Spilt Milk

“I don’t like looking back.  I’m always constantly looking forward.  I’m not the one to sort of sit and cry over spilt milk.  I’m too busy looking for the next cow.”  - Gordon Ramsay

As soon as I retrieved my horse, I was already thinking about the next event.  I hadn’t even dusted off my breeches or turned off my watch.  I’m a forward thinker.  It gets me in trouble.  Sometimes, we need to slow down our brains and spend a little time in the here and now, maybe even revisit the past.

Last weekend was better than it could have been, but certainly wasn’t what I hoped it would be.  We had a tough week leading up to the Queeny Park Horse Trials.  Nutmeg has been having a horrible time with allergies this spring.  She’s been violently sneezing every few strides when we try to work.  Some days are better than others, but it has been a battle to get much done without torturing the poor girl.  Add to that her sudden desire to kick at my right leg every time I put it on and preparations just weren’t going well.  I couldn’t tell if the kicking was behavioral or a sign of some underlying issue, but when I asked for a little less, she quit doing it.  I assumed it was behavioral and we could tackle the issue after the show.  I began to wonder if the snorting was behavioral too.

When you’ve already paid your entry fee, it’s really hard to decide not to go for issues that might not be issues after a three hour trailer ride.  So we loaded up Friday and headed to Queeny.  Nutmeg really loves to go show and she seemed quite happy to be there after her four hour (wrong directions in the omnibus meant we got lost in St. Louis, again) drive.  I walked the cross country course and was excited.  It seemed to be a straight forward, friendly course with just enough questions to keep things interesting.  I was still really concerned about Nutmeg though.  I wasn’t sure if I’d even get to ride dressage.

Saturday dawned bright and early.  Nutmeg was braided.  I’d laid out everything but my riding clothes the night before.  As I started to get dressed I realized my entire garment bag with all my breeches, shirts, and other items was still hanging in the closet at home where I had loaded it up over a week ago.  Oh shoot!  There was a tack shop on grounds, but they weren’t going to be open in time for my early ride and who really wants to spend their entire show budget for the year on clothes they already have but forgot to bring?  I almost threw in the towel right then.  Clearly this was a sign or was it just a test?  I’ve always been one to forge forward, so it was time to beg, borrow and steal.

After rudely awaking a Pony Club friend of mine who was kind enough to leave her cell number on the braiding board, I discovered that my neighbor down the aisle had forgotten all her clothes at the last show and had started carrying a spare set.  The whole outfit fit!  Hoorah!  Off to dressage land we went.

Nutmeg snorted a bit during warm-up, but they were normal snorts.  She also threw her hind end at me a couple of times, but not badly and otherwise she felt great so we rode our test.  It had some poor moments, like going up centerline more on the quarter line and counter bent, but it also had some decent moments.  She still looks like she’s running around on her forehand, but she is so much softer now.  I did ride her a little long for fear of the snorting and kicking.  We can collect more later.  I rounded all my corners in hopes of staying upright in the slippy grass (yes I had my studs in, but there were still a few slick spots).  The judge was generous and we managed to maintain our below 40 streak, which made me quite happy.

I finally let myself get hopeful for cross country, even though I knew there was a possibility that as the sun came out, the allergies might flair back up.  We made the very long hack out the cross country, entertained by Muslims chanting in the background.  Apparently they were having some sort of gathering nearby.  Warm-up went well for 98% of the time.  The other 2% she spent rodeoing.  It was some serious bucking, but then she’d canter and jump just fine.  I asked a trainer if she could see anything wrong and with reassurance from the ground, headed to the start box.

Apparently I filled up the memory card for my helmet cam at the last event.  When I tested it at the barn it was fine, but when I turned it on at the start box it made unhappy beeps at me.  I shrugged it off, told Nutmeg she needed to make it very clear to me if we needed to pull up, hit start on my watch and off we went.

We took one a little long as usual.  Fence two rode okay.  Three was a little funky, but that’s normal for us.  It usually takes to fence four to really get in a groove.  We had a brief discussion about breaks between three and four and then we locked on to the trekhener.  Trekherners are disconcerting for me, but we’d had such a good school over one this spring, I was feeling confident.  I knew if I just kept my eye up and my leg on we’d be fine.  Well, not so much…

Yes, I threw my shoulders and as a product of that I also looked down, although I still hold that I was looking up until Nutmeg engaged the “E” break.  She’s pulled us out of many similar sticky situations, but this time I truly believe her back hurt enough that stopping was easier.  I’m glad she did.  If we had just had a bad jump, I probably would have kept pushing her forward around the course.  That would have been the wrong decision.  I asked her to tell me if we needed to pull up, and that was the most effective way she had to get the message across.  Sometimes it takes a two-by-four.

That’s all the looking back I’m willing to do.  Life isn’t about what happened yesterday.  It’s about how you react to it and how you live today.  I’m a planner and a dreamer.  I don’t think about the fence I’m jumping now, I’m already thinking about the next.  Sometimes it trips me up or gets me launched over my horse’s shoulder, but it keeps me optimistic and it gives me something to look forward too, when the present kind of sucks.  I could have spent the very long walk home crying over spilt milk.  I’ll admit I did a little crying, but it was disappointment in my decision making and facing the reality that I could have hurt such a lovely horse.  There are lessons to be learned from this, but if I get mired down in it, we’ll never jump another jump.  Fear of past mistakes is no way to live.

I’m struggling with future decisions.  Do I enter the next event at Training or do I drop back down to Novice for an easy go around and a confidence boost?  I don’t feel our confidence has been harmed.  If anything, I feel less apprehensive about trekheners now that the boogey man managed to get me once.  I’ve seen him and now I can beat him, but will my horse have the same opinion?  I’ve never come off her before.  Did that experience shake her confidence?  Time will tell.  For now, I’m focused forward.