Youth Nationals IV: Photos

It's Finally Here! 

I'm leaving for my 11th Youth Nationals tomorrow, but this time, it's different. As an "adult" now, I am simply along for the ride. With the title of spectator and groom, I am still incredibly excited to head down to the youth event of the season. 

Thinking back to my first years of Youth, I have the fondest of memories of my experiences. I loved everything. The flight down, being in Albuquerque, viewing the breathtaking Awards Room, hanging with friends, showing against the best horses in America, and somehow, gladly taking home the roses. View these pictures as a sort of slide show of Nationals... Enjoy!

http://ahtimes.com/

English Gives Me Wings

Before I talk about the incredible English horse, please allow me to get a little cheesy. Okay, very cheesy; just bear with me. Think back to the part of the movie Titanic where Jack and Rose are at the front of ship and he tells her to close her eyes, step up, and grab onto the rail. Once he tells her to open her eyes to the Atlantic blue, cool breeze in her face, she gasps with delight and says the famous line "I'm flying, Jack!" Well, this feeling that Rose has, my friends, is how I feel when I'm riding an English horse. It's thrilling, surprising, and challenging--all at the same time. 

An English horse keeps me honest. He keeps me on my toes; I could never get careless or arrogant riding him. He knows that he is the show, and he's bound to prove himself every time he's in the show ring. Although getting in the ring is never easy. There is usually some form of the graceful sideways jump and upward leap (I'm just glad that the downward fall hasn't become a common occurrence for me). But we get back on track, and full speed ahead, we trot big and powerful into the entry. Then he sees the walls begin to close around him, inching closer to the big arena ahead. I feel his front end stall in fear, I see his ears lock forward, and I can almost hear him gasp in frightened excitement. From here, it's all on me. Our chances rest on my coolness, my ability to ease his nerves and get the best out of him.

Every gait is a challenge, yet so worth it in the thrill of the moment. In the trot, I see his powerful knees pop up when glancing over his strong shoulder, while I try to find the perfect tempo. It's that cadenced trot where he's about to run off his feet, but you're there to keep him together. There's nothing like catching your horse just before he breaks--that feeling you get when you know you've just prevented a major disaster from happening. Then, the walk. Oh, come on, right? Here I am, trying with all my might to relax him enough to get that four beat walk in, and I can practically hear the gears of his mind reeling and spinning in excitement. Whew, finally the canter. I hold on tight while he lunges forward into the canter, pulls hard on my grip of the reins, and pushes to build speed as we boom around the arena. I attempt to stay centered when he spooks and leaps toward the center of arena, my heart rate taking a leap of its own. But the joy ride is almost through--the final trot is here. I press my leg on his side, and as if he was poked with a branding iron, he's off like a rocket. As the crowd's volume increases, I see his neck slowly setting back farther and farther, his ears locking into a permanent forward position, and his trot getting stronger by the stride. But I'm not taken aback. This is what English is about. A big trot, big risks, and big gratification. Upon entering the lineup, I warmly pet his sweaty neck while he dances around, slowly winding down from the excitement. And when my number is called for champion, there is no better feeling. It's beyond flying. It's the ultimate payoff for my hard work and my horse's unsurpassed talent. And even though he's so terrified of the rose garland that it seems like a death sentence, all is well because he's an English horse. The thrill of flight cannot be achieved through ease and simplicity, he gives me wings through the challenge he presents me every time I ride him.

http://ahtimes.com/

It's a Mare Thing

The "Jekyll and Hyde" Effect

Some mares give females as a whole a bad name. In my experience, these types of mares are great horses in the beginning, playing the "sweet" card to ensure that you fall in love with them. They want you to think that they're different, that everything is peachy keen. They like to let you believe that they are just as dependable and even-tempered as your beloved gelding. But soon, something lights their fuse... And that's it. They have officially gone to the dark side. Say so long to cuddling in the stall and predictability under saddle, and say hello to a moody mare, a beloved bitter babe, a feisty and furious female. Once this alter ego has been employed, the grace period is forever gone, and she becomes the worst version of herself. I call it the “Jekyll and Hyde Effect” (patent pending). Another thing to keep in mind when dealing with these exceptionally ghastly girls is that the length of time they are "Jekyll" seems to be directly proportional to the gravity of misbehavior once turned "Hyde". In other words, the shorter your mare is sugary sweet, the more fire she is packin' to dish out on you.

I am two for two in acquiring this sought-after type of mare, and I must say, it's not ideal for the show ring. Depending on the severity of “Hyde” they turn out to be, showing may be virtually impossible. In my research, there is only one surefire way to avoid falling victim to this type of mare: buy a gelding. Avoid mares altogether and stick to the wonderfully levelheaded boy.

But I understand that sometimes you simply cannot say no. And although I may not agree with your choice, maybe you’ll get lucky and buy “one of the good ones” with a "great" attitude. And I sincerely hope this is the case for you, however, the "Jekyll and Hyde" mare has turned me against the female horse altogether.

Me and "Hyde"

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