Know When to Hold "Em, Know When to Fold 'Em

Charlie is lying under my chair. He has taken Dinah's "Chair Troll" spot. Is it because it was a coveted spot? Or because it smells like Dinah? Or is it because he feels how that empty spot makes me ache? I don't know, but he sure is a good dog.

This flipping PD has been kicking my butt. It makes me tired beyond reason, makes my blood pressure plummet without warning, makes me stupid, forgetful, and um.....something else.

All of this has been messing with my horse time. Not riding enough screws with me physically and mentally. My seat is slipping as fast as my confidence. Blah, whine, snivel.

So what am I going to do about it?

There have been times throughout my life when my horses faded into the background of my priorities. A few dark years, beginning my junior year at CSU, almost lost them to me. The early years with the kidlette knocked them pretty much out to the back forty. Cancer kept me hopping and shut my horses out yet again.

But I have always rallied.I find my balance through my horses. They are the first to pull me out of the prison of unhealthy introspection and back into the world. Horses keep me thinking outside the box stall.

I am not a person who is happy hand grazing, braiding manes, or meandering through a meadow with my horses. Don't get me wrong, it can certainly be part of my day, but I want to go. I want to explore, learn, and compete.

I like cleaning stalls, stacking hay and filling a clean water tank, but only as part of the whole.

Now, I find myself with the obligations of caring for another who can't care for himself, skirting the darkness that would like to suck me into its mire and battling an illness that, unlike my close companion, Cancer, is never going to go away and leave me the #$@%!! alone.

It's a lot to juggle.

I want to be on the show circuit, but that will only work if I actually tune my horses. I worry I don't have the stamina to haul to the shows, or even out to the friends who can help me get myself back into show shape.

So, instead, I sulk and stew and think about what I used to do, what I'm gonna do, and never take a look at what I'm doing now.

Which is pretty much nothing.

I absolutely have to be riding well enough to feel confident at the Mug and Big K clinic in July. I have enough trouble handling the nerves I get while talking to folks I've only met on the blog. I don't need to add riding like a toad in a dust devil to the mix.

So. I've been trying to honestly assess my situation.

Madonna and I have been together so long we're like an old married couple. I barely have to think about our next move and she's there. She is so easy to read I can cut the nastiest, sourest cow of the bunch out of the herd, across the pen and down the alleyway without ever worrying about missing a step.

But we are slow and complacent.

Odin is lovely, eager and kind. He is also way behind. He has this sticky spot that makes him set outside leg when he turns to the left and gives him an uneven lope on the right lead. I know how to fix it, but just haven't.

He's unsure on cattle and awkward in his maneuvers.

It has finally sunk in that I'm getting old.

It got so bad, I began thinking about putting the horses out to pasture "just until things were settled."

Lucky for me, I finally quit mewling and got mad.

There are two women who no longer ride at all. They are at the barn every morning, visiting horses and people alike.

One of my fellow boarders came over to show me the buckle he won at his last roping. It was his first buckle. By winning his class he qualified for Nationals, or Finals, or whatever it is you ropers qualify for. His horse is in his early 20's. He is in his 70's. I didn't hear him mewling.

Another boarder is at least twenty years older than me. She has a big paint gelding, Joe, who she adores. She trained long ago, owned many fine horses, was accomplished in dressage. She is stiff, easily tired and relies on Joe's good nature to help her get along. She rides on her good days and just putts around on the bad. But she's there every day. Her husband had a stroke this year. Like me, she is his full time caretaker.

It has cut into her horse time, but she's still there three or four days a week. She doesn't wring her hands about it, she just does what she can. She isn't shying away from her obstacles.

I have a potential support system right there.

I have some interesting training goals...

Old lady mounting.
Old lady saddling.
Old lady conditioning.
Old Lady limbering.

I realize I need to just go. Watch, think, ride when I can, but GO.

Then, I can come home, write it all out with you, give and get encouragement, provocative argument, and discussion.




Because dammit, I'm not done yet.

This was shot at Tim's place a few years ago. It was a visit, not a clinic, but you get the idea. I'm going to be ready to meet new friends, ride, and torment K.