An Ongoing Lesson In Humility

As I mentioned, I've recently started riding after a nearly two-year hiatus. As I also mentioned, I have learned that it is a super-bad idea to take a nearly two-year hiatus from riding.

I started getting sore before my first riding lesson was over.  By the time I made it home I could hardly sit, let alone walk.  I'm not saying I ever had the greatest leg (my IHSA coach can attest to that), but now I have not even the shadowiest remains of leg. And I'm pathetically out of shape, like huffing and puffing after a couple laps around the ring out of shape. Also, my left ankle, which was weak and annoying before has now officially gone to crap.

Nothing works the way it used to. I know what I'm supposed to do, but my body doesn't cooperate and  It's incredibly infuriating to not be able to ride the way I know I can. I'm sure anyone who has ever tried to get back into riding after an extended absence can relate.

Adding another interesting layer is the fact that I've resumed my riding career with a new trainer. My new coach is great, she's very understanding about how life sometimes intervenes with our equine plans, but she's never seen me ride when I was in shape.  She only has my word that I've ridden for 18 years and showed etc.

Every time my leg flails around like an over-cooked noodle, or I miss a distance or botch a canter depart I almost feel like I need to say, "No really, I used to ride," or "I used to have a leg, I promise!" just to prove I'm not lying about my experience level.

But, those would only come off like excuses. It's an ongoing lesson in humility each time I ride. The only solution is to prove my abilities over time.  In the meantime my pride will just have to adjust.

Getting to Know You

As I previously mentioned, there have been some changes in my life recently. Namely, I upended my life in the midwest and moved to the mid-atlantic. I also started riding again.

It was so great to step in a barn again and smell that familiar aroma of horse and hay. Walking down the long aisle hearing the sounds of gentle crunching and the occasional snort was a balm for my stressed-out soul.

See, it was actually about six months after I moved here that I started riding.  It was a whirlwind transition as I started my super-cool-big-kid job about a week after we arrived.  For a long time my cool job kept me from dwelling on the upheaval of relocation. I poured myself into my work (it really is a neat place) and tried not to think about leaving my family behind, my friends behind, how I hated driving in this new town, how nothing was the same anymore...but then work started getting stressful.

Then I started to unravel. It wasn't fun, but it helped me realize that I needed invest myself in things besides my work.  So, I decided to start riding again.

It's been great so far.  I like the barn, the people seem nice and my new instructor is worth every penny I pay and every extra mile I drive.  It's no secret to horse people that horses are often the best therapy.

Each time I've ridden at my new barn I've had a different horse.  First there was the cranky and slow one, then a hot one who hated having his ears touched and had to be bridled in a unique way, then a sweet green one, then a non-steering draft cross and so on.

As I was cooling one of the horses out after a lesson one time, I sighed.  I suddenly realized I missed the familiarity of the horses I left behind.  The ones whose personality quirks I already knew. Doesn't stop, hates left turns, doesn't like the short distances etc. Having to go through the awkward getting-to-know-you stages all over again  made me homesick.  Then it hit me that this was a bigger metaphor for my new life.

I left my friends behind and now I had to go through the act of making friends all over again. Worse, there was a different set of cultural norms in this place and I felt like I was always running afoul of them. I missed the familiarity of my old life. Everything from my family and friends down to little stupid stuff like restaurants and the gardening store I used to frequent.

I still miss my old home and my old life.  I'm still having a little trouble making friends, but it is getting easier.  Even if the horses are different and have a whole host of quirks that need to be learned, the ritual of brushing, tacking up, riding, untacking, brushing is a therapy that's familiar and most welcome. 

Horse'n Around

Hello Dear Bloggie,

How've you been? I've missed you!

So a few things have happened since I last wrote: I quit my job, packed up my house, moved halfway across the country with CK, got a really cool big-kid job, and most importantly, started riding again.

Somehow I managed to find a really cool place to ride, with a covered arena and an instructor who seems totally normal. It's pretty awesome. 

However, I do have some words of advice for the youngsters out there:

DO NOT TAKE A TWO-YEAR BREAK FROM RIDING, IT IS A BAD IDEA.


For realsies. I never knew I could hurt so much.  Still,  it's great to have horses in my life again.


I'm back and better than ever.

Holly

As an animal lover I've almost always been surrounded by animals.  Around the time I entered college that slowly changed until I was living with no animals.  It was not a state I wanted to stay in any longer than I had to.  I missed my animals and I missed having animals in my daily life.

Finally, after graduation, I was in a place in my life where having a puppy might again be possible.  I managed to convince my lovely boyfriend (more like badgered, pleaded with, and annoyed).  One weekend I decided that it would be a good day to look at dogs at the shelter.  Boyfriend wasn't so sure.

"If we go look at dogs, we're probably going to come with one," he said wisely, "and I just don't think the house is quite dog proofed yet."

"Is that your only objection, that the house isn't ready for a dog?"

"Pretty much."

To this day, Boyfriend jokes that he has never seen me clean the house so quickly.  He likes to say that now he knows how to motivate me to clean: dangle the prospect of a dog over my head.  I like to think of it as proof of how serious I was about getting a dog.

So, we went to the shelter.........aaaaaaaand we came home with a dog.  Boyfriend was totally right, but I would like to point out that I was fully emotionally prepared to not adopt a dog that day.  I knew he wanted to think over any dog he met and Boyfriend is consistently practical. 

He says he knew once we met our puppy on the very same day she was available for adoption, that she wouldn't be there at the shelter the next day.  

I almost cried when he said we should get her.  Seriously. I was ecstatic.

I love this little dog.  She is so sweet and goofy and wiggly.

Holly is a Catahoula Leopard Dog mixed with something else.  Feel free to look that up, we definitely had to.  

She's a southern gal and we have no idea what her history was.  We think she was somebody's pet based on the fact that she was pretty much house broken and knew a few commands.  Our guess is that her energy was just too much for her previous owner.

It breaks my heart to think of somebody not wanting Holly.  Clearly this has affected her too.  She has some separation anxiety and when we're home she has to be touching one of her people.  I think it reassures her that we're not going anywhere.  If she's outside when one of us leaves, she hops in the open car door and refuses to get out.

She loves to snuggle.  Specifically, she loves to sleep on or next to my legs at night, thereby locking me into one set sleeping position for the whole night.

She's not perfect, but she's mine and I just adore her to pieces.

I am such a nervous first time mom though.  When we first got her she didn't want to eat dry food and I worried after she lost a pound.  My worrying hasn't gotten much better (though she did start eating soon after we got her).  When I took her Petsmart to get her nails trimmed for the first time, my eyes bulged when the nice lady told me they'd call me when she was ready.  You mean I couldn't stay and watch her and make sure she was okay?  I settled on circling the aisles directly in view of the salon window, trying very had to be subtle.  "Oh I'm just going to look at these cool interesting....things right here.  Nope, definitely not spying on my dog. Not at all."

She was perfect and the groomer complimented me on how happy and wiggly and sweet she was.

I was and continue to be such a proud momma. :)

It's Alive!

I haven't posted in three months, but yes, I am alive.


I've been busy working on an awesome project about mustangs for my last class in my college career.


And then there was trying to find a job.


And graduating.


And then there's this:

So, I've had a couple of things going on.  Basically, I haven't ridden in three months.

I'm hoping to change that really soon.  Stay tuned......

Babies!!

I have never held a human baby.  Over the years I've come up with any number of excuses: I have a cold, I have poor hand eye coordination, I just coated my arms in teflon.... I'm just not good with babies. Human babies, that is. Equine babies are a whole different story.

Show me a foal and I will squeal and hop up and down like every terrible girl stereotype you've ever seen on t.v. It's horrible and wonderful at the same time. There's just something about the big stork legs, the fuzzy ears, the adorable itty bitty noses and whiskers.

Oh heavens. So cute!

Eeek!

Foals are part of why I love spring so much. Though I'd desperately like to have a foal someday (or right now), I've been lucky the past few years to have friends that I can vicariously live through.  They've been incredibly generous and let me play with and squeal over their cutey patootey (see what foals do to me? it's borderline embarrassing ) babies when I see them. 

There's just one thing: nobody I know has a baby coming this year so I'm foaless. 

I'm jonesing over here.  Anybody got a cute foal I can snuggle, or a picture of their 2012 foaling arrivals that I can coo over?

Horse Stories with My Dad

My Dad adjusting a jump back in the day...

I love hearing my dad's stories about his about his life with horses.  He's had so many different experiences, varied careers, and all while being largely self-taught since the age of 15.  I don't think it's just familial pride talking when I say that he has some fascinating stories.

If there are two types of stories I really like, it's tales of adventure and anything that has to do with a central equine character.  I've been hearing my dad's stories since I was a young child and it's gotten so that I can picture the horses he talks about and their names are almost as familiar as my own.  I never get tired of hearing about his life as a horseman, even the repeat stories.

So when at lunch recently, the conversation about thoroughbreds turned to my dad's experiences retraining OTTBS to become field hunters, I listened intently. 

He used to work at a hunt and it was part of his job to take the OTTBS the owner had inherited and turn them into suitable mounts for fox hunting.   This includes not only jumping, but being calm around baying hounds and having the whippers be able to crack the whip while mounted.  I can't even get one of the OTTBS at the barn to pick up the right lead canter!

He talked of one of the horses that broke out its front teeth, the big grey that even the timidest of riders could handle, and how he and his coworker got to take two of their favorite hunters to a show once.  He remembers that they swapped horses halfway through and he won one class on Simona and one on a bay.

This is where my mother comes in.  It must be said, that my father's horse stories wouldn't be as good without my mother.  She never rode the horses in shows or on hunts, but she acted as groom, stablehand, and horse show mother to my dad's students.  Her memories of the horses come from a different perspective that is no less detailed or valuable.

She corrects and says that it was Palazzo that he took and that Palazzo was more brown then bay.  In addition, she adds, Palazzo was also one of her favorites because of his sweet disposition.  

She remembers the people and horses that my dad does not and her stories about her experiences as a groom are the perhaps the most telling about the human and equine characters.  Though, since she loves any animal she meets, I swear that almost all of them are her favorites, which is telling about how kind my mother is.

Every time I hear a story from my dad, whether it's the first time or the tenth, I always learn something new.  They're also just fun to hear about.  Someday, I hope to record all of my parent's stories.  Maybe my future descendants will be as horse crazy as their ancestors!