30 Day Blogging Challenge: Day 1- Your First Horse Show

Summer time means slow time at work. Without classes to teach, and with all of my tasks for the day completed, I found myself perusing the archives of She Moved To Texas (which is a super blog, by the way). I found Lauren's 30 day blogging challenge posts, which she snagged from L. Williams over at Viva Carlos. 

I thought the blogging challenge would be perfect for motivating me to write- not to mention possibly entertaining all of my dear readers with stories of my ponies.

So.

Day 1: Your First Horse Show

I'd already been around horses my whole, short life when I walked into the arena at Maury County Park for my very first horse show. Both of my parents had horses before I was born; they purchased my first pony when I was four. I had taken riding lessons as a small child in rural upstate New York. After moving to Tennessee when I was six, it didn't take my mother very long to sign me up for lessons with a local instructor; my father wasted no time in purchasing me a green broke two year old gelding at a horse auction. 

My lesson pony was an adorable chestnut mare with a flaxen mane and tail named Ginger. She belonged to my instructor, Miss Julie. Miss Julie taught me the basics of riding- how to hold my reins, which diagonal I should be posting at what time, gentle reminders to keep my heels down. I progressed enough over the next couple of years to earn entry into the annual county 4H horse show in late spring of 1996. I was nine years old, and I was ready.

Truth be told, I don't remember much about the show itself. I remember my mother helping me buckle the garters below my knees and warning me not to get my jodphurs dirty. I remember Ginger looking so shiny, like a new penny. I remember being worried about getting the correct diagonal. I remember everyone telling me to do my best.

I was entered in a children's walk-trot hunter class. It was a popular class; there must have been at least fifteen other children riding in the arena with me. I stared straight through Ginger's tiny, coppery ears during the class. I didn't glance down to check my diagonal, nor did I steal a look at my parents in the stands. 

It must have gone well, because I won first place. As you can see in the picture above (that's Ginger and Miss Julie in the picture with me), I was bursting with pride. I still have that blue ribbon; I treasure it. My mother's neat handwriting on the back confirms the date, the class, the judge's name, my name, and my pony's name. 

Little did I know my equestrian career wouldn't be all first place ribbons and big smiles. But it was certainly a good way to start.