I’m still here.
I mean, not really, inasmuch as I’ve mostly adapted to short form social media and instead of chronicling the very-personal-to-me horse things, I do some content creation for other outlets and let my relationship with my horse be mine to own.
I’m forever awed by the friendships I made through blogging and the people I still trek across the country to see. There is so much value I think in taking the time to reflect and write and grow as a person and a trainer and let that growth inform our steps.
The TL; DR of life since I was here last is I did a career pivot so I could be home more and moved ZB to a barn that’s further from my house but closer to my goals. It’s a really calm, quiet little place with excellent care and trail access right off the property. I’ve accepted that I have zero drive to compete in any event and I’m realizing just how much I enjoy connecting with my horse and learning together.
Also—after spending 6 years with ZB at the same barn, I opted to move her to the new place literally the day before a pretty epic winter storm and we’re in the midst of the wettest spring in over 120 years here, which means instead of worrying about training, I’m just taking things a day at a time.
The queen herself is (gasp) 11 this year, which is fucking insane. She’s had a couple “wild” moments as we’re learning the new place and olden days OTTB-riding me would have been shocked to learn what that looks like these days. There was some jigging. Also a spook at a spooky object. She still plays with legos (aka the mounting block) and anything else you leave around her, she’s still the smartest, kindest, most honest creature I’ve ever had the privilege to be around.
One thing I learned rather quickly was that there is a learning curve to riding your horse away from the barn when their friends might be running the fence line and screaming like complete idiots. Also if your horse isn’t spooked by traffic but you are, you’re going to start doing desensitization but to yourself. Fun fact: it would be easier if it was the horse. I’m fucking terrified of traffic.
I’m the problem it’s me.
I thought my tack ho days might be behind us, but rest assured—I still can’t resist a pretty leather strap and I would cut a bitch to know where to find a nice 6” bit.
All that to say—hello.
