Off to the Races

The past couple weeks, my life at work has improved considerably. Trina, having finally finished with school for the year, no longer needs tutoring, and both she and Debbie have mellowed... somewhat. My barn to house work-time ratio has shifted from 40/60 or 50/50 to 90/10, and I'm all about barn time being favored. Temperatures here have begun soaring by early afternoon, so my schedule has shifted, too, and I'm working mornings now, coming in early to ride before it gets too hot. There's a lot more going on here in the mornings, so I don't sit around without something to do as often anymore. Overall, it seems as if time at work goes by faster. It's been great.

More time in the barn also means more time spent with Belle. Over the past couple months, my relationship with Belle has blossomed. Trina had been running poles on Belle competitively through November, but became frustrated with her and quit riding her when she couldn't run a clean pattern faster than 22 or 23 seconds. Belle is a fast horse, and she can run a fast, clean pattern, but it takes some work on the part of the rider to give her the appropriate cues, and for all her experience, giving horses appropriate cues just isn't something Trina can do. She'd rather change the horse than the way she rides. And, lo and behold, that's exactly what happened. Trina stopped riding Belle and began working with Greco, whom they later sold in exchange for Louis, the horse she's using in poles now.

So Belle, like many of Trina's horses, was shuffled off to the sidelines, to be ridden whenever possible after the in-use performance horses got a workout. I got on Belle for the first time in late December. At that time she was still running hot, partly because of Trina's inconsistencies in her riding style, and partly because every time Trina got on her, she'd been pushing Belle to go as fast as she could, all the time, with the aid of spurs and a short whip called an over and under.

The first time I worked with her, I'd only been riding for about two months, and both my butt and my psyche were still recovering from the incident with Halle. I wasn't ready to trust a horse again, especially a mare, and particularly not one as wild to "go" as Belle. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure Belle was ready to trust another rider either, after months of mixed signals from Trina and being pushed to her limit without reprieve.

I kept riding her, though, out of necessity, a few times a week, although I limited myself to mostly long-trotting and slow loping circles mixed in with a little ground work. No running, no patterns, no tight turns.

In the interim, I was being invited to a host of gymkhanas and other western speed events, and making up a host of excuses as to why I couldn't attend. In truth, my confidence was shot. My first gymkhana didn't end with a feeling of fulfillment or success. When Cash and I competed, I'd only been riding for five days, my seat was far from secure, his gate issues frightened me, and I finished in the middle of a pack of mediocre novice riders. It wasn't much fun, and I decided I much preferred the mellow "training style" arena rides to the stress of even meant-for-fun competitions. This idea was solidified a few weeks later with the reality check I got working Halle in barrels.

But then, a couple of months ago, I began to have a change of heart. I started to realize several things. First, always doing slow training-based rides in the arena gets a little old. Second, competing looks like a lot of fun. Go to a western speed event and watch the people there, and they all look like they're enjoying themselves. It's hard to watch others running patterns and not want to join in. Third, I've been riding every weekday now for almost seven months, and I'm no longer a novice rider. And fourth, and perhaps most important, I began reminding myself that Belle is not Halle, and reminding Belle that I am not Trina.

And then, gradually, something began to shift with us. Maybe it was my growing confidence in my ability as a rider. Maybe it was Belle's months-long break from the pressures of constant competition and Trina's riding style. Maybe it was the growing consistency in both our lives, as I began riding her every day. Perhaps is was some combination of all three, but one day as I saddled Belle she looked me in the eye and I thought, seemingly out of nowhere, I love this horse.

I began to trust her. Slowly at first, but then more and more every day. I tested our bond in the arena and on the trail, doing a little jumping, asking her to stop on a dime from a fast lope, crossing water out on the trail, having her switch leads on my command. Eventually, I started working patterns on her, and found that she was much calmer and far more responsive to me than she had been in December. I started favoring her, and when Marlene and I went through our daily,

Me: "Who do you want me to ride?"

Marlene: "Who do you want to ride?"

conversation, instead of shrugging and saying, "whoever," I started volunteering, "Belle" every time, to the point where Marlene stopped asking and simply said, "Go ahead and ride Belle,  then you can work _________ and __________."

Early last week, after Trina finished school, Marlene decided to take a day trip to a nearby arena for concentrated pattern work. Although we have a sizable outdoor arena, we rarely work with a set of horses for an extended period of time on one thing at home. Visiting a different arena allowed us to do so without burning the horses out-- being away from home immediately put them in the mindset that we were there to work.

We set up barrels and did a bunch of slow exercises and groundwork, me on Belle, Marlene on Jet, Anya, another barn employee, on her horse Goliath, and Trina on Louis and Morgan. Then we each began making slow runs, with Marlene watching closely to offer corrections when necessary. I started taking Belle to the left-hand barrel first, and when Marlene asked me why, I explained to her that Belle was having trouble making the appropriate lead changes starting to the right.

"You know," she said, "It's much easier for her to change leads when she's running the pattern."

"Running?"

"Yeah. The faster she's going, the easier it is for her. She knows what to do, it's just hard for her to make the switch unless she's going at a good speed. If you let her run, she'll do a lot better."

I stared at Marlene for a while, then examined the ground, unsure of what to do. I knew she was encouraging me to run-- to actually race the pattern-- instead of using the slow lope I'd always taken before. My trust in Belle had grown tremendously... I knew she wouldn't let me down. Belle is the kind of horse that looks out for number one, and as long as you can stay on her back, you're not going to get hurt.

I was chewing on my lip when Anya said, "You need to trust her."

To which Marlene remarked, "No... I know you trust her. You just need to trust yourself."

So I did. I took a deep breath, lined Belle up, and gave her some rein, and ran barrels for the first time. And I mean flat-out ran.

It was basically one of the coolest things I've ever done. I literally couldn't stop grinning. I ran her another three times after that, and I was buzzing with excitement for the rest of the day. Not to mention the fact that I was pretty proud of myself.

The next day I overhead Marlene and Trina discussing an upcoming barrel race, and stepped in to listen to their conversation.

"It's this Friday, right?" said Trina.

"Yeah, Friday evening," replied Marlene.

"Are you going to go?" asked Trina.

"I don't know. I suppose we could, if you guys wanted to. Jax, would you be interested?" she inquired, turning to face me.

I thought about it for a minute, and surprised myself when I found that I no longer wanted to make any excuses. The thought of going to a competition, for the first time in months, didn't make me nervous. It sounded exciting.

So Friday evening after work we loaded up the trailer with the horses and went to the barrel race.

And Belle and I ran.

And it was the most fun I've had in a long, long time.

And I can't wait to do it again.