Video Update!!

Ok well I super promised myself I'd just write one sappy anniversary post but I ran across this comparison and I just had to share it.

Here's Courage and I on our second ride post-track.



And here is our most-recent under-saddle video.


Look how my little man has changed!!

Uncharted Waters - 3 Years of Courage

Three years ago today, a little bay horse with a big ego got dropped off at my barn. I had no idea what I was getting in to.

just before he left the track

three years later

Three weeks prior, I'd retired my incredible event horse, Cuna. I was still holding out hope that he'd come back to work someday. Courage was my back up plan and hell, maybe a resale project. Those first six months, he was so easy. He knew he was my #2 and he just waited for me.

Six months later, I was crying into the mane of a little bay horse who stepped into the number one position like he was born for it. He waited for me to heal enough to wipe the tears out of my eyes, and then he reminded me that he was ready to be the leading man.

Courage is a funny guy. He was my first-ever straight off the track horse, but I had really excellent help with that in the form of Lindsey and Alyssa. We were friends already, but this little horse forged passing friendships of convenience into an unforgettable bond. Laughter, tears, triumph and heartbreak are marked on the backs of the incredible horses that brought us together. 

His transformation from understudy to leading man came with plenty of struggles. He had very definite ideas about what he would and would not do and he had even more certain ideas about how he was to be handled. He's strong, sensitive, opinionated and stubborn, which makes him eerily similar to myself.

Courage was supposed to be my show jumper who dabbled in eventing, but no one told him that. He proved time and time again that he had ZERO interest in jumping over anything but he was still game enough to jump the shit out of giant oxers from a jog trot without batting an eye. I tried harder than I should have for longer than made sense, but when I finally let go of my old dreams and embraced the journey Courage and I are on together, our world started to come together.

august 2013

june 2016

I've bemoaned that he wasn't the one that I lost, I've regretted that he and I were either flaming hot or ice cold, but through it all, I remembered how we came together. It was more than happenstance--it was meant to be on so many levels. At our lowest moments, I told a friend that I thought Cuna brought Courage to me, and because of that, I just wasn't ready to give up yet.

Definitely sappy, but it's a sentiment I still hold to.

I've been apprehensive about this day for the last six months. Courage is my third horse as an adult--the first, I sold on her three year anniversary of ownership. The second I put down on our second year mark. Both of them I planned to have forever. Courage isn't just the horse I own anymore. He's the one my dreams are made on. We're on a new adventure together and I love every minute.

I never thought I'd be seriously pursuing dressage. I never thought I'd be endlessly entertained by the perfect transition or the best geometry, but here I am.

With Courage.

I'm more interested in the day-to-day relationship with a horse than with big goals, but Courage is an enigma even now. He represents the farthest I've ever taken a horse I trained myself. His larger-than-life personality and his unfailing opinions make this journey special for us every day. I can introduce him to my friends and know he'll make a splash or I can take him to a show and know that I have nothing to be ashamed of.

We're on this journey together.

He isn't the horse I thought I wanted. This isn't where I expected to be. This isn't how it was supposed to happen.

But here we are.

There's no where else I'd rather be.

With Courage.

The Three Year Hex

I have this weird feeling that I just can't quite shake right now. As an adult, I have never owned a horse more than three years. Period. I'm on my third (fourth?) horse. I've intended to keep each one forever. It doesn't work out.

Nikki (got as a baby, traded away for Izzy), owned ~6 months

Izzy (bad news bears for me), owned 3 years on the nose

Cuna (worse news bears for soundness), owned two years

And Courage and I have a three year anniversary in July.

I'm committed to this relationship, so I won't sell/trade him away because he's unsuitable like I did horses #1 and #2. I can only hope we don't face crippling and catastrophic lameness like #3.

But each case has been a little different and I'm just twitchy enough (and apparently superstitious enough) that I feel paralyzed. Or at least inhibited. I don't want to pay for lifetime numbers for him. I hardly want to think about plans and goals beyond this spring. I know I'm being weird, but it's a real thing for me.

At least until after July 27th of this year. That's our three year anniversary. That's when we start into untested territory for horse ownership and my adult self.

Crazy? Maybe.

Here's to many more with this guy! (And can it not be winter anymore? That would be ok.)

One Year of Dressage!

I meant to do this wrap up a year to the date from moving to our current barn (11/24) and that didn't happen. Instead you're getting it more or less a year after our first-ever dressage lesson (12/6ish).

Here's an honest trotting shot from our first-ever legit dressage lesson. In the post, I talked about how Courage had a short, quick stride (thanks to me), just dropped his neck at the withers, and took multiple laps of the arena to do a single decent transition from walk to trot. At this point, the plan was to do dressage for three months, then go back to jumper land in the spring.

December 2014

 December actually brought nicer weather and more lessons. Courage and I were making great, if elementary, progress. Our next shot in in another lesson. You can see Courage is taking much better strides and starting to go forward. He's pretty well on the forehand, but he's at least thinking about the contact, even if that thought process=gaping mouth. Still in jump tack, still aiming for jumper land.

December 2014

Don't worry--I'm not going to make you look at a trot picture from EVERY SINGLE MONTH (not today, at least). If we fast forward a year, we have this:

It's been a long, personal struggle, but Courage and I are committed to dressage. It's a great fit for us right now. We've spent the year doing lessons and clinics, plus getting out and showing in pursuit of a more broke, less-green horse. We did decently at training level for the year and have now doubled down in pursuit of first level next spring. This shot is Courage in a clinic a couple weeks back. I just love the engagement and connection he's showing.

November 2015

 And then this is less spectacular, but it's me riding on my own in the almost-dark at the end of the month. Courage has really starting accepting the contact and letting me ride him. We've switched over to dressage tack, my position has started changing for the better, his neck is developing like whoa, and GODDAMN look at the difference in his ass(/topline).

November 2015

We have been through a lot together in the last year. Courage is turning into a really awesome horse, I'm learning things I never knew about dressage, and I'm excited for our goals together.

More than that though, I love what this year has done for our relationship. After everything this spring, we finally reached an accord. Courage is really MY horse now. I don't threaten to sell him after another giant spook at whatever-it-is this time--I just laugh at his antics and put him back to work. I've had a crappy history as an adult with horses in which the longest I've had any creature is 3 years.

I'm looking forward to blowing that number out of the water with this little guy. <3

1/16/14 - 1/16/15. One year without.

My whirlwind romance with my big red man ended a year ago today. I still don't really have words to capture him and I can't bring him back. Here's a pictorial journey of our last months together.

After the first vet visit. 

Cuna spent the first two weeks after the initial incident with some dear friends while his barn got worked on. It introduced me to what life without a show barn could look like for him and gave me some mental space to make better choices. I still believed he could get better and that if I did the right things, I could help him.

taking time to breathe

Shortly thereafter, I took a rare me trip and realized that I needed to quit pushing the recovery and get Cuna out of the situation he was in. It was time to dial everything back and let him be a horse.

someone was happy

I have rarely regretted a decision less. Cuna loved his stall, but he was always pissy and weird in a barn situation. His whole demeanor changed with this move--he played with his buddies, enjoyed his time, and almost completely gave up flipping his nose at bugs.

beautiful and broken

I carefully monitored lameness levels on detailed calendars and gave him the best of everything. An early winter vet visit helped us out for a while, but I could read the writing on the wall.

he didn't love that garland

We tried to live like it wasn't. I saw him nearly every day. His feed, feet, and comfort levels were carefully managed. Cuna's barn (a private situation with one other person) was a sort of haven for us. I didn't offer to share it with other people very often. That time was just for him and I.

courage

January came and I knew it was time. Even through tears, I could appreciate what Cuna had brought to me in terms of the little bay horse. I posted this shot on the internet, only labeled "Courage" and I made the last appointment we'd ever need.

Hakuna Matata

I ran an auto scheduled post morning of. If I'd thought of it, I would have stopped it.

But I didn't have words and Ellie wrote the post that told the blog world one of their own was no more while Lindsey and I trekked through impenetrable fog.

Even now, I don't know what to say.

I'll see you again, red man

Gratitude

Christmas 2013

I'm still here. Thank you for all your kind words. I feel lost. The whole thing is just so unreal. Cuna was supposed to be with me forever--or at least another ten years or so.

I know I did the right thing for him and I'm glad he's not in pain any more.

It's a grim solace, but it's all I've got.

I'm left with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. That old red man changed my life in so many ways. It wasn't just that he let me learn to ride again. Everything about him, my Cuna Matata, everything made me a stronger, better person than I was the day before he paddled his way into my heart.

Badass at 17

Every time I think about the last two years, I just shake my head. I couldn't write this as fiction because it's just too sappy and serendipitous and unreal for anyone to ever believe it, even in some crazy teenage horse story. I was terrified and miserable and ready to walk away from horses.

And then he came. Not only was he huge and handsome and perfect for me, but his silly name was Hakuna Matata. No worries. For the rest of our days.

I can tell that we are gonna be friends

He was standoffish at first, but I wanted to be friends. I bought him a giant bag of peppermints. At first, he'd only take one a day from me. He was closed off and distant.

The cutest face

That lasted maybe a week. I took his picture with me on a big horse show trip to California, and I knew he was the face I wanted to come back to. He was the one for me. It wasn't that I needed a schoolmaster. I needed that schoolmaster. I needed him.

Jumping a house

He taught me about that ridiculous crazy love that makes every moment apart seem unreasonable. He taught me just how much fun we could have together. I could (and did!) ride him everywhere. It wasn't just the riding and jumping. It was the day to day existence, that tacit understanding that everything was ok, because no matter what, we were together.

Just hang on

I faced all kinds of struggles because I had to for him. I dealt with difficult personal situations. I dealt with uncomfortable work situations. I had to push myself, grow as an individual, and become stronger inside and out. It was never easy, but I can look back at the changes I've made and know that today, I am a better, stronger, wiser, and more compassionate human being because that old man horse just patiently waited for me to figure it out.

Conquering water

Not to paint him as something he wasn't--Cuna would never suffer the fools. He demanded a strong ride with the softest hands. He absolutely required steady legs and a still upper body. He only approved a very few riders and I was lucky to be on that list.

Always the tongue

He was noble and he was incredibly goofy. I'll never forget the day he fell in love with the new mare--his head straight up in the air, his silly whinny every time he paddled his way out of his stall to assure the mare that he was still there. And then of course, when I put him in the cross ties and he kicked out to impress her... and his shoe went flying through the air.

Even now, I laugh.

The best view

I treasure the memories of our long solo trail rides through the mountains. We explored everywhere. No matter what, I knew I was safe with Cuna. Big loose dogs would run up to us barking, and he'd just stand his ground and wait. As they got close, he'd lower his head down below his withers and look at them. It never failed. No matter how big the dog, when they got close to the sheer enormity that was Cuna, they quieted down and backed right up.

Reins flying in the wind

There was nothing like the feeling of our early morning gallops. When prepping for our season at Beginner Novice, I probably had him fit to run training. At least. We hacked up the trails until our favorite gallop stretch and then let loose. I never had to ask him to go--I just had to let him know it was an option. The wind whipped my face and made my eyes run, but nothing could wipe the smile off my face. He'd gallop all the way to our finish line, a sagebrush at the top of the long stretch. Then I'd drop the reins and he'd drop to the walk, and we'd hack home on the buckle.

The bravest horse

We chased coyotes and watched deer. We laughed as the young horses spooked and galloped around us. My favorite was when the training horse behind us bolted and bucked past us. Cuna would never lose a race, but he didn't even flick an ear as the horse galloped by. He knew it was trouble and far be it from him to participate in that kind of shenanigan.

Just starting to put the sticks up

And we jumped. Little things at first--he let me just sit there while he packed my butt over tiny fences again and again. I didn't even have to put any leg on as long as I didn't pull on his face. When I finally got myself sorted out, we moved the jumps up like it was no big thing. I jumped higher and rode better than I had in my entire life. He demanded that I ride well once the fences went up, but he was more than fair.

Things we never forget

He was so big and inflexible anyways that I knew that if I had him pointed in the right direction three strides out, we were going to the fence. He might stop, but there was no way he could turn the whole Cuna in time to run out. Some people thought that was a drawback--I always saw it as an advantage.

Unless it was lengthenings. Everyone likes those.

Both of us hated dressage. Who wants to play in the sandbox when there are trails to explore? I do love ribbons though, so we took a few lessons and got sort of good. He gave me everything he had, but he was such a big fellow that sitting down on his hocks required a hell of a lot of expensive maintenance.

So Cuna

He was worth it. In our last six months under saddle together, he kept pace with a prelim event horse in the hills, hacked quietly down busy roads, put in a solid jumping effort in a fancy clinic, and won ribbons at a dressage show. He really did it all.

Retirement shots

Even when he retired, he kept me grounded. It was under his watchful brown eyes that I extricated myself from some unpleasant personal situations and made decisions about my career. He'd look at me and somehow, he just knew. And because he knew, I knew it was ok. He made the hard things simple. Hakuna Matata. Life will go on.

I didn't go to the racetrack to get a horse--I went because I still loved horses, but it hurt too much to hang out at Cuna's old barn and watch everybody else jump. The racetrack was a haven for me, a place to have fun and connect with the old man's past a little bit.

And then I met a horse named Courage.





It was too much. Too sappy, too silly. Hakuna Matata brought me to Courage. At the time, I thought it was sort of symbolic--Courage to overcome the obstacles of the past, courage to become the person I needed to be.

Over the last month, I've realized that there was more. Courage from the past, yes, but courage for the future. Courage to make the hard decisions. Courage to do the right thing. Courage going forward.

Courage is Cuna's legacy in my life. Courage to breathe, to live, to love. Courage that I can overcome.

Courage. The little bay face in the barn.

The handsomest horse

It's too serendipitous and sappy and poetic to be fiction. No one would believe it, except that it's true. I miss the old man horse. I want to believe that I'll see him again. But I know that whatever happens, the hoof prints he left on my heart have made me a better, stronger person and I'll forever be grateful to him for that.

Hakuna Matata

The one and only

One Year and One Day

2/6/12 - Our first day together

Febuary 6, 2012 an old red horse waltzed into my life and stole my heart. He's kind and grumpy, forward and lazy, smart and goofy, handsome and adorable. He took me so far so fast that looking back doesn't even seem real any more. I'm not the rider I was, I'm not the person I was before I met him.

May 2012

For me, he is the right horse at the right time. Buying him was a risk--he was 17 and had been in inconsistent work the past couple of years. I couldn't seem to keep him sound the first few months as he decided he needed new boots, a more expensive farrier, and some solid ($$$) hock maintenance, but he made it worth every penny as he taught me cool new skills and made every day a fun learning experience.

July 2012

We conquered cross country together--he took me from my panic-stricken first ride back since the wreck to learning how to appreciate a horse who loves his job in one of the best sports in the world. He did in a couple of days what I thought would take years to change--he let me enjoy the ride.

August 2012

Once he brought me back to being a functioning member of the team, we were able to compete in a horse trials and show some of the potential that a been-there-done-that rocking event horse and his favorite person are capable of. We surprised even ourselves with an accurate test and he brought me through some show nerves to a clean stadium round and the best XC trip of my life to date.

Winter 2012

Through it all, he's been an absolute joy. I love his silly grumpy face, his "I'm a bastard" attitude, and his silly, kind personality. He's learned to pose for pictures and milk photo sessions for all the peppermints I own. I've learned that I can do absolutely anything with this horse, and there's no reason to be afraid.

Winter 2012

Together we've reached new heights of competence and confidence, and he's turned me into a "happy horse evangelist". There's no prize for sticking it out the longest, folks--if you're scared or not having a good time, just move on. Life is too short to be having anything other than the time of your life 9 rides out of 10.

366 days with Cuna are just the beginning of our journey together. I don't know what this year is going to bring, but I know that whatever Cuna and I tackle together will be more fun just because he's there with me. He's carried me through some serious character building and helped me be a stronger, better person. Because of him, I've overcome obstacles I would have given up on. Because of him, I get out there and push myself, every day.

He made 2012 amazing. I don't know what I'd be without him.