Moving Up

So much for resting on my laurels.

Fiona after having her braids out at UNH

Less than a week after my great accomplishment of completing my first sanctioned event with Fiona, I have some new goals to work on. Like many things involving horses, this all starts with talking to my trainer. This entire blog is based on a passing comment made to my trainer, suggesting I was ready to buy a horse. There's a profound revelation in that somewhere, I'm just not sure what it is.

Back when I took the princess to the Scarlett Hill derby cross, my trainer made a passing joke about me moving up for Huntington since they weren't planning on being at the show for Beginner Novice day. I panicked a bit, but she later assured me she was just joking. Fast forward to last night, when we were e-mailing about my schedule for the rest of the show season. For King Oak they're not planning on going for the Beginner Novice day, and again she said 'so you'll just have to move up!'. Again, I had a minor panic attack. A much smaller one, now that I've cruised around at Beginner Novice, but it still happened.

Today I asked if she was joking. She said no, she's not joking. We have two months before King Oak, and the princess already does the Novice dressage test and schools at Novice for stadium. We even do the Novice jumps for cross country schools. Why not? It seems so simple and logical when you say it like that, it's just taking me a moment to shift gears. I'm still giddy from Beginner Novice, and we get to move up already?

Moving up is something universal across equestrian disciplines. I've had that moment of staring at my trainer all wide eyed as a hunter, as a jumper, and now as an eventer. I'm sure this conversation takes place in dressage and western pleasure barns, too.

Trainer: You should move up next show.
Student: You think I'm ready?
Trainer: Absolutely.
Student: *smiles, nods, disappears to bathroom to throw up*

Possibly less throwing up in disciplines that don't involve galloping and jumping things that don't fall down, but it's the same idea. I know I was pretty nauseous when I moved up in the jumper world. It's not even really about the change in difficulty, or the bigger jumps, or the possibility of having to face a real ditch on cross county. Moving up is almost as much about the label as the test. I'd be a Novice rider, and my horse would be a Novice horse. If nothing else, that's faster to type than Beginner Novice.

We're putting together a plan to make sure that in two months, the princess and I are ready to tackle the fearsome world of Novice. I have a stadium clinic with Bobby Costello on Aug 2nd (and rumor has it he likes to jack up the fences, so that should be interesting), I have some schooling two-phases coming up that I'll do at Novice, and some cross country schooling trips that will be going up to Novice. I have full faith that when my trainer is done with us, we won't bat an eyelash at King Oak.

Once I'm done throwing up in the portapotty.

Mission Accomplished

As I said to my husband last night while I had a glass of wine and elevated my aching feet, it's not that often in life that we set out on a difficult, long-term project and have it end as an undeniable success. Life tends to get in the way, and particularly with horses, things can go so very wrong so quickly. All it takes is a turn of an ankle to bring the project to a premature end. In the case of Fiona, we didn't even know if she had the mind for the game. As far as projects go, this one was a very long shot.

It took eleven months, but I can officially call Fiona an eventer. She completed her first horse trial yesterday, finishing on her dressage score in Beginner Novice. I think I will be giddy for days. I know I was grinning like a damn fool when we came off cross country and all I could think was 'we did it'. Getting a ribbon was a nice added bonus.

Dressage continues to be our problem phase, which is ironic after a winter of her being a dressage superstar and a jumping disaster. Warm up was chaotic, and the dressage rings were right across from the trailers. When I went across the diagnols, she could see her friends standing around the trailer. Our first canter depart was an airs above the ground movement. However, it was still better than the two phase, with a calmer rhythm and she recovered from her athletic depart to a decent canter. It was a 42.9, which is not competitive, but from the comments I think the judge liked her. The comment I'm taking to heart was 'just be patient'. The judge has a good point. Her first horse trial, the goal was just to complete. I didn't account for the atmosphere.

I haven't been to a sanctioned event since Mystic in May of 2010, so it's easy to forget what a different feel it is. And Mystic is smaller and quieter than UNH. There were horses and golf carts and pedestrians everywhere. I didn't realize until the first golf cart zipped by that the princess had probably never seen one before. Three dressage rings were running, with a decent audience watching everything. It must have been overwhelming to her.

It was a long walk down a road to get to stadium, and she had to do the walk all by herself. Then she had to go by the vendors and the audience around stadium. It was downright chaotic for her and she was sweating before we got to stadium warm up.

She was a trooper. She warmed up well, bravely made the walk back to the stadium area, and spent a good bit of time staring at the audience that was sitting alongside the ring. The course was sweeping and friendly with only one tight turn. One panel was a brightly colored sunset that a lot of horses didn't like, but she went over with a little tap on the shoulder. She was more distracted by all of the activity outside of the ring than the fences, but she put her game face on and jumped around like a real competitor. The announcer had some fun with her show name, which made me laugh on course and probably helped our performance.

I was a nervous wreck for cross country, I'll admit it. I'm almost as green cross country as she is, so I was walking the course with wide eyes. Size wasn't the problem, Fiona can jump the moon. It was more the variety of things to jump and managing hills and turns. And remembering which way to turn, since the different courses intersected and had different paths. The ditch was a fake one, with logs on the ground and sawdust piled in it (called the Devil's Sandbox, which cracked me up), and there was no bank, but we did have a water crossing. Those were minor. The 'talking' fence was the UNH fence.

It's funny that there was a 'talking' fence, but people were definitely talking about it. Number three, the UNH fence, was a rather shiny piece of wood with UNH written on it in blue. Behind it was piled up hay, and there were round hay bales on either side with clear plastic on them. It was a pretty substantial fence, shared by Beginner Novice and Novice. The Training horses had to go right by it, and the word was that even they were having some spooking problems. I rode that fence like world peace depended on Fiona getting over it. I popped her on the shoulder (probably the second time I've ever used a crop with intent with her), kicked, and growled 'get over it!'. She took two stutter steps than surged forward and over the fence. Minor detail the Devil's Sandbox was about six strides afterward, and I was supposed to trot that. We never did make it back to trot, but she sure didn't bat an eyelash at it.

Actually, she didn't bat an eyelash at anything after the UNH fence. She dragged me around the course, jumping everything I pointed her at with great gusto. I was careful on the turns (probably too careful), which ate up time. When we got to the water, we were supposed to have close to two minutes left. I checked my watch and I had just one minute left. I put the pedal to the floor for the end of the course and managed to cross the finish flags with a couple seconds to spare. Then I spent about a hundred yards trying to get my mare to stop. She swaggered all the way back to the trailers, acting like she owned the world.

Once she was untacked, cooled out, and cleaned up? She fell asleep on the trailer. It was a long day for the green bean.

Tomorrow I send in my entry for Valinor. I wonder if I'll be done grinning by the time that show rolls around.

Anticipation

Just when my faith had wavered and I had considered other plans for the weekend, my entry has been sorted out and I have ride times. The princess and I are off to our very first sanctioned this weekend at UNH.

My first reaction was relief. Relief that I had not managed to botch things so badly that I would miss out. Turned out that there was some confusion over who I was, since I go by one name but my name in the USEA paperwork is something else. I hadn't thought of that. Live and learn.

Now I have moved on to my second reaction: nervous anticipation. There is definitely a different feel to going to a horse trial, as opposed to a schooling show. I need to go pick up a battery for my watch, for one. Time will count. I also need to pull out all the bells and whistles. Hunt coat, leather gloves, hair nets, the whole thing. I got my new saddle pad today that I ordered as my show pad for jumping. It's black with light blue trim, white cord, and a monogram of a silver tiara for the princess. No one outside of my barn will get it, since her show name is Can't Drive 55, but I like it. A little individuality in my rather conservative show get up.

Saturday will be spent primping and prepping. I need to finish pulling her mane, get her bathed and clipped, and braid her up. My tack needs to all be cleaned and packed, along with the rest of my equipment. It will be an all day show (I don't go on XC until almost 6pm) so I will need to pack food and water in order to survive.

I know I'm looking at a weekend with very little sleep and a lot of stress, but right now, all I feel is that nervous jitter of something exciting coming up. We've worked so hard for this, and I finally feel like we're ready. Just in time, since it's time for us to go.

Paperwork

I've spent quite a bit of time over the last ten months getting my girl all prepped for her very first sanctioned. We've weathered the scary jumping, the resistance in dressage, and even getting her used to having her mane pulled. We've built up a topline, put in the cross-country miles, and turned the former brood mare and pasture potato into a viable eventing prospect.

For my part, I've learned to not duck over fences that won't fall down and to keep my legs under me while doing dressage. Okay, we might still be working on that second part, but it's definitely getting better. We've got the moves, we've got the equipment, and the princess sure has the talent and the look.

The princess showing me what a big girl she's become at the Scarlet Hill Derby Cross

It looks like we're ready for that first sanctioned at UNH next weekend, right? Well, something more challenging then a stomach wrenching coffin might be keeping us home. It's called paperwork.

I'm a hunter princess by training, I'll admit to that. These opening dates and close dates and entry statuses and ride times still confuse me a bit. I like the ride times once I have them, it's getting them that makes things difficult. I've only been in one sanctioned event before this, and I had to enter twice. My first entry was completely wrong, had me in a division that wasn't even being offered. I got a nice e-mail from the show secretary, asking me if I meant to enter their show. I really appreciated them holding my hand a bit and getting things sorted out. Of course, that was a less popular show with no wait list.

This time I entered UNH and ended up on the wait list. I thought I got my entry out in time, but it appears not. I went away on vacation thinking everything had been sorted out, but it's now a week away and my entry is still all messed up. Of all the things to catch me out, it had to be the simple fact that eventing entries are far more complicated than hunter/jumper entries. I don't know what I did wrong, but the princess may be staying home next weekend due to my inability to sort out calendars and paperwork.

I guess we'll have to add sending in entries training to my riding schedule. It's not like you get a lot of cracks at this in a summer. Another opening day is coming up on Tuesday and I'm rather beside myself. I want to go show!

A picture is worth a thousand words

Yesterday I had the princess out for a cross country school. We were doing just about everything you would see on a Beginner Novice course (good thing, since we're going BN on July 10 at our first recognized event). Ditches, up banks, down banks, water. She flew around like this was what she was born to do. We did have two stops, one for a bright red coop that she did not like at all, and the other for a spooky house that I did not ride well. Both times she circled right around and went after them without a question, so I consider that a victory. She just needs more miles. The place we took her to school has a lot more color and variety to their cross country fences than she's seen before, and we were asking her to do some bigger hills and questions, so she definitely proved herself to be an honest and brave young lady.

Exactly ten months before that cross country school, I unloaded a mare with terrible feet and no muscle from a trailer and tucked her into a stall. Even four months ago we couldn't get around a stadium course without scaring people, and had to trot all of our fences. Now? Totally different pony.

Before:


After:


She has the best expression in that picture. Someone seems to be enjoying their job. My hands are getting better, but they're still drifting up a bit.

I'm going to go through major withdrawal this week, since I'm going out on my hiking trip so I won't see her. One of the girls at the barn is going to help keep her in work so she doesn't get bored. I'll have to buy the princess a new Likkit to make it up to her. She loves that thing.

The pony inside

A long time ago, at a stable far, far away, I dreamed of owning a Show Horse. Not a horse that you take to shows, but a Show Horse. I learned to ride at a barn primarily devoted to hunters in the 80's, so my vision of a show horse was tall, dark, and handsome. I wanted a tall, elegant, dark bay gelding. He would have a stall and blankets, because he would need to be kept inside at night and stay warm and clean. He would have an elegant canter that was easy to ride, and would always hit the distance. A Show Horse does not spook at hay bales and does not dump little girls into oxers because they may have peeked down just a little bit. A Show Horse makes people turn their heads when he walks by.

I wanted one.

Of course, like many little girls, I had a pony. A ten hand Welsh pony named Terry that drove me bonkers for years. I fell off that pony more often than any mount since. Combined. He would stop, he would spin, he would duck out. He'd drag me off to eat grass, ignoring the fifty pounds of irate little girl trying to get him to go inside so she could tack up. I chased that pony all over the pony pasture in the pouring rain, shaking a feed bucket and wishing for that beautiful Show Horse.

Of course he was shaping the rider I would be one day. At the time I didn't appreciate it, but a lot of my riding can be attributed back to the little white monster that was my partner on and off for many of those formative years. I didn't appreciate him until the end of our partnership, when I was finally good enough to earn some respect. I still wanted my Show Horse, but in the mean time, I had a pretty darn nice pony, and some nice ribbons to show for it.

Fast forward about twenty-five years.

I now own a Show Horse. Sure, she's a chestnut mare, not a bay gelding, but she qualifies. She lives in a stall and has lots of blankets. She has an elegant canter and does hit most of her distances, so long as I don't screw her up too much. She doesn't spook at hay bales and she doesn't dump me in oxers (yet). And yes, she turns heads when she walks by.

I see the little girls struggling with their ponies in their formative years watching me with my Show Horse and I see the cycle starting again. They want a Show Horse. Some of them want my Show Horse. Fiona has a little fan club of girls that think she's super neat. It's kind of fun to think that some of them are dreaming of a tall, elegant chestnut mare of their very own one day, the way I used to dream of a tall, elegant bay gelding. But there's a secret and I don't know if I should tell them.

They're all ponies. Every. Single. One of them.

"Fiona!" "Fiona, you're on my foot!" "Put it down!" "Get back here!" "Don't even think about it, mare." "Don't you drag me!" "It's a chipmunk, settle down!" "Whoa, damn it!" "The plastic bag will not eat you." "Give me back my whip!" "Those reins are expensive, don't chew them!" "Don't steal his hat!" "Put your hoof down, young lady." "Two strides, not one stride."

And, my favorite:

"What are you . . . spit that out! Don't eat that! Do you even know what it is? Drop it! Drop it . . . I don't even know what that was, and you better not have swallowed it."

How do you tell them that they will always, always be dragged over to the best patch of grass around? That in the end, they're all ponies? I went out hacking with a friend. We were both riding our Show Horses. We both spent a fair bit of the hack convincing our mares to not eat every little thing that went by. Both of our mares made us feel like we were back to riding Shetland ponies that will just ignore that little girl and help themselves to all of that free food.

Maybe that's how the cycle really goes. It starts and ends with the ponies. There's no perfect Show Horse out there, just well trained ponies that happen to be taller, and when you realize that, you can really appreciate your partner's inner pony.

Another day, another horse show

Some of my friends are starting to think that horse shows are just an every day occurrence for me. Every time they turn around, I'm washing saddle pads, clipping, bathing, scrubbing tack, and in general putting hours worth of work into a five minute presentation in the ring. Ten, if there's two phases, 15 if there's three. Of course, the amount of prep work is directly related to the number of phases. An actual horse trial? Probably eight hours or more for those 15 minutes of glory.

Well, hopefully glory.

Trying to explain why I spend this much time and money for a ribbon I could just order online baffles most of those friends and I've given up trying to explain it. You either get it, or you don't. Those that get it are with me at the barn prepping, those that don't have hobbies that are not so completely and utterly soul devouring. I could always take up stamp collecting. Certainly wouldn't have people holding their breath the way they do when I'm on course.

Our show wasn't our best performance. We've focused so much on fixing the stadium that the dressage slipped. We were rushed, and the princess pulled some stunts I've never seen before. She spooked on the way into the ring for out second test, I'm surprised the video didn't catch my laughter. I was extremely amused, but the scores just weren't good. Our stadium was much, much more rideable than she's ever been before. We had two rails, but that's pilot error. I'm burying her too close to the fences. I've been too occupied with avoiding flyers when she charges, I need to ease off and let her take a longer spot. Overall, proud of my girl as always.