A few weeks ago I was given a generous offer that allowed me to attend a local horse show with my pony, Ginny, a show I otherwise would not have been able to attend and a chance to get off property and get us both another show under our belts. After all, the more you do, the better you get, whether it be showing, riding, events, and most things, really. And while we technically weren't terrible, we weren't great either. Rather lukewarm, shall we say. I was hoping the onsite photographer had gotten a good shot of my derpy face going over a wee crossrail that Ginny decided to bunny hop, but even that was lukewarm. In fact, I had posted it on the shiteventersunite Facebook group, and it didn't even get one reaction or comment.
NOT. ONE.
So we're SO shite we're not shite at all. On a page FULL of shiteness, we don't even register on the meter.
And looking at it, they're right. It's not flattering, yes, but it's neither funny, nor embarrassing, nor anything really. Just .... lukewarm.
Well, at least we got a cute photo op with the Tiny Tales Pony Rescue food truck, minus the food part since I also missed out on that. Like I said, really not the best day. I mean, not the worst, just .... lukewarm (I know, first-world problems).
And that's kind of how I was feeling our riding was at that point in time, lukewarm. Stagnant.
Were we really getting better? No. Were we regressing and getting worse? Also no. But lukewarm is not the place to be either, is it?
Careful what you wish for, however, because soon after that we got a big opportunity to be shite. And shite we were. But it's actually leading to great things.
Allow me to elaborate.
Ginny and I have been at our current barn for four wonderful years, a barn that is drama-free (like, actually), tranquil, caring, clean, and truly our happy place. It really is horsie heaven. However, since we do not have an indoor arena, training/practicing consistently in the winter can be challenging. When we first came to this barn, Ginny and I had been escaping a very toxic environment and needed to get somewhere safe and FAST. This barn welcomed us with open arms, and despite not having that indoor arena for winter training support, we've been loathe to move because how do you so easily replace what so quickly became "family?" Mind you, I certainly kept an eye out and an ear to the ground over the years for the RIGHT place with an indoor and this and that and the other thing, but no other barns felt JUST right.
Until now.
Enter my desire to check off a bucket list item and go fox hunting. While pursuing items on my bucket list has led to making new friends in the horse world before, little did I know that it would lead to finding our goldilocks barn. I mean, I hoped, obviously. But many have come before and nothing came even close. I'm picky, to say the least, but I attribute that to our current barn; the bar has been set HIGH.
So plans have been in motion for several months now in preparation for this move. I'm feeling a mixture of sadness, excitement, nervousness, excitement ... yeah, mostly excitement. I've been told I'll be missed at our current barn, which is nice to hear; you want people sad to see you leave, not happy (see this blog post). And I'm also told that people at our new barn are looking forward to us joining.
All this to say that as of September 1st we will be joining the Daisy Hills Equestrian team, and we are very excited. In fact, our new barn owner and trainer, Sarah, had invited Ginny and I to join the team at the Chilliwack Fair this past weekend. Never having done a fair before, I leapt at the chance to get Ginny some new experiences (like getting over her hatred/fear of cows, for one) and a chance for me to get to know some of my future riding buddies.
Remember my initial comments today about our progress being lukewarm or stagnant? Well, apparently the best way to move stagnation is to just MOVE. Day one at the fair was trailering in, setting up the horses, and ring familiarization in the arena we would be competing in the next day. Lots of sights, movements, sounds, etc., as expected. Some forward scooting by Ginny completely caught me off guard, so I tightened, unbalanced, and fell, unfortunately hitting my head and getting a mild concussion.
A moment here to thank the inventor of the helmet. Thank you. Thank you very much.
More hurt, however, was my pride and my butt. Literally. Pretty sure I hit my tailbone because it hurt to sit, which also meant it was going to hurt to ride. What hurt the most was missing out on all the fun and having my new team take care of my horse for me, something I am NOT used to as I've been flying solo with Ginny for many years. After some forced rest and recovery, I attended the fair on day three as a spectator while my new trainer rode Ginny in the show and I jealously watched. After their classes were over, I got a friend to help supervise me while I mounted up to do a cool-out walk. That little bit of walk cool-out was not only painful physically but a much-needed and unwelcome mental punch-in-the-gut to show me that training goals and strategies needed to change and so did my perspective on things.
By the last day of the fair, I was determined to ride Ginny my own damn self. So, armed with Motrin and Tylenol and the previous night's anxiety dreams of having to memorize a pattern for the equitation class, I suited up, braided up, tacked up, and mounted up (with assistance and much grunting). Luckily our class was not big; in fact, our only competition was my trainer, Sarah! Needless to say we came in second in all our classes. But I felt like a winner because I freaking SHOWED UP and pushed through.
After the pattern was done (badly), all my anxiety fell away. I finished my other classes, and I had fun at a show for the first time in a long time (it helped that fair food is awesome too lol). I enjoyed being part of a team who all cheered for each other, I was thankful to have help and give help, and I'm so very excited for our very NOT lukewarm and NOT shite future.
Some thoughts:
1. It's certainly good to have independence; it's been just Ginny and I for a while now with intermittent coaching and a very undefined program (much needed after our previous circumstances which included some very unhealthy co-dependence). But it's also important to have a team.
When I got injured, help was there even before I knew I needed it. Sarah's team seemingly flew in and saw to Ginny's care, and Sarah saw to Ginny's training while I was whisked away and given medical attention and eventually transported home.
The choice to have full control over everything was taken away from me, and that was HARD, as I am stubborn and rarely ask for help (I am working on it) and I am used to having to do all things Ginny all the time. But the act of stepping back also made me realize that it was a huge relief too. She'll be okay; I'll be okay.
2. Your riding progress is like Alberta weather; if you don't like it at the moment, just wait a bit. If you think your progress is stagnant, chances are a big change is coming. OR was it really stagnant after all? A friend had to remind me at that first local show I mentioned earlier that we had only JUST been able to do that level for a short while now. We certainly were not able to do that last year. Perhaps we weren't so lukewarm after all.
Is there room for improvement? ALWAYS. And if you really feel like things are too stagnant for your liking, start some movement. Change things up: try a new discipline, new event, new activity, or new venue. It could be as simple as ride on the trails or beach. I know Sarah already has plans and strategies waiting for us when Ginny and I start at Daisy Hills in September, and we cannot wait.
3. Change is hard. There is no stepping around this one. I am going to miss my barn family in Ladner so very much and am so thankful for our time together. They've been there for me and Ginny, and we've all been through a lot together. In fact, the entire barn knew about my incident the next day and were messaging me to see if I was okay! I still haven't even told my mother!
But change is also good, and the right people will be happy for your happiness. And they are.
4. Every opportunity to ride your horse is a blessing; treasure it.
5. Ginny gives zero sh*ts about cows now. WIN.
Your friendly, neighbourhood Reincoast Equestrian
Silver