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!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, May 21, 2010
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.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
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. :/
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. :/
Sunday, May 9, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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, mostl
y 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.
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, mostl
y 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.
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