Horses like Elvis, and like Ellegria, and Dorian Gray, and Fiero, are unbelievably wonderful to train. They have their hiccups and misunderstandings along the way, but they’re generous of heart and mind, and talented of body and limb; they soak up the education presented to them like a sponge, and they make their way up the levels, and that’s that. It’s hard. Of course it’s hard. But it’s relatively linear. On a gifted and kind horse, you rarely despair. It’s great fun. I highly recommend it.

Then there are the Pucks. The Midges. The Fenders. The ones whose bodies, or minds, or both, aren’t always on your side. The ones who, at least for a time, do not care who you are, or what your credentials are, or how fair or methodical or correct you are; they do what they want. And what they want is absolutely, unequivocally NOT what you want.

Getting those ding dongs on your side is time consuming, exhausting, occasionally scary, and will fill you with doubt. There are times where it is sheer misery. And I freaking love it.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

A few years ago, in the midst of a spat with disaster-fatigue-induced depression, I had the word “grit” tattooed on my left wrist. I adore it, I adore the meaning behind it, and I look at it often for comfort.

I don’t think it would surprise anyone to hear that I’ve needed a little grit lately, because I think we all have. This is one of those times where a whole lot of awfulness is beyond our control, and we’re just going to have to bear it a while. And I know I’m not alone when I say that I’m just freaking tired of it. It’s exhausting. And since I’m not a molecular scientist, and since I already wear my mask and don’t go anywhere, and since I’m already registered to vote, there’s no action I can personally take to make any of this take less long. So I’m at my limit.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse.

I don’t believe in editing my work. Or second drafts. If you’re reading a blog of mine, there’s an overwhelming possibility that it was a one-hit-wonder, something I banged out in one sitting, ran quickly through spell check, and sent off to my editors. Boom, done. But I’ve written and rewritten this blog about five times now. Is it because goodbyes are so hard, and there’s so much I want to say about my amazing friend, Beverley Thomas? Maybe. But mostly it’s because I’m still not ready. I thought we’d have so, so much more time.

In 2013, I received an email from a woman about training for her horse. She said she was older, had bought a young horse, and that her current trainer was doing the lion’s share of the riding, but she wanted to ride the horse more herself. I was braced for disaster, but the horse was a treasure, one of the best-tempered animals I’ve ever encountered. And the lady was perfectly capable of riding him. So into my program came a horse named Fiero, and his owner, Beverley Thomas. It was the beginning of a friendship the likes of which I’ve rarely known, and one I figured would carry on until time stood still.

But two weeks ago, after not hearing from Bev in two days, we drove to her home to check on her and found her unconscious. She passed away last Thursday. It’s just impossible to believe that this bright, ferocious force of a person is gone. But she’s gone.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse.

I don’t believe in editing my work. Or second drafts. If you’re reading a blog of mine, there’s an overwhelming possibility that it was a one-hit-wonder, something I banged out in one sitting, ran quickly through spell check, and sent off to my editors. Boom, done. But I’ve written and rewritten this blog about five times now. Is it because goodbyes are so hard, and there’s so much I want to say about my amazing friend, Beverley Thomas? Maybe. But mostly it’s because I’m still not ready. I thought we’d have so, so much more time.

In 2013, I received an email from a woman about training for her horse. She said she was older, had bought a young horse, and that her current trainer was doing the lion’s share of the riding, but she wanted to ride the horse more herself. I was braced for disaster, but the horse was a treasure, one of the best-tempered animals I’ve ever encountered. And the lady was perfectly capable of riding him. So into my program came a horse named Fiero, and his owner, Beverley Thomas. It was the beginning of a friendship the likes of which I’ve rarely known, and one I figured would carry on until time stood still.

But two weeks ago, after not hearing from Bev in two days, we drove to her home to check on her and found her unconscious. She passed away last Thursday. It’s just impossible to believe that this bright, ferocious force of a person is gone. But she’s gone.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse.

After the relative ease of running a schooling show at our own farm a few weeks ago, my team and I decided to brave the first recognized dressage show in Virginia: Dressage At Lexington, a big, long and prestigious show that normally marks the end of our summer competition season. This year it was the beginning, and it meant hot weather and a bit of anxiety about competition rust, not to mention, um, COVID.

But with good judgement, fantastic facility and competition management, and a clear plan in place, we had an extraordinary show. Here’s what we learned.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

Elvis came to me with an incomplete understanding of how to really bridge the hind legs to the bridle while keeping them quick. He also had a fair bit of anxiety about the piaffe. I did my homework, focusing on quickening those beautiful floaty hind legs of his, making him really connect his ends and not getting caught up in the fancy expressive “show trot” that was his particular proclivity. I did such a good job that I absolutely killed his expression. (Naturally, by the way, this process finished up right as I was entering my first CDIs. Oopsie.) I focused so hard on keeping the hind legs quick that I quickened him right into shuffling.

I got some good help in Florida about reintroducing the idea of expression in a more correct way, but then I panicked again when at home on my own and overdid it, creating a lot of loft but too much slowness. I knew I was going askew, and I started letting my own emotions into the training, which did not help.

Enter my assistant trainer Jess Idol, watching quietly from the side, who pulled me aside and, with exceptional politeness, said “So… can I have him for a few days?” Elvis doesn’t belong to her, and she feels no urgency to get it done. She quietly set about re-establishing the rules and Elvis’ understanding. And in two days, she’d done more than I’d done in a month. Does she have superpowers? Am I a bad rider? Of course not. But he doesn’t belong to her. And her perspective isn’t tainted by years of time together.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

Here in Virginia, the governor’s plan had been to release us from the stay-at-home order on June 10. So with bated breath, we all watched to see what would happen to the show local to us scheduled for the weekend of June 13-14. It was canceled. The next available outing within a reasonable driving distance would have been mid-July, and the next one that we could have hauled into would have been weeks after that.

Please understand that my team and I absolutely respect our various organizations’ decisions to run or not run their shows and understand they have to work with state rules and officials. We agree with all of the vital safety requirements put forth by the U.S. Equestrian Federation, by the Commonwealth of Virginia, etc. We love science; we hate the coronavirus; get ‘er done. But we also love showing and hate not having goals. So I looked at my team and said, “Screw it, let’s hold one ourselves.”

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!