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 :)

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

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 ...

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: Leaving Room For Interpretation

Oh look, its thursday!  Time to dive back into prehistory again.

One of my favorite sayings is "What I said and what you heard weren't the same thing".  This proves true repeatedly when you start learning to ride ... scratch that ... during your entire riding education. Its understandable when you think about it.

A rider is trying to coordinate their limbs (all 4 of them) and balance on a moving surface, while coordinating the horse's limbs, and trying to hear what their coach's instruction over their own struggle to breathe at the same time.   It might be easier to juggle pitchforks and flaming torches while reciting Shakespeare, on a surfboard.  So, a little mis-interpretation at the time is understandable.

Friggin' Amateur

Just a sidenote, but I refuse to adapt to this 'trainer' shenanigans.  If you pay the person to educate your horse, they are a trainer.  If you pay them to educate you, they are a coach.  If their primary job is to teach you, they are not a trainer, unless you are a seal...  Unless you happen to be a competitive horse riding seal, at which point, carry on! (And send video, I'm begging you, because I need to see this) Rant over and back to your regularly scheduled T-Rex

The truly epic incidents tend to happen when your coach isn't there, you're riding independently and have had time to process.

One of these incidents was back when I had my first pony, the aforementioned 'perfect pony'. There were two instructions at work that day.

1. If she does 'x', use your stick
2. When you can't stop, point them at the wall.  Then they'll stop.

You might be able to guess where some of this is going... stay with me.

Pony does 'x', I use stick.  I don't remember what 'x' was. I do remember the acceleration underneath me, vividly. Pony shoots forward like the proverbial scalded cat.

Not good, need brakes.

No brakes.

Pony is galloping off with me indignantly, as she has taken great affront. So, I point her at the nearest piece of the fence line of the outdoor ring while riding in the (ever so classical and elegant) water skiing position.

Did you know that 'wall' and 'arena perimeter fence' don't mean the same thing to a pissed off pony mare?

I mean, I still don't but then?  Wow.

Because I sure did when I felt her front feet lift off the ground to clear the arena fence line, which happened to be between 4' and 4'6" high. To this day, I still don't remember why I used my stick. I sure as hell remember picking myself up off the ground on the wrong side of the fence line uncertain how I got there, with my pony standing beside me inquisitively.

The main difference? Mine jumped the whole damn fence, and I was a kid.

And to this day, I haven't used a fence line as an emergency stop, which brings me to my next favorite saying.

Pain teaches ;)

Again and again ... and again

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.

Stone Age Inspiration from the T-Rex Eventer

I have a few heroes in equestrian sport.  It should come as no surprise that they are even closer being to fossils than I am.

Meet ... George Morris, now in his mid 70's.  Since I did start off in the hunter/jumper world, back when the world was new and the continents where still one, George was one of the first greats to shape my perspectives on riding with deeply inspirational and motivating words.  Words like:

See?  Clear, memorable language 

More than once I got back on THEN went to the hospital. Now I lie there for a minute and consider my chosen 'hobby' ... 

Ok, he didn't say this one but it was US Show Jumping team life for eons!

Meet ... Denny Emerson, now in his early 70's. (Anyone see a pattern?) I was only introduced to his writing and ways a few years ago but still deeply influential on how I train.  He writes, rides 5+ hours/daily most days, broke his neck a few years ago in a riding accident and came back to riding after 6 months in a halo.  He's still riding, competing and developing green horses. 

(I've written him to blame him for my return to riding and the aquisition of the hippo.  He replied "Happy to be a bad influence")

Keep your f$%%^& head up, you sloucher!!
Posted by Tamarack Hill Farm on Saturday, July 18, 2015

Rosie "before".
Posted by Tamarack Hill Farm on Friday, June 12, 2015

Rosie "after".
Posted by Tamarack Hill Farm on Friday, June 12, 2015

Oh, and is incredibly active on facebook.  If you aren't following him, DO IT.  Its a daily kick in the ass.

Happy Friday!

Saddle Shopping ... What's a T-Rex to do?

Ah, the saddles of the English riding world.  How do I describe the hell that is saddle shopping? 

 Imagine you are shopping for the PERFECT pair of jeans. You know the kind: perfectly fitting, not too loose, not too tight and comfortable for prolonged periods of time. Not prone to pinching or rubbing you the wrong way, if you get my drift. (As in owwww, not ohhhh). Now, expect those jeans to fit two different species equally well.  

Welcome to the rider's dilemma.

I mean it's tough enough for the stereotypically slender rider with a small tail. When you're a T-Rex?  On a budget? Sweet Jurassic. 

Years ago I was lucky enough to find a dressage saddle that fit horses like a dream and accommodated my tail beautifully.  And 2nd hand to boot. And it was adjustable. God, I loved that saddle. I was keeping that saddle until I fossilized. Seriously, trying to suggest a different saddle would get your head bitten off.   

And then it got stolen out of my car, which meant saddle hunt (Yes, I drive. Even a T-Rex has to get around).  

So, several saddle trials later  I finally found a reasonably priced replacement of ... the same brand and model I had before. 

Evidently, saddles have evolved on a different path. Take up archeology. Way easier, possibly cheaper. 

T-Rex out. 

T-Rexs, we're still out there!

You might've heard that dinosaurs were extinct, especially the T-Rex, but I'm here to tell you we are alive and well!

How can you claim to be a T-Rex, you ask?  Easy enough!  Let's look at the defining characteristics of a T-Rex shall we?

• Big head?  According to a lifetime of frustrated hat shopping, that's covered. Well, barely covered depending on the manufacture of the hat but you get my drift.
• Big tail? Ummm (checks mirror)  According to the family/friends consensus that Sir Mix A Lot's anthem "Baby Got Back" should have been written for me ... check!
• Little arms? Well, that used to be a joke. Then I took up yoga for a while.  I found out that there was a whole series of seated poses where your hands were supposed to reach the ground. As in flat palms....and bent elbows.  I could only reach with my fingertips. 

That's not even getting into my carnivorous tendencies or the fact that it took me years to realize I was a T-Rex (hello little brain!)