Week 56: When Horses Became a Lifestyle

                

                Riding is the kind of sport that takes over your life because, in all seriousness, it is impossible to truly be prepared for an event without investing a large amount of time. In a month I will be undergoing a surgery to correct a severe jaw disorder called TMJ and because of this surgery I will not be able to ride for up to 3 months. Just the thought of not riding for 3 months pretty much makes me feel lost. At what point did riding stop being a hobby and start being a lifestyle? I go to school because I want to be a horse vet. I go to work because I want to pay for my horse and for college. I spend time with friends because I like hearing about their horses. I online shop because my horse looks good in pink and I like to think I do too. At some point in the last 7 years riding stopped being something I did and started being something I lived. Do I regret that? Do I wonder how things would be had this not happened? I am not sure.

                I look around myself sitting on my high school benches and I realize a strange dichotomy; some sort of self-selecting separation of the students that I see every day. There are those with passions and those with interests. I see kids who play 3 sports a year. They cross-train and switch focuses with the changes in the seasons. When the snow starts to fall, the boys come in from the soccer fields and change into their basketball shoes only to play for a couple months and find their lacrosse sticks in spring. Sure, most of these kids have a favorite sport. They have a focus, an interest, an abiding love for one of the three sports. However, what makes that different from a lifestyle? When does something that you do, something that you love begin to overtake everything else?

                Every grade has a dancer, a horse girl, an actor, a dedicated musician and an ice skater. Please, forgive me for these generalizations but I fear that they do hold true. These students find a way to take their lives and mold them around the one thing they really love. They read books about it, write papers about it, dream about it, skip eating to act on it and they fantasize about a day when they can live it. They spend nights and days and even their time spent sleeping trying to find a way to rationalize why they can’t imagine living without their thing.

                I think back to my room at home: the ribbons on every ledge, the photos on every wall, the dressage tests tacked to cork boards. I think about how horses became the biggest part of who I am and who I will be. Frankly, I couldn’t tell you when the transition happened. When I stopped being a lesson kid and became a barn rat. When I stopped reading princess stories and started reading Heartland. What I can say is that, no, I don’t regret it and, no, this isn’t easy.

                The moment your life becomes horses is the moment that your life becomes both extremely rewarding and extremely difficult. The financial and emotional strain of owning horses can take a lot out of a person. Every day I walk into the barn and I see people that put everything aside to make horses part of their life. They struggle to make ends meet, they miss social functions, and they sacrifice sleeping in on Saturdays. To an outsider these people seem foolish, they seem nonsensical: why would you give up everything for horses?

                As an equestrian you give up a whole lot to gain an insurmountable amount of satisfaction. To those who laugh at your binder covered in horse stickers, to those who say that you will never be able to be happy and have a horse, to those who say that you will never find love, to those who say that you will always be poor, to those who say that you will never be part of the ‘real world’- you’re wrong. Sure, as equestrians we give up a whole lot. We pour every ounce of energy, money and dedication into what we do and at times it may seem like the return, or at least measureable return, is little. But there is one thing that equestrians have. We have horses.

                I am scared to get this surgery. I am scared that three months without sitting on my horse may actually cause me some form of bodily harm. How will I keep my thighs looking toned without my little bay horse? I ask. The reality is that no matter what, horses will still be here. I will be in the barn watching my horse be ridden days after my surgery and I will be every bit the control freak that I have always been (I am sorry Megan). The ribbons, the pictures, the old dressage tests, they will only remind me of what I have done and the person that horses have made me.

So what do you think? Is it really worth it?

Week 54: Humbling

I cant believe that I have owned Corofin for a year. The journey has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life. While it would be easy for me to blog about all of Finn’s successes (there are lots of them!) I feel like this is my opportunity to talk about what I need to work on. Last weekend I took Finn to Plantation Field. After hearing that Boyd Martin (yes, that Boys Martin) was my dressage judge, I flew around the trailer with a wet rag, wiping down tack that I ought to have cleaned earlier and attempting to whiten the stains in Finn’s socks. Overall, the dressage went fairly well, giving us a 20.5 and a 6th place position. Then came stadium. It is no secret to my friends, family and trainers that show jumping is my least favorite part of anything. Normally my warm up is filled with nerve-induced exclamations that I am destined for failure. However, this show was different. Finn warmed up beautifully; easily finding the distances and getting his changes. In the ring he was VERY perky. This perkiness was only amplified by a flaw in my riding- my inability to sit down in the saddle and stay sitting. That said, we made it out with only one rail. Coming out of stadium I was super excited! We had made it to the best part and we might actually get a ribbon. Much to my dismay, Finn and I’s water issues returned with yet another elimination.

At first I was angry. I thought that I had let him down and worst of all, I thought maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough. Here is the thing about horses- they don’t care about you. I love Finn, more than anything, but at the end of the day he really loves grass. In the last year Finn and I have grown into a pretty great pair (can you tell that I am bias?) but that does not mean that things are suddenly perfect. OTTB’s are curious creatures. They possess the intellect to both learn quickly and outsmart you. They posses the athletic ability to both jump and stop a stride out. They also have the ability to force you to recognize your own flaws. No rider is perfect. No person is perfect. With horses, the moment you start thinking you are great, the first second that you allow yourself to say, “wow look how great this is” your horse will remind you that you are wrong.

The last year has given me a balanced confidence. I am no longer insecure about my riding (most of the time) and I finally feel like part of the barn team. I also understand that things are not always in my control, and with horses you can’t be cocky. I know that they next season will be a great one, with ups, downs and the occasional sideways. Over the winter I hope to work on my position and fitness (more on that next week). I also plan to make the blog weekly!