My experience with young horses has been almost exclusively with two kinds. The first are ones with very good characters who weren’t international quality. As they’ve been owned and ridden by amateurs, that’s been by design. They were bought so that their owners could ride them as they developed up the levels, so the trade-off—less power, better rideability—was absolutely what they needed.

The second kind has been wildly talented, pig-headed doofuses, ranging from the pleasant enough, but tight and bananas, to angry, hostile little turkeys who spent most of their young energy telling me to stuff it. The Midges, Fenders and Pucks of the world go through their younger years being unrideable jerks, and eventually, through diligence, basic work and a boatload of patience, they emerge on the other side of their adolescence ready to take pressure and learn the big work. They’re armed with a ton of coping skills at that point and are a hell of a lot of fun to ride.

I knew that there were creatures out there who were both talented and uncomplicated, but I’d never met one. Until I met Swagger. And I’m coming to appreciate the dirtbag teenagers. Having one with crazy gaits and an eagerness to please at 5 years old is freaking me out because I’m really feeling the weight of the responsibility to not push too hard, too fast.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse! And if you love reading my thoughts on young horses and the development of the equine athlete, join the Red White and Blue (Ribbon) Club! You’ll get exclusive content, and the behind-the-scenes peek, at the bringing up of an American-bred filly in my program!

And just like that, I’m home from Florida. The last month was a blur, with a flotilla of clients showing, and all at big levels. Liza and Hannah earned their Intermediaire scores for their gold medals, and they are right on the brink of Grand Prix. Julia, who six months ago went to her first recognized dressage show ever, did her first FEI tests, earning a very presentable mark in her first Young Riders qualifier. And my awesome mom did her first Prix St. Georges tests too!

Elvis has been fantastic and worked really hard. I never quite had the test I wanted, but I managed to bungle it a little differently every time, which has to count for something. Through my floundering around, including my first time going off course in a decade, Elvis himself remained totally steadfast, a confident and energetic dance partner who is easy to show both in and out of the tack, because he’s exactly the same as he is at home. I’ve never had a horse so uncomplicated that was also as talented as he is; my previous mega-talents have all been rank at this age, so Elvis is a refreshing break in that trend!

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I entered Elvis in our first show together. He’s been training terrific, feeling really good in his body, and, as always, fantastic in his brain.

Of course, three days before the show it occurred to me that I’d never attempted a canter-halt transition. I’d done maybe two extended trots in my entire time with Elvis, zero extended canters and zero rein-backs.

So I was super well prepared.

Fortunately, Elvis is super at extended canter, very obedient in the rein-back, and good enough in the canter-halt transition, so off to the show we went. My goal on the first day was to put together an obedient and organized test—and other than the moment where I forgot that the half-pass zig-zag started at the centerline until I was nearly at the quarterline, which made for some creative steering, I did. But he won the Developing Prix St. Georges on a 69 percent, with the comment that for higher scores, I needed more expression and finesse.

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I love coming to the Wellington area every winter, but there are some things about living here, and living in Florida in general, that are … unique. We’ve made a little game of some of the wackier things we’ve seen. First one to 1,000 points wins!

One point for each sighting of the following creatures: alligator, river otter, iguana. Five bonus points if they’re crossing a road. Ten points if they’re making sweet, sweet Florida critter love. (Best place for iguana sightings: Southern Boulevard.)

One point for every Olympian seen shopping at Publix. Ten for every Olympian seen dining at Agliolio, Kontiki or Oli’s. Twenty for every one seen dining at JoJo’s, Brooklyn Bagel or La Fogata. And 50 for every one seen at Boonies.

If you see an Olympian at any restaurant, 10 points if you get to sit in their chair when they leave.

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As someone who both rides in and teaches clinics, I know there are two kinds: the kind where it’s riding lessons, sessions between a coach and a student to benefit the rider; and the kind where it’s theater, a riding lesson for the rider as well as a demonstration for a crowd.

And I’ve got no problem with either. But I’ve participated in a few symposia over the years, and sometimes it’s helpful, and sometimes it’s a session where you ride around doing your job, and the crowd goes ooh, and the clinician talks, and that’s it. So if I’m going to do a public clinic, it’s going to be on a horse who would, if all else failed, make me look smart.

Elvis makes me look smart. And when it was announced that Isabell Werth, the best rider in the world, the most accomplished rider in the history of the world, the QUEEN of dressage, was coming to the Adequan Global Dressage Festival (Florida), I thought to myself, “Golly, wouldn’t it be neat to debut this horse to the public in front of Isabell Freaking Werth?” And with hubris in my heart, I applied, got selected, threw my back out, panicked for a few days about what to wear (10 days of not being able to move enough to reach for my painkillers perhaps was not the best thing for my waistline), got back to work, and off we went.

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To make a long story as short as possible, I’ve been experiencing some pain in my low back, at an increasing interval and increasing severity, since April. I’m pretty sure I know the root cause, and I’m finally getting that taken care of, but I didn’t do it in time, because over the weekend the pain became as bad as it’s been, forcing me to face the problem and actually deal with it.

My journey into dealing with it begins with the average horse person’s approach to any health problem. Is it keeping me out of the saddle? No? Then it’s fine. Yes, but there’s a workaround, like not wearing a boot on your left leg because your toe got stepped on so badly that it’s turning colors so unusual you’re thinking of calling Pantone? Then it’s one-boot-wonder time. But when it actually is keeping you out of the saddle, it’s time to consult a physician.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!