The Return of the T-Rex

So, its been a while.

The Hippo and I are still here, but there were plans in the works that required serious attention. (Pause for dramatic effect)  End result?  We just bought and moved onto our own farm.

Yes, you read that correctly.  We bought a farm for the horse that was SUPPOSED to have been a resale project.  Well played, big mare, well played indeed.

This, of course, expands the cast of characters and also the potential for mayhem.  So, let me introduce:

• Aaron, my infinitely patient husband, farm caretaker and baker.  Animals love him but don't respect him, there's a LOT of animals...
• Elliot, the English Cocker Spaniel aka 'The Tiny Tyrant'.  He tries to loudly rule the world but really only rules Eddie and annoys the cat.
• Eddie, the English Setter aka 'The Spotted Dork'.  He's an adolescent whirlwind of fur, hugs, chewing and enthusiasm; when he's not sound asleep on his back.
• Klein, the ancient cat aka 'Mr Peepers', who REALLY wishes the Tiny Tyrant would stop with the flying tackle pounces
• Jasper, Essie's companion, aka 'The Ghetto Unicorn'  Mashing burrs into his mane and forelock isn't just a game, its a calling. He won't stop until he has a giant burr-filled dread lock that stands up on its own in a strong wind. 

And now?  I need a truck, a trailer, and a farm name

Aaron?  He needs a ride on mower, and soon

Countdown and Cross Country Vests

Its almost here! Its almost here!  The first horse trial of the year!  Not that I'm excited or anything, but OH MY GOD its like Christmas in June.

Ready everyone?

Tack has been cleaned and boots polished. Laundry is ... ongoing.  Sweet merciful god, the laundry, its unreal how much gear is required for one person and one horse to go off property for 2 days. Then again it doesn't help that I tend to bring back up items in case of bad luck or weather.

Lets total it up shall we?

• Horse: saddle, bridle, reins (2 sets), breastplate w/ martingale, neck strap (2), saddlepad (2), halfpad, xc boots (4), bell boots (2), stadium boots (2), cooler, rain sheet, fly bonnet
• Rider: helmet, breeches (3), show shirt (2), show coat (2), gloves (white and black), dressage whip (2), jumper bat, Sun shirt (2-3), riding boots, spurs, overshoes, rain boots, sneakers, boot socks (3 pr) ... 

On second thought, we need to not do that.  I might start adding it all up $-wise and have a stroke. 

One of the things I had to dig out of a box after a long winter was my XC crash vest. This means I've been sitting around wearing the bloody thing to re-mold it to my shape somewhat. So I've been reminded of a basic tenent of XC vest manufacturers

XC riders do not come with large breasts installed

Contrary to this belief. guess what I have? This makes my XC prep entertaining and a bit R-rated.

1. Wiggle into vest, squeeze elbows firmly to sides and try to reach zipper with fingertips
2. Reach into vest, grab sports bra strap and haul tits up into position, repeat on the other side
3. Tug vest down, check that tits are still firmly squashed under chin
4. Attempt to climb on horse while unable to lower chin to see where foot should be aimed for stirrup
5. Hum 'Ride of the Valkyries' loudly as you rampage around the course.
6. Mutter 'Remember the vest adds 20lbs' when you look at photos.

Seriously, who needs an air vest when I have these? 

Trying to take it off is even worse

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!

Guess who picked up a new saddle?  Well, new to me but damned if I care.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  You all saw it coming a mile away after sitting in that Voltaire at HITS Ocala. I came back with saddle fever.  After trolling through almost every 2nd hand Voltaire monoflap with similar measurement listed online in North America, I had pretty much made my peace with waiting a looong time to get a saddle that would help me more over fences.

And then a friend shared this ad on my Facebook feed ...

Helloooooo Sexy!!!

If you aren't familiar, that's an out of production Passier Military XC saddle, the OG of popular XC monoflaps, and in the same lighter leather as the rest of my tack. Open 18" seat, light, external knee/calf blocks and a large suede section for extra grip under the knee block.  I've coveted this saddle for years.

Despite the long history of Passier jumping saddle flaps being cartoonishly long for my legs, I sent the question "What's the stirrup bar to flap bottom measurement?"  Desperation and a digestible price make strange bedfellows since history on other models has been 14, 15 and even 16 inch flaps.
Back comes the answer ...13".  Wait, WHAT?!?!?!    That's ... workable.  A 12.5" extra forward flap is my sweet spot.

I was practically vibrating in excitement and enlisted a local to let me try her saddle, which was the same model and tree width.

Throw on the saddle and fasten.  Hmm that's not bad looking.
Longe for a few minutes.  Hippo seems fine with it, no obvious discomfort.
Climb on and warm up a bit.  Hippo feels like herself, moving nicely from the ground and nothing seems to be in my way walk, trot, canter or jump.  Even better, my legs appear to have stopped Spoonering. (Even though riding in yoga pants, to test for worst case)

Above: GP rider Richard Spooner
Spoonering: (verb) to successfully ride a jump while one's lower legs fly around at seemingly impossible angles 

The message went out that night, "Send that sucker my way" YEEHAW!!!

Jogging

The apocolypse is nigh.  I've started jogging. 

I'm not designed for jogging.  I have a (pre)history of tripping and falling on flat ground, at a walk. (Scuff, SPLAT, "She's down again...")  I've even managed to sprain an ankle while standing still.  And yet, here I am ... trying to jog ... again.    Last time I tried jogging was with my sister.  1 min walk/1 min jog alternating.  I made it to the 2nd jog segment and *twist* *snap* *crash* "SONOFABITCH!"

Then, WHY?!?!" you ask?  2 months until eventing season starts and my gasping words at the end of XC still resound in my head, "I need ... to take ... up ... jogging." (wheeze, pant, pant, gasp)  I tried the gym this winter but overdid the bodyweight training and there went the shoulders.   And the cardio machines? They bore the snot out of me.  Besides, its lower body fitness and endurance I need anyway and the dogs need exercise ... so jogging it is.

Of course, my version of jogging is more like most people's slow speed walk.  I move with the speed of a glacier and the elegance of an earthquake, but whatever :)

A Hippo Qualifies for Sainthood

So, its been awhile since I shared some stories of the Hippo's progress.  At last update, she was making the difficult transition to acting like an adult.  I'm pleased to say this is almost complete.   Spooking is almost non-existant except for the occasional "Hey, I'm super bored/this is hard.  Can I distract you a little? No? Ok, never mind"

We've been luckier this winter, not so much snow.  Lots of mud though, lots ... and lots ... and lots of mud. The Hippo loves mud. Every day of thaw she rolls, frolics and generally wallows. I arrive to a horse covered in mud from eyeballs to toes, sincerely grateful for the miracle of winter blankets and hoods.  So much for the idea of mares preferring to be clean.  Its ridiculous.

You think I'm exaggerating?  I wish! 

The past weekend was so gorgeous that we were able to get out of the ring and hack on the logging trails for the first time in a couple months. Not that I need 'good' weather, but it was the lack of ice that made it possible.  (Ice + rocky terrain and hills = Staying home thanks.)   Off we went, over hill and dale, through puddle and bog.  We even got to throw in a few hand gallops on the logging trail, to the delight of horse and human.  Go all the places, see all the things.

Rinse. repeat on Sunday.  I will say that it was a different experience settling into the saddle on Sunday though.  Not for the horse, she was still keen and thrilled to be headed away from the arena. I discovered that I had a few bruised & sore spots in, um, delicate areas.  Note to fellow riders, 'saddle sores' are a fantastic motivator for 2 point practise as you ride across country at walk, trot or canter. Your ... butt (yeah, that's it) ... will thank you.  Your thighs, however, will not.

The real qualifier for sainthood through was last night, as a big mare carted my tail over my
first 3' jump combinations in a decade.  See, that 3' marker is a big deal for me.  Its that line where horses can't just pull their legs up to jump, they have to rock back.  It requires a better horse and a better ride.

How do I feel about 3'+ jumps?  This sums it up perfectly

Its also where things fell apart with my last 2 horses.  The chicken had a measuring tape in his head and it was an utter crap shoot whether he'd jump or not it came to 3'.  Even if I didn't know, he did.  And the rocket?  Let's say her cantering her towards 3' with little control, and less idea from where she would decide to jump, was a worrisome prospect on a good day.

Well, I decided that I was going to give it a go last night.   Cranked some tunes, planned the ride with a good friend and off we went.  Pick up canter, leg on, throw the reins at her and pray the mare will ignore the doubts emanating from my hands/legs/seat.

Did someone say 3' combination?

First fence, powers off the ground, awesome. Leg on for the one stride, don't grab her face, leg on for take off.  And BOOM, big mare hits the boosters and blasts off the ground. I find myself squawking profanity and and wondering if I'm going to need a parachute.  Horse canters away wondering what the big deal is.

We repeat a few more times so I can set it in my brain that SHE is fine at 3'.  I just need to do the same thing as always.  Sit up, leg, and throw the reins at her.  She's got this, for which I am supremely grateful.

Yes, she's that awesome.  Well, today she is.

The Eventer's Prayer

Psalm 23Aging Eventer Version (AEV)

My coach is my shepherd; I shall not rest

She maketh me thrice walk cross country; she leadeth me twice around stadium

She restoreth my balls; she leadeth me to the path of the bar for my horse's sake

Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of coffins, I will fear no drop fences; for thou art near me; thy lessons and light mockery they comfort me

Thou preparest a drink before me in the presence of my competitors; thou poureth forth the tequila; my cup runneth over

Surely old injuries and sore muscles shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the poor for ever.

Thanks be to Aleve

Welcome to Adulthood, my dear Hippo

August marked a full year with the Hippo, the first consistent year she's ever had.  With the end of her first year comes the transition to being asked to behave like an adult who has to work for a living.

The tone of our rides lately:
Yes, adulting is hard
No, adulting isn't optional
Yes, you may have an apple afterward

I hear you, dear horse

I mean, I get it.  Adulting is highly overrated.  But if I can work full-time to keep her sheltered, she can suck it up to work 5+ hours per week.

But this transition to adulthood has to happen. Now we're transitioning to fall, so aptly named.  Its a season of crisp temperatures, shorter days and increasing equine dumbassery.  And the Hippo is feeling much more full of herself.  Evidently the temptation to spook at everything/nothing for sheer entertainment purposes has been irresistible. However, I appear to have found a solution!

Welcome to the Samuel L Jackson school of attitude adjustment, where spooking results in an instant Pulp Fiction-esque response.

Or in our case "Spook again, Hippo"

Lest you think I am unreasonably harsh, I did give her 5 months to acclimatize in the ring + 24/7 turnout + regular work + hacking + majority roughage diet. And did I mention that the behavior was almost absent at horse shows?  Hippo logic, spook = distract = don't have to work so hard.

We're approaching the point where I see my darling mare eyeball or tilt an ear at things she usually spooks at and decide "It ain't worth it."

Not worth spooking? Good decision

Thank god for that, because she's usually spooking at the arena itself.  You see, we're in a cover-all type ring ... on top of a hill ... on the ocean ... going into winter. The end walls of the arena wiggle, waver and 'flap' randomly and with increasing frequency.   And its a very, very long time until spring.

The flapping, like these adorable ears ... with more 'exciting' results

Hug Your Horses

A great horse passed today. Not a famous horse, or a fancy horse, a big plain bay with just a little white.

A big goof who happily came out of a field to show his new person the wonders of eventing; who gave a returning rider wings and heart.

He'd gallop madly down a beach but always keep his person safe. Rampaging over ditches, locking merrily onto jumps with a spring and a tail swish.  Honest and kind, with a hint of the devil, so no one got bored.

A practically perfect partnership, over far too soon.  Wither scratches and hair nibbles, evening rides with an old dog dancing behind, hacks with friends, competitions filled with laughter, apples and cider.

Hugs your horses, its always too soon.

Super-TRex: The Quest for Courage (or Balls of Steel)

Did I mention this yet?  I don't think I mentioned this yet.  In a fit of lunacy, I told my coach one of my winter goals.  Specifically the "holy crap, what am I doing, what's come over me?" goal of getting comfortable jumping low wide oxers.

Did someone say oxer? AIEEEEEE!

Seriously.  Back in, what was it ... April?  I'm pretty sure it was April. I took the Hippo over her first oxer and my first one in forever.  It scared the crap out of me.  The front portion of oxer was a 12" high cross rail, the back rail was 18" high and the whole thing was around 18" wide. We jumped it twice and that was enough for me until the end of July.  Then again, my maximum comfortable jumping height was 2'-2'3" depending on the day ....

Just in case you've forgotten, the Hippo has 2' high kneecaps.  So she was not the one with the problem. 

Of course, by the time the end of July rolled around, I started to realized I'd entered and paid for a competition that was guaranteed to have a couple oxers, at least.  For both of our sakes, perhaps it was a good idea to introduce the big mare to the concept.  We're talking about 2' wide, maximum but still likely to cause me to leap in to micro manage at the slightest hiccup. (Remember the STOP HELPING ... yup, oxers) 

And I was comfortable with it!

So I don't know what came over me last week.  Tuesday I was working with a friend on a combination and (dun dun DUNNNN) raised the 2nd fence to THREE WHOLE FEET HIGH! The horse doesn't care, at all, its just more fun than dressage in her mind. The next night? A group of us got together for a group schooling session.  By the end I was asking for the 2nd fence to be raised. 

C: How many holes do you want it raised?

Me: Two, no wait ... three's good. (Thinking that looks around 2'9", we're good)

Horse: Sproing!  No problem 

Me: Want to put it up a couple more?

C:  Sure! 

Horse: Ok mom, I'll give it a go!  

That one was a little harder, Hippo needs a bit more practise, no big deal.  Then I take a closer look, that fence height isn't 3'ish, its 3'6"+.  Then there was the lesson where my coach started working on the aforementioned 'low wide oxer goal', which finished off at 5' wide. I don't know how long this streak of courage, or insanity, will last.   That's like ... 3 jumping milestones in a week?  For both us at the same time?

Did we just do that?!

Inspired by sister in spirit, Wendy of Riding with Scissors, I've done a little shopping.  Some (literal) balls of steel, to help keep my nerves ice cold when my (metaphorical) balls of steel fail me or to celebrate when they don't. Cheers! 

Because we are ... well ... sometimes

Why is the 'insert beverage' always gone?

Sweet mother of god, there's not enough coffee in the world. Screw TBT, I don't have the energy to mine the archives.

Ditto the coffee...

You know know you're in trouble, post-riding lesson, when you start with a quadruple espresso yet still want to stab your eye out with a spork to distract from the fatigue.  Never mind the unfortunate side effects that come with that much caffeine hitting your system that quickly. (sprint)

Why so tired you ask?  Well, my coach asked the infamous question last night, "So, what do you want to work on?" and like an idiot I responded, "Up to you".  Cue a mischievous gleam in her eye. This didn't bode well. Neither did the quick warm up and the infamous casual words "Come on over here for a minute."

DANGER WILL ROBINSON!  I know this trick, she's trying to get me in arm's reach.  Nothing good ever came from getting within arm's reach of a mischievous looking riding coach.  (Seriously, its a good thing y'all don't play poker.)

Did she say come here?

Me: walk horse to 10 feet away
Coach: No no, come here
Me: walk horse to 8 feet away
Coach: No, really, come here
Me: Do I look that stupid?

After a few token protests (I'm old, its expected) the stirrups are crossed and out of reach of my desperate little toes.

Time to die

Walk, trot (crap), walk, trot (crap, crap, bounce)
Turn by throwing one's ass to the inside, scramble quickly as one's right ass cheek ends up alone in the air with no saddle or horse underneath it. BOING
Stop, unclamp legs and ass to prevent bouncing. Rinse repeat.

Ok, This isn't going so badly, which (of course) means we are going to canter.  Cue the peremptory "I know I'm going to hate you in a minute" and off we work on a few canter transitions

Somehow this engages my inner 'fuck it' at which point I volunteer to jump the cavaletti ... without stirrups ... repeatedly (WTF?)

Which turns into jumping a low bounce combination ... still without stirrups ...

I mean, not so bad for a dinosaur who hasn't ridden without stirrups in around 10 years and hasn't (purposely) jumped without stirrups in 20.  Its going to be a looooong winter, I may need to start drinking before lessons.

Consciousness, balance, the ability to tame one's wandering bastard of a lower leg ...

All My Horse Wants for Christmas, Is For Me To Stop Helping

I disappeared for a couple weeks to prep for our (likely) last show of the season. But hey, new material right?

Choices, choices.  With the choice of a dressage show or a jumper show, I decided to take the lessons of the horse trial into consideration.  Jumps = more to keep the hippo's mind busy. No jumps = mental space to obsess over the invisible gremlins (with purple spots) she insists exist to terrify (entertain) her.  Jumper show it is, meaning work on courses and stretching our (my) comfort zone.

My current coach is a great fit for this horse.  There's no time for boredom.  Did the jumping exercise right once? Change it! Need her to focus?  Its a sea of poles for her to pick her legs through.
My job? Sit up, hands forward and leg.  How hard could it be?

Either you're new here, or you know this is a trick question.

I'm a fixer.  Have a problem? I like to fix it, fiddle with it and come up with a few options.  Broken piece of tack?  Here borrow my spare reins/stirrup irons, girth, helmet, saddle pad.  Something loose?  Here, duct tape.  Cell phone acting weird?  Here, I'll take a look.  See a pattern?

So, when we come cantering into a sea of poles with trumpets blaring, I have a tendency to try to fiddle and 'help'.  I also tend to get especially 'helpful' when there are spread jumps ... you know, oxers. 'Round the turn we go, 3 canter poles ... I fiddle, horse says "WTF?" and proceeds to canter through the poles like an epileptic spider due to my aforementioned 'help'.

That is help?

Coach:  Stop doing that.
Horse: Stop doing that.
Me:  I was helping!
Horse and Coach: STOP HELPING!

Right.  Sit up, hands forward and leg.  'Round the turn we go, 3 canter poles then same with a non-spread fence. Good stuff.

We got this!

Coach:  Yeah! Like that!
Horse: Yeah! Like that! 
Me:  Awesome!

All right, we've got this shit!  Sit up, hands forward and leg.  'Round the turn we go, 3 canter poles and a spread fence. I stare at the oxer instead of the poles, we get in funny to the first pole and....

FIDDLE
Horse turns back into the epileptic spider over the poles, leaps at what seems like her only distance choice while I scream SHIT! at the top of my lungs as we proceed to bulldoze the top poles of the jump.

Coach:  Stop doing that.
Horse: Stop doing that.
Me:  I was helping!
Horse and Coach: STOP HELPING!

Funny thing?  When I stuck to the plan, the hippo sailed through without a care in the world.
I really need to learn to stop helping.

Foot Stomping Hippo Tantrums

Well, its been a little over a week since we returned from the Horse Trial and the weather has been awful for riding.  Its been HOT and HUMID.  When I say humid, I don't mean 60%-70%, "Wow its muggy" humidity.  I mean 90%-100%, "It feels like I'm breathing hot soup" humidity.

I don't remember this moss and algae on my house yesterday...

So, there's been a lot of very quiet rides.  Riding to the lake at a walk, then walking around in the lake, then back to the barn was still resulting in a sweat drenched horse.  Even the velociraptors have been dragging their tails.  Yesterday, finally, the humidity actually broke ... to 65%!  After the past week, it felt positively chilly.

25 deg C, 65% humidity and I'm almost cold?

So, a great night to make the Hippo work for a living and the first serious ride after the competition. The big mare has decided that dressage is boooooring. I disagree, but she making it clear that working on rhythm, forward and relaxed needs some livening up. "Did you see that monster hiding inside the traffic cone?" *wiggle tapdance* "I'm sure I heard something dangerous outside" *zoom forward* "Have I told you about the dangers of barn swallows?" *twitch dodge*

Seriously, didn't you see that?

Short version, she's just screwing with me.  We both know it, which is why I've also set up some jumps to occupy her busy brain.  Low stuff, easy to blend in with the regular work. Good plan, right?

Someone has come back from the Horse Trial with higher confidence about jumping. Trotting fences is boring, let's canter! Zoom,WHEE on landing.  How about a RAMPAGE towards the fence?  Jump, land turn?  How about I start turning AS I jump? Sounds easier to me!

And if she doesn't get to do it her way? Stompity stomp stomp, pout, flounce around in a huff, act like a 1200lb toddler in the cereal aisle.  Because she knows what she's doing, and I am getting in the way of a good time.

I'm the unreasonable asshole dressed in black

Trust me, when I say that this is actually a good thing. She thinks jumping is fun and wants to get to the party. I just need to make sure she doesn't party too hard for her own good and stay on.  Let's just hope I can manage the 'stay on' part

Craaaaap!!!!

#TBT: Who Cut My Horse's Brakes Lines?

So, I've told you guys a bit about my old pony and my old hunter/eventer/13 years of trying ro squash a square peg in a round hole.  I haven't told much about my old event/dressage horse. What a mare. Three quarters thoroughbred and one quarter percheron, built like a rugby fullback and thought she was a race horse.  She wasn't that far wrong either.  That mare could GO!

Which caused the occasional steering problem...

Like many mares, and women, she had some rather firmly held opinions and resented being told what to do. (Get your knickers out of a twist.  We women hate being 'told'.  I know it, you know it, let's just sip some wine and move on)  There's an old saying. You can tell a gelding, but ask a mare and discuss it with a stallion.  Damned if it isn't the truth.

Go ahead, TELL a mare, I dare you

After moving the old guy on to a semi-retirement home that I wanted to move into myself, I started the inevitable horse hunt.

Criteria:
1) NOT A STOPPER (can't imagine why. hey?)
2) Eventing experience ideal
3) Decent jumping form
3) Accomodate the T-Rex's tail

Which led me to the eventing mare; solid, forward, not huge.  I try her out with my sister there. Its winter, we're in the indoor. Walk/trot/canter, jump a few things. Mare is taking me to the jumps, not stalling, YAY!

Barn Owner "She can ride, can't she?"
Sister "Yup"
Barn Owner "And no concerns jumping towards home? Gutsy"
... This is when we both should have paused for a second...

Ride mare a few times, like her, buy her, take her home.  Notice that she tends to 'build momentum" on course, but we're still in the indoor so no big deal right?  Then we move outside in the spring.
Bigger ring, more space, more ... ummm... momentum?

Mare has a philosphy "Sit down, shut up and hang on", combine this with an apparent lack of brakes in her snaffle ... and an irresistible love affair with the long spot. It was the beginning of some interesting lessons.

Otherwise known as the "Hail Mary Long Spot"

Which brings me to this:

Dear Eventing Snaffle purists, aka 'snaffle nazis', there exist some horses for which no amount of 'flatwork' will provide a ridable horse over fences once a jump appears in front of them.  I know you will squawk vocally that this is a rider issue. That all horses should be able to jump in a snaffle, preferably a loose ring, french link.  I would invite you to ask for the opportunity to demonstrate this miracle on one of these jumping 'attack machines', preferably XC.  I will cheerfully attend this demonstration, drink in hand as you waterski off into the sunset.

Just much ... much faster

Who Delivered The Launch Codes?

Well, the Hippo and I completed our first Horse Trial this weekend.  Happily, this old T-Rex managed to keep the Hippo between herself and the ground at all times, which is always a cause for celebration!

Luck wasn't really with us for the dressage phase.  It ran in an indoor arena the Hippo hadn't seen yet. Open doors, hidden sounds sources, strange environment and an inexperienced horse equalled a horse on high alert.  But, we worked through it and completed so its all good in my book!

The hippo seems to REALLY like big open spaces, it might have something to do with the fact she doesn't feel restricted by walls . She can stretch out and get loose.  That was when I figured out something might have changed during our cross country jumping warm up.  We hopped a couple low x shaped jumps.  Hmmm, a little more oomph than usual but not a bad thing.

Then we jumped a spread fence annnnnd blast off!

Yup, kind of like this..

Next thing I know I'm squawking profanity as I feel myself nearly shot clear of the saddle by the power in the jump underneath me.  Holy shit, where did THAT come from?!

(All praise extra sticky deerskin seat riding pants AND neck straps AND sticky stuff to glue one's boots to the saddle.)

My deerskin breeches may get a shrine 

Evidently someone delivered the launch codes to the Hippo's jump capability. Make no mistake, this is awesome. Its also a little (lot) disconcerting to be headed to my first cross country course in a decade on a horse that has discovered its fun to jump WAY UP over fences. Off we go to the cross country field.  (Did I mention the big mare jumped her first XC fences the day before? Yeah, no big deal.)

Count down from the start box ... 5... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Go! Good luck!  It doesn't matter that we are walking out of the startbox, a gunshot of adrenaline hits my system.  Its XC, GO!

Walk out, trot to the first fence.  Hippo is befuddled.  Where are we going?  Why are we leaving everyone?  Is that log important? This field is huge!  Did you say something about a log?  Did you mean look at the log? Where'd my buddies go?  Oh crap, you meant THAT log?

(wiggle, wiggle, steer, steer, cluck, jump, we're over) This continues for the first 1/3 of the course but, god love the Hippo, she still jumps everything. By the 1/2 mark, it clicks in.  OH, you point and I jump.  Got it lady!

Just in time for her to lock onto the series of fences heading downhill. Sit up sit up goddamnit sit your giant head back in case she ... guess who re-reads the launch codes? Even from a trot, she jumps the fence like a monster! Immense power but holy crap!

Deploy launch!

From that fence onward, it was just point, sit up and squeeze.  No rush, no hesitation, just a chill feeling of "Got it lady, let's do it"

The best feeling XC round of my life, but do I ever need to take up jogging!

However, falling off on XC from lack of oxygen is WAY worse

TBT: A Prescription for Success

Ahhh, Throwback Thursday.  Time to mine the vaults for a tale or two.  When you've been around as long as I have, its not like there's a lack of material. So, let's talk about competition nerves.

Anyone out there have them?  Because I do and always have. Historically, my competition nerves have been so bad that my coach started recommending that I 'drink something'.
... when I was 12/13
... with my family's support*.
Hell, my poor mother used to offer me sangria in an effort to help. Seriously, I was a nervous wreck.

Granted, in hindsight, my 'perfect pony' was actually a 5 yo appendix quarter horse, with limited training, no brakes, in its first year of showing over fences, in the hunter division. (Make it pretty and don't forget to smile!)  Oh yeah, and I was 12, and a goody two shoes.  No imbibing for me.

My brain as a child. I learned to drown that out in adulthood

Fast forward to converting to eventing with the Giant Chicken as an adult. Yes, still competing.  Yes, still panicky nervous. Yes, the money might be better invested in therapy.

Of course not! Didn't you read my post "We have a problem"?

Guess what my new coach tentatively suggested?  Alcohol!  Specifically, sparkling wine and oj aka Mimosas.  No hesitation in taking the recommendation this time, that's for sure.  (Though the laughter and enthusiastic embracing of the suggestion must have been unnerving.) Ah, mimosas, the nervous riders best friend. Because it isn't dysfunctional drinking in the am if its mixed with orange juice. Similarly Caesers or Bloody Marys but tomato juice, blech.  Plus, tomato juice and white breeches are a baaaad mix.

I don't have a problem

Welcome to the T-Rex XC course routine.

1. Grab sippy cup (adult size) 
2. Fill with mimosa (mostly wine, some oj for appearances)
3. Start drinking.
4. Walk XC course, muttering "Its not that bad" SCHLURP "It'll be fine" 
5. Sober up for dressage

How the hell am I going to get a horse over all this?

*My parents were/are awesome. No one forced me to compete. The neurosis is entirely mine

TBT - A Tale of the Giant Chicken

Since Throwback Thursday is a thing now, I think I'll use it to tell some older stories of times and horses past.

Back in the swamps of time, when I was a much younger T-Rex, I rode the Giant Chicken. He was big, with mottled grey plumage and utterly unpredictable about jumping.  You know those amazing horses that can jump from anywhere?  His gift was that he could stop from anywhere, including ON takeoff.  The Chicken could (and occasionally did) stop standing on his hind legs partway through launch sequence.

Failure in launch sequence is disturbing

Of course, I did what any young T-Rex would do.  I learned slowly, verrrrry slowly.  I was sure I could fix the Chicken.  With enough positive experiences, re-training and encouragement, I could convince him that jumping was the way to go!

Come on Chicken!  Jumping is fun!!! 

And maybe changing the environment would help too?  He wasn't reliable in a ring, with jumps that fall down.  How about we switch to eventing?!?  I'd always wanted to do eventing! Cross country looks super cool!   With a rider inexperienced at XC riding and a chicken of a jumping horse, what could go wrong?

Seriously, SO stupid

And go eventing we did! The one serious advantage was that there was no penalty for trotting jumps. This was awesome because when a horse isn't reliable over fences, speed is NOT your friend.  The faster we went, the faster he could stop/prop/spin, the more likely I would end up a doing a good impression of a lawn dart.

Remember Lawn Darts?   They were awesome.  Best Darwinism experiment ever!

Canter canter canter, trot trot trot, kickkickkick. Come on Chicken!  Off we'd go. Spook at the photographer in the bushes. Hop this, evil eye that, usually with at least one stop around course.  Both of us sweating from anxiety.   Me: Is he going to jump?  Him: Am I going to jump?

Then came our shining moment in eventing.  Heading out on XC with my coach's word's ringing in my ears, "If he tries to stop keep your shoulders back, leg on and kick him over.  He'll jump it"  She really should have said "When he tries to stop" but bless her for being positive and supportive no matter what. (See Reg?  I still remember)  We get about half way around the course to a 2'9" solid gate.

SCREECH! On come the brakes. SqueezeSqueezeSqueeze KickKickKick Its not a refusal if he doesn't step backwards/sideways.  And then the miracle happens! He goes over the gate!

Except not the way you think.

 I feel/see him lift up one front leg, wave it in the air and then put it down on the other side of the fence.  Oh ... crap.  Now he is straddling a solid fence. Vet bills and crutches wing through my tiny brain as I continue to push forward, if he goes into reverse we're screwed.

Up comes the other front leg, wave and place on the landing side of the fence.  And repeat for back half of his body.

I sigh, we continue around the rest of the course. Canter canter canter, trot trot trot, kickkickkick. Come on Chicken!

At the finish, my coach's words?  "When I said to kick him over the fence, that's not quite what I meant"

You think?

Did I mention I had the Chicken for 13 years?  Yup, I was that slow to learn.

Introducing the Dancing Hippo ...

Its gotten to the point that I should properly introduce my partner in crime, the Dancing Hippo.  As I said recently, she's gorgeous, solid and athletic; with the bonus that she makes my T-Rex tail look smaller.   I mean, look at that face!  Its adorable!

Soft eyes & flappy ears get me every time.

The Dancing Hippo is my dressage prospect. When I got her, I intended to train and sell fairly quickly.  Turns out she requires a lot more time in the finishing process.  Not so much like clay sculpture, a lot more like marble.  Going to be beautiful but takes a little (lot) more time.

The hippo doesn't respond so well to rushing things...

Hang on, you say?  Thought you were the T-Rex EVENTER?  What's with this prissy, dancing, dressage bullshit?

Well, back in the stone ages, I used to event and jump. (See what I did there? har dee har har) Blah blah blah, hit the ground a few too many times, horse that wouldn't jump consistently, horse without brakes, bills to pay, getting old, stupid knees, and don't forget gravity (that unforgiving bitch)

So, I converted to dressage.  Its an endless puzzle, the methods go back to the dawn of time and NO obstacles. Awesome, its elegant, and perfect for the mildly obsessive.  (Note to friends of the T-Rex, stop laughing at 'mildly'.  Let me have my delusions)

Buy the hippo. Train the hippo. Find out that the hippo is utterly steady about obstacles.  Not so much about open doors, weird sounds or ponies in zebra fly sheets ... again I digress.  Six months in, slowly add in poles, then raised poles then low crosses etc.   Some call it 'desensitizing', I call it the 'boiling a frog' method.

Evidently the hippo enjoys cross training ... and now we're scheduled to drop a toe into the eventing world.  I get my dressage, she gets her obstacles and hopefully the T-Rex doesn't fall into a tar pit ...

Someday soon ...