Region 4 Championships; Sunday

Sunday morning was dark and a wee bit chilly when we trundled out of the truck and into the stabling early this morning. Riley was not very wide-eyed, but definitely had a bushy, wood-shavings-filled tail. We threw hay (Quite literally. I’ll admit it was fun to toss the flakes up and over the stall fronts and try to hit the mark, a corner, each time. It’s the little things.) and watered and fell right into the usual show routine. Polish boots, wipe down tack, braid horses, tack, dress, ride. So familiar I can do it half asleep.

Riley and I had some debate on whether or not he really needed to do the work, but today, unlike Friday or Saturday, he resigned himself to the proposal that I laid down and went to work for me, albeit a bit grudgingly.

A lot of dressage showing is “hurry up and wait.” You get ready, you rush about madly, and then you look at the time and you’re early. So you wait. The ring we were to ride in was running late. So we hurried up and waited. Not for too long, thankfully, but long enough. He spooked minorly at the volunteer waiting to close the end of the arena at A and with that, we were doing the test. We were riding our championship class. I felt like I was riding the test of my life. I was aware of everything and I pulled it off to the best of my abilities. Riley wanted to fuss and complain a little, but he kept it under wraps for the most part and the test went without a hitch. I knew it might not be the winning ride, but it felt like the ride of my life. I tried to smile throughout the test and by the closing centerline, my smile was genuine.

Then we got to wait some more.

We were one of the first riders in a class of thirteen, which took nearly two hours to complete. While I waited, my dad texted me from home, where it was 6am, and congratulated me on my score. (This year I have finished training both of my parents to recognize a “good” dressage score from a “bad” score.) I texted him back while walking over to the outdoor rings where I helped school a rider and horse pair from our barn because our trainer was schooling someone else for their championship ride in the main indoor arena. It was a thrilling feeling, one that I had not felt before, to coach someone and then watch them ride the test and have it be their best test of the weekend. I’m sure our smiles both matched.

When I walked back into the barn, I was greeted with the news that I was still in the running for a ribbon, which they award up to eighth place. After, you guessed it, more waiting, all of the tests were ridden and the scores were calculated. Riley and I sat in the ribbons! Eighth place, a brown ribbon and a victory “gallop” for the gallion and I.

It was Riley’s first award ceremony and once he realized that it meant standing around, looking pretty, and a little trot around the arena, he thought that he preferred it to showing.

I am so proud and happy and grateful for the journey that took us to this spotlight moment. If it takes a village to raise a child, than it takes a barn to raise a rider/trainer. I looked around at the other riders in the open division during both of my warm-ups today and yesterday and I thought on it last night. I asked myself, “What is the difference between me and those with the winning rides?” Because if I analyze and pinpoint it, I can become better. So I looked and I thought and I did both some more and the answer became very clear to me. The difference is years.

In my division, I am competing with professionals who have been doing their job for as long as I have been alive, most for longer. Some maybe even twice as long. This year was only my fourth regionals. It might be their fourteenth. Riley might be the tenth horse I’ve shown. Their ride might be their fiftieth. And although it feels like I’ve ridden 1st Level Test 3 a thousand times over, I’ll bet that they feel like they’ve ridden it a million times (not to mention that USDF changes the tests every few years). So to ribbon in a class among these experienced trainers meant more than just a pretty ribbon. A lot more.

Region 4 Championships; Saturday

Riley and I back in May.

Riley and I back in May.

The Open division 2nd Level Championships were held today, in which Riley and I competed. Our test was so much better than yesterday. It was not perfect, contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally have such rides… If a ride has mistakes and no one who knows you saw you ride, then were there actually mistakes? Or as a fellow competitor put it, “my mistakes flow from one movement to the next.” All (or some) joking aside, I was pleased with the ride. It could have been better, it could have been worse. That’s life and you live it.

In more detail, our warm up was good. I was more confident in the saddle. Riley had his resistances, but he was being Riley. Not stallion Riley. Just Riley. In the ring, we had lovely medium trots, passable lateral work, and unsubmissive canterwork consisting of a wrong lead, and a “moment” during a medium canter. In the moment, I had to decide between a couple options. A) Ask for the collection, and have his head pop up so high as to possibly cause him to blast out of the arena or B) use the short side and corners to collect. In the moment, I choose option B. We lost the score, but stayed in the ring. Okay, so maybe it would not have been as dramatic as ring-jumping, but I only had a moment.

Our judge at C was Hilda Gurney and it is always a pleasure to ride for her. I felt that she judged the class very fairly, as always, and one of her comments, “Nice sitting rider!”, has put this silly grin onto my face that I can’t seem to wipe off. I would not have gotten that comment in years past.

Riley, an unofficial SLADS volunteer, hard at work on weed eating the fence row.

Speaking of judges and their comments, I picked up my test sheet from yesterday and here’s what the judge further remarked upon, “Needs to be in a more sophisticated frame…” I passed around the laughable test (a fabulous 55%) for laughs around the barn and was told that if I rode for this judge again, perhaps I should stick my pinky finger out while saluting, for a more sophisticated flare. And maybe trade out Riley’s plain browband for a blinged out one. I suppose he thought that Riley and I were just heathens, running amok in his ring. Feral, undomesticated beasts of the field. I feel so blessed to be able to have that kind of ride and not feel negatively pressured or guilt-tripped, or harped on by those who are invested in me and Riley. Instead, those around me are supportive, understanding and helpful in their comments and criticism. How much I appreciate that and them, I can only hope to somehow convey.

Tonight was the Prix St. George Jackpot, which I would love to go into detail about, but I won’t because I need to be up at 4am tomorrow. Many of the riders did not place at all where I thought they might, which only served to facilitate my growing desire to pursue a judge’s card. It was a fun class to watch, as there were different horses and ways of going and different riders and ways of riding.

Let’s end on a mini-rant, just because I can. I know that we are in a barn but that does not mean that people need act as if they were raised there. Yesterday I was in the restroom minding my own business (see what I did there?) and in that very brief time period, I kid you not, only one person knocked while five others opened the door on me. It was locked with a chain so I wasn’t scandalized by any means, but I was astounded by the lack of common courtesy. Knock, please.

Region 4 Championships; Friday

1 of 2 grazing adventures for the spoiled boy.

1 of 2 grazing adventures for the spoiled boy.

When asked how my ride with Riley was today, I took to answering with, “It was really quite bad.” Truth is, it was not good. If it had been my championship ride, I would have cried after exiting the ring. But it wasn’t my championship ride. Riley was uncharacteristically unsettled and needed to take a few deep breaths and relax. I chatted with him and did what I could. The test has mistakes, some glaring, some not, and it was nowhere near the quality of work that we are capable of. When one teammate falls short, the whole team suffers. Isn’t this horse showing at it’s finest? Taking the good, the bad and the ugly? The smiles, the laughs, the funny?

I was not distraught or angry or even disappointed in our ride. Not all was lost. In fact, much was gained. I learned that I needed to ride nervous Riley differently than I ride distracted Riley. I had things to analyze, figure out and work on improving.

“Will I be a stallion or a gelding today? That is the question.”

I felt much better than yesterday. My frame of mind was better and I was able to focus on making my body match the confidence and sureness that I wanted to convey to Riley. As a newly gelded stallion (a “gallion” as the barn ladies have dubbed him during this transitioning period), I have discovered that during a single ride, I have to ability to be riding a gelding some of the time and a stallion during other moments. Today was definitely a gelding ride, which I am still learning how to ride. Yesterday was also a gelding ride, until I took him to the outdoor rings, where he then was a stallion which I was already prepared for and rode him through it accordingly.

Once the show was over, I lightly schooled Riley in the indoor arena where our championship classes will be held. Yesterday when I schooled him there he was slightly uneasy with the unfamiliar layout so today I gave him the chance to get a closer look at everything by hand-walking in around the perimeter of the rings. When he started destroying all off the harvest arrangements, I interpreted that as a good sign that he was no longer supicious of them. It was a light ride, we did a lap of each gait, both directions, around the show ring and the adjacent warm up ring. He was settled and I was happy.

I went right to stall cleaning and bedding, which he then tested by going in for a roll in the fresh shavings. Then it was time for a bath and tail wash. We borrowed Venus’ Lucky Braids shampoo and went through the whole regimen. Riley did not mind the plastic tail bag and heartily approved of the warm water, showing his approval by cocking an hind hoof and standing in a nearly comatose state for the entire bathing process, acting rather annoyed when I asked him to move over so I could scrub his other side. After the bath, we dried off while the sun set and he grazed on what meager vegetation we could find. Back at the stall, his sparkling clean tail was brushed and braided and finally, dinner was served. We both ate and headed to our respective beds, where I now write to you from.