an angry woman snarling at me for "acting like a turd today" as she firmly smacks me on the ass with a faded yellow twitch?
I know that when my horse does the same, I persist until I receive a "giving" response. So, I'm learning to give, to step out of the way of the rocks on the trail, and to accept that a bit of give now will reward me with the desired "release" one day down the line. I'm not going to stop riding, or biking, or watching late night movies with my husband. I am going to work harder so that I can enjoy the things in life which make me truly happy, I'm going to give, rock that half pass across the arena, and then canter on to halt. Salute. Breathe. Smile.
It all starts with "give."
Monday, August 31, 2015
Finding Everest
Poplar is my Everest. I think about her, and how to develop our relationship, as well as her mind and body, near constantly. I don't bother to even think about the "ending", the summit, the release at the end of the rope, a trustworthy trail partner. All I think about is the climb, the exertion and willpower, which it will, definitively, take for me to unlock the potential of my chestnut Everest. I thought, when I purchased her, that our journey together would be like driving through a parking lot. That we would encounter only a few speed bums along the way, but easily cruse over them and around the deeper ruts which pocket the asphalt. I was wrong, and that's hard to swallow, but OK. I thought that her incredible brain (read: crafty) would make her easier, that her powerful will (read: stubborn) would make her a stronger partner from the very beginning, and that her strength and unflappable mindset (read: not afraid of you) would make her as efficient and easy as a Prius running in Eco mode. I was wrong, yet again. She is as mysterious as a wooded, smoky mountain, yet, she is my mountain. My little Kentucky Everest.
The incredible athleticism, mental strength, and personality which this mare possesses are the deceptively hidden rewards of a journey which will require every minute portion of patience, knowledge, understanding, and persistence which I possess. She will be either become my harbinger or my dream maker, and the time and effort I put into her, will determine which part of the trail we walk upon most often, the ruts or the green. I simply can't devise how to express how much I like this horse, I would argue, that one day, she will be the one showing Oz how it is to be done.
The difficulty with this mare comes from her absolute lack of fear and complete confidence in herself, she essentially does not need nor desire "our" guidance. The best way I have come to understand her, is through the analogy of growing up. Usually, a horse would begin to see humans as herd leaders as foals, babies, they learn to give to pressure, to seek release, to find comfort in our presences. This way, when they are started as teenage colts and fillies, the feeling of release and "giving" to pressure is a natural process, a continuation of the handling which they have received all of their lives. They naturally see humans as dominant herd members who's attention and affections are of the highest importance. As (essentially) a range bred horse, Poplar comes from a different world entirely; she is the mid-twenties woman who has always danced to her own beat, she drives a hatchback, and has plans to solo hike the John Muir Trail before her 30th birthday. She does not need anyone, because she never learned to. If she does not want to do something, she does not do it, bottom line. She's stubborn, hard to convince, but craves engagement and stimulation. She's my Everest.
What fun.
The incredible athleticism, mental strength, and personality which this mare possesses are the deceptively hidden rewards of a journey which will require every minute portion of patience, knowledge, understanding, and persistence which I possess. She will be either become my harbinger or my dream maker, and the time and effort I put into her, will determine which part of the trail we walk upon most often, the ruts or the green. I simply can't devise how to express how much I like this horse, I would argue, that one day, she will be the one showing Oz how it is to be done.
The difficulty with this mare comes from her absolute lack of fear and complete confidence in herself, she essentially does not need nor desire "our" guidance. The best way I have come to understand her, is through the analogy of growing up. Usually, a horse would begin to see humans as herd leaders as foals, babies, they learn to give to pressure, to seek release, to find comfort in our presences. This way, when they are started as teenage colts and fillies, the feeling of release and "giving" to pressure is a natural process, a continuation of the handling which they have received all of their lives. They naturally see humans as dominant herd members who's attention and affections are of the highest importance. As (essentially) a range bred horse, Poplar comes from a different world entirely; she is the mid-twenties woman who has always danced to her own beat, she drives a hatchback, and has plans to solo hike the John Muir Trail before her 30th birthday. She does not need anyone, because she never learned to. If she does not want to do something, she does not do it, bottom line. She's stubborn, hard to convince, but craves engagement and stimulation. She's my Everest.
What fun.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Post ride!
(Since this blog is more of a personal reflective record than anything else, please excuse me if the language in this one is a bit convoluted. Many things have happened since the last post, and I feel that it will be somewhat difficult to keep things compartmentalized and organized. I'm going to try my best, so hopefully it makes sense in the grand scheme of things.)
The second half of Summer has given us a world of changes, both physical, mental, and emotional. First and foremost among such changes is the fact that Oz and I went to and successfully completed our very first limited distance ride! We did it! I want to shout it from the rooftops! We did it! We rode the full 25 miles with two good friends, and had a roaring good time the entire ride through. Even when I was reeling from the shock of having to go out again after the first 15 mile loop, as I was ridiculously unprepared for the pace at a ride, we were having fun through the exhaustion. Oz was a rock star, he pulsed down instantly when we came into camp, and stood perfectly for the vet, who complimented him every check for his happy attitude and calm demeanor. He was ears forward the entire ride, and was a powerhouse until the very end. I never knew we had a HA gear, as Brenda, my mentor called it, but we were in Hauling Ass gear most of the ride! It was definitely the best first ride experience I could have asked for, what an adventure! We ended up winning the Turtle award, and were very proud to be the last pair to finish the ride within the time parameters. This was extremely unintentional, I had assumed that once you were clocked "in" to ride camp you were within the time parameters and took my time cooling Oz down before getting his heart rate checked. Annt! Wrong! Oops! We still finished with about 50 seconds to spare! Yippie!
Our vet card was great, with a single exception, all A's and one C on back score. Oz was back sore, incredibly sore, I am truly surprised that we passed the vet exam at the end of the ride. Our saddle that we thought was a great fit, really showed its true colors after 25 miles of pounding trail. Its a no go, but we found a replacement which I will mention in my next post. I'm super excited about it! All in all, the ride was a huge success and we broke the mental blockade of the "first ride." Oz carried me to both the very beginning as well as to the summit of a long seated dream which I had almost given up on. Thanks buddy!
On the reverse end of the monster pony spectrum, the Poplar chronicle continues. Things are...going. She has exceed my expectations in the worst possible way. Why oh why am I not surprised? Needless to say, I am definitely worried at this point about getting her back and being able to ride her safely. She has been bucking with and without a rider...four feet off the ground, "I'm going to Texas for Christmas!" type bucking and will be staying at the trainers for another 30 days because of this. I bought a protective vest and I plan on duct taping myself to the saddle. I am hoping that it is just a saddle fit issue or a quirk that can we worked out. I should be OK, I've got this. Right guys?!
Ugh, horse ownership in a nutshell. The highs, the lows, the lower lows, and on we go!
The second half of Summer has given us a world of changes, both physical, mental, and emotional. First and foremost among such changes is the fact that Oz and I went to and successfully completed our very first limited distance ride! We did it! I want to shout it from the rooftops! We did it! We rode the full 25 miles with two good friends, and had a roaring good time the entire ride through. Even when I was reeling from the shock of having to go out again after the first 15 mile loop, as I was ridiculously unprepared for the pace at a ride, we were having fun through the exhaustion. Oz was a rock star, he pulsed down instantly when we came into camp, and stood perfectly for the vet, who complimented him every check for his happy attitude and calm demeanor. He was ears forward the entire ride, and was a powerhouse until the very end. I never knew we had a HA gear, as Brenda, my mentor called it, but we were in Hauling Ass gear most of the ride! It was definitely the best first ride experience I could have asked for, what an adventure! We ended up winning the Turtle award, and were very proud to be the last pair to finish the ride within the time parameters. This was extremely unintentional, I had assumed that once you were clocked "in" to ride camp you were within the time parameters and took my time cooling Oz down before getting his heart rate checked. Annt! Wrong! Oops! We still finished with about 50 seconds to spare! Yippie!
Our vet card was great, with a single exception, all A's and one C on back score. Oz was back sore, incredibly sore, I am truly surprised that we passed the vet exam at the end of the ride. Our saddle that we thought was a great fit, really showed its true colors after 25 miles of pounding trail. Its a no go, but we found a replacement which I will mention in my next post. I'm super excited about it! All in all, the ride was a huge success and we broke the mental blockade of the "first ride." Oz carried me to both the very beginning as well as to the summit of a long seated dream which I had almost given up on. Thanks buddy!
On the reverse end of the monster pony spectrum, the Poplar chronicle continues. Things are...going. She has exceed my expectations in the worst possible way. Why oh why am I not surprised? Needless to say, I am definitely worried at this point about getting her back and being able to ride her safely. She has been bucking with and without a rider...four feet off the ground, "I'm going to Texas for Christmas!" type bucking and will be staying at the trainers for another 30 days because of this. I bought a protective vest and I plan on duct taping myself to the saddle. I am hoping that it is just a saddle fit issue or a quirk that can we worked out. I should be OK, I've got this. Right guys?!
Ugh, horse ownership in a nutshell. The highs, the lows, the lower lows, and on we go!
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Phew, is it hot in here?
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| Shakervillage, June 2015 |
Well, hum now, where do I start? This summer has been one of the best, most infuriating, stressful, and enjoyable I can remember, and yes, I know that makes almost no sense, but it will! I promise! Oz came back from Wallace Hill Farm "fit camp" in the best mental and physical shape of his life. I owe Amy more than I could ever repay, she made me a rock star out of a tub of lard, and I much prefer "our" rock star. Sixty days with Amy and I feel like Oz is a brand new animal. Brave, healthy, and strong, he is a powerhouse of a horse; and you know what is the most exciting part of his transformation is? For the very first time in our lives together, I feel like I can keep up with him. I can ride my horse. I can do this. We can achieve this dream together. This is my life horse. The fear is gone. The uncontrollable, all encompassing, life destroying fear of my best friend is all but a thing of the past.
We are a team, and it feels like a million bucks.
(Booya!)
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| Shakervillage, July 2015 |
Other than our personal growth however, this summer has been an experience. A new and first job, brought with it many personal changes. I had to buy an iron, for one thing, and I had to learn how to use the darn thing, which was a travesty and my mother was ashamed of me. I had a terrible experience boarding Oz and Poplar in a situation which I should never have been so naive to think would actually work out, which resulted in an emergency relocation and a few weeks off for Oz who had lost at least 100 lbs in less than a week due to stress. Yea, that was not my smartest decision, but it was a definite learning experience which resulted in me now boarding with a fellow Green Bean endurance wanna-be! Turned that frown upside down really quickly!
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| He Pony and She Pony |
Poplar also went off to obedience school, much to my chagrin, as I had planned on (and wanted to) finish breaking her out myself, but with the new job and the unending rain, I just hadn't accomplished anything with her other than bonding in two months of ownership. Additionally I was extremely tired of being nipped by the ignorant little... So off she went to a highly suggested trainer who was eternally patient with me as I waited to dig my trailer out of the mud for two weeks! Phew! She will be back on August 15th and I am excited to start working with her for real this time. She already comes flying when I whistle, and I don't even own a treat bucket. She's the diva in my days and I adore her for it.
I also spent my first paycheck on Cloud stirrups, and you will have to pull them from my cold dead fingers, because they are the miracle they are advertised as. No knee pain, no ankle pain, and feeling like a bomb would have to go off to unseat you. They are super cool, no other way to describe them.
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| Tired pony, new stirrups! |
We did have one tiny upset this weekend, as I took Oz to Shakervillage and we did a very hot and humid fast four miles. We kept a moderate trot up when possible and walked about half of the time. I let him out for a quarter of a mile gallop, and then jumped off and ended up walking the quarter mile back to the trailer as he was puffing like a billows. I felt terrible, we are like two kids.
Oz: "Hey mom, lets boogie!?"
Me: "No. Way too hot, dude."
Oz: " Mah, quit being a weenie. I was such a good boy, remember that picnic table I didn't spook at?"
Me: "Actually you did."
Oz: "Yea, only for a second...."
Me: "It did take you ten minutes to stop puffing when we cantered up that last hill..."
Oz: "Not really....can I go fast?"
Me: "Nononononono, yes, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
I need to keep an eye on him because he is not going to be the type of horse to pace himself. He is so gung-ho and willing, I really need to learn to pace him and myself. He did dive right into his hay when we finally got back to the trailer and I hosed him down, and took a few sips of water, but we ended up cutting the ride short because the time it took him to cool down made me uncomfortable with continuing. We will get there, and I need to keep reminding myself that we are in no rush and have many seasons to go before we will truly have our own endurance.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Daydream Believer
A lot has happened since I last updated "the blog," I graduated from college, sent Oz to Endurance pony boot camp, got married, and bought a(nother) horse. Yep, you read that right, I not only didn't sell Oz, I decided I needed another four-legged crotch rocket. Well, I didn't actually expect to buy her but she's the "gets what she wants" type of girl and we clicked about as fast and smooth as a ballpoint pen. I mentioned her before under the "ridiculously overpriced" section of the last blog post. Thankfully, I clicked with her owner as well as we were able to make the situation work for the both of us, and so Oz has a sister in crime. Her name is Poplar, and because every Kentucky woman needs a beautiful name, and since she is about as Kentucky as a woman can get, she gets to be the state tree. Here she is in all her glory, there is no laughing allowed.
Yea, she ain't pretty underneath those lovely spots. She's long in the back, coarse in the head, thin in the neck, and she has the jumpers bump from hell. Yet, I love his mare and did from the moment I met her as she walked around her field refusing to be caught by this stranger until a suitable offering of nice hay and hand picked grass had been presented. I like her 'tude. Can you guess what her breeding is?
As for Oz man, I get to pick him up from boot camp in four days and I am ready to ride! I'll post again then with an update.
Yea, she ain't pretty underneath those lovely spots. She's long in the back, coarse in the head, thin in the neck, and she has the jumpers bump from hell. Yet, I love his mare and did from the moment I met her as she walked around her field refusing to be caught by this stranger until a suitable offering of nice hay and hand picked grass had been presented. I like her 'tude. Can you guess what her breeding is?
As for Oz man, I get to pick him up from boot camp in four days and I am ready to ride! I'll post again then with an update.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Facing the reality of a round hole and a square peg.
Where do I begin?
This past week has been one of forced contemplation, and of finally accepting some hard truths. I love my horse. He is a beautiful creature, my partner, and a trusted companion. However, in many ways, our existence together is holding one and other back. Oz is big, tall, imposing, powerful, springy, expressive, and ultimately born to do dressage work. He excels at it and it comes so easily to him. His willingness to please combined with his innate intelligence and unmasked athleticism make him a dream to train and ride, they always have. Yet, watching him under a true blue dressage trainer and astoundingly good rider, has made me both proud of him, as well as ashamed. I let him down in a way. He could have been such an excellent mount under someone with the know how to take him there, he thrives on the challenges which dressage training presents to him. He likes to use his brain, as funny as that sounds, and now that he is in a training program I can see what everyone has been telling me for years. He is a dressage horse. The end. I am finally facing reality.
I'm trying to squeeze a big square block into a small round hole, and its painfully slow progress. I'm not a dressage rider and I would never buy a dressage horse. So where do I go from here, now that I have finally accepted the fact that has been beating on my door for the past year. Do I still send him to the endurance trainer out east, as planned? See what she has to say? Or do I save my money, her time, and offer him for sale now and start over with a new horse? I honestly have no clue, and subsequently have been calling everyone I know, surely driving them nuts, trying to figure it out. Do you sell the best pain in the (you know what) you've ever known, or do you keep shoving a square peg into a round hole?
Bottom line is that, Oz is my horse in spirit and yet not in function.
(Ouch, right?)
So I did what any self respecting horse girl should never do when deciding whether or not to sell her beloved pony. I called my mentor, and promptly went online horse shopping. Probably not my smartest decision, but nevertheless. I found a few local contenders who seem like nice options, and one (very) distant contender (bred mare) who seems like a terrible option, but whom I quite like. Pricing seems up and down ranging from the solidly realistic to the completely delusional, but I could easily find a nice mount, locally, for a few grand. Yay, me. I'm going out to see one of the completely delusional ones this weekend, just to feel the waters so to speak. She's a mare, kind eye, ridiculously overpriced for what she is, but seems to be worth the look. I shouldn't be going, but it feels right somehow.
Other that the complete equestrian breakdown and the southern style blizzard, Oz and I are doing well. He is progressing in leaps and bounds, and is coming into his own as a dressage horse. He was off a few days before the storm hit, but apparently seems sound now. I haven't been able to leave my driveway, let alone make it to the barn in a week, but I hope to check on him as soon as the sheet of ice lining my neighborhood dissipates. I will keep updating as my though process moves along with the whole "to sell or not to sell" situation, and would appreciate any input or advice. I am ready to begin my green bean journey, and this time I'm not putting it off for anything, even my horse. Sorry bud.
This past week has been one of forced contemplation, and of finally accepting some hard truths. I love my horse. He is a beautiful creature, my partner, and a trusted companion. However, in many ways, our existence together is holding one and other back. Oz is big, tall, imposing, powerful, springy, expressive, and ultimately born to do dressage work. He excels at it and it comes so easily to him. His willingness to please combined with his innate intelligence and unmasked athleticism make him a dream to train and ride, they always have. Yet, watching him under a true blue dressage trainer and astoundingly good rider, has made me both proud of him, as well as ashamed. I let him down in a way. He could have been such an excellent mount under someone with the know how to take him there, he thrives on the challenges which dressage training presents to him. He likes to use his brain, as funny as that sounds, and now that he is in a training program I can see what everyone has been telling me for years. He is a dressage horse. The end. I am finally facing reality.
I'm trying to squeeze a big square block into a small round hole, and its painfully slow progress. I'm not a dressage rider and I would never buy a dressage horse. So where do I go from here, now that I have finally accepted the fact that has been beating on my door for the past year. Do I still send him to the endurance trainer out east, as planned? See what she has to say? Or do I save my money, her time, and offer him for sale now and start over with a new horse? I honestly have no clue, and subsequently have been calling everyone I know, surely driving them nuts, trying to figure it out. Do you sell the best pain in the (you know what) you've ever known, or do you keep shoving a square peg into a round hole?
Bottom line is that, Oz is my horse in spirit and yet not in function.
(Ouch, right?)
So I did what any self respecting horse girl should never do when deciding whether or not to sell her beloved pony. I called my mentor, and promptly went online horse shopping. Probably not my smartest decision, but nevertheless. I found a few local contenders who seem like nice options, and one (very) distant contender (bred mare) who seems like a terrible option, but whom I quite like. Pricing seems up and down ranging from the solidly realistic to the completely delusional, but I could easily find a nice mount, locally, for a few grand. Yay, me. I'm going out to see one of the completely delusional ones this weekend, just to feel the waters so to speak. She's a mare, kind eye, ridiculously overpriced for what she is, but seems to be worth the look. I shouldn't be going, but it feels right somehow.
Other that the complete equestrian breakdown and the southern style blizzard, Oz and I are doing well. He is progressing in leaps and bounds, and is coming into his own as a dressage horse. He was off a few days before the storm hit, but apparently seems sound now. I haven't been able to leave my driveway, let alone make it to the barn in a week, but I hope to check on him as soon as the sheet of ice lining my neighborhood dissipates. I will keep updating as my though process moves along with the whole "to sell or not to sell" situation, and would appreciate any input or advice. I am ready to begin my green bean journey, and this time I'm not putting it off for anything, even my horse. Sorry bud.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Oh what a relief it is...!
As of January, 19th, I officially own a diabetic horse. That's right ladies, the walnut brain's blood test results came back showing significantly elevated levels of insulin. The pleasantly plump, accident prone, punk, has done it again, and we embark on (yet another!) journey of discovery, frustration, and perseverance. His specific diagnosis is Insulin Resistance lending itself to Equine Metabolic Syndrome, and would you believe it, it just so happens that nearly 3/4ths of horse owners happen to be experts in the diagnosis and treatment of the condition! How darned fortunate is that?! I kid, I kid, however it sure seems like it! Luckily, some (actual) experts, my vet, and knowledgeable endurance gurus who have encountered the condition have steered Oz and I on the road to fit and happy pony land. The condition is, from what I gather, easily treatable with some basis management and we should still be green lit for our endurance goal. Simply broken down his new diet entails:
- No grain based products; with the exception of beet pulp (fed sparingly)
- Meals consisting of <10% combined sugar and starch content
- Grass hay with <10% combined sugar and starch content
- No cookies or sweet treats
- Limited access/no access to lush pasture
- Exercise, exercise, exercise...
- Exercise, exercise, exercise, exercise...
Bad news attended to, *phew*, its time to move on to the weekly recap of what the heck we did in and out of the arena over the past however many days. This week, Oz and I spent our first week with a local dressage trainer. She is absolutely wonderful, and I have seen bounding progress over the past few rides. Oz, very simply, is a dressage horse at his core, and I am merely forcing to wear biothane tack and then carry me for miles on end. In his element, occasionally I feel guilty watching him being ridden, just knowing what he could have been with a (smarter, better, faster, braver) more advanced rider can be cringe inducing. I am not bragging, but that horse is a far better animal than I am a rider, and seeing him ridden by a professional is eye opening.
So this week we are working on rapid fire trot to canter transitions, intermixed with lots of lateral bending and flexing, and lots of changes of direction. Doesn't sound too bad until you realize how much Oz likes to pop his right shoulder, and how woefully out of shape I am. Leg, leg, leg, leg, leg, and then jelly. I feel what I look like sometimes and it makes me want to get off and plead for forgiveness, almost. But! I have been feeling much stronger as a rider over the past few weeks of regular work, and I feel much more stable which is improving my confidence tremendously. However, I am having some difficulty relaxing through the pelvis and it is bugging the heck out of me as I have always had a soft seat. I hurt my hip a few weeks ago, and while it does not hurt anymore, I think the injury (in combination with my general weakness) has something to do with my stiffing up. I will be doing relaxation exercises during our warmups and at home, and will revisit the issue in a few weeks time.
Other than that, we had a delightful night ride in the arena and went on a toodle through the gelding field this week which was also lovely. I think I am almost mentally ready to tackle the open fields across the road soon, which we were frequenting before Oz's ligament issue last fall. I have regressed in confidence since then, but hope to be doing trot sets out there in no time. Pending there are no super scary Canadian geese resting in the pond, because if so, oh lordy...here we go again. I have to sit back and remember sometimes that I am ridding a 1,300 lb. animal with a brain the size of a smaller than average walnut. Knowing Oz, it might have a sputtering connection too!
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Why Edurance?
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| Oz and I |
When I first fell in love with the sport of Endurance, I was a little girl staring wide-eyed into The Encyclopedia of Horses. Something about the smiling riders clinging to the backs of Arabians, sweaty horses with their ears perked and eyes bright, and the magnitude of the classic Cougar Rock photograph never left me. I can still see the exact pictures used in the book, to this day, and they nag at me again and again, to make my dream my reality. Nearly 15 years after staring into my childhood bible, I am approaching the first checkpoint on my endurance journey. Well, actually more like the third, fourth, or four hundredth checkpoint. Or at least it feels like it!
I've had "the" horse, for seven years now, and while being a massive pain in the you-know-what, he has proven to be my four legged life partner. It has been a long road for my two year old endurance prospect, who had a sneaky little stifle issue as well as a hot-to-trot attitude. I just now feel that we are finally nearing the end of the "what else could go wrong" bridge. My journey with this horse has been a personal one, we grew up together, we went to college together and now as we approach graduation we take our first steps in the big wide world, together. Oz is and has been the most unexpected mentor I could have never asked for. He has taught me painful lessons in humility, patience, and persistence. He has professed a calm in me that I doubt I would have found without him, and has continued to test me in ways I could never have expected. Like when he decides to spook at the wash stall...every single time we walk by it.
Approaching the end of my college undergrad career, I am finally able to take a hard look at what a life of endurance riding means to me and have, with the help of many, decided to throw my heart into the sport I have always wanted to love. The first thing that pops into my mind when I think endurance, is horses. In particular, strong, fit, healthy, happy, and beloved, horses. The endurance "mindset" when it comes to the horse, is something which I continue to be excited by. My desire to be an endurance rider is paralleled by my desire to form a deep bond with my horse, and to know him in ways an hour every other day in an arena just can't provide. I also have grown quickly attached to the members of the endurance community, who have shown me nothing but compassion and support as I try (and fail, repeatedly) to get my green bean butt to a ride on a sound horse. I have an amazing mentor, who's support has been the difference between giving up and getting on. And I have finally paid my dues and have officially joined my local club, the DBDR, and the AERC. I keep having this feeling as though everything is coming around.
We have gotten over the initial saddle hump, the untimely injury hump, and the three months of pasture rest hump. I have a saddle that fits, an "endurance" saddle pad on order, and a girth extender on loan until my fat horse loses his mid life crisis. We have two more months of winter, and two months of dressage work with a very generous and incredibly understanding trainer. Following this, Mr. O to the Z, heads east for boot camp, endurance style while I stay at home and relearn how to do more than lift a pencil again. We reunite in May, and if all goes as planned the local trails wont know what hit them and we will have come full circle. I will be the rider, smiling, atop a big happy bay, decked out in crazy biothane tack, crusing along down the trail at our first ride. I plan on buying that ride photo, and placing it over the one in the Encyclopedia of the Horse, and taking my place among my dreams.
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