Teach Me Tuesday: Expensive Pants

all of a sudden, this pic is so risque

As I got ready for my first ride in the clinic a week ago, I realized that my thigh felt cold and kind of wet when I put my breeches on. Weird, right? Then I checked why.

No, I hadn't wet myself. (JUDGY PANTS=OFF)

Actually, I could literally see through the full seat material in my Piper breeches. Nuts.

back when they were newer

I received these breeches on 4/13/15 and by 11/14/15, they were on their last usage. Now, in fairness, I only own two pairs of full seats, so they were in the rotation a lot more than the kneepatch breeches (which have not worn through), but it also means that one pair of pants lasted 7 months.

That is not a lot of months.

So.

Talk to me about expensive pants. How long do your breeches last? What do you pay for them? How often do you ride?

Audacity of Hope (or something like it)

look at skinny race Courage!

Alternately titled "with friends like these...". But I digress.

Most of you know that I met Courage when he was still racing. When I met him, he was the been-there-done-that horse that anyone could handle. On the ground. He was definitely NOT his exercise rider's favorite horse and he certainly wasn't one they put new riders up on.

I knew that. 

Sometime after C came home with me, I started hearing more about why exactly the exercise rider wasn't a fan.

this horse be stubborn?!

Basically, before my friend the trainer got a hold of Courage, he had a nasty reputation. So nasty that his previous trainers never galloped him because the moment they'd turn him around to run on the track, he'd bolt until he was good and done.

My friend the trainer got C about a year before I started going to the track. And he wasn't going to pander to C. And I've heard stories about sky leaping and rearing and hopping down the track on his back legs because he was so mad that he wasn't getting to bolt.

loving the evening light

So when I met him, I knew he pulled like a train and wasn't a ladies' ride, but he was well beyond all that nonsense. He did his job and he was fine.

Once he figured out it wasn't going to get him anywhere, he gave it up. (Of course, his exercise rider was ECSTATIC to see him go. I can't really blame the guy.)

So at the end of the day, that's the horse I knew and that's the horse I know I can get back. Courage can and will give it up. And then he'll be fine.

hard things make sexy bodies tho

I mean, let's face it: Courage was perfectly fine for quite a while with me, but then we started stepping up the workload. And he's just not quite convinced that retirement from racing ought to involve hard things.

Unfortunately for him, he's too much horse to be happy tooling around giving old ladies trail rides, so he's got to learn to love his job.

He's a jackass, but I love him.

I've debated sending him off to different trainers, and I still haven't ruled that out (shhhhh no one tell the bank account. it would FREAK OUT). Honestly, the root of this problem is Courage testing me. He has his tantrums and he sees what he can get away with.

And to this point, he hasn't thrown anything at me that I can't handle or that is dangerous.

Even the other night, when he had his complete meltdown on the lunge line--when he started escalating, he got in BIG TROUBLE. And he only had to do that a couple of times before he realized it was a Really Bad Idea.

And quit.

It's definitely not a perfect situation, but I believe in the little guy. 

So Far, So Good

you know how sometimes blogger hates pictures? that is today.

It's been a little more than a week now that Courage has been at the new barn. I'll be really honest here and admit that I was petrified to move him. We LOVED our old barn and I was 100% confident that he was absolutely perfectly taken care of at all times. There were only a few horses, so I always knew the BO had time to keep an eye on him and treat him like her own (ie crazy spoiled) and we shared very similar horsekeeping ideas. 

So much space

And it's not that the new place is weird or scary or bad. It's just different, and different takes some getting used to. For example, at our lovely old place, Courage had a large stall, PLUS a big, bedded, covered run. It was awesome. He was never, ever wet or dirty. All winter long, I could just spritz his tail with showsheen from time to time and it was perfect.

Enter outdoor run.

Courage thinks it's AWESOME. He's always liked standing in the rain, he thinks rolling in the mud is TEH SHIZ, and he likes his afternoon sunshine naps.

I'm happy he's happy, but my inner show groom dies a little bit every time I see that thick, full, muddy tail of his that I won't really be able to wash until spring.

I mean, yeah, I could clean it, but he's just going to roll in the mud again.

Courage has a turnout buddy now. He LOOOOOVES him. Apparently, they play like idiots and the only harm is a couple of bite marks that I'm sure he deserved. It's good for Courage to have to learn to be a horse without me micromanaging him and I know that. 

overlooking the turnouts on a sunny day

I'm having to let go a little bit, and that really is good for both of us. Besides, every single ride, Courage is reminding me of why I wanted him in the first place. He has this incredible brain and he takes changes in stride. So far, he hasn't batted an eye at things like these:

-first time in an indoor

-first time with a buddy in the indoor

-first time having a buddy leave him in the indoor

-first outdoor ride on new property

-mules

-changes to indoor scenery

-ice breaking up on the roof of the indoor

-epic rainstorm while in the indoor with three girls and a puppy

-lunging in a small space

-cantering in a small space
-watching another horse zoom around on the lunge
-standing on the buckle while another horse spooks

In fact, the only thing that has bothered him was his good old fashion nemesis: dark spots in the sand. 

I'll take it. 

First lesson is set for this afternoon. Can't wait!

Demand and You Shall Receive - Saturday Quickie

Trottin' so fine

(My thanks to JenJ for the title wordcraft!)

After two days of intense good flatwork, I wrapped up the week by actually having redheadlins as a witness to the general badassery.

It wasn't that I did anything so differently--just that I stepped up and wouldn't take no for an answer. For anything. Walk out of the cross ties, promptly. (I absolutely refuse to drag horses around.) Stand at the mounting block. March when I say go. Stop when I say whoa. Keep your body straight. Pick your shoulders up.

ZOOM

Courage and I are just in the zone and it feels amazing. We've hacked away at canter lengthening (not dressagy, but for jumping) for I dunno, months? And yeah, Friday I pushed the reins forward and got this:

BOOM.

DO WORK.

And it totally pays off.

He does this now

After a nice long warmup and then some chatting stretchy walk on the buckle, Courage carried on like a champ, complete with 3 loop serpentines up and down the arena with flying changes both ways.

OH YEAH YOU READ THAT RIGHT.

I'm really getting a feel for that forward, flowing stride that makes Courage stand out and he is making tons of progress.

Cross your fingers for a lesson Sunday. :-D

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

2013 Year in Review!!

Probably my favorite aspect of having a blog is just the ability it gives me to look back over my life and see where I've been and where I'm headed. I love this time of year--I look through my posts from the past year and pick out one per month that really summarized what that month was about. I usually try to do a goals wrap up, but that was an epic fail this year for reasons completely out of my control. Instead of worrying about that, let's look at what happened in 2013!

I hate winter

January: 

This goes down as the second most miserable month of my life and I was I was being hyperbolic. I was laid off from my office job and picked up full time hours at the barn just in time for Idaho to experience three weeks of record breaking cold. Highs in the single digits, lows below zero, and I was struggling just to put gas in my car. Did I mention the barn had no power and the hydrants all froze and I was hand-carrying buckets to all 17 horses? Here's a post I wrote just before the cold really got bad: Winter Sets In.

Best Valentines

February: 

Basically I just appreciated what Cuna and I had going. I wrote One Year and One Day to celebrate our first anniversary. The real take away from February was just reflecting on what great things Cuna had been able to do for me.

From the day we met <3

I realized the value of a schoolmaster and overcame some lingering mental blocks about what I perceived as failures on my part with the mare I sold last year. Here's the post that sums up my feelings on the matter: Honesty and Horsemanship

handwalking is not his favorite

March: 

Cuna and I were taking some dressage lessons and advancing quickly. In Fancy Pants Dressage, I talk about the progress we were making. My blogging was down that month--Cuna was having some odd problems that didn't make sense. Little things here and there were popping up. None of them were concerning on their own, but putting the pieces together wasn't making a lot of sense. Cuna tied up on a trail ride in March, summed up in the post: A Scare

flicky toes

April: 

More changes. Cuna and I kept working hard at the dressage with an occasional jump lesson. Elbows on Fire is a post where I talk about our breakthroughs. I got his hocks injected again and he was in fine form. His body looked like a proper dressage horse and his neck was incredible.

hacking out

We were also getting pretty burned out on arena work. He and I started hacking down the roads around the barn to visit friends and meet new people. I could trust him in the worst of conditions and one of our friends took pictures of him in her field, chronicled in Coversation Starter.

more handwalking

May: 

The shit hit the fan in May. Cuna was brilliant in our jumping clinic and exceptional at our dressage show. That was the last time he was sound. Again, little things weren't adding up and I blogged about it in Stuck.

His team at work

After his public successes, Cuna continued to get progressively more lame despite all the management changes that were made. We made a joint appointment with his vet and farrier and took him in. It wasn't all smooth sailing. I summarized the appointment in Cuna Update.

a moment in time

June: 

There was nothing easy about June. Cuna was trying to get better, but it was a very long process. He made strides at first and we took his picture in Happy. Shortly after that, he regressed. I kept away from the show barn as much as possible, because it was just too hard to watch everyone else doing what I knew Cuna couldn't.

still together

I spent in a new part of the horse industry: the racetrack. It went from a fun night out with friends to showing up to help out several times a week and get my horsey fix as noted in At the Track. At the end of the month, I made the decision to retire Cuna instead of torturing both of us over something we couldn't change in the post Towards Healing.

after a bath

July: 

It started out slow. We hit record high temperatures while Cuna hung out in the shade at his new home. In The New Normal, I talk about the dealing with the emotions of letting go of a career for the horse I love the most. His shoes got pulled and he just got to be a horse with no plans or goals.

meet Courage!

I spent increasingly more time at the track. I was having fun out of the saddle and things were going along just swimmingly until I accidentally ended up bringing a second horse home. It was the beginning of a more hopeful era summed up in The Road Goes Ever On and On.

important Cuna stuff to do

August: 

Courage came to join us, but Cuna was still my main man. He was taking it slow in the field, which I talk about in Can't Forget Cuna.

bay ears!

Courage came straight off the track and started under saddle. He continued to prove that he was the second most awesome horse on the planet by going on field trips to group lessons and getting his first set of real horse shoes which he tried to eat in Taking Off the Gym Shoes. He learned important skills like eating cookies and lunging and was the first bright spot for me all summer, which I talk about in One Month of Awesome.

first show!

September: 

I was dealing with the emotions of letting Cuna retire. In Honesty, I talk about how hard it was for me when our relationship changed. Courage was helping me stay focused and upbeat. He demonstrated his road-warrior brain when he didn't even flinch about going to his first horse show in Showtime for Courage.

artsy fun!

Based on our success there, I took him to his first ever XC clinic and wrote the Wrapup here. As long as we were out and about, I also took him to a big group lesson so we could practice having horses go by and jumps fall down. He rocked my world in Only the Best Idea Ever.

love them

October: 

In keeping with our up tempo pace, Courage and I participated in the two point challenge. I talked about the year for Cuna and why I decided to retire him.

SEE ALL THE THINGS

Courage continued to impress as he went on his first ever trail ride and acted like a total pro. Ellie came out to visit with us. She got to be in the Cuna photoshoot and she did the first ever proper pictures of Courage.




Courage got his own micklem bridle and he finally started to figure out this whole jumping thing.

November: 

We carried on, full speed ahead! We went on another trail ride with an exciting adventure. Courage started to really get this jumping thing down. He got clipped for the first time as a sporthorse and rocked out with his stars. We also had to work through some residual groundwork issues.

the best at lessons

We hit the lesson circuit hard at the end of the month.

legit cold lesson

December: It's been really quiet this month. We did get to ride one time. I talked about my past and why I make some of the choices I do in Amateur Hour. The boys are taking some well-deserved time off due to absolutely miserable weather that refuses to end.

love this

It's been a wild ride! This year went absolutely nothing like I planned or expected it to. Let's face it: I started the year working full time at a show barn with Cuna all set to move up and ended the year sans barn job but with two horses.