Validation

On my last post, I wrote that I was, well. Writing.

And one of the things that has kept me from truly writing was doubt in myself.

Monday morning, a little of the doubt was erased.

In November, I was at the library, and I happened to glance over at the bulletin board in the hallway. Posted there was a flier for a writing contest in my county. Something told me I should apply. At first, I decided to write a short story. But that story ended up being something that needed more than 3,000 words to say. So I wrote three poems. One was about the Kentucky Derby champion Ferdinand. The other was about my son. The third was about my childhood room and missing my mother.

That one, called "Painted Memories", won Honorable Mention.  The chairwoman of the contest sent me an email with congratulations, as well as letting me know she would confirm the date of the awards ceremony.

Yes, I know its a small contest. And I also know it's first or second. I'll get a certificate, and that will be that.

But I am bursting with pride. I do not consider myself a Poetess. I find poems to be hard to write, and hard to read. I also haven't entered anything I've written in any contest since I was in grade school. So to have been recognized my first time out, with a poem written about my mother, is a huge accomplishment.


Here is my poem:

Painted Memories

Fingers run along the wall

Remembering painting there

Long gone.

Stripes of mauve

Flowers of blue

Hues she picked for you.

What you wouldn’t give

To have those stripes back

What you wouldn’t give

To have her back.

A tear slides down

While fingers feel outlines

You miss your childhood.

A time when life was whole

When health was good

And laughter reigned.

Things will never be the same.

She’s long gone.

The stripes long gone.

Painted over in white.

Still, like a memory

The old paint shines through

Reminding you

She’s not out of mind.

Smile sadly.

Weep quietly.

And remember.

The good things never fade.

People die.

Paint dries.

A mother’s love never.

Getting Honorable Mention has made me confident enough to start thinking about entering more contests, and putting myself out there more. Sure, I know I won't win every time...heck, I may never win again! But it's given me a push.

And it's also made me want to buckle down and really get my novel rolling.

Dear readers, is there anything you've done that has validated your passion? Big or small, let me hear from you!

PS....as I write this, my Weather Channel app is warning me of heavy snow here in the Carolinas. I hope all of you, wherever you are, you are staying safe, dry and warm. And I'm jealous of you who are getting no snow!!

On Writing

If the title of this blog seems familiar to you, it's actually the title of Stephen King's book about being an author.  It's actually a favorite of mine. He's no nonsense, and really makes you think about what you should be writing, how much, and how to write.

All this to say, I am taking a page out of King's book, and am writing my own.

All my life, I've wanted three things: 1) to go to the Kentucky Derby (DONE. Twice!); 2) Do something for the good of others; and 3) Write a book.

So here I am.

I've been "writing" this particular book for years. It started with a short story in college, written hastily. I got a good grade on it, but the teacher felt I rushed the story, and there was more to write. He was correct. But I took that story, put it in a folder, and while it's never far from my mind, it has stayed in that folder, moving with me from place to place.

It wasn't until a few months ago that I pulled out the short story. Our local library had a contest for the county writer's club, for best short story, and best poems. I wrote and submitted a few poems, but when I tried to flesh out the short story for the contest, I realized it was not a short story. It was the novel I should be writing.

So I re-read it, and started re-tooling it. And I love the direction it's going so far.

I haven't written too much yet; only about 14 pages or so. It's also a bit of a ramble. But I am trying to take King's advice: to try to put down at least 1,000 words every day. It's hard to do so, and even harder to get the motivation to sit at the computer and write.

But I'm trying. :)

It's not that what I'm writing isn't interesting, or something I just am throwing down. It's just that I find I have so little free time, and there are so many things pulling at me: crafts, cleaning, TV, reading....you get it.

And another thing: I am not a confident person. I think I am a good writer, and generally, I'm proud of what I do put down on paper (or computer). But there's always this voice inside me saying: "This isn't good. You'll never get published." And I am ashamed to admit, I listen to this voice more often than not.

"Take a deep breath, and clear your head, " I demand to myself (And luckily, I'm sitting at home alone, while my child is napping. I don't know if that makes me crazier for talking to myself).

What is the book about, you ask? Well, roughly, it's a bout a woman coming to grips with the sadness of losing the most important people in her life through her memories.

(That's about all I want to say for now. In case there are trolls out there who want the idea. Although, that is probably silly, so forgive my paranoia.)

I have high hopes for the story, and hopes that I can finish and publish it before I'm 90.

So with inspiration in my head, and King's book in the shelf next to me, I am typing away, each day, and watching my story grow.  It's an exciting thing, trying to write a book. Heck, it's exciting to see the word count grow! Most of all, I am enjoying watching my characters grow and bloom; hoping they are giving me the gumption to grow and bloom as well.

I'll keep you all posted, and hopefully, one day, I can share with you a real, bound, published book. Or at least, a Kindle copy. (Thank goodness for Amazon!!)

Passing Time / Equine Update

Has it REALLY been over a year since I last posted?

I visit this blog continuously, but haven't felt like writing. I'm often tired, and too busy with the daily in and outs of being a stay-at-home Mom. By the time Andrew is asleep, all I want to do is veg on the couch with my husband, and watch truly terrible TV. We moved to North Carolina three years ago, and since that time, between having a baby, setting up the home, and trying to make a life here, I've forgot the simple pleasure of writing here.

Or, maybe I've just gotten lazy. (Hey, it happens!!) One thing for sure is...I've missed coming here and writing. So I'll try, dear readers, to be much better. For now, I'll just write a short update.

No new news on the Equine front. I haven't ridden in three years. THREE YEARS! I used to jones for a ride, the way a sugar addict needs that one. last. COOKIE. But as time passed, and months turned to years, the yearning has slowed from a scream in my head, to a dull ache. The need to ride a clean test; the need to keep my seat deep in the saddle; the need to hug a horse; running my hands through their coats...it's a feeling that almost belongs to someone else.

Almost. My son is about to start preschool in the Fall, and I'm about to have a little more time on my hands. Time to finally clean the house, watch some TV I've missed, read my books, and get crafts done. Maybe even find a little part-time job. As I struggle with the sadness of not having my son all the time, I am also excited to have some space for me again. And a little voice inside me says, "Now. Finally. It's time to start getting back on the horse." Literally.

The stars are aligning again. Last week, my neighbor (a horse enthusiast like myself), and I were walking through the neighborhood, when she casually mentioned her daughter was getting interested in Dressage. That led to a discussion of area barns. And the mention of a horse at one of those barns who is up for lease. The dull ache to ride returned. A little less dull. When I went home, I started looking at the barns she mentioned, and the horse. The horse is probably not a good fit for me, but it opened up my eyes to the prospect of leasing again. To riding regularly. With the wind in my face, and a trainer (probably yelling at me to sit deeper and quiet my hands).

Dull ache? It's a full on jonesing again.

Oh boy.

So that's all the news on the horse front. But there's other exciting things. Which I'll write more about in my next post.

I promise!!

Let's Start with the Horses.....

So it's been almost a year since I last posted. I could write the Great American Novel about what's going on, but I will try to keep it short and sweet. First, horse news. My dear sweet Clinton has been sold. I am terribly sad, but also very happy for him. My friend at the barn told me a really lovely lady bought him, who showered him with pets and kisses. If I can't have him, I want him to have a home where he is loved and pampered. He is a great horse, and he deserves the very best. I almost bought him a year ago, but had to pull out, for many reasons. It hurt my heart to have to say no, but in the end, I did what was best for us both. I had many life changes coming, and it would have been unfair to buy him and then barely see him for months. Plus, in reality, buying a nearly 20 year old horse, who, while incredibly sound, probably only had a few more years of showing left, was not a "smart" business decision. And that would leave me with an aging retiree in the pasture (I would never have sold him), and on the hunt for a new horse. Still, even though my head knows I made the right decision, my heart still longs for him. I have not been back to the barn in year...again because of life changes, but mostly, I couldn't bear to see the horse I had wanted so dearly. I will be going to the barn again soon to pick up my gear, and it will be hard to walk by his stall and not see that funny question mark on his forehead and floppy ears. Sigh. Clinton is the second horse I loved, and have passed on in my riding life. The first was an Appy named Joker. He was my first horse love. He was not a beauty....he was white and pink (from many areas where he'd rubbed off his hair), with black spots. He was also very nasty. He had a reputation of bucking, kicking, and biting. Of course, I fell in love with him. At first, I was simply mucking out his stall, but that moved to talking to him, and brushing him, and giving him great back rubs. Slowly and surely, Joker and I fell in love with each other. Since no one else rode, or paid any attention to Joker, he felt like my horse. And despite the warnings from other riders, I was determined to ride him. So when I got the chance to hop on him, I didn't hesitate. Just as he was in the barn toward me, he was gentle and sweet, never spooking or bucking. That's not to say he was perfect. He was a jealous horse...if I petted another horse, or showed attention to a person in the barn, the moment he was let out, he would gun for the horse/person, teeth bared. And he was very mischievous....I lost quite a few pants pockets that he ripped off, playing with me. But when his owner decided to give him to me, I had to pass. I was a college student with a load of debt, and the daughter of two parents who strongly resisted my want for this horse. And as with Clinton...Joker was an older horse (22), who would become a pasture potato in few years. So I said no. Three weeks later he was sold to a young girl with the same love for him as I, so while I was happy for my sweet Appy, I was sad I wouldn't be the one he'd see every day. That was 10 years ago. I hope that he is still alive, but he would be 32 by now. I hope that his remaining years were happy ones. So my hunt for the perfect horse continues. I hope one day to be able to fall in love with a horse, and be able to buy him or her myself. It is too hard to say goodbye. But at the moment, a horse is not in the cards for me. For you see, while I have been on hiatus, I have had another life to think about. My newborn son, Andrew. TO BE CONTINUED......

Humpty Dumpty

Okay. This is getting ridiculous.

I fell again.

This time, it was a bit harder to get up. I fell on my hip, and it took me a moment to get up again. Wow, did that HURT. No bruising today that can be seen, but I think someone may have inserted a golf ball in my hip as I fell. And I feel a little whiplash in my neck. Definitely some hitch in my giddy-up today (poor horse joke, I know!!).

I thought Clinton spooked again, but Mary thinks I lost my balance. (She is probably right) I got back on and trotted and walked. I needed to do that, or I don’t know if I would ever get the nerve up.

And I haven’t fallen off a horse in YEARS…now twice in two weeks?

So I am being relegated back to being on the lunge line for the next few rides, until I can get myself together. Instead of being nervous on the horse, I am starting to get a little scared. And that just makes me mad.

I want this too much to quit, or let being terrified stop me. And the more I feel that niggling twinge of fear in my gut, the madder I get, and the more determined I get.

No more falling.

Pinkie swear!!

Horses…always a learning moment (Part 1)

I am on a roll with my posts! I’d been meaning to post about my show for weeks now, but you know how that pesky thing called life gets in the way.

Now for a more current “Horse Life” post. 

MONDAY (cue Law and Order “duh duh”)

I have changed a few pieces of equipment, and by gosh, they have changed our rides! I punched a new hole in Clinton’s nose band, added spurs, lost the whip, and added a strap to the saddle (for extra hand-stilling support). Clinton has really been stepping under himself and staying on the bit for longer and longer….instead of fighting for control for 20 minutes (thus leaving a mere 10 minutes for learning), we have flip flopped. Yay!!!

Feeling confident, we had several good rides, both in instruction and by ourselves. On Monday, I was feeling like a champ. Confidence to the extreme. So when Mary left the arena to talk to her son for a second, I decided that Clinton and I should practice just a bit more with our trot on the bit while waiting. As we rounded a corner at the other end of the arena, Clinton spooked.

Clinton, as I’m probably sure I told you, is a spooky horse. I like to think that he is simply a sensitive soul. He often sees goblins and ghouls, especially at the far side of the arena, the gate to the outside arena, the outdoor dressage arena, any open door, and any area where a scary pigeon may be (I agree with him there. Damn pigeons will swoop on you and fly in a horse’s face). Often, the spooks consist of a spontaneous canter, which lasts a few steps, or a balletic jump in the air. Once, he tore off at a full gallop. I have not fallen off yet, each time able to calm Clinton (in the case of the gallop, I didn’t have stirrups, but I managed to stop him by making him turn circles).

My time was up.

Clinton went one way, and I went the other. I’m not sure what he saw, or what I did…whether I tensed, or Javier (the barn manager of sorts) scared him, and I don’t know why I fell…just that I did. As Clinton made a sharp turn, I went over the side, hitting the wall, and sliding facedown into the dirt. I looked up just in time to see Clinton slide to a stop in front of the mirrors (no doubt to admire his rider-less appearance, silly pony).

The funny thing about my falls (I don’t know if you do this too) is that I have two reactions. The first is to get up and out of danger immediately (when one falls off a horse, one wants to make sure the horse doesn’t then turn around and trample said stunned body into the ground). The second, is to test all body parts to make sure they are not broken, bleeding, swelling, torn or bruised. Seeing that Clinton was stopped (and a boarder was heading over to catch him), I took the time to check myself out. Nothing broken, but my shoulder was twisted, and I could feel my boot tighten around my ankle (just a hematoma. I love that word. Say it like The Terminator. Silly, I know. But try not to laugh at yourself after saying it).

Once I figured out nothing was particularly maimed, I started walking toward the boarder and Clinton, as well as a clearly worried Mary. She took Clinton, and made me sit down, thus eliminating my good intention to get back on.

Fast forward to Thursday. Now, I wanted to ride Tuesday and Wednesday, but the eye doctor dilated my eyes on Tuesday, and Wednesday I had plans. So on Thursday, a lesson day, I had some serious nerves.

But there was nothing to fear. Despite a plethora of little girls running in and out of the arena, Clinton was calm and collected, and his sweet normal self. I had to remind myself to breathe, and not anticipate a spook, but we did really well. And on Saturday, I rode again. Still a bit nervous, but Clinton was fine.

So what did I learn? First, that I really need to work on my balance. I really shouldn’t have fallen…he didn’t trip or buck or rear. He simply ran off. So I am starting yoga and trying to work on being centered and balanced. The second thing I learned (and it’s a lesson I learn over and over) that horses are unpredictable. I have been bragging lately that I don’t fall off Clinton. Lesson learned. 

Showing...a Baby Step at a Time

A few weekends ago, Clinton and I broke our maiden, as they say in the racing world.

We had our first show together.

My barn held a fun show this weekend, and I decided to swallow my fear of failure, and enter. Because it was a relaxed, fun show, I didn’t have to wear the traditional garb, nor braid and bathe Clinton. It was a great beginning point for us. I have been taking lessons for three years at my barn, and it was beyond time to put all of those lessons and rides to the test.

Since I was the oldest person at the show, Mary (my instructor) put me in three classes with a teenager who was just beginning in dressage. We competed in Walk/Trot/Sitting Trot, Walk/Trot/Canter, and a very simple dressage test….create a figure eight, halt at the end of the arena, break into a canter, and halt at the gate.

Clinton and I placed second in Walk/Trot, first in the canter class, and second in the dressage test. (Later, Mary told me I would have won that too, had I changed my diagonals in the figure eight. Argh!)

So at the end of this story, you might be thinking, well. This show didn’t prove anything. I basically lost twice. And I was only competing against another girl. So what’s the big deal?

The big deal is that this show was a huge confidence booster. Until now, I never felt confident enough to show. But we did great. Clinton was mostly on the bit during all three classes. Our canter was large and fluid (in fact, I overheard someone saying, “that Clinton doesn’t want to stop!”). And we actually cantered clockwise against the fence! We were so relaxed, too. At the beginning, I took a deep breath, forgot the crowd, and centered on Clinton. We were very relaxed, and to be honest, I forgot anyone was there!

In a few weeks, I am taking a huge leap of faith. I am entering my very first USEF/USDF recognized show in Gainesville, Florida. We will only be competing in Intro tests, but from being unsure I could show, to wanting to make my mark in the show ring, I’d say I’ve grown quite a bit.  Now to figure out how to make those fancy braids…..

Derby Fever

In a mere 12 days, a crowd of thousands, wearing all manner of dress (and hats!), will raise their mint juleps skyward as the strains of "My Old Kentucky Home" waft through the air. Minutes later, 20 three-year-old colts will sidestep, eyeball the crowd and arch their necks, as they warm up for the Big Dance. They will enter the gates as mere colts, and leave as a crush of men. They will stream by the cheering crowd, thunder in their hooves and resounding in the air. Snorts, yells of jockeys will follow, as they round the first turn, heading for the backstretch. On and on they will go, fighting for the lead, fighting to keep their position, fighting the dirt being flung in their faces. At last, the Twin Spires will emerge around the bend. Some will tire and fade, others will grind on, and still others will stream toward the front. And as the wire approaches, one of these jockeys will cluck to his horse, and show him the whip, and that horse will break away from the pack, and cross the wire first.

That horse, whomever he may be, will be crowned King of Racing, be adorned with a blanket of the reddest roses, and showered with love and affection.

And later on that day, his name will be painted onto the walls of Churchill Downs, forever more the winner of the 2011 Kentucky Derby.

There is no other race like this one in the world, this event come the First Saturday in May, every May, since 1875. This is the race that begins the infamous Triple Crown series. The race that the immortal Secretariat won, whose race time still lives on as the fastest time in history. The race that Kings and Sheiks, Billionaires and the Everyman desire to win. To win the Derby, as a trainer, owner, jockey and horse, means that you belong to an elite group of people, raised up among peers.

It is a Kingmaker, a Queenmaker, and a test of true mettle.

For the next 12 days, I will cover each of the horses who are as of now, running in this year's race. It's my favorite time of year, and I hope that you'll enjoy my take on the Run for the Roses!

A-MO-zing

Any Triple Crown discussion obviously has to begin with Uncle Mo, the sensational three-year-old who tops all standings for the Kentucky Derby at the moment.

Mo, a son of Indian Charlie, out of the mare Playa May, has exceeded all expectations as a two-year-old, most notably taking the Grade I Champagne Stakes and the Breeders Cup Juvenile, the race that stamped Mo as the favorite for the Derby and won him the Two-Year-Old Champion at the Eclipse Awards in January.

If the accolades don't interest you, this might....Uncle Mo LOVES Churchill Downs' track.

As a three-year-old, Mo hasn't raced, yet he has the stamp of approval from a lot of horse players around the world. His price in Vegas keeps dropping, and European odds makers have set him at 4-1. Various bloggers and writers have even mentioned the possibility of Mo becoming the first Triple Crown winner in over 30 years.

What makes Mo even more endearing, especially to the public at large, is his huge social media network. A Twitter-holic and Facebook megastar, the flashy colt keeps his fan base up to date on all things Uncle Mo, including timed workouts, meetings with trainer Todd Pletcher and visits from his owner, Mike Repole. He even snapped a picture of himself before the Eclipse Awards, wearing a tux.

And his larger than life owner is becoming a fan favorite in his own right. Mike Repole, of Vitaminwater fame, is a fan first, owner second; making sure that fans get the access social networking provides, and always available for commentary on his horse. He even writes a blog for Bloodhorse.com, chronicling his love of racing, and the love for his special horse. (But more on him later. This is about Uncle Mo!)

But for all the good that can be said about Uncle Mo, there are some questions that will need to be answered. Indian Charlie, Mo's sire, is known for breeding sprinters; not distance horses. And he has yet to race, while several of his top competitors already have a few races under their belts...and getting better every day. Plus, he will have only two prep races..the Tampa Bay Derby on March 12th and the Wood Memorial on April 9th. While that schedule has worked in the past, one stroke of bad luck, and Mo could be unprepared for the Run for the Roses.

My take? I happen to like him. I like his race style and his connections. So far, he is my feel good pick. Should he do well in his next races, he will deserve the title "Derby Favorite," and I will be behind him 100%.

What is your take on Uncle Mo? Let me know what you think. To help, below is Uncle Mo's last race.

It's been a long time (time to get down to business)

Wow. As I look at my blog, the words of a song come to me....

"Hi. Nice to see ya. It's been a looong ti-ime...."

Well, I'm back! And ready to tackle the subjects that are closest to my heart.

KENTUCKY DERBY TRAIL!!

As the smell of fresh red roses waft through the halls of my workplace (its Valentines Day, after all), I am reminded that smell also heralds the beginnings of Derby thoughts. Red roses, mint juleps, the sounds of the horses racing by.

But in order to get down to just 20 colts (and fillies), there are quite a few tests to be taken, roads to be travelled, and rivalries to be won.

And I can't WAIT to tell you all about them. The next few months, I'll dig up the dirt on the Derby hopefuls, so that when the gates open on May 7th, you have a horse (or horses) to root for.

Time to get down to business. More to follow!!

Peace, love and Reins...
DG

What the Triple Crown Taught Me This Year

Despite my good intentions to write about the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes and Belmont Stakes, I didn't get a chance to share my views. So now that the chapter has closed on the Triple Crown, I'd like to share a few thoughts on the season.


1. Calvin Borel is a rail-riding, Churchill Downs freak. I will never, ever neglect to put a horse he's on in my picks. For the second year in a row, my bad.

2. Twenty horses in the Derby is too much. And 50% shouldn't have competed in the world class race: they just didn't have the class to be there. If owners and trainers aren't taking the initiative to know they can't win, then someone has to change the rules.

3. As usual, the Derby Party was a success. Whenever there is good food, mint juleps and a chance to win a prize, I can con anyone into watching my favorite race in the world.

4. Finally, Bob Baffert got it. Gomez was not lucky for Lookin At Lucky. (Baffert, see #1.)

5. Never get excited about Calvin Borel's claim of Triple Crown glory. It's nice he thinks he'll get it, and he might someday. But the Preakness is the time to consider how good the horse is.

6. The Preakness is all about redemption and affirmation.

7. Alright, we know. The Derby and Preakness winners weren't at the Belmont. Instead of focusing on the negative, let's focus on the third jewel of the TC with positivity. Sheesh!

8. Please put all the races on ONE channel. ABC sucked this year. NBC does a way better job of making the TC shine. (And please, NBC, should you take all three races again, hire Bill Nack. Love his poetic sound bytes!)

9. Penny Chenery (Secretariat) is still a firecracker.

10. If you make a big stink that no one will come to the Belmont, a crowd of New Yorkers will be there to prove you wrong. Handle was down, but there was no shortage of cheering for the winner.

11. Why did the song change for the Belmont? And when is there going to be a decent act singing the song? It was so bad, ABC cut it out of the broadcast.

12. New York hates Gov. Paterson. No more was that evident than when the only time a person heard boos, it was at the trophy presentation.

13. The Mig will be missed.

14. Horse racing has great history and great stories.

15. The longer the drought, the more in awe I am of the 11 TC winners.

16. Every time someone mentions changing the crown, I am heatedly against it. It's hard for a reason. I'd rather have 11 TC winners, then a few more with an asterisk by the name.

And to sum up this year: sometimes, the good guys win. And in all three races, it was people and horses who you couldn't help but root for.

Congrats to Winstar Farm's Super Saver (Derby) and Drosselmeyer (Belmont), and Mike Pegram's Lookin at Lucky (Preakness). Congrats to jockeys Calvin Borel, Martin Garcia and Mike Smith. And congrats to Todd Pletcher, Bill Mott and Bob Baffert.

Breeder's Cup, here they come!

Weighing Down

I love food, and I love horses.
One is a great, and healthy love (horses). The other? Eh. Depends on the day.

Lately I've been eating pretty bad. Drinking full glasses of coke and cappacinos, eating sweets at every meal, loading up on carbs. When its a one day thing, its just one of those days, and you move on to fight another day. But if you add in two more days, then a week, and then a month, well. You are on the wheel of bad health, my friend.

And lately, I've been running that wheel like its fashionable. But slowly, I'm really feeling the effects. I'm tired. Rundown. My lessons are harder, not because I am learning more, but because I'm trudging through. My mind is mushy. And worse of all...my riding pants fit like OJ's glove....not. quite. right.

I guess I saw something in the twin mirrors of the barn last night that clicked. Maybe it was my stomach. Or the way I somehow engulfed Clinton's back. It just wasn't attractive. Or healthy looking. And I thought back to an article I read, about how riding can actually be stressful on the heart if its the only form of exercise you do. And right now, it is.

I went home last night, after a surprisingly great lesson, and hopped on the scale. I peeked through my hands and looked at the number. 172. Gross.

So I hit my internal reboot. Made my breakfast this morning. Made a cup of tea. Plan to eat better all day. And started thinking positively. Tonight I am planning to workout. Do it all again tomorrow. And keep it up.

Because I've never seen a heavy, unhealthy rider in the Grand Prix. And I don't plan on being the first!

Peace, Love and Reins, DG

Shut It

One of my biggest pet peeves is someone treating me like I am stupid.

I'll admit it: I am not the brightest crayon in the box sometimes. No, I don't think that tuna is really "chicken of the sea," or think "why make lemonade when you can make lemons" (RHONY reference) but I don't always say the right thing, or know the right thing. I own it...and can laugh at my own mistakes.

What I do know, is that I try hard, and learn quickly, and those are not qualities of the dumb and idiotic.

Various people in my world have questioned my brainpower in that non-subtle way. I usually shrug it off, but as I get older, the need to bite my tongue gets stronger. Such as the case yesterday, when a woman talking to my instructor, began making snide little comments about me and the horse I was about to ride. Maybe she was just trying to help, but it sounded more like she was belittling me. And it was all I could do not to snap at her.

So, to you, un-named lady, here goes:

Yes, I know which saddle to get for which horse. Yes, I know how to tack up a horse. Yes, I know that some horses need more "encouragement" than others. No, I don't wear spurs, but I am willing to use other methods to get the horse to move.

And when the instructor thinks I can ride the horse she has given me the option to ride, I trust her judgment, not yours. Plus, I have ridden this horse before, and I know his quirks. Just because you haven't seen me ride him, and also think I'm inferior because I've only been taking serious lessons for two years, doesn't mean I'm not up to the task.

I am not some dumb, doe-eyed older beginning rider, who doesn't know the tail from the head, and who wouldn't know a trot from a canter. If I make a mistake, I will own it. I am strong. I am willing. And I will be the best I can, and should be. Silly and stupid? I think not.

So shut it. I have a lesson to take.

Wallowing

Debbie Downers, come wallow with me. :)

Last night, I began to once again question why I am riding. Is it for fun? For competition? Do I want this to be a hobby, or an extension of my life? Do I just want to be able to control a horse down a trail, or, wear the top hat and tails of a Grand Prix rider? I feel like when I hit a certain point in my lessons, I begin to doubt what it is that I want out of my riding lessons. Doubt myself.

And then I realize the problem is that what I want is so much more than what I can have at this time in my life. I want a horse, I want to ride seven days a week, and I want to compete. Reality? I have a full time job, part time writing gig, two books in the works, a husband and a family who wants to see me regularly. And on top of that, we want a family someday soon. Plus, I just can't afford a horse right now.

So last night, for some reason, it all came to a head. Riding is not a hobby for me, in my heart. And right now, at this time, it has to be. And I hate it. I feel as if I am banging my head against a wall that, someday, might break away. Plus, there is a horse at my barn that could be for sale, and I am completely in l-o-v-e with him. Which is not a good thing, because I can't buy him at this moment, and if he is sold....it will completely break my heart.

So, what to do? A wise friend told me that being a great rider should be the ultimate goal in my life, if that's what I want. That I can be all that I want, but it's going to take patience.

Which I agree. But today, I'm just going to be a little down, thinking I have so much to do and so little control over certain things. I'll be back to my old DG self tomorrow. :)

Believe

There are times when the only one who believes in you....is you.

Growing up, I was blessed to have two parents who solidly stood by me as I made my way through Growing Up Land. When, klutzy me, decided to play softball, my parents cheered at every game. Even the ones where I tripped rounding the bases. Or when I caught a fly ball....with the side of my face. (And I made sure that NEVER happened again!!)

When I came home one day from college, and announced that I was going to be a journalist, both of my parents supported me. Despite the visions they had of my living in a cardboard box, they were both pleased as punch at graduation (and I proved I knew what I was doing: I earned a few awards, an editorship at my college, and a top level reporting job at the local paper).

And most importantly, they stood by me while I suffered through a bad relationship, and cheered me on when I declared I had enough. Something they were not sure I could do on my own.....and one of the main decisions I made that confirmed they had raised a woman.

I could list a lot more, but you get the idea. :) My parents have the firm belief in me that when I make a decision, it will be a good one.

But as an adult, I am finding that less people believe in you. People will try to knock you down. Make you feel inadequate. Make you question your life decisions. It is a new minefield for me: I have always had a support system that knew I would always do right by myself.

The biggest "belief" crisis that I am facing at the moment is that of motherhood. Neither of my parents ever pressured me about marriage or children. Never did they watch me turn 23, 24, 25 and question my sanity. Why didn't I settle down? Start a family? My 20s were fast coming to an end! Again, they firmly believed I would do what was best for me. And I did. I lived the single life that I wanted, traveled, worked hard....and then, at 26 (which is still very young), I met my husband. Had I jumped into marriage, like a lot of young women do, I would never have married Mark. I probably would have married the bad relationship guy, and spend a lifetime in misery. (Divorce is not an option.)

But now, at 29, the questions come again. Babies, babies, babies. Why haven't I tried yet? I'm getting older! Mark is older! The whole point of marriage is babies! What am I waiting for?!?!

Well, I am waiting because it's what's right for me. Because I want a strong marriage first. I want to enjoy being with my husband: eating on the couch watching our shows with Smokey winding around our legs, traveling around the country, driving to the cabin. Because my horse classes are a sort of therapy for me, and its hard to imagine nine months away from the barn right now. Because I want to be ready. I want to dive in with happiness, not regret that I had a baby because others told me to.

And because I have the belief in myself that I am doing what is right. And I haven't yet been wrong when it comes down to the final word.

Also, I have the belief, despite what some others say, that I will always have my Derby parties, always write, always ride horses and NEVER forget who Michelle is, regardless of a name or a title change. Because some people say that when you marry; when you have children, that who you are before all of it disappears. True, some does, but not the important things. As long as you have the belief in yourself that you ARE who you ARE.

Be the person you believe you can be. Follow your own path. Because Belief is about what you think is right, and who you know you are.

That is my final word. Believe it or not. :)

Connected

It's been a crazy few weeks getting going on my new freelance gig, so the blog has suffered a bit. Sorry, readers!

Last week I rode Clinton for the first time in a while. I rode Guinness until he left to be with his mom at Auburn, and then spent one lesson with a new horse, named Classy.

So when Stephanie told me to grab Clinton, I was both excited and nervous. Would I still have trouble getting him on the bit? Would we canter without his stumbling, and my nervous tension?

We got in the ring, and.....ahhhhh. Best. Lesson. EVER.

Clinton was on the bit 98% of the lesson. Why? Because after riding G, who needs a ton of muscle on the reins, I was able to keep Clinton on the bit. My hands stayed mostly steady, my legs didn't clinch, and we were able to do trot/walk drills without frustration on my part, and head-flinging on his. And when we cantered....it was like that moment when you know that boy is the right one.

We just clicked. Connected, we looked, moved and felt great. It was the most collected and controlled canter. Horse and rider, as one.

Clinton got extra hugs, pats and treats that night. I sang the whole way home. Sailing into the house, I excitedly told my husband how great the lesson was, how perfect Clinton acted, how I finally found the dressage rider inside. It was one of those nights when you are in the groove. Like when a baseball player hits the ball right in that sweet spot and the ball goes over the fence. That. Good.

Sure, it may not have been Grand Prix, but it was a big step in the right direction. Clinton needs so much more from his rider than my first lesson horse, Sonnet, needs, and it threw me off, made me nervous.

But being on a tiger like Guinness, I was forced to be the best that I could try to be...so he wouldn't fall on his face. And I took all that I learned on G, applied it to Clinton, and it worked.

So tonight is lesson night with Mary. And I am hoping that Clinton and I can perform as lovely as we did Wednesday night.

Because this is my theory: once you know how good it can be; you never want to let that feeling go.

That warm, fuzzy "nickery" feeling

To begin my Kentucky Derby postings, I'd like to tell you a little bit about why this time of year holds so much charm for me. You see, I'm not in it to win big bucks; to collect on a trifecta. I don't circle horses in the Daily Racing Form like they are simply a means to an end, nor do I get excited for the Derby just because of a big hat and a new dress.

I'm in it for the warm fuzzies.

And Derby time is the biggest, brightest sun in racing's universe. The Derby is the one race everyone wants to win, because to wear Roses on the first Saturday in May is to stamp yourself in immortality. Long after we forget who won the big Thoroughbred races, we remember the Derby winners. We remember the day a 50-1 longshot named Mine That Bird skipped along the inside rail to shock a crowd. We remember when a schoolbus full of middle class owners rolled into Churchill Downs and won with a scrappy gelding named Funny Cide. We remember a horse named Secretariat, because as he crossed the wire first, we knew we had seen the beginning of a remarkable journey.

The Derby is not about who is bred the most impressively. Or the one owned by the richest men and women. The winner of the Derby is not decided by mere mortals, but by the heavens. You can be the favorite; you can be the longshot. When it is decided that your moment of glory is now, it is you crossing the wire first.

My first real memory of the Derby was in 1988, when a roan filly named Winning Colors shocked the crowd and won. She was the third and last filly to win the Derby. I remember sitting on our couch in the family room, in awed silence of the powerful filly as she was adorned by the blanket of roses. I remember the excitement I felt, jumping up and down on the couch as the race unfolded, and knowing that I had begun a journey of fanship that I still have today.

I remember the very first time I stood in front of the famed Spires of Churchill Downs. How my heart raced with happiness and the reverence I felt. The moment I saw the flash of horses through the throngs of the infield, and the excitement. The screaming my friend and I did when we won $20 on Smarty Jones. How I never cashed the ticket, because I wanted that piece of history forever. And I remember the first time I had a seat at the Derby. As the first strains of "My Old Kentucky Home" washed over me, I closed my eyes, holding onto my hat, and tried to let the whole experience wash over me. I remember watching Calvin Borel celebrate on Street Sense. Even though I bet on Nobiz Like Showbiz, I shouted and waved at him in congratulations, tears threatening to fall, even as I watched Borel's stream down his cheeks.

The Derby is an experience unlike any other.

I hope, as I write about the horses on the Derby trail, that you will find yourself rooting for one on May 1st. They all have stories. Some are about privilege, owned by sheiks. Others are grassroots horses, bought for thousands by the everyman. Still others are trying to fulfill the destiny of a famed father or brother, taken too soon. They will all spend the next three months trying to win as many races as they can to gain both the experience and purse earnings to gain one of 20 spots in the Derby starting gates.

The Derby Trail is the beginning of these young colts' stories; the Derby itself will determine who among them is the greatest.

Are you starting to get excited yet? :)

ARRGH!!

Don't you just hate it when everything is not going right?!?! You just want to scream, but, when it comes to screaming on a horse....NOT the brightest idea. :)

Last night I rode Guinness (YAY) for the fourth time. I had been progressing slowly on G, but had made it to a point that cantering with heels down and hands tight was becoming more natural. So on Wednesday, my final (for real) ride on G was going to be money.

Ha.

Cantering was a nightmare. So was trotting. G kept tripping because my hands were not tight, nor steady enough. He shied at some unknown thing in the ring. He bucked a few times. When we cantered, it was on the wrong lead. And he figured out that if he pulled on the bit hard enough, the reins would give in my hands. Not to mention, the whip kept slipping from my grasp, because I wouldn't/couldn't keep my fingers closed. And with every mistake, my frustration and misery grew, until at one point, I almost jumped off in a huff. Angry at him for not doing what I wanted, but angrier still at myself for not asking G for the right things at the right time.

So I asked G for a halt and rolled my shoulders back. I took a breath, and closed my eyes for a second, sending out positive vibes. And started all over again. This time, we were able to get a canter on the correct lead, and trotted twice around the ring with nary a trip, on the bit, and in tune. So we stopped there for the night. I was still angry at myself for having a so-so lesson, but happy that I didn't give up.

It's so hard not to get frustrated when dealing with horses. They are wonderful creatures, and I love them. But, they have a mind of their own, and quirks. It's not Guinness' fault that he needs a steady hand and a firm leg to move forward. It's mine, for not committing myself to being firm. He knows what he knows, and anything less than that, well, that's not his problem to deal with. He's not being bad or mean. He's being a good dressage horse. But when your mind is yelling CANTER! and your body is saying, "um, well....canter?" it breeds frustration at yourself for not being on point, and frustration at the horse for not reading your mind.

While I'm still chiding myself for being so blasé last night, I am pumping myself up for Monday night's lesson. I will take what I learned on G, and be a better rider on Clinton. And I will put last night's frustrations away. Clinton, here I come!

A Pint (or 70) of Guinness

I know you looked at that title and thought, "is she an alcoholic?"

Don't worry. Guinness is a horse. :)

My past two lessons, I have had the privilege of being able to ride one of the barn's superstars. Owned by the co-owner of the barn, Guinness is showing at a 3rd or 4th Training level. And when you are offered the chance to ride a horse like that, you do NOT say no.

I'm sure that G is a warm blood, but what kind, I'm not sure. He's very tall, probably about 17 or 18 hands, dark brown/almost black. And he's a total gentleman and sweetheart. On our first night, he started licking my arm, like a dog. It was hysterical. And he has a way of tilting his head like he's telling you a joke that you're going to burst into giggles over. Besides his great personality, G is an incredible mover. Smooth and quick, his strides eat up the ground, never choppy, never jostling. It's easy to get lost in the moment with him.

I have been taking lessons consecutively for a year and some change now. I am considerably better than I used to be, but I am not at that level in Dressage. I still have trouble keeping my body from pitching forward when I change gaits, and getting a horse to stay on the bit still eludes me at times. Clinton is not thrilled when I mess up on him, but he still continues to trot or canter on. With Guinness, there is no room for error. The slightest wrong movement, and G stops. He will not trot or canter unless your hands are connected with his mouth, your legs applying the correct pressure. While it can be frustrating (Wednesday's lessons consisted of a lot of stopping), it has been a way to see what I need to work on, and what a real Dressage horse needs in a rider.

Another thing I'm hoping my time with G will teach me is to be more confident. One of the worst issues I have riding a new horse is doubt. I doubt that I can control such a horse. I doubt that I will stay on. When my instructor asks me to canter on a new horse, I always feel my stomach hit my feet. And I'm sure the horse feels it too. With G, there is no room for fear. While he thinks he's cantering slowly, you feel like you are zooming around the ring. The first time I tried to canter, it was a mess. G needs you to hold the reins tight, and your seat has to be deep and back. You pitch forward, and he stops. You loosen the reins even a tiny bit, he stops. Quickly. To top it all, he always gives a little kick when he starts his canter. Very minor, but if you don't expect it, it's different.

But Saturday, when I rode him for the second time, while it took me a while to get going, I felt very comfortable at the canter. He was feeling his oats, and we were flying, but he felt so good, and I felt that I was right there with him. Clinton isn't nearly as big or fast, so the lingering canter fears I have with him? If I can do it on G, Clinton will be a piece of cake. And I'm sure he'll appreciate my seat and hands more.

I have really enjoyed my time on G. I may get one more chance to ride him, and I will eat up every second. I love Clinton, don't get me wrong, but riding Guinness is teaching me how to ride Clinton better. My hope is that once I'm riding him again, I will be more comfortable, more confident, and more able.

So I have to give a lot of thanks to G, and to Mary (my instructor) for letting me ride him. Because Clinton is going to see a better rider next week, I hope. And because I think I grew into my Dressage boots just a little bit more. :)

Peace, love and reins...DG

Rachel Alexandra vs. Zenyatta (Part 2)

On my last posting, I gave you my arguements for which gal should win Horse of the Year at the Eclipse Awards. Below are Rachel's Kentucky Oaks and Zenyatta's Breeders Cup win; both races considered the most impressive of their year. Even if you don't know who you like.....you have to admit, these girls know how to stir up a crowd! The Eclipse Awards will air Monday night, January 2010.