Hair Envy and Road Shots

I've spent the last 5 days helping Trainer in the mornings. I usually work about 3-4 hours. I am the lunging queen (minus the fact that I can't handle a lunge line to save my life - free lunging is where it's at, man). I've also washed tails, and saddled and unsaddled horses. Pretty standard groom stuff. I am sunburnt as all get out, and am all "coon-eyed" where I'm burned around my sunglasses, and white where the sunglasses cover. Yeah, it's pretty hot, not gonna lie. 

Lustrous locks!

One of my favorite horses to work with is a giant, affectionately called Kermit. Kermit apparently competed in the high levels of the Appaloosa world, and was a top contender in "Appaloosa Saddleseat." Prior to meeting Kermit, I had no idea the Appy world had such a thing - but apparently they do. I watched a YouTube video of a class. To me, it was a snoozefest, kind of like watching Western Pleasure or HUS. But to each his own. 

Kermit is huge, pretty much the biggest Appy I've ever met. When I first met him, I actually thought he was a warmblood- he's that big- and he's got massive bone, and he's super handsome. In short, he's kind of my equine crush (even though he stepped on me [and likely broke my toe] while I was attempting to bridle him). I spent an inordinate amount of time the other day washing and brushing and braiding his tail. It's long and thick and full, and it gives me hair envy. Curse the gingers for having the best hair! 

But on to stuff about Rain.

My last entry earned me a scathing, early-morning text message from Trainer (who apparently was somewhat disgusted when she read said entry), the jist of which was that my horse is easy in terms of green horses, and I need to put my big-girl panties on and get over it. She had developed an extensive plan for my horse, that basically starts with lots of round pen work on the ground. So I've been round-penning for the last few days, and side reins are apparently going to factor hugely into the plan. Her text message told me to stick with the plan, and everything would work out. I told her the other day I needed a pep talk, not an tush-reaming text. She was a little indignant. "That was a pep talk!" 

"Dude, no, that was not a pep talk. That was you ripping my ass and telling me to stop being a pussy."

"Well, OK, so it was a little of both."

Agree to disagree on that. 

I think she enjoyed being out.

But today, I did have a nice ride. Started off with about 10 minutes of free lunging, then I saddled her. In a move that was either kind of brave or kind of stupid or some combination thereof, I rode Rain off the property, by myself. It wasn't a long ride, but it was pretty calm. No outbursts, no death and dismemberment. She was look-y, but not bad. And we both came back in one piece. I managed to take one picture, just to prove we were out there and I was still mounted. 

When Do You Throw in the Towel?

I've thought alot about whether or not to publish this entry, largely because it's so depressing, but also because it shows you my inner coward.

I had a lesson today. Rain spooked at some people having a jumping lesson in the arena next to us. I came off. I wasn't hurt, and I popped right up to join my trainer in the chase for my mare, who was running back to her stall, tail flagged and snorting.

I said to one of the other boarders, "Dude, I am so tired of coming off of this horse." I have listened to more than one person tell me that my mare is a handful. Saying she's a handful is a nice way of putting it. I have made "unplanned landings" off of this horse more times in 3 months than I ever did in the 3 years I spent leasing other horses. She was easy when I first got her; she was at least 100 pounds underweight, and had no energy. She's pretty much up to weight now, and feels good. And while I'm extremely happy that she no longer looks like a rescue case, and I'm glad that she feels good, sometimes I wish she still lacked the desire to go faster than trot.

During a walk break in my lesson today, I confessed to Trainer that when I ride lately, I spend so much time being scared that I accomplish pretty much nothing when I school. She acknowledged that she could see that. I asked what I'm supposed to do about it. Her suggestion was to essentially keep Rain's brain occupied well enough in schooling (through transitions, direction changes, etc) that she won't get a chance to act stupid. In theory, I get that. In practice, telling myself to push her forward when all I want to do is go fetal is another story.

I know that all of these issues we're having could be solved with more training (preferably from a professional). If I had the money to put her in full- or even part-training, she could move past this stuff. Unfortunately, I lack the money to put her there.

Here is a completely unrelated picture of my adorable, rescued-from-the-pound Catahoula, Tuffy.
Crashed out on the sofa.  Tuffy has been my best buddy for more than a year now. She's pretty much my baby.

I had high hopes that I could bring Rain along myself. I've been questioning lately, though, if I lack the skills and the cojones to do it. I feel like I spend so much time being scared when on my horse, that I fail to have fun. We have fun moments, but they're overshadowed by the fear. And I know well enough that falling off happens, and that riding and horses aren't necessarily always fun- sometimes they really suck. This hobby costs me way too much money not to have fun doing it, at least not to to be enjoying it most of the time; particularly when I don't have a job.

Rain is the first horse I've ever owned. Getting my own horse was literally a dream come true for me. I've leased and shown other horses, and I've taken lots of lessons on other horses. I've been riding for the better half of my life. But this mare confounds me; the reality has fallen a little short of the dream.

Which brings me to the title of this post. When do you throw in the towel? If you don't have the experience/desire/money/motivation/whatever to deal with a particular horse, when do you say "OK, both horse and I would be better off without each other"? When are you just a quitter, and when are you doing what's in the best interest of you and the horse? Rain has the potential to be an awesome horse for someone. I'm just wondering if that person is me. I hate the idea that the thing I waited for for most of my life may not be right for me. To say "OK, I finally got my wish, but now I'm thinking that I did the wrong thing." That is extremely hard for me. I love horses, I still want to ride, I still want to have my own. I just don't know if I chose the right horse for me. Admitting that maybe I made a mistake in choosing this particular animal is hard to contemplate; admitting that maybe I'm in over my head. Where she would go if I did get rid of her; if she would end up in a bad place, is a completely separate issue, and another fear.

Random Goings-on

Nothing really noteworthy going on with Rain lately. She did buck me off last weekend, after spooking at  nothing-I-could-discern. Silly, obnoxious pony. As a result, I bought a new helmet (because I've had enough unplanned landings in the old helmet, that a new one was probably warranted).

In non-horsey news, I walked off my job the other day. I worked at a garbage company (no, I did not drive a garbage truck -- that would probably have been way more fun than my actual job of customer service) and had been wanting out since my last supervisor left. Occurrences last Wednesday were pretty much the last straw for me, and after almost two years there answering some of the dumbest questions about trash I have ever heard, I handed in my resignation.

It was not the most rational move I've ever made, considering the giant, furry, financial obligation that is my horse (on top of rent and other bills). I'm terrified, to be completely honest. I have bills; I have responsibilites; I have animals to feed. But. I have faith that this it's truly going to be OK. I'm a college graduate, I was a Dean's List student, and I'm a certified substitute teacher. Theoretically, I should be a pretty good job candidate. I'm confidant that, while it may be hard for awhile, it'll all be alright. CJ is being super-supportive, and I'm so grateful to have him in my life.

Upon learning that I was no longer employed - gainfully or otherwise - Trainer said I could lunge and saddle horses for her in exchange for lessons. I figured, as long as I still have my horse, I need lessons. And lessons cost money. And money is something in short supply in light of my joblessness. So lunging and saddling it is. Then she said she might consider paying me in exchange for work, which I figured was even better. A little money from part-time work is better than no money at all. Working for her would be a pretty cool opportunity, since I'm sure I'd learn something from her; beyond what I learn in the normal scope of my lessons.

I'm scared, but my outlook is positive.

I Could Never Be a Trainer

There are myriad reasons why I couldn't be a trainer, and yet admire the heck out of trainers. I'm going to list some of them in no particular order.

1. I don't have the accolades/experience/balls. Good horse trainers have a ton of experience, have demonstrated achievements in their chosen discipline(s), and have brass cojones (regardless of gender). I lack all of the aforementioned. 
2. Good trainers are patient. I'm still learning how to control my temper. A good trainer keeps a rein on their temper (at least in front of horses and clients). It's taken me this long just to figure out how to try not to get mad at my own horse - let alone not get mad at someone else's.
3. Effective trainers are tenacious. They keep at it until they get it. While this sounds like a good life-trait, I have encountered few job skill-sets that require tenacity in the same way training does (at least in my eyes). Can't get the right lead? No problem, we'll keep after it for at least another 30 minutes. Probably we'll get it by then. I lack that - can't get the right lead? Dang, let's try another 2 minutes. Still can't get it? Let's eat a cookie and contemplate our navels. I hate to make it sound like I'm a quitter - I really try not to be. But maaaan - sometimes shit gets old after awhile. Eating is where it's at.



Thar she glows!

4. Trainers can play the game. Sure, lots of other jobs require you to play the politics-game, but I have seen some trainers turn on the charm in a knock-you-over-at-100-paces level. And clients eat that up.
5. Confidence-enstilling. To me, a good trainer inspires confidence, and helps you grow. 
6. Trainers play therapist. Your trainer probably knows more dirt about your personal life than your mother. And yet they can keep their mouth shut about it. Don't anger your trainer; he or she probably knows exactly where you actually were when you told your wife you were at the country club -- and who you were actually with. 
7. Trainers have a whole lot of advice - only some of it probably relates to your horse. Listen to most of it though. 

It's Not All Rainbow-Farting Unicorns

I was having a discussion with a co-worker today about owning a horse. He said he had one as a kid, but that they're too much trouble, and cost too much money, and he'd never own one again. I wanted to be indignant at first; they're not trouble - they're amazing animals, they shit rainbows and kittens, totally, right!? I got to thinking about my last blog entry- I made it out like I go around perky and optimistic about Rain all the time. Yeah, I love my horse, yeah, we're making progress. But it's really not all flowers and puppies and whatnot. And I would hate to misrepresent the fact that, she's a horse, shit happens.

The reality is, they kinda are trouble. I'm not saying the trouble isn't worth it, but they kind of really are trouble.

Rain is not amused.

At our last barn, Rain developed the exceedingly pain in the ass annoying habit of pulling back. I lost a lot of good lead ropes that way. And she got away. Every. Single. Time. The barn owner freaked out every time Rain pulled, worried that she was going to pull the hitching rail out of the ground. It got to where I barely had time to girth my horse to prevent the saddle flying off in anticipation of when she would decide to pull back...when she'd decide to pull back.

Fast forward to the new barn. Rain continued to pull back. Trainer ties a lead rope onto my rope halter (can't use a buckle halter, she breaks the hardware). Rain pulls back. Rain somehow manages to break the rope. Not pull the knot loose, no, she breaks the lead rope. The rope snapped. It's taken a couple months, and a couple more leads, to get my mare to reliably tie. I wouldn't say yet the habit is broken. But she at least thinks twice now.

During our pulling-back phase, she broke Trainer's thumb. Chipped the joint, in fact. Trainer somehow got her hand in the rope, mare pulled back, thumb snapped. Trainer notes that she thought it was just dislocated at first. Occupational hazard of being a trainer, after all. She popped it back in. Then came the swelling. X-rays found a chipped joint. Good job, Rain.

My horse has also managed to throw out a horse shoer's back, and bucked me off so badly that I limped for 3 weeks. In describing my condition to a friend right after it happened, my fiance said "Yeah, I think she's fine, it's just...every time she tries to walk, she cries."

I love my horse. Truly, I do. But horses aren't for the faint-hearted, and they ain't necessarily fun and frolic all the time. They're bend you over and rape you out the butt  really expensive, they're time-consuming, and sometimes they're just outright annoying.