The OTTB

A good friend of mine and I were arguing the other day over the pluses and minuses of OTTBs (you know, Off Track Thoroughbreds). The concept of taking an ex-racehorse and retraining him to be used as a regular riding horse, even a show horse, is pretty pervasive throughout the horse world nowadays. Particularly here in New Orleans, where the majority of our equine culture revolves around the Fairgrounds Race Course. Due to the nature of the racing industry, Thoroughbreds straight off the track tend to be young and highly energetic--with a penchant for running. To some people (like myself), owning and riding an OTTB just makes sense, but to others (namely my aforementioned friend), Thoroughbreds just aren't worth it.

To quote a mentor of mine, L, "Everyone and their grandma owns a Thoroughbred." This is probably true. Every year, hundreds of racehorses retire in Louisiana alone. Some of them end up in overseas slaughterhouses, others in local stud farms. Those are too good for the latter but not good enough for the former usually find their way into the local market. A straight-off-the-track OTTB can be purchased for anything from $200 to $2,000, making them an attractive option for buyers who can't afford the Hanoverians and Oldenburgs preferred by New Orleans' nouveau riche. Of course, an OTTB is a bit of a step up from your trusty Quarter Horse gelding, and I think that's what throws most people off. Thoroughbreds have a reputation for being hot. While that reputation isn't 100% deserved, they are bred for energy and most racehorses are trained for speed, not for ground manners. Much less under-saddle manners. So yeah, if you buy an OTTB expect to put some time and money into professional training. Retraining a horse is not easy, and even with professional help, it's going to take some work on the rider's part. Riding a green OTTB can certainly be dangerous, and it isn't something you should get into unprepared. I've ridden a few horses who had been off the track for a few years, and even they were still unpredictable. (If you don't believe me, take a look at the bruise on my leg that lingers from when Bombay threw me into a metal fence a few months back.)

So while owning or even riding an "off-track" Thoroughbred isn't for the fainthearted (and certainly not for the novice rider), it's one of the more admirable choices. There is so much waste in the Thoroughbred industry, where horses are being bred more and more for quantity in hopes of striking it lucky with quality. Every ex-racehorse that is retrained into a riding horse reduces that waste. Horses may be a reusable resource, but that doesn't mean we should just throw away the four year old babies who didn't strike it rich on the track. OTTBs, for all their unpredictability and raw energy, have that one quality that sets Thoroughbreds apart from the crowd--heart.

Yeah, you may get a little scratched up along the way, but if you have the experience, patience, and money required to turn an off-track Thoroughbred into a quality riding horse, you're doing a pretty big service, to yourself and the horse world. You can give a horse a new career--a new sense of purpose and of being. You can reduce the amount of wasted horses bred for the racing industry. And you might just find yourself with a true partner-a horse brave enough to face the challenges that come his way and athletic enough to get both himself and you safely through them.

So when asked... Yes, mes amis, I am most definitely pro-OTTB.

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In the picture: A rider working with their new Thoroughbred, who is recovering from a severe lameness. Used under Creative Commons license.

My Horse Is Back! (Sound And SANE)

In a post I made months ago, I explained how the new med regimen for "my" horse Blaze (i.e. the only horse I had been working with, at that point, for months) was making him a little crazy. Okay, more than a little crazy. He was completely out of his mind for a while there.

I still have no idea what drugs his owner had him on, but as I don't enjoy riding horses who are high (and angry and explosively energetic), I had to switch mounts for a couple of months. I rode him once more a week or so after that incident I blogged about, but mostly, since March I've been working with a poky little Quarter Horse called Sparky. The jumper turns are easier to make on him than on Blaze, but he's the kind of horse that requires you to "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." Plus, while he seems to have no energy when you ask him to canter a course, he manages to store some up for bucking if you dare ask him for a lead change.

Today, however, Blaze and I finally had our long-time-coming reunion. The 92 degree weather made him a little drowsier than normal, but all-in-all, my old horse was back! He was much more open and relaxed under the saddle today, and he was definitely back focused on his job. He was hitting all his distances and was listening to me, rather than rocketing around the ring like a lunatic bursting forth from a straight-jacket like that last time. Going out to the ring, I even walked him in front of a big bad rumbling truck (something that would not have fazed him before the med change, but scared the daylights out of him when he was high). He didn't even blink.

Hallelujah! My baby is back!

Riding Blind

One of my favorite stories to tell is of me and my dad, a few months after I got my driver's permit. I was driving him around the neighborhood, just getting in some practice. It had rained the day before, while he had been out on the road, and some truck had driven too fast down a flooding street and splashed his car. His windshield was hit by a tidal wave, and for several scary seconds, he was coasting down a busy street, unable to see where he was going.

By the time I got behind the wheel the next day, the ground had dried and there were only faint clouds in the sky. We were casually winding through the suburbs, rolling through the streets at 20 mph, as my dad recounted the story. And then he suddenly said, "Close your eyes down this block."

"What?!" I had had my license for a month or two, and had hardly driven. I thought he was joking.

But he insisted. "You have to be prepared for stuff like that. Just close your eyes--for a few seconds. I'll make sure nothing happens, but you need to practice."

It was a crazy idea, and I refused to cooperate. I didn't feel comfortable intentionally impairing myself, and I don't believe I ever will. If one day, I'm driving down a busy street and it's raining so hard I can't see, I'll just have to trust God to get me through, because I sure as heck am not going to practice driving blind. Helen Keller never got behind the wheel for a reason.

But, while my dad's idea was a bad one for driving, the concept translates beautifully into the schooling ring. After all, how many of us have schooled over gymnastics with our eyes closed or our hands at our sides (or BOTH) at some point in our lives? In the controlled environment of a schooling arena, "riding blind" can be extremely beneficial.

And when I say blind, I don't just mean closing our eyes. Certainly, going over a gymnastic or poles with your eyes closed can be a learning experience (and, for the record, I do not recommend going over anything substantial without looking). You learn to develop a feel for the horse early on in your riding career; it can help develop your seat and your legs and, when experience riders put it into practice, it can serve as a reminder that we can get way too reliant on our sight when it comes to things we should be feeling. But intentionally impairing yourself in other ways can help your prepare for disaster--in the show ring, on the trails, or even just hacking around the arena.

It was a rite of passage with my first trainer to learn how to ride when you lost your stirrups. We first practiced taking one foot out of the stirrup at the walk (I was a very new rider and even this presented a challenge) and then picking it back up, without looking, at the walk. As my riding progress, so did my challenge. It would arise randomly, sometimes once a month, sometimes for days in a row. I'd be trotting a circle and have to drop my inside stirrup and then, continuing the circle and posting without missing a beat, I would have to pick it up again. Sometimes it would be both stirrups going down the long side of the arena, others just one at the sitting trot. When I could pick up a lost stirrup at the canter, I was finally deemed ready. The rite of passage was over, and I had gained an important skill--and a healthy dose of confidence. Years later, as I rode with another trainer, I was cantering up to a pretty large fence when my horse jumped from a long spot. I lost my stirrup, but my years of previous training kicked in. I didn't panic, and I kept stride as I finished going down the line, surreptitiously picking back up my stirrup. It was not my superb seat that saved me (far from it); rather, it was the countless practice I had had. I was prepared. To this day, if I lose my stirrup going over a course, or even in a show ring on the flat, as I easily pick it back up, without missing a beat. I like to think Molly (that old trainer of mine) would be proud.

I don't think people practice riding blind enough. Dropping and regaining a single stirrup on the flat, riding a serpentine without reins, riding through a gymnastic with your eyes closed--they seem like fairly simple things to do. But when used strategically, they can help give a learning rider a solid foundation from which to work, and they can certainly help more practiced riders fine-tune their technique as they get back-to-basics. We tend to rely far too much on our eyes, on our hands, on our irons. When you eliminate the basic things you take for granted, you'll be surprised how much is revealed about your riding.

So don't be afraid to close your eyes every now and then. You'll be amazed by how much more you see.

Almost Here...

Two days left of school, which, simply translated, means a many more blog posts coming soon! The glorious concept of free time seems almost comprehensible right now.

Playing with Horses in the Rain

Well, I'm sure you surmised from the title... I finally got to see my horses again! Oh glorious, glorious day.

I went out to the barn yesterday. Saturday is my least favorite day to ride, because it gets crowded with little kids on school ponies and sleepy, underfed teenagers, and rich, spoiled brats on $80k warmbloods that they don't know how to ride. I mean, that's basically the only three types of people there ever are at Magnolia, but on Saturdays, it's a three-for-one sale at WalMart during Christmastime. You got your overpriced warmblood running loose on aisle four (no owner in sight), a group of six-year-olds hovering around the stall door on aisle six, not to mention Thirteen-Going-On-Thirty getting all flirty with the stablehand somewhere on aisle ten. Oh, and let's not forget the snarky, overworked trainer who is oh so ready to help out at the customer service desk.

So, no, I do not like to ride on Saturdays, but I was getting a little desperate here, so I figured I would take what I could get. Add to the mix the oppressive heat that settles like a blanket over the city this time of year, and you can just about imagine how my ride began.

Thankfully, God heard my mental pleas and sometime around noon the skies literally began to open up. One moment, the sky was blue, the heat was suffocating and the next--BAM. Black clouds, a steady shower of rain, and a blessed breath of cool air. Our April showers were a little bit delayed this year, but hey, better late than never.

The horses, who suffer in the heat (especially when the barn is crowded and everyone is pushed together), were visibly relieved by the cool breeze. Even the more skittish mares in the barn were more intoxicated than frightened by the dark rumblings and heavy air. Every horse stood at attention in front of the little windows in their stalls, drinking in the air and soaking up the few raindrops that strayed near their faces. Even the $8ok warmblood stopped his stroll to park it in front of the barn door. (And before you ask, yes, his owner really did just leave him, halter and all, standing in the middle of the barn before disappearing to God knows where. You always know when his owner is in because he'll be walking around the cross-ties and tack room looking utterly disinterested in the world. God forbid she actually, you know, tie up or put away her own horse when she is finished with it.)

Our belated April shower seemed to slow everything down and bring peace and quiet back to my little oasis. The hyperactive six-year-olds were drowned out by the sound of raindrops drumming the metal roof, and everyone besides the children (who are never calm) seemed to stop to soak up the thunderstorm like a breath of fresh air. And when the downpour finally slowed to a drizzle, the horses were more alert, more playful than they were before. It was just the refreshment they needed.

And I guess it was for me, too.

Frustration

My psychology class tells me that frustration is when a person is blocked from achieving their goal. So I think then that it would be psychologically correct to call my day frustrating. In fact, we might be able to apply the term to the past week, or even to the past three weeks during which I have not been able to ride.

I haven't seen, touched, heard, smelled a horse in three weeks, much less ridden one. School has been keeping me so busy that I've had no time to ride, and today I thought I'd finally (finally, finally!) make it to the barn.

Well, a friend of mine and I have it arranged that every time she goes riding, she drives me over to Magnolia, too. And today would normally be a day that she would go. So I assumed that she could bring me with her and headed off on my merry way.

Except that, after hours of searching for her in-between classes, I was told that she was home sick.

Now, my first response to that was not, 'Oh, poor thing...' (I'm not that kind of person in general, and I'm definitely not that kind of person when you're the reason I can't go riding.) I get a little cranky when I haven't been to the barn in a while, and today, because I thought that I was going and then found out that I wasn't, I was especially irritated. I growled, "She'd BETTER be really sick, because if she's at home in bed with a 98.9 degree "fever" and she didn't tell me that she couldn't take me to the barn, somebody is going to get hurt."

Mmhmm. That is me when I don't get my dose of equine.

Lucky for the poor girl, I did calm down enough to realize that I wasn't actually angry with her--I was just grumpy because I wasn't riding. Because, in honest, she told me later that she "was feeling a little weak" and didn't know how to break it to me that she wasn't riding. Had I been anywhere near as irritated with her as I was originally, I'd probably have had a manic episode and we'd both have ended up in the hospital.

Seriously?! All it takes is a text message. "I don't feel well. I'm not riding." Seven words! One text, and I would have gotten another ride and then I wouldn't be dying from horse-starvation. But she was "a little weak" and "just didn't know how to break it to me."

I pray to God that I get out to Magnolia tomorrow, because I am going a little crazy here. :/

Mother's Day

Well, isn't May just full of holidays? That makes my job a lot easier, as I can just post themed pictures and be done with it. Normally, I'm not one to take the easy way out, but I've had way too much to do lately.

I feel like I haven't really written a blog post in forever, even though it's only been about week... And I also haven't ridden in a while, which A) makes me cranky and B) gives me less to blog about. If all goes according to plan, I'll finally get back to the barn later in the week. Oh, and I realized this morning that I never did finish my collection of stories in West Coast Friendship, so there should be quite an influx of real blog posts coming soon. Stay tuned, folks!

In the meantime, enjoy these pictures of adorable mommies and their babies.

Cinco de Mayo

Welcome to the world of AP exams and absolutely NO blog posts! (Ain't high school fun?)

In honor of Cinco de Mayo, I thought the least I could do was take a break from my studying and post some pictures of the gorgeous Lipizzaners of the Royal Lipizzan Stallions. They have their own "haute ecole" and while I bet that high school doesn't have to take AP exams, I'm sure it's no less challenging!













If I had all night, I could go on for ages about the history of Lipizzaners and the Spanish Riding School and all of its successors (like the Royal Lipizzan Stallions). Unfortunately, I'm on a little bit of a time crunch, so all I'm going to say is this: If you haven't seen the Royal Lipizzan Stallions perform, you must! The world famous Lipizzaners are not a sight to be missed, and watching their live show definitely had an impact on my childhood--I've loved dressage ever since.

The Mare Who Can't Be Moved

I mentioned yesterday in my post about the 2010 Kentucky Derby that we have a Derby Day party at my house every year. Part of this long-standing tradition is a little silly thing my equestrian friends and I like to do, which we call the Derby Day song. It started a few years ago when one our horses, Sparky (nicknamed Sparkalicious), got his own theme song: Fergalicious by Fergie. When I was bored one day, I started to rewrite the lyrics to that song to fit Sparky. It went something along the lines of Sparkalicious, definition make them mares crazy. They always claim they know him, coming to him, call him 'Blazey'. He's the S to the P, A, R, the K, the Y, and ain't no other gelding gonna be as fly. I even added in a little rap for Sparky himself, starting off: Ladies, ladies, ladies, if you really want me, honey get some ribbons. Maybe try to stop yo' cribbin'. For some reason, my friends and I felt the need to choreograph a dance and sing it at the top of our lungs at that year's Kentucky Derby party. The tradition began, and we've never looked back.

Over the years, I've gotten a reputation for my equestrian remakes. Besides "Sparkalicious," there was my version of Flo Rida's "Low" (She had them old riding jeans, the girth with the fur... The whole barn was lookin' at her.) And then came the two Danity Kane remakes... "Show Stopper" (Bet you ain't never seen girls jumping this clean. Henri de Rivel seats. We do it daily) and "Damaged" (Do you got a grooming kit handy? Do you know how to brush out a tail? Tell me. ... Cause his tail is damaged, damaged. So damaged. Just thought that I should let you know.)

So this year, there was much anticipation as to what the song would be. We didn't actually have a "concert," because the party was just a family affair this year. So for those of my friends who actually read this blog, this will be the first time I release this year's song and lyrics. Can I get a drum roll?

Our 2010 Derby Day song is The Script's "The Man Who Can't Be Moved." My parody has been appropriately dubbed "The Mare Who Can't Be Moved." It rightfully inspired my former post, If You Go, I Go, as I was hatching out the lyrics Wednesday night. And what are the lyrics, you ask?

Without further ado, I present both "The Man" and "The Mare Who Can't Be Moved."



"The Mare Who Can't Be Moved" lyrics

Turning back to the rollback that I just ran through
Got both my ears pinned back, I'm not gonna move,
Got your spurs in my sides, got my head in your hand,
Saying “If you jump this, girl, just please don’t let us crash land”,
But that fence looks funny, you don't understand,
I'm not bad, I'm just bad at jumping fans,
I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do,
How can I jump strong when I’m not sure if I’ll pull through?

Cause sometimes I chip in and find I can’t feel my feet,
And my knees buckle under and I feel like I can’t breathe,
Thinking if I jump this it could be last thing I see,
And you feel me hesitating, like I’m trying to retreat

So I'm not moving...
I'm not moving.

“Please,” you say, as I start to veer,
I said I can’t jump this anymore, not today, this month, this year,
Gotta stand my ground, you’ve only got reins you know
Whip me one more time, but oh I’m still not gonna go.

Cause sometimes I chip in and find I can’t feel my feet,
And my knees buckle under and I feel like I can’t breathe,
Thinking if I jump this it could be last thing I see,
And you feel me hesitating, like I’m trying to retreat

So I'm not moving...
I'm not moving.

I'm not moving...
I'm not moving.

People say the jump’s not high
I should just give it a whirl ...
Oohoohwoo
There are four poles in my view
But my knees refuse to curl...
Hmmmm

And maybe I'll get famous as the mare who can't be moved,
And maybe I won't mean to but I’ll try to refuse,
And I’ll just duck out at the corner...
Cause you know it’s what I do

I'm the mare who can't be moved
I'm the mare who can't be moved...

Cause sometimes I chip in and find I can’t feel my feet,
And my knees buckle under and I feel like I can’t breathe,
Thinking if I jump this it could be last thing I see,
And you feel me hesitating, like I’m trying to retreat

So I'm not moving...
I'm not moving.

I'm not moving...
I'm not moving.

Going back to the rollback that I just ran through
Ears pinned back, my feet implant; I'm not gonna move.

Calvin Borel strikes again.

I've never really understood the fascination with horse-racing that some people have. I understand the thrill of it all, but to me, it just seems like a sport that degrades the horse. Most racehorses are only babies, after all (two to four years old), and they're run like machines until their legs break or their feet go bad. To make matters worse, even the healthiest horses don't get respect in the eyes of the public. These thousand-pound, fast as lightning, muscled-out athletes get about as much respect as circus horses. In just five minutes of watching pre-Kentucky Derby coverage today, I heard the top contenders of the Derby referred to as "the ponies" three different times. "You've come out here to bet the ponies?" someone asked. Looking at the likes of animal gods such as Barbaro and Big Brown, I have to say, there is nothing pony about the horseracing powerhouses of today.


Despite my qualms about the racing industry, I'm not going to lie: I'm a big fan of Derby Day. Our yearly tradition is to invite a ton of friends and family over to the house and drink Mint Juleps and eat Kentucky Fried Chicken in cotton sundresses and, yes, obnoxious sunhats. For one day, we rally around the Run for the Roses and watching the history of long-shot winners unfold before our eyes, we've all come to realize that on Derby Day, nothing is impossible.

And then we all get together for a repeat celebration on the day of the Preakness--a less dramatic party, more intimate party but a party nonetheless. And if there happens to be a Triple Crown contender by the time the Belmont rolls around, we call in the troops for that, too. But I think we'll be watching all three races this year, regardless, thanks to super-special Louisiana-born jockey Calvin Borel.

I don't think I noticed Calvin before last year, when he hailed as Rachel Alexandra's main jockey. I hadn't paid him much attention when he won the Derby on Street Sense in 2007, mostly because I care more about the horses themselves than the actual jockeys or trainers or owners. But Rachel Alexandra is hands-down my favorite racehorse to date, and when he crossed the finish line first in last year's Derby on Mine That Bird, I screamed, "That's Rachel Alexandra's jockey!" (P.S. I had the lovely fortune of seeing her race at the Fair Grounds this year. She is one beautiful, fantastic little girl.)

Calvin, the Cajun-accented "Yes, ma'am; no, sir" man, has stolen both mine and my family's hearts. And with his third Kentucky Derby win in four years this afternoon on Super Saver, I think my whole house rejoiced. In the words of Derby trainer Bob Baffert, "It's that frickin' Calvin Borel!" Not that Calvin deserves all the credit. Super Saver's half-brother, Monarchos, was the most recent horse to break the two-minute barrier in the Kentucky Derby; and of course, with a trainer like Todd Pletcher, today's Derby win was a long time coming.

But of course, this win has everyone talking about the Triple Crown. Calvin Borel proclaimed to reporters, "That's it, that one right there. I'm going all the way this year. I have to do it." With contenders like Ice Box and Lookin at Lucky, the feat could be more difficult than usual. But can the Superstar and his Super Saver pull it off? We'll have to hang on until May 15th to see.

If You Go, I Go

A day dedicated to failed jumping efforts! Everyone has an off day.

It was a dark and stormy night...

This stunning photomanipulation ("Horse in the dark") was creating by FreakingPrincess on DeviantArt.com. It's a fantastic picture in my opinion, especially the colors, and it seemed to be the perfect opening scene of a spooky story.

The Rechristened Rollkur

Now, I've never been big on horse shows. It's not that I don't like competing, it's just that our local circuit is practically nonexistent. So I'm rarely kept up to speed with "The Laws of the Land," and to be quite honest, I only found out about the FEI's new ban on rollkur's yesterday, when I had the time to sit down and read May's issue of Practical Horseman. I've read a little about rollkur in the past months, as the horse world fought against the FEI's policies on what they dubbed "hyperflexion," and I was very glad to find out that in February, the FEI officially banned rollkur as an illicit use of "aggressive force."

Apparently, however, the FEI has decided to give abusive riders an out. Rollkur, they agree, must be stopped. But LDR? Despite LDR (Low, Deep and Round) distinctly being a extreme and unnatural flexion of the horse's neck, the FEI has deemed that LDR and rollkur are two very different creatures. So while rollkur has been outlawed, LDR is quite vehemently sanctioned.

So what does LDR really stand for? Lazy, Dangerous, and Rewarding? Rollkur and LDR are, in my opinion, slightly different things, but both are indeed unnatural contortions of the horse. LDR is certainly an unhealthy training technique that is not used for correction so much as for competition. It is lazy on part of dressage judges, trainers, and riders; it is dangerous for the horse; but it is also rewarding in competition. This pro-LDR facebook group cites countless successful international dressage riders who train their horses to ride LDR. Anky Van Grunsven, Sjef Janssen, Nicole Werner, Ellen Schulten-Baumer, and Imke Bartels are only a few of the names you might recognize as members. What truly sickens me is the amount of young rider supporters who proudly display pictures of themselves riding in LDR. Medalists from the 2009 Young Riders European Championships as well as recognized International Junior Riders quite proudly display their "LDR is OK" banner on their page. Is this what the next generation of Grand Prix riders considers true horsemanship?

I can't blame the FEI for being intimidated by the powerful supporters of rollkur--sorry, LDR. Regardless, with such footage out as the infamous "Blue Tongue" video along with the countless other evidence of the horrors of hyperflexion, I think it's high time the FEI took a stand to support the welfare of its horses rather than the success of its influential riders.




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Additional Blog Posts
FHOTD

West Coast Friendship: Part Seven

Shall I continue on a bit with my story? I know it's been awhile. Part Six is back here, in case you need to refresh your memory...
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Possibly the most ironic thing that ever happened to me at Magnolia is a little something I like to call "The Great Migration." I had been at Magnolia for several months now, and my days at Carousel Farms seemed a lifetime away. Occasionally, Maura and I would talk about something that had done or seen there, but mostly, I ignored that part of my riding career.

And then, on what seemed to be another ordinary day at the barn, I arrived for my regular lesson and stepped into a nightmare. My first thought as I walked down the aisle of stalls to grab my horse was that I was losing my mind. Familiar faces poked their noses out at me, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I was seeing things correctly. Aida, Harlem, City, Seel, Foggy, and Topaz. Six horses new horses at Magnolia, but I knew them all. They had all been at Carousel, their owners loyal boarders who were often Donna's partners in crime. And yet, seemingly overnight, they had crossed some invisible treaty line and made their way to Magnolia.

If I looked just at those first six stalls, I could swear I was back at Carousel Farms. God has a really sick sense of humor.

My little oasis now seemed oddly similar to the place I had fought so hard to escape. As I stood there, staring at the Carousel horses, I battled between curiosity and aversion. I wasn't quite sure how to handle this. And then I heard a voice behind me.

"You used to ride Carousel, right?"

I turned and found myself staring at Foggy's owner. I answered her question with a simple yes, but I was surprised that she recognized me. The boarders at Carousel had formed a sort of clique, bound together by their general distaste of anyone who couldn't afford a horse of her own. She smiled at me then, though, and introduced herself. I answered her politely and made small talk for as long as I could bear before wishing her the best at Magnolia and excusing myself to finish getting ready for my lesson. I ran out of the barn and headed straight for Maura.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Where did all these Carousel people come from?" It's like an infestation in there. I'm not sure I just thought that part, or if I actually said it out loud.

Maura shrugged lightly. "I don't know the whole story. Donna did something to piss them all off, and it was the last straw." She saw the worry in my face and added, "They'll be fine, I promise. You know Tracy won't put up with it if they cause any trouble."

But I was still wary of the Carousel boarders. I was very reserved around them, always polite but always cautious. I still saw them in my heads as Donna and Shannon's comrades in arms, haughty and holier than thou.

It took me months to realize that they weren't those people anymore. Magnolia had the same effect on them as it had had on me. The quiet little barn on the edge of the river brought out the best in people. You couldn't be mean when birds chirped softly in the background, when the smell of cedar chips wafted pleasantly from the stalls, and when everyone else around you was at peace. Away from the pretension of Carousel Farms, their attitudes slipped away.

Or maybe, I began to realize, they had never had an attitude at all.

On The Physiology of Women Riders

I have some hardcore studying to do and a test to take at eight A.M. tomorrow, so I have no time to blog. A big post is coming either tomorrow, or Sunday! Since I feel bad about gypping my readers out of something to read, I dug up this great article from Mary D. Midkiff (Remember her?) that I think every equestrienne can benefit from. Midkiff's book, which I raved about a couple of months ago, might have been emotional, but this article is strictly informational. And there are some enlightening facts about women riders in here. Take from it what you may.
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Women And Horses - What's It All About?
An article by Mary D. Midkiff in the Journal of the AMEA
about Safety in Equestrian Sport

The qualities we see at the top of our riding disciplines have evolved through education, training, hard work, long hours, talent and desire. To be a great rider is a worthy and rewarding goal for male or female. Until recently, the thought processes and approach to teaching and training riders and selecting equipment have been generic and male oriented. But the generic approach is not effective with the majority of riders. The majority are females.

Riding is increasingly being defined by the female element -- she is the predominant participant, dollar spender and decision maker in sporting, showing and recreational activities in the horse industry.

Equestrian Resources (EQR) found over 75% of the members of all equine-related non-racing organizations in the United States are female; over 80% in the American Horse Shows Association (AHSA) alone. This percentage, however, does not indicate the higher number of females involved in pleasure riding. EQH estimates at least 500,000 females in the U.S. are enjoying horses as a sport or leisure activity and many say that number is considerably conservative.

EQR Women & Horses (W&H) Conference and National Tour was created to meet this large and growing population of active equestrian participants and is a program designed to he repeated in locations around the county throughout 1994 and 1995. Each conference presents national personalities and experts in a program of practical discussion, advice and product information devoted to improving the "team" performance of women and their horses.

Through the W&H program and our national experts we are developing techniques that increase awareness of the body and mind of rider and horse as well as provide education in what to look for in equipment that will accommodate the female pelvic and muscular structures efficiently and comfortably-.

In the athletic world at large more females are in competition than ever before and they are gaining performance enhancement by maximizing what is unique in their bodies, minds, and personalities. We are seeing more and more women in the top riding and training ranks of horse sports as leaders of equine-related organizations and as instructors. The education and societal messages they are now receiving indicate it is all right for females to pursue and realize competitive goals.

The basis of and the equipment designed for riding have been established by and for males. Horses throughout time have been used mainly for war, battle, and transportation by males. For example, the Western disciplines descending from the Native American, the working cowboy, and the Pony Express; English riding from the traditions of the hunt field and the military; and the Spanish and Arabic influence with their ancient breeds originating from tribal competitions and ceremonial presentations.

Considering the thousands of years the horse has been used by humans, horses have only been used strictly for pleasure and sport by women for a relative short period. Women have only been riding astride in Europe and the Western hemisphere for approximately 60 years.

Has the female equestrian been provided with every benefit and advantage to allow her to become the best rider she can be? The answer is no. The horse community and ancillary interests need to become more aware of the human element--the female equestrian is structured differently and should be instructed and trained with her health, comfort and safety as a priority.

One aspect of the W&H program addresses the female anatomy and its relationship to the movement of the horse. A national expert and W&H national tour speaker on the subject of the female anatomy and riding is Dr. Deb Bennett of Santa Rosa, California. She has done extensive research on the subject and is a hippologist and a paleontologist by trade.

In an article featured in Equus June 1989 ("Who's Built Best to Ride?"), Dr. Bennett explains, "The technique to which I most strongly object is the instruction given the rider to throw his or her belly or waist forward. In either sex, this motion results in compression of the dorsal aspect of the lumbar vertebral column. Sitting the trot or canter this way, with the crotch dropped downward and the lower back hollowed, will over a period of time shorten and harden the dorsal perivertebral muscles and ligaments, compress the intervertebral disks, and eventually lead to spondylolysthesis and the pinching of nerve roots which emerge dorsolaterally between adjacent vertebrae."

"Thanks to the peculiar bony anatomy which permits them to give birth, women often have difficulty learning to sit the trot or canter without bouncing. Women’s lower backs are typically 'curvier’ (more lordotic) than men's. In women the sacrum articulates with the last lumbar vertebra at a much sharper angle than in men. These differences move the tip of the tailbone dorsally in women, effectively getting it out of the birth canal. However, in the context of riding, this structural arrangement also makes it easy for a women to ride with a hollow back and dropped crotch. Conversely, most men have little difficulty coiling their loins (flexing their lumbar span) which is a pelvic motion essential to following the motion of either the trot or canter.

The W&H Conferences are designed to 1) explore the differences, 2) create awareness about the female body and the origin of pain, 3) develop techniques which allow women to become the most efficient and comfortable riders given their particular anatomical and hormonal variations, and 4) identify equipment that will best accommodate the female body.

We encourage research and recognize the many areas of AMEA members' medical expertise. EQR challenges AMEA members to assist in arriving at meaningful information to help female riders. It is important the sports medicine field be particularly aware of the predominant female population involved with horses. Currently most women are not aware of how their bodies work with the movement of the horse and how they can prevent injuries through better understanding.

We see act abundance of chronic low back pain in female riders. Is it any wonder why? They have been trained to hyperextend their backs and cram their heels down while standing on their toes with an unsupportive saddle since they began to ride as a child. Manufacturers of rib, back supports and knee braces are making a lucrative living off women who ride. W&H chooses the principle of a strong support system within their bodies instead of relying on shortcuts and crutches which in the end will only weaken their muscles.

With the correct information, techniques and equipment, women don't have to hurt to ride.

For example, in the W&H Finesse Versus Strength demonstration sessions, we work with participants on becoming more aware and softening their whole approach to sitting on the horse. We reestablish the seat centered on the ischium and teach the student to concentrate on "filling in" her lower back with strength, which ultimately disallows arching or rounding the shoulders. We loosen the leg and allow it to lie flat in line with the pelvis and ground the foot with the stirrup well behind the ball of the foot with the heel parallel to the ground. The elbows remain soft and bent. This allows for an elastic and moving connection at all times resulting in release and relaxation for both horse and rider.

Physicians and physical therapists need to be aware of the types of unique injuries sustained by female riders as well as understand how they relate to movement while mounted or in other activity surrounding the horse.

Whether it be low back pain, a stressed rotator cuff, a stiff neck, or sore knees, female riders can ride pain-free through awareness, education, the proper saddle, and regular stretching and strengthening exercises.

Ringside

It's that busy time of year again, which means I don't have as much time to blog. I'm going to try to get some good posts in this weekend, but until then y'all may have to be content with the little tidbits I can find. (Sorry!) Today, I wanted to share a video from my night of Grand Prix show jumping. These riders were awesome!

Note: Sorry about the quality. For some reason, it did not translate well onto YouTube.

A Three-Day Fairy Tale

Although I've never personally experience an equestrian vacation, I've always been enchanted by them. What could be more relaxing than an extended visit at a beautiful resort with Woman's Best Friend, the horse? To me, it seems to be the perfect opportunity to experience something truly unique. I can't even imagine the characters you would meet!

What could possibly be better than treating yourself to an equestrian vacation? How about having someone else pay for you?

I found a fabulous little sweepstakes from DiscoverHorses.com in Practical Horseman, and I couldn't help passing the link on. The three-night accommodations aren't exactly what I would call an extended stay, but nonetheless, it sounds pretty tempting. The "luxurious" Inn at North Carolina's Biltmore Estate will happily put up the sweepstakes winner (plus one) and offer a lesson and daily trail rides. In my curiosity, I did some research on what they called the famous Biltmore Estate. I'd never heard of it, but I think these pictures speak for themselves.


Biltmore is absolutely gorgeous, and I think I might have to add this place to my list of Must Sees. Looking at the pictures alone is like stepping into a fairytale. With architecture inspired by the French Renaissance, its courtyards and fountains scream of Old Europe. Or would it be better to say they sing of it? It's easy to imagine Cinderella herself walking through the arched walkways, her songbirds crooning in her ear. Add the coachman's white steeds to that picture, and the magical fairytale is pretty much complete.

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You can get more information on Biltmore here, and enter for a chance to win a three-night at DiscoverHorses.com.

This is Horse City

I came across this video on facebook, and I immediately knew it had to go up on the blog! It's priceless.

West Coast Friendship: Part Six

There's so much that happened with Maura that I can't describe it all. Certain bits stand out more than others, and I can't even guarantee that I'm telling all the events in the right order, because at some point, I stopped writing it all down.

I do remember how quickly things fell into place for me at Magnolia once I was under Maura's guidance. She took a personal interest in all of her riders, and she encouraged us to be at the barn as often as possible--even if we could only afford once-a-week lessons. She loved nothing more than to see her students want to spend time around horses. If we were at the barn, there was always something for us to do. Sometimes, I would simply come and socialize. I formed a relationship with the barn owners, the other riders, the boarders... Someone was always around, and most of them took the time to get to know me, because new faces at Magnolia were few and far between. On other days, I would volunteer to work with the horses in the barn. I did the basics, like feeding and watering, but I also learned some things, like how to manage turnout and how to assess what horse needed what bit and which martingale. Sometimes, if we were lucky, Maura would let us exercise some of the horses. This was always a treat, because the one problem with riding lessons is that students never get to simply hack. But Maura made sure that if we were willing to learn, she was there to teach, both inside the ring and out.

And the more my ground skills improved with the horses, the more my confidence in the arena improved. And the horses responded to that confidence. I remember a particular moment when I was riding a petty mare who refused to pick up her right-lead canter. I had tried asking in every corner; still left-lead. I kept her on a circle and asked again; nothing. Eventually, as we were cantering down the straightaway, in the right direction on the left lead, I took charge. I used my hands, my seat, my legs, my everything, and reinforced it with a tap of the crop on her hindquarters. She gave a start and literally flinched with surprised, and then proceeded to swap her lead in midair.

I could hear Maura laughing from the other side of the ring--not a little chuckle, but full-out, joyful laugh. When she finally caught her breath, she explained, a giggle still bubbling beneath her words, "I don't think that mare's gotten a flying change in years! You literally startled her into a lead change. When you made up your mind like that, I'm pretty sure you scared the crap out of her!" She hesitated and then tacked on, with an apologetic smile, "Sorry for language."

And then I had to laugh along with her. It seemed there was a new lead mare in town.

Don't Cry for the Horses

I wanted to dedicate this blog post to a person I know who recently had to put down a very special horse. I can't write poetry at all, and I thought Brenda Riley-Seymore couldn't have said it better.
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Don't Cry for the Horses

Don't cry for the horses
That life has set free
A million white horses
Forever to be

Don't cry for the horses
Now in God's hands
As they dance and they prance
To a heavenly band

They were ours as a gift
But never to keep
As they close their eyes
Forever to sleep

Their spirits unbound
On silver wings they fly
A million white horses
Against the blue sky

Look up into heaven
You'll see them above
The horses we lost
The horses we loved

Manes and tails flowing
They Gallop through time
They were never yours
They were never mine

Don't cry for the horses
They will be back someday
When our time has come
They will show us the way

On silver wings they will lift us
To the warmth of the sun
When our life is over
And eternity has begun

We will jump the sun
And dance over the moon
A Ballet of horses and riders
on the winds
to a heavenly tune

Do you hear that soft nicker
Close to your ear?
Don't cry for the horses
Love the ones that are here

Don't cry for the horses
Lift up your sad eyes
Can't you see them
As they fly by?

A million white horses
Free from hunger and pain
Their spirits set free
Until we ride again

Brenda Riley-Seymore

West Coast Friendship: Part Five

What is this?? West Coast Friendship??
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It took me years to realize that I have a fear of making mistakes. No one likes messing up, but I will avoid it at all costs. Whether its speaking up during a classroom debate or dropping my stirrups to correct my lower leg, if there's a chance that I'll do something wrong, I won't do it. Now that I've come to accept this about myself, it is something that I can work through. The problem was, when I rode with Maura, I didn't know it.

We spent countless hours on the flat trying to correct my lower leg. It killed me to have my flawed foundation be the focus of lesson after lesson. I was so used to having my flaws ignored or overlooked. Riding with an instructor who actually focused on what was wrong with my riding made me uncomfortable. But I was rewarded for pushing my boundaries. Despite the heaping amounts of flat work, jumping was always incorporated into the lesson. Maura put more faith in me than my other instructors, and the fences I faced grew from mere speed bumps to actual jumps.

As I read through my riding journal from those first few months at Magnolia, I'm surprised at the amounts of "firsts" I had. With Maura, I jumped my first bending line, rode my first flying change, found my first distance, jumped my first jump without stirrups, and jumped my first oxer. But I experienced one equestrian first at Magnolia that was beyond Maura's control, and this single miracle is the strongest in my memory.

I was riding one Saturday morning when a girl no older than seven came running out to the ring.
"Maura, Maura, come quick!" she called. "I think Moondance is having her baby!"

What? was basically Maura and I's first sentiment. Because it was ten o'clock in the morning, and mare's rarely foal in the daylight. This girl was very young; she had to be confused.

But of course, we ran to the barn to see. We left our horses in the cross-ties and headed to Moondance's stall where, surely enough, she was starting to go into labor.

Maura had never delivered a foal, and I certainly had no experience. There was no one else on the grounds, and the mare's owner, whom we had sent the little girl to call, was still several minutes away. The seconds ticked by slowly, agonizingly, as we waited for someone to arrive--and prayed that nothing went wrong.

But finally, Moondance's owner got to the barn. This wasn't his first foal, and he knew exactly what to do. Even Moondance seemed to relax when she heard his voice. And once he took over, everything happened very quickly. Soon enough, laying in the stall with Moondance was a precious baby girl. She was a dusty black with a lopsided star and, even covered in blood and amniotic fluid, she was beautiful. I managed to capture her on my video phone as she first rose to her feet--surprisingly graceful for a wobbly little filly--and even now, that is the most amazing video I have ever seen.

My first foaling experience. And what an experience it was! Of all the things that I would come to encounter, watching Pia (as she would later be named) be born was the most emotional event of them all. Her arrival at Magnolia coincided nearly perfectly with mine, and as I saw her grow up, in glimpses and bursts, I couldn't help but think that she paralleled me. If only a little bit.
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The lovely little foal in the picture is not Pia, but unfortunately I don't have any photos of her on my computer. This photograph was taken by Deirdre-T at DeviantArt.

Bunnies Are Show Jumpers, Too

Happy Easter, everyone! I collected these pictures from various sites--hope you enjoy!

The Jumps

The Jumpers

First-Class Farms: Sunrise Stables, Lexington, VA

(Yes, I am procrastinating on my West Coast Friendship story. Sorry!)

So, last month, as you may remember, I covered a First-Class Farm in St. Paul, Minnesota. Seventh Farm, however, is only one of the many first class farms I've discovered during my college search, and I'd like to devote today to another First-Class Farm: Sunrise Stables, in Lexington, Virginia.


I've heard great things about Sunrise, through simple word of mouth, and when I started looking at colleges in Virginia, I naturally headed to their website. The first thing I noticed was their About Us page, which immediately screams "Family!" (Y'all know how big I am on the whole "family atmosphere" thing.) But beyond the people, I really love the place.

Two hundred and fifty acres of rolling green woods and winding river... What's there not to love? Sunrise Stables apparently grows their own hay organically, and their turnout paddocks are gorgeous. Add to the natural beauty state of the art eventing facilities, and you've practically got Equestria (or, for those of you who haven't read The Circular Path, horse heaven).

Their 15 acre-large cross-country course was designed by an Olympic judge for Green through Preliminary eventing riders. They also have regular trails for conditioning horses and trail rides and a pretty large outdoor riding ring. Their riding program is complete with lessons from and clinics with professionals like Jim Wofford, Sharon White, Brian Ross, Lynn Symansky and Molly Hooper-Bull.

Sunrise Stables is also a pretty awesome retirement home. They apparently have a soft spot for elderly horses. To quote the website: "Sunrise Stables provides very special care for retired horses. They have worked hard for you for years and deserve only the best in care the final years of their lives. They receive the best feeds and hay. They are dewormed and shod or trimmed regularly. The kids here love to spend time with them and groom them on a regular basis."

A beautiful place with a huge reputation and a seemingly great atmosphere for riders and horses alike, Sunrise Stables is certainly a first-class farm.

Two Glorious Words: CLOSEOUT PRICES

It's that fabulous time of year again. Winter is quickly losing steam, Easter is coming, and the world is coming to life. Which can only mean one thing...

Spring Shopping Spree!

I really didn't feel like writing more of my story today (there's plenty of time for that), so I decided to splurge a little... You may have noticed, I like shopping. Who doesn't? But online shopping is the best, because I rarely make impulse buys. Still, online stores are a danger zone for me, and I try to avoid them as much as I can. But who can resist the lure of those two magical words that seem so popular at this time of year... That's right, Closeout Prices.

I concentrated my shopping on one site: Dover Saddlery. Maybe I'll cover the deals offered by SmartPak or other sites later on. But for now, let's take it one store at a time, shall we?

Among the pages and pages of sales items, Dover is offering...

Dublin Full-Seat Breeches, regularly $80, on sale half-off for about $40. Available in sand, green beige, and black. Who can resist a classic? And at a reduced price, no less.

On Course Full-Seat Breeches, in navy, black, and beige, are on sale 70% off for $40, if you like a slight variety.

And, good thing I am not in charge of purchasing Blaze's blankets. I'm known for parading him around in pink plaid, and you KNOW this "jewel"-toned plaid blanket (magenta, purple, and pink) would just look fabulous on him. And for only $25? Who could resist?

And speaking of plaids, Kensington's Ice Plaid Fly Masks are just one more reason I am glad not to have to shop for Blaze. Even so, I may get this one just as a luxury, as it matches one of my saddlepads. In unique shades of Blue Ice and Plum Ice, who could pass up this plaid?

If you want to stock up on riding shirts, there are several short-sleeve riding tees on sale for very cheap, from Ovation and Irideon. This Dri-Lex Zip Tee, for instance, is available in several Spring pastels, and is on sale for $10 off.

Not yet impressed? Never fear! The list goes on and on and on. Fifty-three pages of closeout prices. I may have died and gone to heaven.

On Deaf Ears II

I went out to dinner tonight, with a group of non-horsey people, and at the end of the meal, the waitress gave us each a peppermint--plus one to spare. The single mint sat, lonely, on the table...

"Is anyone going to take this peppermint? ... No one? Great, I'll take it home for Blaze."

The people who knew that Blaze was a horse were no less confused than the people didn't.

West Coast Friendship: Part Four

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
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Ugh. This weather is driving me crazy. I've been on and off sick for the past few days and came down with an awful fever last night. Some Nyquil and sixteen hours of sleep later (not including the two and a half hour nap I took beforehand!), and I've bounced back pretty vigorously. No fever, some energy, and a few little sniffles. Let's hope my recovery keeps up. Anyhow, I believe I have a story to tell...
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I quite literally prayed that my lesson at Magnolia would go well. Everything was hinged on this barn, or so it seemed at the time. And I was very nervous.

However, Maura had a very soothing presence, and the butterflies in my stomach seemed to disappear after my first minute or so in the saddle. In my riding journal, I have a very detailed summary of that first lesson, so I can describe it pretty accurately here.

Blaze was a little cranky that day- a fixed trait, I would come to find out- but he had more life in him than I was used to. He was energetic and had great transitions. As this was only an evaluation, not a typical lesson, we spent a lot of time on the basics. Maura had us on the flat for a while, practicing transitions and circles and turns, and when we did jump, she kept the fences small.

My years of substandard instruction had taken a toll on both my confidence and my position, and this did not go unnoticed. I had had a few years of excellent training, which gave me a great foundation--a foundation that had then been undermined by other trainers-- and Maura could pick out both in my position. She gave constructive criticism, but in a way that did not shatter my fragile confidence. "You're lower leg is... pretty bad," she admitted. "Usually, when a rider's leg is bad, though, it shows in their upper body. But everything above your hips is great, so you're in a much better condition than you normally would be in." Ten percent of a message, they say, is in words; the rest is in the tone of voice. This message actually gave me a bit of confidence. I had know my position was bad. I didn't know that there was actually something "great" about it.

I did not have to warm up to Maura, as I have to do with most of my instructors and trainers. I instantly liked her and the way that she taught. At that point, I desperately needed someone with experience who could improve my riding without overwhelming me or accidentally undermining my fragile self-esteem. By some stroke of luck, I had found exactly that.

But my journey was only beginning.

I had a lot of growing to do--both physically and mentally. I had the physical flaws in my riding that needed remodeling. I had emotional issues to work out, like a fear of cantering that had slowly begun to develop in me over the past years. And I had to make a place for myself at a new barn, with new people and a different way of operating. Obviously, I had some adjusting to do.

But that was okay. Because I knew I could do it. And over the next several months, Maura--and all of Magnolia--would become more of a family to me than I would have ever expected.

To Be Continued...

A Horse Video

I thought I'd mix it up, as I haven't posted a video in a while. I found this great one on YouTube. The horse is precious, and it reminds me of my own Grace.

West Coast Friendship: Part Three

The next time I saw Magnolia, it was for my first lesson with Maura.

It's strange, how much context has to do with perception. Not surprising, really, but certainly disconcerting. As I drove once again onto the small farm, things were very different. I was coming now as a student, and I was visiting not during the empty, silent evening, but during the afternoon rush hour. "Rush hour" at a small, private barn meant that about five clients were there (and that would be including myself). At Magnolia, this truly is busy--they have three stalls for cross-ties.

Reyna was there, as was Becky, another girl I had gone to school with. I didn't know the other two--a high school girl, and a nine-year-old. I was still skeptical about Magnolia at this point. My experiences at Carousel Farms had taught me that a good barn was hard to come by, and I had, for years, been turned off my the Magnolia girls' snobby attitude, as if their barn were better than all the others. But I tried to turn off all my prejudgment and focus on forming an opinion of Magnolia based on my experiences there, rather than the stories I'd heard.

That day was the first time I met Maura. I can still remember it perfectly; I was thrilled to meet the woman who would possibly become my new trainer, and I was extra attentive as I walked out to the ring to watch her finish up a lesson she was giving.

More than anything else, her breeches were what made a first impression. They were a shade of teal that I have yet to find a name for--something in between wave and dark cyan. She stood, thin and tan, in the center of the ring, her posture lax and her voice even. She had long, dusty brown hair that was pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was guiding Reyna and her horse through some lateral work, and she appeared to me to be teaching in a calm, confident manner. I only had a limited take on her lesson, though, because her back was to me for most of the time, and it partially obscured her voice. But I knew we would have plenty of time to get acquainted in the ring; I would have to work with her for an hour all by myself in my private lesson that afternoon.

A private lesson at a new barn with a new trainer on a new horse had me just a little bit nervous, and when I get on edge, I think my short-term memory malfunctions. I have only the vaguest memory of a boarder leading me on a tour of the barn (which couldn't have lasted more than two minutes) and explaining to me the inner workings of the tack room. I think she even introduced me to Blaze (remember him?), the horse Maura wanted me to ride. It was all very laid back, something I was not yet accustomed to in a barn.

And then it came time for me to finally meet my maybe-new-trainer. She met halfway to the ring, as I concluded my official tour of Magnolia, and the sight of her took my surprise. I remember thinking that she was older than my other instructors, which makes me laugh now, because she was only then in her late twenties. But it was true. I had, for the past several years, trained with college kids who boarded their horses at Carousel Farms and gave lessons to pay off their board. Someone who was not a sorority girl earning her green jumper's keep was a new experience for me.

And Maura was certainly no college kid. She was originally from California, and had that certain California quality that's very hard to describe but easy to place. Not a Hollywood quality, mind you, but a California one. Anyone I've ever met who was truly from California has it--that certain genuine something that's difficult to name.

We spoke briefly before heading back toward the barn. "Are you ready to start your lesson?" she asked. And I nodded, but I think there was something in my face that gave away my nerves.

She laughed easily, and began to explain what her lessons were normally like, in order, I think, to get my mind off the butterflies in my stomach. If it was an attempt to ease my nerves, it worked. It was hard, in this charming, open place, to be nervous or scared. I clearly remember the feeling that washed over me as I led a horse for the first time down the spacious arena: it was serenity to the point of bliss.

I felt at home here at Magnolia, and I was being welcome more than I had ever expected. I could only pray, as I mentally prepared myself for the upcoming hour, that my lesson would go well. Because if I didn't like Magnolia, I was all out of options.

West Coast Friendship: Part Two

Hello, blog. Long time no see.

I think I'll continue with my West Coast Friendship story. Here's Part One, in case you haven't read that yet.

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Walking into Magnolia was like walking through the gates of Heaven. It was love at first sight, un coup de foudre.

The barn was much smaller than I was used to. Pulling onto the property in the back of Reyna's SUV (well, her mother's SUV), I could see the entire scope of the farm. A large covered arena; a few compact paddocks, barely more than corrals; a small field for grazing; and a single, thirty-horse barn. It was all fresh--recently renovated and very homey looking. The air was calm and quiet as we unloaded Reyna's horse. She was busy dealing him, and I was busy falling in love.

Beautiful horses nickered at me, their heads swinging curiously over their simple stall doors. They a front-row seat for any show going on in the barn, as the stables were constructed in an open, airy manner with the tack room and cross-ties and wash stalls as the center point. A few lean barn cats were perched lazily on the tops of stalls, and the barn smelled like fresh cedar and warm oats.

This warm, serene place was unlike any stables I'd ever been to. It was an oasis, and I had grown used to roaming the desert.

That night, I dialed Carousel Farms and let them know that I would never be coming back.

I had a few weeks' hiatus as I tried to get in touch with the owner of Magnolia. I hadn't really thought my plan through, and I'd 'resigned' from Carousel before I even so much as had a phone number for Magnolia. I didn't know if they'd even have room for me, and I spent a few days in a miserable game of phone tag.

Finally, about two weeks after the show at Carousel, I was able to reach the owner of Magnolia over the phone. I briefly explained to her what I'd been through my trainer back at Carousel Farm, and she didn't blink twice.

"Of course." Her tone was professional, yet she somehow managed to convey in those simple words that she understood. The horse world is small, and no doubt, she knew exactly how awful things could be at Carousel. "You can come on over whenever you'd like. I'll give you the number of our new trainer. Her name's Maura, and I think you two will get along."

To be continued...

A Smart(Pak) Career

I am taking a break from our story to comment on a pretty cool company most of you have heard of: SmartPak.

Today was the infamous Career Day, and I heard from an array of professionals in all different lines of work. My unique predicament with careers is that I know what I want to do, but at the same time I don't. It has always been my dream to be a writer, but I am not the starving artist type. I realized long ago that I would need a "real" job to support me after college until my earnings from writing can financially support me. On that note, an English major is out of the question; I am not a teaching type (except maybe at the postsecondary level, but even so I can't afford to pay for a private school PhD right now), and other than teaching and writing, there isn't much else an English degree is good for. So my career search has long revolved around finding a job that I'm interested in doing until I can do what I simply love to do: write.

I've been waffling around through a large hub of possible jobs for the past year or so, and today, I discovered a choice I would probably never have considered on my own: marketing. There weren't many speakers with careers I was interested in (postsecondary education, neuroscience, performance psychology, diversity management), so I found myself hitting up all the business and mass comm speakers. After all, I've always been mildly interested in owning my own riding academy or boarding barn. I was also, once upon a time, considering a job in event planning. And then I found out the salary and ran for the hills.

But I found this marketing speaker of more value than I expected. I went to see her based on the suggestion of a friend of mine, and I realized halfway into her presentation that not only was this a job I wouldn't mind doing (hands on, creative, only four years of college needed, and the possibility of promotion and growth), but it was also very possible for me to tie a job in marketing to the equestrian world.

I read in What Color is Your Parachute? that you can take almost any job you can think of, any skills you have, and apply them to your passion or interests. If your passion is flight, but you can't be a pilot, you can contribute by designing seats for airplanes, getting a job planning flight schedules, working to create a greener plane fuel... Anything, really. By connecting the jobs you are capable of having to things you are passionate about doing, you are much more likely to find your job fulfilling. And for me, that means the possibility of connecting my career to the horse world.

It's my first thought when I consider a job: How can I apply this to horses or riders? I want to write; I can write about equestrians. I am interested in psychology; I can become a performance psychologist and help competitive riders. I may want to study and research neuroscience; as a researcher, I could use my findings to recommend safety regulations to horse show regulations. The application of a job to the horse world is not a must for me, but it is a huge perk. As I considered marketing, the thought came to my mind: I could work in the marketing department of Dover Saddlery or SmartPak.

So what did I do when I got home but check out big equine supplies companies and their marketing programs. I found a little blurb on the Dover website about interships, nothing on the Equestrian Collections or State Line Tack sites, but on the SmartPak website? Jackpot! Not only do they list their current job openings, but they also provide what qualifications those applying should have and the skills they will need: a useful tool for me to look into the future. Really, SmartPak sells you on working there. They've garnered tons of awards from national magazines, such as the Best Bosses/Winning Workplaces award and the Globe's 100 Best Places to Work (rare awards, really, for an equine company). And then I saw their benefits.

You may have also heard my concern about affording a horse in The Price of Owning a Horse. Well, SmartPak seems to share the same concern about their employees, and as a company, they take measures to ensure that those who want a horse can afford one. Forget the usual employee discount (although they have that, too), and say hello to the Active Riders Program. "Board a horse and ride regularly?" the company asks. "In exchange for monthly testing and using SmartPak products and reporting on the results, we’ll pay a percentage of your horse’s monthly board or lease." Now that's a perk! If only they offered it to non-employees willing to test out products! ^^

At any rate, the world of marketing is definitely a possibility for me, and the equine world can make that job worthwhile. Will you being seeing me at SmartPak a few years from now? You never, folks. You never know.

West Coast Friendship: Part One

Gray skies, a slight headache, and nothing to do. I'm feeling story-time coming on once again...

I think I made it clear enough at the end of The Story that Never Was that, once Jake left, I did not stay long at Carousel Farms. At that point in my life, I was a very immature rider, and I think as you compare that story with my life today, you can tell the difference between the insecure, unguided child I was and the confident horseman I am today. I owe a great part of that equestrian metamorphosis to a wonderful riding instructor I happened to stumble across after my departure from Carousel Farms. She was a woman by the name of Maura, and this is the story of how I found her--and, in the process, found myself.

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Flash, for a moment, back to Carousel Farms. It was a time after Jake had been sent away, when my lessons were being taught by college students trying to work off their board fees. Carousel Farms was hosting a weekend schooling show for local riders, and though I wouldn't be competing, I decided to go and watch for the fun of it.

I was walking around the grounds with a friend mine before the Saturday morning classes began when I heard someone call out, "Abigail?" I turned for one second, and then did a double-take, because the girl who had just called my name was leading an absolutely stunning chestnut paint horse and looked very much like my old friend Reyna, whom I had once gone to school with. Only Reyna, as of the last time I saw her, had never been on a horse in her life.

It took a bit of an explanation on her part for me to realize that yes, it truly was Reyna, and yes, she did now own this overly-expensive, breathtaking horse. (Life likes to be unfair, but what it loves more than anything is to rub my face in it.) Apparently, she had been taking several lessons a week for the past year, briefly engaged in a two month lease with a flighty mare, and then settled on buying the gelding. The sale had only been final a week.

I gave her a tour of Carousel. The grounds are fairly big for a city barn, and it can be hard to find everything your first time there. As we walked around, Reyna kept up a commentary on the barn. "Oh, you don't have warm water in the wash rack? My horse is used to warm water." "This is place so big. You don't get to know anyone. At my barn, we're like family." "How many rules do y'all have here? Everywhere I turn, there's more rules posted!"

It was slightly irritating, although I wasn't fan of the barn myself either. I was, at this point, idly looking around for a new place to ride. The location where I live is not horse country, and I knew of all the local barns- I also knew there was no place I truly wanted to ride. But, out of curiosity, I asked Reyna what barn she and her horse happened to call home.

"Oh, I ride at Magnolia." Of course. That explained it. I knew several people who rode at Magnolia, and they were all stuck up about it. It seemed the one thing that barn guaranteed to all their students was a lesson in gloating. Which was slightly amusing, because they seemed to get all the cast-off trainers and horses from Carousel Farms.

And so commenced my day of hearing praises sung about the glorious Magnolia, and how Reyna could not have been happier to be there. I simply rolled my eyes at most of it, chalking it up to exaggeration and snobbery, but what did pique my interest was hearing that their former trainer, Alexis, had left. I had ridden briefly with Alexis at Carousel Farms years before; she had been my trainer at my first real show and, after telling me nothing about what to bring or what to wear, screamed at me in my face for wearing the same attire I wore to lessons. I was all of about nine years old. I never did like Alexis much after that.

So the first day of the show passed with me hearing about Reyna's wonderful horse and wonderful barn, but also of how she was in between trainers and how she hoped her new one would be good. The second day didn't go much differently, only this time Reyna actually had classes to compete in, and, at the end of the show, she and her mom offered me a ride home.

"We only have to stop at Magnolia first to put the horse up," she clarified. "If you don't mind."

Little did I know, those were the words that would change my life.

To be continued.