2016 Season Plan

I hope I’m not speaking too soon (side note to universe: please, cut me a break on this one?). But being officially 2/3 of the way through our recovery from surgery feels pretty darn good, and both Foster and I are relieved that it comes with the perks of getting to stay outside for prolonged amounts of time and I get to swing up into that saddle pretty soon.

So I can’t help but start thinking about what’s next. All of our goals this year were obviously trashed, since between the ulcers in the spring and the surgery in the fall, we really only had about 2 months of being in full work. So, time to reassess and set different goals for next year.

Because this makes me happy, I will reuse it for eternity

Because this makes me happy, I will reuse it for eternity

While in January of this year we did a combined test clinic at Training level, for 2016 I am thinking of debuting him at Beginner Novice. I have a few reasons for pushing him back a level.

Beginner Novice Flashbacks, The Fork, Nov 2012

Beginner Novice Flashbacks, The Fork, Nov 2012, PC: High Time Photos

First, we got to cross country school once in all of 2015. And it wasn’t that stellar of a schooling. Hindsight being 20/20, that’s probably because he was both sore and a little ouchy thanks to those negative angles and of course the bum fetlock. So taking it easy to regain confidence over solid obstacles seems like the way to go.

Secondly, I don’t know how his fetlock is going to handle jumping. I’ve already heard an array of medical opinions on this, ranging from him topping out at Novice all the way to saying that full Training Horse Trials and Prelim CT’s are in his future. As none of these come with a guarantee, I’m just going to let Foster tell me. But since the assumption is that it will continue to improve (to a certain degree) with time, it seems best to start small. And personally, I’d rather find out he’s uncomfortable facing a BN or N fence, and not learn the hard way facing some meter tall, meter wide behemoth on cross country.

More BN memories, CHP, Oct 2012

More BN memories, CHP, Oct 2012, PC: High Time Photos

And lastly… if this winter is anything like last winter (second side note to universe: please, please don’t be like last winter), then riding is going to be somewhat limited depending on whether I can actually drive to the barn safely. Less riding = less fitness. And knowing how much work it will take to get back to full work after all the muscle atrophy of stall rest.. well let’s just say I’m not expecting us to pop out this spring looking like this:

Or, ya know, the female equivalent of this.

Or, ya know, the female equivalent of this.

So, thus the plan. We’ll see how Beginner Novice goes, if he’s comfortable, bring him back to Novice, and then if all the stars align, maybe next fall we’ll finally get that Training horse trials crossed off the list.

And if it doesn’t go well, then I guess we’ll just commit to dressage world domination.

Here’s to 2016.

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

Last week I visited the glorious land of California for a creative professional conference, and while I thought traveling alone would lead to some much needed gym time and blog post writing, it ended up that I pretended I was way cooler than I actually am and spent that time out on the town.

At Adobe MAX!

At Adobe MAX!

So, sorry for the radio silence. I do want to share some of my LA experiences, but that’s for another post!

For now, I want to share a certain spotted pony update.

Foster received his first of 3-4 IRAP injections on Friday. IRAP is a process that includes taking blood from the horse, and using a centrifuge, spinning it down to plasma that is rich with a protein suited to reducing inflammation common to degenerative joint disease, and then re-injecting that plasma back into the affected joint.

In order to avoid the drama that came with our HA injection, Foster was thoroughly knocked out for the procedure. Homeboy was pretty much zombified, and I’m not sure that he even felt his legs, much less the actual injection. So while he came to, the vet and I chatted about a recovery plan.

Before our appointment I had been allowed to build him up to 15 minutes of hand walking, followed by icing and as much grazing as possible. Unfortunately with my sudden trip, I only got him up to 10 minutes, and so worried about setting him back in his plan.

Luckily that appears not to be the case. Assuming the ground will dry out a bit, I am pleased to report that in the next couple days Foster will start a limited turnout routine(!). His mini-paddock will only be about the size of two stalls combined, but at least he will be outside with grass and a bit more space to move around. And then shortly after, I get to climb aboard for tack-walking, starting at 5 minutes and building.

Even though this situation will likely last another month, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to feel like the end is in sight. The last two months (yes two months- can you believe it) have just flown by, but nonetheless I know Foster and I will both be relieved to start returning to normalcy and activity soon!

Riding other horses

It’s been a couple weeks since I first got back in the saddle, and since then I have been able to ride almost a dozen times. While the main candidate right now for saddle time has been Bob, a few times I sat on another horse, and success on both horses has been across the board.

Once upon a time I was very much in the habit of riding and adjusting to new horses, thanks to that being the founding concept behind intercollegiate dressage. But that was now several years ago, and since then the majority of my riding has been geared towards training Foster. I set out goals from the start with Foster to ideally be the type of horse that I personally like to ride- which is to say about 3-5 lbs of contact in my hand, forward thinking, and responsive to the leg and seat (but not so responsive that the horse would explode from underneath you if you sat really deeply and drove). The horse that I have now I think is a mixture of his own preferences in how he likes to go and my own preferences/training philosophy.

Catch riding in 2010 during Ivan's absence

Catch riding in 2010 during Ivan’s absence

So far I’m reasonably happy in being able to figure out these horses as I ride them, though their own quirks and preferences are so unlike Foster’s. Bob for instance has a beautiful floating stride with a ton of suspension, but easily gets behind the leg and curls. Riding him has definitely strengthened my calves and is teaching me to feel when he is truly coming through from leg to hand versus when he evades behind the bit. He also shows me my own weaknesses- like my sad left leg, my desire to pitch forward when I am really having to use my leg, and occasionally a loss of balance. But each ride has gotten better and better as I both get stronger and more in tune with his way of going. The learning opportunity (besides the benefits of not losing my mind) has really been a great one.

Competing in IDA at St. Andrew's circa 2007 (someone fix my helmet please!)

Competing in IDA at St. Andrew’s circa 2007 (someone fix my helmet please!)

The other horse I sat on a handful of times has been a mixed bag of success and absolute failure. Knowing that he is a tricky ride that others have struggled with, I was at first thrilled when we were able to get through movements the equivalent of a training level dressage test without issue. Well, a training level dressage test without the left lead canter, that is. After cantering left the entire ride fell apart each time, dissolving into an unhappy mess for both the horse and myself. I have been able to find a good note to end on, but this one in particular makes me wonder. Another learning opportunity though to be sure, and I hypothesize that my own crookedness (weak left side and very strong right leg) is what causes us the trouble.

Another IDA show, roughly 2007

Another IDA show, roughly 2007

This weekend I’ll have the opportunity (if the rain will let up) to get on a third horse and (dare I say it!) have a dressage lesson with Eliza. I’m excited to bring some of my newfound insight into the world of left-leg-decrepitude to her and hopefully learn how to adjust for my weaknesses. I’m fully expecting a tough but interesting and probably humbling lesson, but I’m looking forward to it nonetheless!

While I can’t wait to be back on my own pony, having the opportunity to ride other horses is a definite silver lining. I can feel that the experience is making me a more well-rounded and correct rider (I hope!) and I have faith that Foster will benefit as a result. So until then… bring ’em on and saddle up!

Rehabbing a Foster

I’ve been very, very lucky with Foster through this recovery process. The first 6 weeks were good to us, with mild weather and a quiet mind we have been happily handgrazing for 30-45 minutes just outside his stall without drama. Hell, I even started bringing my kindle with me so I could read while grazing him so that I wouldn’t get bored. Then last Wednesday Foster got to walk for the first time, 3 whole victory laps around the covered arena before returning to his stall to be iced and grazed. It was likewise pretty uneventful.

Foster's snazzy Ice Horse wrap for post-walking icing.

Foster’s snazzy Ice Horse wrap for post-walking icing.

So when this article on the perils of rehabbing came out on HorseNation last Thursday, at first I admit I scoffed, being blessed with a quiet horse who has been nothing but a gentleman for over a month of stall rest. And then I checked myself, touched wood, and felt like I’d just jinxed myself.

Turns out I had just jinxed myself.

That night I went out to the barn, prepared to repeat our somewhat boring routine of walk-ice-graze, but the atmosphere was different. There was a sort of electricity in the air that foretold a storm coming, children visiting, dogs walking about, and horses being worked under the covered arena. I just reached the end of the barn aisle before I was rewarded with spook number one. Then inside the covered, Foster puffed up like a stud whenever we would near the gate to the paddocks (no, you are not going out there yet) and we had a couple more episodes of spook/spinning before his 5 minutes were up and he was returned to his stall. Each time I was able to give him a firm “no” and he instantly ceased his antics, it seemed that try as he might to be good, his excitement just got the better of him.

ice wrap

Grazing continues to be before, despite our walking drama.

Saturday was somewhat a repeat of these hijinx, and I debated whether the time had come to start using sedatives. But Sunday came and it was slightly warmer, and without a soul in sight I decided to give him one more chance to be good before pulling out the ace.

And what do you know, he was back to being the perfect gent.

So lessons learned- while (I think) my horse truly is a gentleman, getting back to work (or doing anything besides standing) is still pretty new and thrilling to him, and I need to be smart about reading the conditions before taking him out. While I’d prefer not to get in the habit of acing him before walking, or riding, or whatever, I’ll do anything to keep us both whole so we can finish out our recovery as safely as possible.

And of course I was reminded of the humility of horses, and never to judge, since you could always be next.

 

Were you raised in a barn?

Why yes, I was. Literally.

After my family moved to North Carolina in 1990, they spent a year in a rental house before deciding to buy a farm. Being that my mother was a horse-woman, and my father is familiar with construction, they sank their teeth into a huge project: A 24 stall red tin Saddlebred barn. They remodeled the entire facility in the English Tudor style and made huge landscaping changes, as well as adding a second sand arena to the surrounding property. Thus began my mother’s long career in selling and breeding horses.

The farm before getting remodeled- house sticking out on left

The farm before getting remodeled- house sticking out on left

What was most unusual about the barn though, was the house that was attached to it. A hallway within the house led you to a door that opened up into the center of the barn, which essentially winged out with 12 stalls in each direction. This was an exceptionally convenient set up for a breeding facility, as my mother used to put heavily pregnant mares in the stalls that shared her bedroom wall. I can remember many sleepy nights being woken up to come watch foals being born. This convenience also led to certain mischief, up to an including walking my Shetland pony up the stairs and into the house once. Thank goodness she didn’t poop!

The barn/house - the windows on the right wing denote stalls that were turned into a lab post-move

The barn/house – the windows on the right wing denote stalls that were turned into a lab after we left

At a certain point in time, as seems to happen, my brother and I got to the age where sharing a room was no longer ideal. Probably my parents were sick of hearing us bickering all the time. The solution? Take a stall and turn it into my bedroom.

A bird's eye view. House = green; my bedroom = pink

A bird’s eye view. House = green; my bedroom = pink

Don’t worry, I didn’t sleep on stacks of hay bales (though I probably would have been happy to). The stall was properly dry-walled and carpeted and painted a pukey shade of pink that befits most young girls. My memories of living in the stall bedroom are many- hearing the clip clop of horse being walked down the asphalt aisle behind the wall, many nights hearing barn cats running in the hay lofts over my head, and various creatures (including a bat) making their way into my bedroom and catching me unaware.

My mother always used to joke that I was the one girl who really did grow up in a barn. Partial truth that may be, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

An Addict Gets Her Fix

Last week I sat in the saddle for the first time in over a month. As I drove home afterwards, I realized that a huge weight had been lifted on my chest. The juxtaposition of my sudden post-ride elation with the feelings I’d had during my non-riding month was enlightening: I’d been experiencing withdrawal.

I’ve long known that time away from riding is detrimental to my mental health, discovered in the non-horsey period of my life between selling Ivan and buying Foster. My emotions went haywire, and there was little the husband or anyone else could do to pick up the pieces. What I didn’t realize this time is that these symptoms would kick in after a minor two weeks. For the first couple weeks post-surgery I handled it; I had the worries of bandaging and talking to vets and insurance and the start of a huge new house project to keep me busy. But from there on out, the grumpiness built and I felt downright surly in general.

After begging asking others at the barn if needed any rides on their horses, I was able to get on Bob, an older Selle Francais gelding that is reinventing himself as a dressage superstar.

Antonia and Bob

Bob is quite a different ride that Foster, and not without his own quirks, and his owner A has been more than gracious in feeding my addiction allowing me some time on him. I’ve enjoyed getting to know Bob much better and started to figure out a couple of his buttons in our last ride, and while I’m still a bit loose in the saddle (those core muscles disappeared quickly!) with each ride I feel my sea legs returning. Though Foster is incredibly jealous of my time with Bob, and constantly nickers and calls to me as I tack up and groom the other gelding, I hope my time riding will allow for an easier transition once Foster himself is ready to get back to work.

Until then, I’ll be climbing aboard Bob and any other horse I’m allowed- my brain and my poor husband appreciate it.

Photography Friday: Wild Horses

As previously mentioned, last week I spent half a day with an old dressage friend, who now works as Herd Manager for a herd of wild horses in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. She took me through the sand dunes of the wildlife preserve, showing me the various herds and pointing out “singles” (often loner bachelors) while I did my very best impersonation of safari-style wildlife photographer. Though I intend to write a more in-depth post about the experience, I want to share some of my favorite images from the day.

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The stallion of this band just had the most groovy forelock, don’t you think?

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Many thanks to C, for taking the time to answer my questions and trek through the deep sand so I could get these shots. Happy Friday everyone!

Faith or Fear

Not too long ago, I was at a wedding and got into a conversation with a fellow guest. At first the conversation was general, but eventually it moved towards more spiritual topics, and he made the comment, “We [humans] have two choices- to live in faith or to live in fear. While one exists the other must naturally subside.”

That theme, faith or fear, has been resonating with me ever since.

See, I am not a naturally brave person. I’m a somewhat anxious person, who generally gets annoyed by said anxiousness and decides to overcome it. Like by being afraid of public speaking, I decided to try out (and sing) the National Anthem for a local baseball team. Or by being naturally shy, get a job that literally demanded I walk up to random strangers. Or you know, ride cross country.

I guess it’s worth noting my longtime/alltime favorite Bible verse also deals with this theme, Joshua 1:9.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.

Besides dealing with the common (or not) fears of real life, I think about this verse a lot when dealing with horses. As any horseperson knows, getting hurt around horses is not a matter of if, but when. Coming back from those trials of physical or mental injury can be more than tough, and this is where the idea of choosing faith or fear comes into play.

When I was 5 years old, I was leading my fluffy shetland pony Gomez back to his field, with my dad walking alongside. Apparently I hadn’t been walking as quickly as Gomez preferred, so (and the details are fuzzy) he kicked me in the stomach and ran off to his pasture.

For years after that, while I still loved horses, I was a very unconfident rider who was always afraid that the horse would take matters into his own hands. It wasn’t until much, much later that I learned to trust a horse and really let go, have fun. Now looking back on all those years of being scared, I’m sad for the moments and the training that I missed out on for having been too timid.

This in itself is what led me to eventing. The pursuit of a sport so dangerous, but so rewarding for its connection to the horse and being so closely tied to such physical prowess was the absolute opposite of anything I would have done before, but I had to give it a try. And each time I would enter that start box on cross country, I’d get scared. I’d pray. I would literally hope to God that we came through the finish flags unscathed. And then I’d start galloping, feeling the thrill of running across the country and the abilities of my horse leaping over the obstacles, and let the happiness take over.

Choosing faith over fear has meant to me, now that it’s been over 10 years since I started eventing, that my training should reflect that. I try and set myself up for being over prepared before entering a competition, so that the choice of faith comes a little more naturally since it has been a part of the process all along. It’s not a perfect process, and I have made mistakes along the way, or regressed and chosen fear, but then it’s all part of the journey.

And as long as I can, despite each inevitable trial, every setback, every down moment, I hope I will not lose site of choosing faith instead of fear.

 

The Recovery Plan Changes

Sorry for the unexpected radio silence last week. Any instagram stalking would reveal that I went on vacation, and a dead computer with its charger 4 hours away meant that blogging was impossible. Whoops.

Other than a half day spent with an old teammate (seriously, loving all the time recently with old dressage team pals!) spent tracking down and answering my questions about the local wild horses (details coming), it was a thoroughly non-horsey week.

More casting wrap on the still-pink pony leg

More casting wrap on the still-pink pony leg

After returning Thursday, I’ve been spending each day checking on Foster. He got his sutures removed on the 3rd, and unfortunately that appointment wasn’t without a bit of drama. While the sutures looked good, and taking them out was uneventful, getting his scheduled HA injection into the joint was a bit of a fiasco. 3 sticks with a needle and two doses of sedative later we had it done, but this then had to be followed by another week of bandaging nonsense.

With his revised post-HA-injection wrap

With his revised post-HA-injection wrap

The other piece of news from that particular appointment came in the form of a schedule change to Foster’s recovery program. Whereas originally we were to start handwalking after the HA injection, now we have to wait an additional 2 weeks. Until then we are allowed to handgraze for 30-45 minutes (versus the original 15 minute limit), but no movement other than the gradual mozying from one patch of grass to another.

Thankful to see scabs- no more bandaging!

Thankful to see scabs- no more bandaging!

So on the 23rd of this month, we start walking for a whole 4 minutes, until a follow-up appointment for his first IRAP injection and fall shots. At that time we will re-evaluate and hopefully start adding time. I guess this makes sense in hindsight that we wouldn’t just start out at 15-20 minutes of walking, but I suppose my hopefulness to get back to work blinded me from the realities of recovery.

Wednesday we will be through our first month of stall rest, and already I am feeling antsy and ready to get back in the saddle. With the recovery process being slower than anticipated, it’s been a test of patience for myself and definitely for my somehow-still-behaving horse. But with luck, taking things slowly will mean a healthier, sounder horse with a bright future ahead of him. Here’s hoping!

Just a quickie

.. to say that this week is crazy, and since hand grazing really doesn’t product the best horse-related content, I don’t have much to share this week. Well, except some photos coming Friday of a certain wildly-acclaimed equestrian venue.

Likit carnage

Likit carnage

As predicted there was nothing left to Foster’s likit on day 2. Thank you to all that left comments with boredom buster ideas- I will definitely be looking at some of these and will share results.

Otherwise, life has been revolving around work (mostly) and painting cabinets. We’ve decided to tackle the cabinets in sections so as to not pull apart our entire kitchen at once. But, doing it this way also means that they will take that much longer as we spread the workload out. I’m doing my best not to bite off more than I can chew. The husband recognizes the crazy look I get in my eye when I look at the splendor of the already-painted cabinets, and admonishes me that we are going to take our time. He knows me too well, damnit.

Foster gets his sutures out tomorrow afternoon and an HA injection, and I’ll have a better update next week on how things are looking. More interesting posts to follow!