A comedy of errors: HFH fall hunter pace '14

Saturday was the date of one of my favorite events all year: the Harvard Fox Hounds hunter pace. If you're unfamiliar with hunter paces, they're low-key competitive trail rides which are ridden in teams of two to four (or five, if you're us) over varied terrain. Before the event, the hosting organization sends out a team of riders over the course to get the ideal time, which remains a mystery to competitors During the event, teams ride the course at what they feel is an appropriate pace; the team closest to the ideal time without being under wins.

HFH holds two hunter paces a year, one in May and one in November. (This year's fall event was rescheduled thanks to some rain in November.) They're held at the absolutely gorgeous Flint Creek Farm in far eastern Oklahoma- it's about a 90 minute drive for us. That's also where HFH does most of their hunting. It's a great place to ride for many reasons, but my favorite part is how much the terrain reminds me of my beloved Tennessee: it's hilly, rocky, and in some parts, densely forested.

There are a lot of cross country jumps to school. With Gina's new-found (re-found?) jumping confidence, I was eager to go! 

From L to R: Robin & Woody, Richal & Ash, Audrey & Woody, Cara & Gunner, me & Gina.
Yes, we matched. There's usually a best dressed award! 

Overall, the day went pretty well. There were some highlights:

• Gina jumped everything I pointed her at, including large coops, logs of all sizes, and a coffin. A couple of things got a refusal on the first approach, but there was no real nastiness.
• Gunner, an OTTB out on his very first cross country excursion, was very good for his teenage rider. 
• There was beer at the potluck. 

...And more than a few mishaps:

• Robin had a flat on the way to the event- we stopped to help her (as did a local eventing barn), so we had about 15 minutes to get dressed and tacked up.
• Ash attempted to buck Richal off within 10 minutes of being on course. (Fun side note for any racing fans out there: Ash is short for Ashkal Way, winner of a variety of stakes races and owned by ESPN racing reporter Jeannine Edwards.)
• Woody DID buck Audrey off immediately after clearing a post-and-rail fence. She was fine, and got back on to complete the hunter pace.
• Robin's Woody laid down with her on him in one of the creeks.
• Cara's Easy Boots broke. (Both of them.)
• About 100 yards from the finish line, Gina slipped and fell while galloping. I pitched off, she landed on me only minimally, and we are totally fine. My right leg and side are sore, Gina is a little sore, and I definitely need a new helmet, but it could have been way worse!

Despite our slightly scary fall at the end of the day, I was really happy with how Gina went. I'm super excited to get her out and about next year!

Richal was too busy trying to keep Ash calm to get many pictures!

Gina refused this coop once, then hopped over it. The approach was a VERY steep, short hill with about one stride between
the hill's end and the coop. Super fun!

Gallery Farm combined test recap

I know, I know, show recap posts are really only exciting for the person who's writing them. But I wanted to let y'all know that a) Gina didn't kill me and b) it went pretty well.

My ride times were pretty reasonable, with dressage at 11:20 AM and XC at 2:02 PM. This meant that while I did get up at 5 AM and get to the barn by 7 AM, it could have been much, much worse. Gallery Farm is near Oklahoma City, so it's about a 2.5 hour drive from where the ponies live. We pulled out with Gina (who kept her socks super-white overnight) and Freddie (for company and experience) around 8 AM, and after many turns (and a couple of turn arounds), we arrived and parked next to our friends Rachael and Sarah.

Freddie about fell down getting out of the trailer, but recovered gamely and spent the next six hours standing tied to the trailer, eating hay and drinking/playing in the water buckets we had tied up for them.

Freddie's happy place.

Gina (left) and Freddie (right) are unimpressed by shows.

Both mares seemed to get along reasonably well. Fred made a couple of ugly faces at Gina and also drank all of her water (while ignoring her own bucket), but was otherwise fine. No calling, no squealing, no kicking. Freddie is a champion at standing around. Maybe she's missed her calling as a halter horse.

Anyway, dressage warm up went well- I kept Gina to a trot since it was a walk-trot test. Her gaits are plenty energetic, so I figured there was no need to canter. We stuck to figure-8s, circles, and serpentines and Princess Pony put on her best dressage face and we had a nice test. Our walk work was a little weird, as it seemed like Gina was less focused on me and more focused on what was happening outside the covered arena where the test was. All the trot work was very good and the judge was impressed by her "bold" and "forward" gaits. 

We scored a 29.3 on our test, which is something like the best score I have ever had in my adult life. (I think my best test was a 26 something when I was 12 doing walk-trot dressage.) We were in second to our friend Rachael, who scored a 25.3 on her super cute Percheron mare Venus, so I was definitely happy.

Walking the course made me feel good about my chances of getting Gina around. If you aren't a long time reader, a little history: Gina has been a problematic jumper in the past. Occasionally, she's excellent. Most of the time, she's awful. Past antics have included rearing up and backing at ground poles, dirty refusals at a crossrails, and jumping 2'6 oxers fine for five minutes, then inexplicably pitching a fit.

The only jump I was mildly concerned about was a tire jump. The tires were tiny- lawnmower sized. But they were black, I'm almost certain Gina's never jumped any tires before, and I immediately planned to keep my leg on and ride defensively.

I shouldn't have worried. After an extremely short warm up (by which I mean we cantered both directions and jumped a crossrail twice), we headed out on course. I got Gina into a nice, forward canter; even though the jumps were tiny, I feel more comfortable jumping out of the canter and Gina's canter is much more comfortable to 2-point than her trot. 

Rio 2016, amiright?

Gina was apparently gearing up for next year's Rolex, because she attacked those tiny jumps. Like, rolling along at a good clip, taking good distances, not backing off anything. I could feel her lock on to each jump, which is certainly not something I'm used to feeling from her! She jumped like a champion over every single fence and cross the finish line prancing and snorting as if she'd just bounced around a 4-star.

What a fruitcake.

Draft power!

Rachael and Venus went clear too, maintaining first place, which meant Gina and I stayed in second.

Bonus pic of super cute Rambler & Sarah, who were 3rd in the Starter division.

I'm really pleased with how Gina behaved. I think she had a good time- I know I did. There's an eventing derby in a couple of weeks- Fred is getting some time off, so maybe I'll enter Gina. And maybe we'll even move up a division (or two)!

Jimmy Wofford clinic at The Woodlands

Yesterday I got up at 4 AM, loaded my car with water, chairs, and my treasured copy of Training The Three Day Event Horse & Rider and headed to Tulsa to pick up my sleepy student. I then drove us two hours to Edmond, Oklahoma to The Woodlands Equestrian Center for cross-country day of the Jimmy Wofford clinic.

I was really excited for the chance to meet my equestrian idol and watch him teach; the clinic didn't disappoint. The Woodlands is a lovely facility with a great cross-country course full of ditches, banks, a water complex, and any kind of log-based jump you can imagine. The owners were kind and the clinic well-organized.

The morning began with a question and answer session that began focused on the previous day's topic: show jumping. It quickly moved into more general territory, with riders and auditors asking questions about topics ranging from the place of amateurs in the sport to using heart-rate monitors while conditioning. Jimmy Wofford patiently answered them all with practical advice and humor. After the Q&A, we moved to the cross-country course, which we moved around for the better part of two hours as the first group of riders (a Training/Preliminary level group) galloped and jumped.

Here's what I took away from the clinic:

• It's important to have a schedule, but not to be a slave to the schedule. Wofford said he usually has horses in a 4-day rotation: dressage, show jumping, dressage, slow (300 meters/minute) canter work. If the horse comes out feeling unmotivated or sluggish, he walks them for 20 minutes, calls it a day, and resumes with whatever's on the schedule the next day.  
• There's no reason to be training your Beginner Novice, Novice, or Training level horse with 550 meter per minute gallops. It will only serve to get you speed faults and potentially injure your horse.
• Interval training will make your horse fit, but it will also make him lame. Going from zero to full-tilt repeatedly is not a good idea. Instead, go from moderate effort (like trotting or slow cantering) to almost maximum effort and back. Hill work is also integral in building a horse's fitness.
• Walking is an underrated way to condition a horse. For the Prelim, Intermediate, and Advanced horse, Wofford recommended two hours a day of walking on a loose rein in addition to whatever work is planned. He described the walk as a (very) slow-motion gallop. 
• The less you move over a jump, the better. Throwing your hands or body forward before a jump only unbalances the horse and makes his job harder. Stay forward and allow the horse to move your body. (I need this tattooed inside my eyelids.) Practice with a neck strap!
• Don't say, "Oh to hell with it!" and let your horse charge at jumps. Keep him in a package right up to the base of the fence. The package is a rectangle, with your arms as the long sides, the bit as a short end, and your hands (and the space between them) as the other short end. The horse doesn't need to be (and shouldn't be) collected or on the bit, but he doesn't need to be allowed to sprawl out and get flat. 
• Support the horse with your legs, not your seat.
• You don't rise to the occasion; you sink to your level of training. 

The clinic was absolutely wonderful. Even my student, who probably thought Jimmy Wofford was just someone's curmudgeonly old uncle, was impressed with his sense of humor and wisdom. (She told me she was going to go home and make a schedule for her horse- after she took a nap.) 

I'd say it's the best $25 I've spent in a long time. Although, really, I would have paid $25 just so he'd sign my book.

Technical cross-country

 Like all good eventers who couldn't make the pilgrimage to Kentucky's holy ground, I spent the weekend watching Rolex on my laptop. I gasped, I groaned, I caught myself clucking at horses who looked sticky. I even forced Johnny to watch most of the cross-country and gave him updates on stadium while he was attempting to take a shower. (Johnny's thoughts on Rolex ranged from "Those are very large jumps!" to "How does that horse poop while he's going that fast?!")

Watching the cross-country, all I could think about was how technical it appeared. From Land Rover Hollow to the Normandy Bank to the Offset Brushes, there were a lot of jumps that required a horse and rider to slow down, be careful and accurate, and absolutely precise. It seemed like there were only a handful of the big, galloping fences typically associated with cross-country. The course seemed to be comprised of several groups of related technical elements with big stretches for galloping in between.

Over the last few years, there's been some noise in the eventing community that cross-country has gotten too technical; that the combinations on courses now require a show jumping pace instead of jumps that favor galloping rhythmically and jumping out of stride.

While I agree that there are more of these types of jumps on today's courses, there have been technical elements on cross-country for decades. Take, for example, these stills from a video of the 1978 World Eventing Championships. 

From about 4:54 in the video

This is a shot of a jump called The Serpent, which appears to be a long line of trakehners zigzagging along. Riders basically made a serpentine through the jumps. (Lots of horses and/or riders fell on this jump!)

From about 5:30 in the video

This jump, The Sinkhole, required riders to negotiate the two post and rail fences. Most opted to jump the first to the left of the tree, slow down to make a tight turn in that gravel-filled ditch, then turn again and jump the second. A few went blithely in a straight line. This was an extremely tight, twisty route if it wasn't ridden straight. (You can hear Jimmy Wofford shouting "WHOA" at Carawich around 3:19.) 

From about 9:25 in the video

From about 9:27 in the video

From about 9:29 in the video

And let's talk about the most terrifying jump I've ever seen: Fort Lexington. This is a bank jump up to a bounce on top and a steep bank down. A number of riders had difficulty with it.

From about 12:15 in the video. A zoomed-out view of Fort Lexington.

I'd argue that some of the jumps on this 1978 World Eventing Championships course are just as technical as elements seen at Rolex over the weekend. 

Has eventing gotten more technical? Perhaps. But watching this video (which is about 30 minutes long and narrated by Bruce Davidson) makes me wonder if it hasn't been pretty technical all long.

Gina Jumped Something

You may recall that Gina really, really hates jumping. This is a problem for me, because I really, really like jumping.

I have a theory that Gina hates jumping because she was subjected to some truly awful experiences.

These pictures are scans of pictures printed from an inkjet printer, so excuse the quality.

That's Gina being shown by her former owner, the one that donated her to the therapeutic riding center from which I acquired her. 

Now, I am not the world's greatest rider, nor do I pretend to be. I have a nasty habit of over-releasing, frequently half-halt too often before a fence, and my eye for distances is terrible. However, I'd like to think I am somewhat better than this person who appears to be literally laying on the horse's neck. It's hard to make out from these scans, but Gina's being ridden in a pelham with a standing martingale. I understand standing martingales are par for the course in the hunter ring, but I'm bewildered by the pelham. Gina is a very soft-mouthed horse who is extremely responsive in a loose-ring snaffle, even when being ridden cross-country at the hunter pace.

Gina is not a forgiving horse; she will not give you anything unless you ask exactly the right way at the right time. I think this is a direct result of toting around riders she didn't enjoy. 

So for the last few years, I've jumped Gina a handful of times. She is generally more relaxed when going over cross-country type fences, but freaks out if she sees so much as a ground pole. It's a real shame, because she is a lovely jumper who sees good distances and maintains a great, steady rhythm to and from fences.

I braved the cloudy skies on Wednesday and hacked Gina. I took her out in the big field and walked, trotted, and cantered her on a loose rein. She was pleasant and relaxed, so I decided to take her over the log jump I'd built over the weekend.

And she jumped it. Just like that. No fits, so hesitation, no nothing. Now, since I am not used to jumping Gina at all, she nearly jumped me out of my tack! We went over it two more times, each time improving just a little. (She and I definitely do not see the same distance.) I managed to avoid hitting her in the mouth or landing hard on her back and praised her effusively for each jumping effort. 

I'd like to think that with some more of these confidence-building experiences that I can get her show jumping again. Or she will eventually break my other arm in a fit of rage. But that's the adventure, right?!

Anything Can Be A Jump

Sunday was warm and sunny, so I headed out to the barn with the sole intent of setting up some cross-country jumps and schooling Moe over them. We had a very pleasant dressage school on Friday, but I was itching to do something other than endless transitions. One of these days I'll get some landscape timbers and set up a gymnastic, but until then, it's cross-country all the way.

The sagging split rail fence has been serving us as a straight-forward vertical for the last few weeks. I asked barn manager not to change the rail out because it's such a good height (around 2'6"-9"; I haven't measured it). It has excellent footing on both sides and rides really well. 

I assembled this jump out of sticks and logs I found laying around the pasture. The beavers really helped me out on this one- the large logs were gnawed down by the beavers a while ago, and were dried out (like driftwood) and easy to move. You can't see it in the picture, but the right side is propped up on a plastic lawn chair and the left side is propped up on a tree. It's not a big jump- maybe around 2'-2'3" in the center. It can be approached from either side and isn't too far away from the split rail fence. It's also close to the pond, so I can incorporate a canter through the water approaching or leaving this jump.

That's a picnic table. (The barn manager is very relaxed about where I move the lawn furniture.) The benches are attached to this table, which makes it awkward to move and limits how you can set it up. I like the way it rides though: the benches produce a nice round jump and lots of effort. It's another fence that can be approached from either direction, too. 

Moe was uncharacteristically sluggish while jumping. He wasn't stiff or lame or cranky- he was just slow. I chalked it up to the heat; it was 78 degrees outside on Sunday and he still has a lot of winter fur. We took a lot of walk breaks and only ran through all three jumps once. 

I took advantage of Moe's slowness and really concentrated on keeping my leg on, my eyes up, and doing nothing with my hands. I have a bad habit of frantically half-halting Moe about five strides away from a fence, which usually has the opposite of the desired effect. So I just sat still and let Moe pick his distances and followed as quietly as I could. It worked out pretty well- we had good distances 90% of the time, didn't pick up an inordinate amount of speed, and my hands didn't end up next to his ears when I released.

We had some fussiness about going over the picnic table. It's set up about 300' away from the barn; Moe kept ducking out toward the barn at the very last second. After the third run out, I got very firm with him, sat up more, put my left leg on hard, and willed him over the fence. He went over it just fine, but I had him do it again for good measure before we continued off to the pond, the log pile, and the split rail.

It poured yesterday and today I'm stuck at home with the flooring guy. (The water damage saga continues.) Severe thunderstorms are predicted for Wednesday and Thursday. Hooray for spring!

Cross Country Improv

I've been at the new barn for a little over a month now, and I'm convinced I'm the only person who rides with any regularity. It could be the time of day I'm out there during the week, but even on weekends with nice weather I rarely see other boarders. I am totally fine with this, as I get to hog the barn aisle and ride wherever I please.

With all the shows on my theoretical calendar, I've been looking for a place to school cross country. While Moe has seen most types of jumps and will happily go over them, both of us are pretty rusty. 

"Whatever, lady, I am not rusty. I am perfect."

I cornered the barn manager over the weekend and asked his permission to use things around the property to set up an XC course. Things I am now approved to move and use as I see fit include a picnic table, a wooden bench, and any downed logs. He also agreed to trim up the fallen tree so I can jump the sections of it that aren't 4'6.

Moe put in good work over the weekend. His walk and trot are forward and supple, and his canter improves with every ride. I couldn't resist a little bit of jumping at the end of our rides. 

That's part of the pasture fence. The bowed rail is about waist height on me, so it's around 2'9-2'11, I'd guess. The footing is excellent on both sides, and this section of the pasture is secluded enough that the other horses won't see what we're doing and rush over.

Moe jumped it with ease, although our distances are inconsistent. We've always had a bad habit of just taking long distances; it's a direct result of rushing fences. We hit a perfect distance about a quarter of the time. We had a lot of long spots as well as a couple of nasty short ones. More cross-country jumping will have to take a backseat to gymnastic work, at least for a while. Sigh.

Trail Ride of Trouble

For the first time all week, I was able to get out to the barn and ride yesterday. We've had a parade of insurance claims adjusters, plumbers, and, of course, our water damage restoration specialists in and out of the house all week long.

Drywall removed so studs/insulation can dry.

Hallway flooring removed.

Woody has given up.

Buttons copes with the noise by going outside.

I jumped at the chance to leave the house for a few hours when our water damage restoration guy was gone by noon yesterday. My first stop was at Tulsa Shoe Rebuilders, where I dropped off one of my zippered tall boots nearly two months ago. They'd fixed the zipper for me last year when it broke; when it appeared to have broken again, they offered to replace it at no charge. I was beginning to get nervous they'd lost my boot (you seriously have to see the interior of this place to understand- boots everywhere in no discernible order). Happily, they knew exactly which boot was mine and advised me that the zipper wasn't broken- just dirty. I was given a tiny, stiff little brush to clean the zipper and told to rub a crayon or any other waxy item on the zipper about once a week to keep it lubricated. Who knew?

When I finally made it to the barn, the horses were all way, way off in the most remote corner of the pasture. I caught Moe and trekked back to the barn to brush him off and tack him up. I decided to head out for a ride in the pasture; since no one had made a fuss when Moe was led off from the herd, I thought they'd be content to stay in their corner while we explored the pond area. 

Moe was relaxed and happy. He's such a nice change from Gina sometimes; he will happily hack out alone, while she can get anxious when separated from her pals. We headed over to the pond, where all that stood between us and the levee was a small drainage channel. It was muddy on both sides and rocky in the middle, but I figured Moe would either scramble or hop across. He balked a little, but after a firm kick, he scooted through the mud and onto the levee. 

And that's when the trouble started. Just as we were strolling along the levee, someone whistled. Moe and I  glanced back toward the barn, where I saw a woman standing near the fence. She whistled again and yelled something that I assumed was her horse's name. She was calling her horses in for dinner. 

Now, it was about 4:00 PM, so I can't blame her for wanting to feed. What I don't understand is why she didn't walk out to catch her horses, instead of whistling and yelling. Her horses came galloping in toward the barn with the rest of the herd hot on their heels. Moe was understandably antsy to see what the fuss was about; several very firm half-halts later, he was still jigging and fussy, but no longer in danger of falling into the pond.

We continued our walk on the levee. When we encountered another drainage channel, Moe clambered through it gamely. There's a big flat area on the far side of the pond; Moe was convinced this was the best place to work on his piaffe. I pushed him into a real trot, which he was not happy about. When he zoomed around, I pushed him into a canter. He seemed to settle into a happy rhythm for about ten strides; then he let out three bucks in a row. 

At this point, I'd had enough of his hijinks; he is 19 years old, has had enough experience that he shouldn't be a raging lunatic just because his horse friends go zooming by a hundred yards away from him. So I did what any sensible person would do: I ran his ass into the pond.

Suddenly being in cold water up to his knees was apparently a big enough shock to get him to stop being an idiot. He took a couple tentative steps toward the other side, but the footing was slippery. I turned him around to get back to land. He nearly slipped and fell, but recovered and we got back out without any harm. 

I thought his silliness had passed, but I was wrong. Five minutes onto dry land and Moe was back to jigging. Exasperated, I let him trot back toward the levee. He put in a good jump over the drainage channel, cantered very reasonably along the levee, and leaped over the next drainage channel and was now galloping strongly.

Toward this:

We were approaching from the other side.

Moe is a cross-country machine. Other than our very first cross-country schooling show together (where he refused one fence), we've never had a jumping or time fault (on an XC course, at least). He's jumped picnic tables, tarps, the hood of a car. If I point him at something, no matter how badly I ride it or what ugly distance we get, Moe will go over it.

So you can imagine my mild panic as my horse landed from a ditch and started looking for the next jump. I sat up, looked anywhere but the 4' fallen tree, and prayed Moe wouldn't think that's where he was supposed to be headed. I'm sure nothing good can happen when a fat, out of shape, 19-year old Thoroughbred and his fat, out of shape rider attempt to launch over a very large obstacle.

Fortunately, I convinced Moe that our next jump was off to the right; he happily galloped right on and jumped over a tiny log. Now satisfied that we'd completed whatever competition we were in, he dropped to a walk and behaved himself while I cooled him out. Except for a few whinnies, he wasn't even concerned where his friends had gone.

Moe was only barely sweaty and seemed entirely content to munch treats while I untacked and groomed him. When I turned him back out, he trotted off only to get bitten on the butt by Gina. 

I guess I should start conditioning him (and myself) for a three-day this fall. Sigh.

Throwback Thursday

I promise I have updates on current goings-on regarding Moe and Gina, but they're all pretty boring. (E.g. walked 25 minutes, trotted 5 on each horse...)

In the meantime, enjoy this picture of Spike and I at the 1999 MidSouth Region Pony Club Rally! Yes, that's a tie-dyed polo shirt. Yes, I'm making a face. Yes, Spike was jumping that coop out of sheer force of will on my part. He'd already thrown me at the first fence of the course. (Ah, the glory days, before that whole one-and-done rule.)

Blast From The Past

My mother ventured out to the prairie to see me a couple of weeks ago and brought a whole slew of pictures. They're all of me aboard various horses at events- mostly Pony Club rallies through the years, but a few at Middle Tennessee Pony Club's fall horse trial, which is a fantastic event. Highly recommended if you're in that part of the country. Without further ado, here are a few pictures of me and my mounts.

Mid South Pony Club Rally 2001
Aboard KW's Flying Bailey (QH)

Mid South Pony Club Rally, 2000
Aboard Buster (mutt horse; Arab/QH?)

MTPCHT 2004
Aboard Richnfree (Moe, TB)

MTPCHT 2003
Riding Moe

MTPCHT 2004
Riding Moe

If you're dying for more pictures of my fabulous riding, you can see them on the About Stephanie page of this blog. There are a few more pictures of me floating around in a box my mother left, so I'll get around to scanning and posting them, too.

Gina Jumps!

To date, jumping hasn't really been G's strong suit. Despite being advertised as some sort of accomplished hunter/jumper, she spent the first four months of this year acting as if she'd never seen so much as a ground pole before. Really, if I hadn't seen pictures of her hurtling over three-foot oxers like it wasn't a thing, I would have thought her former owners were lying. 

The first time I attempted to jump G, it was in the equestrian center's small indoor arena. I set three blue plastic barrels on their sides. Most horses I've ridden aren't bothered by barrels (despite their unnatural color) and jump them beautifully round. Gina refused and refused and refused before finally leaping over them as if they were the most fearsome four-foot wall on the planet. 

Given that performance, I decided it was best if we didn't really deal with jumps for a bit. We spent some time on ground poles and a tiny, tiny crossrail. Ground poles were conquered fairly easily; tiny, tiny crossrails were not. They were jumped like giant scary things. 

Thinking it was the arena giving G fits, Anne and I moved the party to the equestrian center's huge hay field. Nothing much was growing in March, so we had run of the place. I dragged out a few musty square bales too icky for the program horses to eat and Anne brought some small logs and big, round fence posts. Gina eyed them, refused them, then reluctantly jumped them. This was her M.O. every time we approached one of the friendly cross-country jumps: suck back about three strides out and come to a dead stop on the first approach, then jump very nicely on the second. Curious behavior, and totally disheartening. How am I supposed to get around a course like this? I thought. I decided Gina was simply being a brat and left it at that.

At some point, the grass in the field got super tall (overnight, I think) and we went back to flat work. Now, I know as well as any Pony Clubber that flat work is the basis of all work. And I know it's terrible for a horse's body to be jumped too frequently. And I know developing our dressage skills will benefit us over fences. But man it is boring! Sure, the feeling of the first step of a great shoulder-in or a perfect flying change is satisfying. You just can't beat the exhilaration that comes from flying over a big jump off a perfect stride, though. 

Last week, the equine coordinator told me the hay field would be baled. I hustled to get my jumps out of it. This was trickier than it seems; all of my jumps were no taller than 2 feet. The grass was at least 3 feet high in most places.

Subaru Forester: jump moving machine!

I eventually found everything and got it out. I set it up by the sensory trail, which has been freshly mowed and wood-chipped! It's not a perfect place, but the area is fairly large, doesn't have holes, and has different types of footing. Good enough for me.

I rode Friday, hacking around on the sensory trail. Anne commented that Gina looked relaxed and happy. She suggested I try her over the log jump. I didn't do a great job of setting her up for it, and she stopped out of what seemed like surprise. Like, "Oh, this is here? What is this doing here? What do you want me to do about it?" I didn't make a big deal out of it and simply circled back to it. This time, she popped over it without problem. Smooth, quiet, totally perfect. I was pleased, so we took to the arena and did a few canter serpentines. By this time, Shari and the student workers had saddled up the program horses that needed to be exercised and we all went on a very nice trail ride around the now-baled hay field. Gina was ridiculously sensible in the group and handled our fat little Haflinger shoving his butt toward her face, two elderly horses suddenly finding a new zest for trotting, and going off on our own to explore a ditch. I've never ridden a horse who was so relaxed in a group (and about being taken away from the group). Go Gina!

Today, Anne met me for our usual early ride. We started in the arena with some canter serpentines after warm-up. Gina figured out where the flying change was going to occur and started to anticipate it- what a smarty-pants. Our flying changes weren't as good as they usually are, but in the all-purpose saddle it's more difficult to ask. She performed perfectly well and we headed out to the sensory trail for our baby cross-country course. (Is it a course when there's only two jumps? It is now.) I trotted her around a bit, and then took her to the log. 

This log almost made me pee myself!

I felt adrenaline coursing through my veins in a way I haven't felt in a really, really long time. I was simultaneously excited, nervous, and about to pee my pants. My hands were sweaty and my legs suddenly felt like jelly. I felt exactly how I feel in the start box of a cross-country course. Sick. Ecstatic. Anxious. Eager.

I shouldn't have worried. Gina jumped the little log happily and cantered away. I gave her a big pat on the neck and came around again at the same smooth, forward canter. Again, she sailed over it as if she'd been doing it her entire life.

Elated, I trotted over to talk with Anne. She was as jubilant as I was! She said Gina looked happy, like she was smiling. We decided to push our luck and try the hay bales. I trotted her in a couple of circles, then approached. About three strides out, I felt something change. I put my leg on firmly. Gina broke into a canter and jumped the hay bales. She landed in a big, forward hand gallop. I was euphoric! 

CONQUERED! (Note: Forester doesn't usually hang out there.)

No refusals today. No hesitation. Nothing but good times and minimal pants-peeing. Perfect.