This past Sunday, we did a jumping clinic with the infamous Marilyn Payne. While it absolutely could have been worse, Rue and I had a rough time.
The clinic was focused on gymnastics and developing a good eye for our "line." Rue is always a little hot over fences, but this was something else. The whole time, she was explosive and crooked to each fence and each time she surged forward and launched over something, my back decided to have a little whimper. This meant that as the clinic went on, the worse my riding got and I felt myself ultimately hanging on her face, which never helps.
To boot, I was riding in a saddle that did NOT fit her or me, since my saddle is currently out getting adjusted. I also forgot to swap out the extra-flexi Sprengers that - while fine for flatting - make my back extra cranky when I jump. Oops.
We also really haven't been jumping that much recently. It's usually fine, and Rue is game, but I am just not strong enough to ride effectively anymore. My back gives me a lot of limitations and the days of No-Stirrup Champion of the World are long behind me because of it.
By the end of the clinic, something wasn't quite right. Rue quit on me and started stopping... at poles. If you know Rue, you know that she's a stadium and XC machine. She might give a good look, but she doesn't really stop often. We eventually got through it and Marilyn let us quit on a relatively quiet note, but I walked out feeling embarrassed.
My embarrassment soon faded and settled into worry. Sarah hopped in the driver's seat, turned to me, and said, "I *really* think she needs her hocks done." I nodded. (I called the vet first thing today and set up an appointment for Friday.)
The conversation soon turned towards me and my back. Sarah asked me quite plainly if I'd ever considered selling Rue for something that was less hot (ie: something easier on my sad, pathetic spine). She poignantly noted that me being crippled after a jump school isn't ideal.
I admit to her that I have thought of it. But that I don't know if riding Rue is the problem. I expanded on my admission to confess that I haven't really been following all of the doctor's orders, which were:
1. Do physical therapy stretches daily. Fail.
2. Massage therapy every 1-2 weeks. Another fail.
3. Wear brace while riding. Big fat fail.
4. Don't run until you've lost enough weight to make successful rehab likely. Super extra fail.
I got the world's biggest you're-an-idiot glare and a nice talking to.
Welp. Okay, so before we jump to the conclusion that Rue is making my back aggravated.. maybe I need to reevaluate how well I listen to my medical professionals.
It's hard though. I just have such a difficult time accepting that I have limitations that I didn't used to have. PT stretches are boring. I HATE massage. My brace is annoying. I don't know how to lose weight without running.
Writing those out makes them seem so trite. Every single one of those things is an excuse that is preventing me from becoming a good rider, healthier person, and better version of myself. It's time to stop.
So.. massage tomorrow (ugh), doctor on Monday to discuss another steroid shot and getting a brace that is less awful to wear, and today setting a diet plan to lose weight without running it all off.
Okay, 2017. I see your bullshit setbacks and I raise you a dismissive and determined middle finger.
<3 A
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
day jobs, chronic illness, & unfairness.
If you're lucky enough to have a horse, and unlucky enough to have a non-horsey full time job to fund said horse, you know just how hard the balancing act between work and barn time can be.
I say "unlucky" but I actually love my job. And because my fabulous, non-profit, education company is California-based, I work from a home office, with fairly flexible hours. My manager is all about helping me achieve work-life balance and making sure I don't overextend myself.
That said, if I could be rich enough to afford horses without it, I would probably quit in a heartbeat and spend all my time at the barn.
I consider myself very fortunate to have the ability (mostly) to shuffle my hours around and make it out to the barn 5-6 days a week. And if you know me, I am a compulsive planner - so every half-hour increment of my day is accounted for in both my Google calendar and my Passion Planner. This also means that when life throws a wrench into my happily-cranking machine of a life, I spiral a little bit out of control.
It happens more often than I care to acknowledge, as I have been dealing with a litany of chronic health issues for, oh, most of my life. I'm sure that they all will make cameos here as time goes on, but the most recent offender has been my back. My back has always been a little grumpy, ever since I was a kid, but a few years ago, I was hit by a car and fractured several vertebrae.. causing trauma-induced scoliosis, and a couple of disc herniations. Huzzah. Since then, it's been a hotHOThot mess of issues.
After several, eh, heated discussions surrounding spinal fusions and hardware, my orthopedist and I agreed on the more conservative treatment plan of physical therapy, medication, steroid injections, and REST. I faithfully obliged (sort of.. as much as I could..) and got myself to a healthy-ish place. Being inactive was hard for me. I don't really like staying still and several months of being unable to ride, run, bike, or lift, left me pretty depressed, hella weak, and 30 lbs heavier.
When I got the go-ahead to start riding, I hit the barn THAT day. And rode in a clinic the following weekend :x
Miraculously, it held up. At least, well enough for me to continue riding and showing for the next few months. It bought me time to spend this winter building on our flatwork. Every once in a while, I felt a tweak. I'd head home, pop a muscle relaxer and an anti-inflammatory, and sit with the heating pad on while Netflix-binging. It worked.
Until it didn't.
This Sunday after the dressage show, I woke up with the all-too-familiar sensation of numbness in my right leg and a stabbing, evil pain in my lower right back. I put my elbows underneath me and tried to sit up. NOPE.
NOPENOPENOPE.
I've been pretty much on the floor since then. Today it's Wednesday and this is the first time I can sort of sit comfortably. I hobbled to the barn yesterday to lunge my horse, and Sarah told me to go home - that she would ride Rue the next few days, to rest so I can feel better by Sunday because, oh, yeah, I have a clinic with Marilyn Payne to ride in.
So I'm "resting" today and tomorrow. Really, I am sitting at my desk with my feet up and a heating pad, grumbling relentlessly about all the hard work I am going to lose if my back decides to keep being a jerk. And that's really what I wanted to rant about here: the unfairness of it.
Having chronic illnesses makes riding harder. It means that even if you find the time, your body may not agree to let you use it. It means that working until midnight and rearranging schedules just so you can squeeze rides in isn't even worth it. It means that you watch with frustration as other riders, able-bodied and healthy, do a half-assed job working their horses - barely riding even though they can.
I get angry with the "I can'ts" that are really "I won'ts," and I watch sadly from the sidelines, or on the other side of a computer screen, jealously wishing I could trade with them.. just for a while. That I could have a healthy, agreeable body so I could sit the trot comfortably, or stretch taller through my transitions.
But that's life, right? We're all dealt unfair hands in one way or another, and my health is mine.
The bottom line is, my love for riding far outweighs the physical pain or the frustration I get from constant setbacks. So for now, I'll keep pushing through for the days when my body lets me do what I love.. and I'll savor every moment of it.
<3 A
I say "unlucky" but I actually love my job. And because my fabulous, non-profit, education company is California-based, I work from a home office, with fairly flexible hours. My manager is all about helping me achieve work-life balance and making sure I don't overextend myself.
That said, if I could be rich enough to afford horses without it, I would probably quit in a heartbeat and spend all my time at the barn.
I consider myself very fortunate to have the ability (mostly) to shuffle my hours around and make it out to the barn 5-6 days a week. And if you know me, I am a compulsive planner - so every half-hour increment of my day is accounted for in both my Google calendar and my Passion Planner. This also means that when life throws a wrench into my happily-cranking machine of a life, I spiral a little bit out of control.
It happens more often than I care to acknowledge, as I have been dealing with a litany of chronic health issues for, oh, most of my life. I'm sure that they all will make cameos here as time goes on, but the most recent offender has been my back. My back has always been a little grumpy, ever since I was a kid, but a few years ago, I was hit by a car and fractured several vertebrae.. causing trauma-induced scoliosis, and a couple of disc herniations. Huzzah. Since then, it's been a hotHOThot mess of issues.
After several, eh, heated discussions surrounding spinal fusions and hardware, my orthopedist and I agreed on the more conservative treatment plan of physical therapy, medication, steroid injections, and REST. I faithfully obliged (sort of.. as much as I could..) and got myself to a healthy-ish place. Being inactive was hard for me. I don't really like staying still and several months of being unable to ride, run, bike, or lift, left me pretty depressed, hella weak, and 30 lbs heavier.
When I got the go-ahead to start riding, I hit the barn THAT day. And rode in a clinic the following weekend :x
Miraculously, it held up. At least, well enough for me to continue riding and showing for the next few months. It bought me time to spend this winter building on our flatwork. Every once in a while, I felt a tweak. I'd head home, pop a muscle relaxer and an anti-inflammatory, and sit with the heating pad on while Netflix-binging. It worked.
Until it didn't.
This Sunday after the dressage show, I woke up with the all-too-familiar sensation of numbness in my right leg and a stabbing, evil pain in my lower right back. I put my elbows underneath me and tried to sit up. NOPE.
NOPENOPENOPE.
I've been pretty much on the floor since then. Today it's Wednesday and this is the first time I can sort of sit comfortably. I hobbled to the barn yesterday to lunge my horse, and Sarah told me to go home - that she would ride Rue the next few days, to rest so I can feel better by Sunday because, oh, yeah, I have a clinic with Marilyn Payne to ride in.
So I'm "resting" today and tomorrow. Really, I am sitting at my desk with my feet up and a heating pad, grumbling relentlessly about all the hard work I am going to lose if my back decides to keep being a jerk. And that's really what I wanted to rant about here: the unfairness of it.
Having chronic illnesses makes riding harder. It means that even if you find the time, your body may not agree to let you use it. It means that working until midnight and rearranging schedules just so you can squeeze rides in isn't even worth it. It means that you watch with frustration as other riders, able-bodied and healthy, do a half-assed job working their horses - barely riding even though they can.
I get angry with the "I can'ts" that are really "I won'ts," and I watch sadly from the sidelines, or on the other side of a computer screen, jealously wishing I could trade with them.. just for a while. That I could have a healthy, agreeable body so I could sit the trot comfortably, or stretch taller through my transitions.
But that's life, right? We're all dealt unfair hands in one way or another, and my health is mine.
The bottom line is, my love for riding far outweighs the physical pain or the frustration I get from constant setbacks. So for now, I'll keep pushing through for the days when my body lets me do what I love.. and I'll savor every moment of it.
<3 A
Sunday, January 15, 2017
first show of the year.
Yesterday, we went to our first show of the year. It was "just" a schooling dressage show but I think schooling opportunities are just as important as recognized shows. For us, this set a baseline for the season to come.
After a 3am wakeup, my show partner Sara P and I fed all the horses who looked hungrily (albeit confusedly) at us before groggily prepping our two mares.
With Rue, I like to do a quick lunge session in the morning before we trailer out. I'm not sure if we need to do this anymore as she's sort of grown up and gotten a brain, but as an OTTB mare who is prone to having anxious/tense moments, I think it helps to let her stretch and relax some before a show. It hasn't hurt us yet, so I keep doing it.
After two hours in the truck with BFF-trainer Sarah and show companion Sara P, and then Sara S following behind with her own rig (why so many Sara(h)s!?) with our awesome barn buddy Kaitlin (who got up at the asscrack of dawn just to help in the cold <3), we arrived at the horse park ready and raring to go. The first people there. Before the show crew.
Luckily my tests were early.. I had the second and sixth rides of the day. Because I tend to get hella nervous, I prefer this low-prep, go-and-be-done type of scenario. #stressage
Surprisingly, I held it together today, even as Rue was a little looky to start with in the big, open indoor. Last year, I probably would have tightened up and pulled, or jammed my leg on her.. but I just walked around and let her relax. Trainer reminded me to still have some contact ("soft" is not "not there" - oops, still figuring that out) and little Ruebear settled down. Once we started actually schooling, she was pretty on her game.
Dressage will always be our struggling point. It requires softness, feel, and relaxation that doesn't come easily to a tense OTTB and an anxious-minded redhead. But it has gotten remarkably better from last season to this one as evidenced by our quiet - a-little-boring, somewhat-crooked, not-quite-through, oy-you-need-to-work-on-transitions-and-suppleness, um-that's-not-a-circle - tests.
Truly no surprises or terrible moments, a lot of what we expected to hear, but really a better experience than I had anticipated. In our Novice A test, we scored a 33 which, to many, is not amazing, but we got two 7.5s and some lovely remarks about our trotwork so I consider this our best novice test to date. We also made a first attempt at Novice B, in which we got a respectable 37. Not awesome, but it's a tougher test and Rue was as good as I could have asked for. I'll take it!
They grouped all the eventing tests together, so we got a 3rd and 6th, but I always contest that the ribbon matters little to me compared to the ride.
That said, I did make our show crew wait around so I could see if we won the TIP (Thoroughbred Incentive Program) award because it was a pretty blue neck ribbon and I really wanted it. (Rue did too).
Fun fact, we did win it :)
After a 3am wakeup, my show partner Sara P and I fed all the horses who looked hungrily (albeit confusedly) at us before groggily prepping our two mares.
With Rue, I like to do a quick lunge session in the morning before we trailer out. I'm not sure if we need to do this anymore as she's sort of grown up and gotten a brain, but as an OTTB mare who is prone to having anxious/tense moments, I think it helps to let her stretch and relax some before a show. It hasn't hurt us yet, so I keep doing it.
After two hours in the truck with BFF-trainer Sarah and show companion Sara P, and then Sara S following behind with her own rig (why so many Sara(h)s!?) with our awesome barn buddy Kaitlin (who got up at the asscrack of dawn just to help in the cold <3), we arrived at the horse park ready and raring to go. The first people there. Before the show crew.
Barn fam is the best fam.
Luckily my tests were early.. I had the second and sixth rides of the day. Because I tend to get hella nervous, I prefer this low-prep, go-and-be-done type of scenario. #stressage
Surprisingly, I held it together today, even as Rue was a little looky to start with in the big, open indoor. Last year, I probably would have tightened up and pulled, or jammed my leg on her.. but I just walked around and let her relax. Trainer reminded me to still have some contact ("soft" is not "not there" - oops, still figuring that out) and little Ruebear settled down. Once we started actually schooling, she was pretty on her game.
Dressage will always be our struggling point. It requires softness, feel, and relaxation that doesn't come easily to a tense OTTB and an anxious-minded redhead. But it has gotten remarkably better from last season to this one as evidenced by our quiet - a-little-boring, somewhat-crooked, not-quite-through, oy-you-need-to-work-on-transitions-and-suppleness, um-that's-not-a-circle - tests.
My hands are NOT in my crotch #win
Truly no surprises or terrible moments, a lot of what we expected to hear, but really a better experience than I had anticipated. In our Novice A test, we scored a 33 which, to many, is not amazing, but we got two 7.5s and some lovely remarks about our trotwork so I consider this our best novice test to date. We also made a first attempt at Novice B, in which we got a respectable 37. Not awesome, but it's a tougher test and Rue was as good as I could have asked for. I'll take it!
They grouped all the eventing tests together, so we got a 3rd and 6th, but I always contest that the ribbon matters little to me compared to the ride.
That said, I did make our show crew wait around so I could see if we won the TIP (Thoroughbred Incentive Program) award because it was a pretty blue neck ribbon and I really wanted it. (Rue did too).
Fun fact, we did win it :)
Rue in blue.
But again, neck ribbon aside, we came home with a lot of homework:
- Transitions - "thousands of them" per the judge
- Geometry - "circles instead of amoebas" per the trainer
- Suppleness and consistency - per both
We're also talking about hock injections before the season begins which is a story for another time, but for now, very proud of my little bay mare for giving her all and proud of myself for not losing my shit and having FUN at a show.
As an aside, Sara and Sara also did amazingly! Sara S took home a 4th and 5th in her BN tests, and Sara P won all of her intro classes! Overall a fabulous day for everyone!
As an aside, Sara and Sara also did amazingly! Sara S took home a 4th and 5th in her BN tests, and Sara P won all of her intro classes! Overall a fabulous day for everyone!
The three Sara(h)s and.. me. // Our loot.
<3 A
Thursday, January 12, 2017
on getting started.
I've always felt fairly insecure when it comes to my expertise with horses, despite the fact that I have been riding for twenty-plus years. I often consider this a type of humility, but perhaps at some point it crosses over into irrational self-doubt. My trainer, who incidentally is also my best friend, constantly reminds me, "You know how to ride."
(Maybe she's right. Maybe I am. I like to believe that she wouldn't push me quite so hard if I wasn't capable of it but why can't I see what she sees?)
Perhaps it has something to do with my background.
After 16 years spent riding my reliable, quiet, and inherently kind Appendix gelding, Mystic, I went through a peculiar quarter-life crisis. During this time, I quit my rotten job (on a whim) and purchased an OTTB with my savings (without first finding another job).
Mystic was nearing retirement and I had pleeeeenty of time to work with this 4 year old bay mare because, well, I had just quit my job. On the drive back to the barn, we named her Rue. It was a perfect choice, and I knew that everything would be great.
It wasn't.
I got a new job (since I'm not independently wealthy or dating an 80 year old bazillionaire) and I spent a lot of time dealing with health issues. I very rarely got to the barn, and when I did, every ride was stressful. Rue could barely walk quietly and I couldn't stop hanging on her mouth. We fed off of each other's anxiety, and couldn't find any soft moments.
I cried all the time. When I rode. As I lunged. On the drive up to the barn. On the way home.
I didn't know how to work with a green, anxious, hot horse and I had no patience for it. Sarah, my best-friend-turned-trainer, took that little mare away from me on more than one occasion when a ride turned into a frustrated battle of will (battles I will admit now that I could never win.)
One day, Sarah looked at me and said, "This horse is cool. I will buy her from you if you want and we can get you something you can enjoy." In my sourness, I replied, "Maybe I should get something I can ride." In her typical blunt fashion, Sarah replied, "I can't make you do anything, but you can ride this horse. Rue isn't Mystic and she isn't going to be him. You just need to commit to it and make it work."
-sound of record stopping-
Oh.
I had spent months comparing this little mare to my perfect Mystic and had barely recognized doing so. In that moment, Sarah's wisdom startled and humbled me, and I decided to put my heart into making it work with Rue.
Fast forward three years later and here we stand - having completed our first recognized novice event last season. This was not magic, nor was it a feat of strength. Rather, it was years of learning - with Sarah's guidance - how to be a patient, soft, and compassionate rider. (I'm still working on all of these.) It has been figuring out how to set myself and Rue up for success - finding that fine line between overfacing and pushing us as a team.
As appreciative as I am for having had Mystic as a teacher for almost two decades, I also recognize how much I have grown in the last few years because of Rue. She has forced me to become a more effective and empathetic rider. She has taught me tools to improve my patience. She has shown me what hard work can lead to.
I am forever in debt to this little mare who dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the hunter/jumper world and gave me a path into the world of eventing. I never understood real excitement until I came off our XC run at our first event, double clear and adrenaline high. From that point, I knew I wasn't turning back, and it's been onward and upward ever since.
I can't wait to see where life takes us, in 2017 and beyond.
<3 A
(Maybe she's right. Maybe I am. I like to believe that she wouldn't push me quite so hard if I wasn't capable of it but why can't I see what she sees?)
Perhaps it has something to do with my background.
After 16 years spent riding my reliable, quiet, and inherently kind Appendix gelding, Mystic, I went through a peculiar quarter-life crisis. During this time, I quit my rotten job (on a whim) and purchased an OTTB with my savings (without first finding another job).
Mystic was nearing retirement and I had pleeeeenty of time to work with this 4 year old bay mare because, well, I had just quit my job. On the drive back to the barn, we named her Rue. It was a perfect choice, and I knew that everything would be great.
It wasn't.
I got a new job (since I'm not independently wealthy or dating an 80 year old bazillionaire) and I spent a lot of time dealing with health issues. I very rarely got to the barn, and when I did, every ride was stressful. Rue could barely walk quietly and I couldn't stop hanging on her mouth. We fed off of each other's anxiety, and couldn't find any soft moments.
I cried all the time. When I rode. As I lunged. On the drive up to the barn. On the way home.
I didn't know how to work with a green, anxious, hot horse and I had no patience for it. Sarah, my best-friend-turned-trainer, took that little mare away from me on more than one occasion when a ride turned into a frustrated battle of will (battles I will admit now that I could never win.)
One day, Sarah looked at me and said, "This horse is cool. I will buy her from you if you want and we can get you something you can enjoy." In my sourness, I replied, "Maybe I should get something I can ride." In her typical blunt fashion, Sarah replied, "I can't make you do anything, but you can ride this horse. Rue isn't Mystic and she isn't going to be him. You just need to commit to it and make it work."
-sound of record stopping-
Oh.
I had spent months comparing this little mare to my perfect Mystic and had barely recognized doing so. In that moment, Sarah's wisdom startled and humbled me, and I decided to put my heart into making it work with Rue.
Fast forward three years later and here we stand - having completed our first recognized novice event last season. This was not magic, nor was it a feat of strength. Rather, it was years of learning - with Sarah's guidance - how to be a patient, soft, and compassionate rider. (I'm still working on all of these.) It has been figuring out how to set myself and Rue up for success - finding that fine line between overfacing and pushing us as a team.
As appreciative as I am for having had Mystic as a teacher for almost two decades, I also recognize how much I have grown in the last few years because of Rue. She has forced me to become a more effective and empathetic rider. She has taught me tools to improve my patience. She has shown me what hard work can lead to.
I am forever in debt to this little mare who dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the hunter/jumper world and gave me a path into the world of eventing. I never understood real excitement until I came off our XC run at our first event, double clear and adrenaline high. From that point, I knew I wasn't turning back, and it's been onward and upward ever since.
I can't wait to see where life takes us, in 2017 and beyond.
<3 A
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