At the start of the season, the October championship show feels so far away. It feels like you have all the time in the world to practice and hone your skills. Heck, I even thought that we’d be able to pull off both First and Second Levels successfully (we only managed First Level). But in the blink of an eye, it is here and the weekend of the show always manages to fly by without me doing everything I thought I could do.
The morning of our departure day was sunny but cold. I had enough clothing layers packed to protect myself from any arctic blast and the suitcase zipper was barely holding the case closed. I also had packed everything but the kitchen sink and the barbeque grill. One must be prepared – doesn’t everyone travel with two corkscrews when attending a horse show for 4 days? Unfortunately, I managed to wake up with a sore throat and a runny nose. Awesome, just freaking awesome. Luckily we had some Dayquil in the house, so I threw a couple of those down my throat and headed off to the barn to load big man…after a stop at the local Target for the large economy-sized boxes of tissues with lotion.
The drive to Lexington was uneventful. Our hacks around the show grounds and competition arenas were relaxed. The excitement came later in the day when my friend realized that someone had stolen 2 of her credit cards out of her wallet while we were unloading the trailers (the sneaky thief left the wallet, cash, other cards and the purse behind). All was resolved without her being responsible for any of the charges. But when I went back to the barn for night check, that is when I realized that I’d spiked a fever. More super news. Did you know that Dayquil Severe packaging is practically adult-proof for a tired, feverish equestrian? After over five minutes of struggling, I finally released the pills from the hellish packaging. My head hit the pillow and I prayed for quick relief.
Quick recovery was not to be. Both Friday and Saturday were spent fighting a fever and struggling to stay awake to do my barn chores and riding. I felt so poorly that I even managed to sleep through my husband’s wakeup call on Saturday and almost sending him into a panic on my whereabouts. Our Friday open class was not our best effort, but if we had to sacrifice a ride, it was better that it was an open class and not our finals class on Sunday. Perhaps Ike was just missing Miss C’s presence since once she arrived on Saturday, he settled. We had a little tension in Saturday warm-up, but Ike was much more focused and gave me a solid performance with no major bobbles. My performance was marred by tearing eyes, a runny nose, a sprained finger, and a lack of oxygen. Cold wind plus a viral infection equals a not photo ready rider. Confession time – Desperate times mean that you just might use the same rag to wipe your horse’s nose to blow your nose. We came out of that class with a 67.5%, a pink ribbon, and the confidence to head into our finals class knowing there we were as prepared as we would ever be.
Miss M and Miss T were kind enough to take care of my morning barn chores on Sunday, so I was able to sleep in a bit. Thankfully, I heard my husband’s wakeup call on “championship day” and I woke up without a fever. The day was already starting on a good note. Ike was a saint and kept his braids intact. Our ride was not until 1:00, so we had some time to stew and watch our friends in their open classes. Part of the learning curve with these long weekends is knowing your horse, his mental state, and his energy level. You want to have good practice rides, but you need to conserve something for the finals. Our warm-up was peaceful and short. We did spend some time riding through the sun spot on the ground since we’d seen a number of horses spook at the one in the indoor competition ring.
It was finally our turn. The indoor was quiet and Ike was focused as I rode around the outside of the ring waiting for the bell. Rrriinnnnggg! Time to make that turn down centerline. Big man was with me as we cruised to X. Exhale, salute, and trot on. Our left-to-right leg yield was sticky, but there was no time to dwell on it. Our 10-meter circles were fluid and our mid-test halt at X was one of our best of the year. Super happy with our canter departs as well as our canter loops. Our weakest movement is the trot lengthening…we just don’t have one. We made it through the ride with no spooks, no “unexpected tension,” and no major errors.
Now came the hardest part – we’d done our best with a 67.86% average from the two judges, but now we had to wait to see how the next 25 or so riders would do to know our fate. We hung out in the top 5 for more than half the class, but slowly, we saw our name drifting lower in the placings. At 4:30 we were sitting in 8th place – the last placing with a ribbon and participation in the awards ceremony….and then there were three riders left….and sadly, the second to last rider bumped us to 9th place. Our fate was sealed and we could now finish loading the trailer for the 2 hour ride home. I must admit that I choked up since I hoped to place – not just for me, but for all those who have tirelessly supported us on this journey.
I teared up even more when we arrived at the barn. Ms. C had left a lovely ribbon hanging on Ike’s stall to welcome us home. In her mind, we deserved a ribbon – she is our toughest judge of all, so this ribbon is so very precious to me. My horse may not have the fanciest breeding, the most extravagant gaits, or the prettiest tail. I may not have the advanced dressage skills or the money for winters in Wellington. But, Ike does have the biggest heart and a lot of try. We do have a trainer who believes in us and amazing friends and family that support our dreams. We have an incredible bond and partnership, and in the end, isn’t that worth more than any accolades or championship ribbons?
For doing that well when you were ill you deserve a medal! But the ribbon idea was lovely.