Sunday, May 22, 2011

And so it goes....

Remember the two benefits of failure. First, if you do fail, you learn what doesn't work; and second, the failure gives you the opportunity to try a new approach.
- Roger Von Oech


That pretty much sums up my time at Virginia Horse Trials this weekend in a better way than me telling you that I fell off.  But there, I said it, I fell off.  


Although I'm sitting here and beating myself up over it time and time again, I knew it was bound to happen and I'm happy to say that neither Rori nor myself were hurt.  In fact, it was a stupid mistake and greenness on my part.  We were going into a log with a one stride to a bank down and I made the classic error of leaning at a jump, or in this case a bank.  While walking the course with Sinead she warned me that Rori may look at it since neither her nor I had done one of these questions before.  She instructed me to sit back and ride it carefully and expect she might chip and look but to sit up and keep my leg on her.  Although these wise words were spoken to me just hours before I set out on course, I failed to use them while riding the combination and popped off the side.  


Jumps 1-7 rode so nicely and while coming into 8 I tried to remember to slow down.  While I slowed to the first part of the obstacle, I gunned Rori at the bank instead of waiting.  While I was expecting the one stride, Rori made the RIGHT move and looked before she jumped and since I leaned, I fell, and before I knew it I was looking up at my horse galloping off towards the stables.  *Sigh......*


Sometimes you have to fail in order to learn the lesson, but I just wish it hadn't been at a show we had drove over 8 hours to get to.  However, years down the road from now when I'm winning my first One Star and people ask me how did you ever get through that tough bank combination? I will say, "Because I fell off at Virginia Horse Trials in the Training Rider division while leaning at a bank, and from then on I learned how to sit my ass back".





Monday, May 2, 2011

The Horseman

"I pledge, now, on paper, that I want to help fend off the extinction of that rare species, the Horseman. I’m not going to take the easy way. I’m not going to do it for the money or the fame. I’m not going to trade my passion for prominence or popularity. Asa Bird, here is my promise: I'm gonna help you out dude, I'm gonna man-the-fuck-up."


This is an insert from a blog that I have come to love by Sinead's boyfriend, Tik.  I found it during a late night, a few glasses of wine, and too much internet access.  I've come to really enjoy surfing random horse sites, whether it eventing nationUSEA, or in this case, Chronicle of the Horse.  It came up while searching some eventing blogs and when I saw the name it rang a bell.  I soon found myself reading every one of his posts since they all seemed to line up as a story.  He talks about his experiences with many famous trainers, how some were good to deal with, how some were not so easy to deal with, and all of them help me gain a little faith that there are more "sane" horse people out there than I thought.  


I loved this quote because it really is true.  A true "Horseman" is hard to find because so many people these days are handed things on a silver platter and never made to work for anything in their entire lives.  The horse world has become about who has more money, a more expensive horse, or the latest and greatest tack and accessories rather than what is really important...knowledge, experience, morals, honesty, integrity....and the list goes on and on and on. 


Growing up I rode at an old revised cow barn on ponies that never saw a show ring in their entire lives.  They were back yard horses that we were only able to ride after we mucked 30 stalls, dumped and scrubbed every bucket in the barn, hauled hay, swept isles, and fed the horses at 5:30 in the morning.  We rode them around in old ripped saddles or none at all while in a big grass fields or an indoor no bigger than a round pen, and you know what? We didn't complain.  We didn't complain about what horse we rode because just being on any of them was a privilege.  We didn't complain about work because it was time at the barn and that was all that mattered.  I truly wish there were more barns like the one I grew up at still around, but sadly barns like these have either died down, gone out of business, or have been taken over by another person with different intentions.  


If I do nothing else in my entire time as a trainer, rider and competitor I want to be a good horseman.  I want to put the horse first at no cost.  I don't want to put money ahead of what is right.  I want to continue to tell the truth even if sometimes it might be the hardest thing to do.  I want to continue to learn, grow and prosper with my training and always realize there are better professionals out there and there are always things to improve.  And lastly, even when I feel like I've been beaten down too far, stepped on too often, and can't do this anymore... that I get up off my ass and realize this is what I'm meant to do and there is a reason I keep going back to this job every day, the horses.