My Muffin Rocks!

Today I'm just going to share something that I posted to my facebook on Sunday in regards to a wonderful ride I had on Maxwell on Saturday:

Yesterday something amazing happened. You see, Maxwell had one ride off the track before I brought him home almost a year ago. Yesterday, with the amazing support and help of one of my dearest friends, me and Maxwell reached a milestone. I was never sure what his capabilities would be as I restarted him, but kind of went with the flow and let him tell me how he felt. Yesterday we killed it. Maxwell jumped the highest he ever has. Which wasn't really that big at all, but was still a huge milestone for both of us, and opened the door to endless possibilities. He met that fence with such gusto each and every time. Summer spent a good portion of the lesson teaching me to set him up for these jumps, and by the end of the ride, the set up, distance and jump were pretty perfect. I learned a wealth of information about the horse I have. And I'm so happy to have finally reached that point. We may have taken the slow and steady approach, but it's my belief that we're building a more quality, athletic horse by doing so. I am forever thankful for the amazing support I find in Summer and the extraordinary heart I find in my horse. I honestly never thought we'd be past 18" by this point, but Max has clearly proven that he's game for this and therefore so am I. 

I jumped Bella 2'6 ONE time. ONCE. Prior to Bella, I hadn't ridden in 2 years. Prior to that, 3ft was a pretty comfortable height for me to pop over. But once you lose your Junior status, take some time off, and come back as an Adult Ammy, suddenly anything over 18" is pretty threatening for a while. I'll be the first to admit that my balls didn't come with me as I matured and grew up. I mean, they're there, but clearly they were sucked up or hidden somewhere for a while because once that fence gets over 2 feet, it makes my heart palpate just a little bit! WHY!? Possibly because as you move up the heights with a green horse, there's an extra level of uncertainty. I trusted my horse, my trainer, and myself on Saturday. This was scary at first glance. Once I realized how easily my horse sailed over it (let's be honest, he could trot over it or hop over at a near standstill technically), my confidence grew, and in that, so did his. Summer helped me find that sweet spot with Max. The pace that provided the power to the jump without the speed. The set up that allowed us to both confidently get to,over, and recover from, the jump. These are all foundations for jumping, obviously, but believe me, working your green horse on your own as an ammy with minimal outside help will quickly remind you that you DO need support. You CAN'T do it on your own. Even professionals require direction, support, and continued education. The first words that Summer blerted out to me while we warmed up that day: "why are you two going SO fast?! Why such a hurry?" When I didn't even realize how speedy we really were trotting around that arena. Once you set a pace and work on it day in and day out, you don't really realize, without eyes on the ground, that maybe you're a bit ahead of the speed you should ideally be at. Another simple example of why everyone needs someone. I'm so very proud of my Thoroughbred. He had SUCH a blast this weekend, and really proved to me that he DOES love this jumping thing. I'm not pushing him to do something that I enjoy doing versus what he actually wants to do (ask the same of the flat work, and he'll tell you that I'm pushing him to do something terrible, bahah). I've never seen a light in his eye quite like the glimmer every time I asked him to jump. I imagine it was the light he carried in his eyes as a race horse, when his heart was still in that game.

I love this horse. In case you didn't already know that!

Hehehe sorry for the weird music on the video, I was instructed to edit the sound out because Summer sounded like a little school girl squealing in excitement as me and Max took the leap and spread our wings. It's so special to have someone who feels the same passion and excitement as me, from the ground <3

OH! PS! Max has a birthday (and 1 year anniversary of ownership with me) coming up next week. I've ordered him oodles of stuff (not really). He's getting a pair of BOT quick wraps for his hind legs & ankles (and I ordered 16", so it's pretty evident I'll be having to return those when they get here tomorrow for the 14"...sigh.), a new dri-lex elastic girth (smartpak's), a new personalized fly mask (gotta wait a bit for that to arrive) AND! Smartpak's Plymouth Padded Fancy Stitch hunter bridle. That was an unexpected freebie due to a credit Smartpak issued me after removing a "guaranteed to work" supplement from Max's smartpaks. You get 2 months' worth of the supplement price credited back to your smartpak account. (more on that in another post)  I took that opportunity to finally upgrade Max's bridle. He'll be so happy with all his wonderful 8 year old Thoroughbred gifts! 

Rocky Raccoon

Okay, this is one of my jams. I have no idea why, but I love it. And it just so happens that I recently had an encounter with a real raccoon (not even remotely what the song is about), but I had JUST listened to the song, so obviously Rocky Raccoon became this little heathen's name. The song happened to come on just as I opened up blogger to write this post (long awaited, eh?) so what better than to outline my brief experience with Rocky, while listening to such a song.

Anyhow, Rocky and I first met last week. It was just dusk at the farm, the reflection of the setting sun to my far west beaming ever so slightly off the barn in it's last attempt to light the Florida sky. Then Rocky appears. Typically I don't have a problem with critters running around the farm. They were here first, theoretically, however I'm pretty sure the families at the surrounding farms have lived there much longer than Rocky, the hateful jackass thief he is. So Rocky shows up, of all places, scampering--no, no. Scampering is a great describing word, but it really doesn't describe what Rocky was doing...Meandering. That's better. So I see Rocky meandering out of one of the stalls that I had quite literally just pulled a horse out of. He stopped when he saw me, and naturally I just assumed he would scurry away at the sight of me. Oh no. Not Rocky. Rocky planted his striped ass right down on the dirt floor and just stared at me. I would have offered him a cigarette as he sat there pondering life's great wonders, but I don't smoke. I wasn't sure how to proceed with Rocky. Was he tame to humans because he lives near them? Was he rabid and just waiting to make his move on me? Is Rocky really Rockette and does she have a brood of little ones behind the barn that she's just waiting to defend? I just didn't know what to think of Rocky. His coy look just miffed me. I went about my business and pretended like his black beady eyes never met mine. Half because I wasn't THAT worried about him, and half because if he was rabid I didn't want to make any sort of threatening gesture at him that would insinuate I wanted to tango with a raccoon. I did want him to move along, as I had stalls to clean, the one he meandered ever so slowly out of and parked in front of, being the next on my list. I clapped my hands, banged some things around, but damn it, Rocky just sat there, watching me go back and forth. What an asshole, if you're going to watch me work, you could at least offer to help. I see those grimy little paws, you can hold a pitch fork, buddy.

Eventually Rocky grew tired of watching a human move senselessly in his mind, from stall to stall, picking out all the smelly stuff and leaving behind fluffy dry bedding. I caught a passing glimpse of him waddling around the side of the barn, and I thought that was the end of Rocky. He'd carried on, gotten bored with my lack of fascinating things to offer, and was on his way out. Not. By the time I got to the back row of stalls in this barn, in the general direction where Rocky took off in, the sun had long since gone, and it was dark now. The florescent lights flickered ever so slightly, as a banging noise was heard overhead. My first thought was something fell out of the tree and onto the barn's metal roof. My second, and correct thought, was that damn Rocky Raccoon managed to climb his fat self up to the roof of the barn, where he could peacefully watch me working below. I could hear each step he took. To put it nicely, Rocky was well fed. He wasn't hanging out because he was hungry, or if he was hungry, it was because his mom never installed good eating habits into his repertoire, and had nothing to do with being able to access food. I carried on, no longer worried that he might give me a zombie disease, but instead rather annoyed that this raccoon found it entertaining to sit on the roof and watch me work.

Anyways, he hung out on the roof for the entire two hours I was working out there, and by the time I left, there was no sign of Rocky any longer. Until the next day, that is...I noticed the tightly sealed and well stored container of electrolytes that sits outside of Maxwell's stall (hanging up, off the ground, in a basket) was missing. I thought perhaps the last of the electrolytes were used with that morning's feeding, as I knew he was getting low but thought he had a few weeks left. When my barn owner came out, she mentioned that it looked like something ripped off the lid to the electrolytes and strew the container and it's contents in front of my horse's stall. I knew right away it was that heathen Rocky. Was it his plan all along to wait until I left to raid my electrolytes? The world may never know. The mere fact of it is, Rocky, if you're reading this, asking is SO much better than STEALING. I see why raccoon get a bad wrap for being associated with criminalistic dealings. Your black mask and jail-bird black stripes sure help you live up to the title of HEATHEN. Your grubby little paws, to be able to open such an intricate lid that was sealed so well, proves beyond a doubt that you would have been more than capable of pitching in and helping me clean stalls the night before. You lazy, stealing bastard! I hope you ate those electrolytes. And I hope the terrible feeling of thirst followed close by. You didn't eat some kid's wasted sugar candy. You ate apple flavored salt and potassium. Glad to know you won't dehydrate anytime soon, if you ever made it to the water after consuming such an amount of them.

For anyone wondering, I really don't wish harm on Rocky, ever. He was never aggressive towards me, even though I had my reservations in the beginning, as any person should when coming in contact with a wild animal, no matter how small (or fat.)...and Rocky is alive and well. And still causing trouble in the barn. Someone left a SEALED metal tin full of peppermints for their horse right next to their stall. Last night I saw hundreds of little coon prints, many empty wrappers, and maybe only a handful of peppermints still intact in the container which originally contained close to 100 pieces. The moral of the story is this: Leave nothing for this fat coon. He needs a diet and an insulin shot at this point.

Okay, so that was my week....there's really NO point to that story at all, but the song coming on just cracked me up, reminiscing about my ridiculous new friend and his insatiable hunger for sugary items.

Maxwell has been working his tail off over trot poles and poles placed throughout the arena. We've been simulating jumps with poles lately. Not because he's not capable of jumping anything more than those, but really just to help us get a momentum, build a pace, and stick to it without getting excited. Maxwell is never out of control in any situation, he's a pretty level headed dude. Heck, there is this black duck that resides at the farm this time of year. He's another jackass. He doesn't have a name. Because I hate him. This time last year, he was the cause of my pony mare spinning in a complete circle top speed with me on top of her (reining is NOT in my future, guys) and flung me promptly on the ground. It was that duck's flapping wings that caused the chaos. SAME duck yesterday. Max and I were working in the dressage ring (more about that below), and this duck shoots out of the water (from underwater, either of us knew he was there) and takes off full speed, trying to fly, but skipping over the water, likely because his stupid duck wings are full of water. Obviously Max wasn't expecting that to occur, and neither was I. I spooked, and he saw the duck, took four steps sideways, and looked at me like WHAT THE HELL is that STUPID duck's problem, mom?! That's the extend of my horse losing his cool, for the most part, unless you're asking for an argument with him. Such a simple man he is. Oh, the duck is a Cormorant, for those wondering, though the local fishermen call them some pretty colorful words other than what they truly are called, because these guys, in addition to terrifying horses and causing scenes, steal bait right off your hook while fishing, too. Jerks.

So yeah, we were working in the dressage arena. Really, what it is, is that at one point we had a boarder out there who rode dressage, and wanted to have a ring to work in. They measured it out, and built 4 wood corners and put steaks around to help outline the ring. I decided to ride Max within the confines (no real fencing) of the arena to both test how well he's responding to my direction via leg, and also to start having him work in a more condensed situation. He went wonderfully well. He might have a future in the sandbox when all is said and done. (maybe.)...

Max has been going very well overall for me lately. We've been back in the hackamore just because he seems to stretch down and over his back the most while working in this setup, so for now, we go without a bit. We'll be implementing some jumping back into our routine now, as we've really got to start nailing that down if we ever want to get anywhere with it. Being an ammy on your own is tough, sometimes. I need that yelling but helpful voice on the ground to help me maneuver myself and my horse through mistakes and sticky spots.


Anyhow, that's about all I have to offer right now. Hopefully I'll have some great rides to report on after this weekend, and maybe some photos? It's not often I have anyone else in the arena with me while I ride, but I'm going to have to start begging people to come once in a while, because I'm really curious how me and the muffin are looking together!

Mr. Sandman last night after a good roll.

Winter Spring Summer or Fall

You know the song. I've discussed it here before. I've discussed it's meaning in regards to Maxwell. But what I haven't discussed is how that very song re-verbs back to me every time I see Maxwell. I'm pretty sure if he could sing, he'd sing me this song.


You see, I've been going through a rough patch lately. My health hasn't been the best, and I've had more miserable days than good. The one continually positive correlation in my life though, even throughout this awful patch, has been Maxwell.

Maxwell has kept me accountable. Maxwell has kept me active. Maxwell has reminded me that even on my worst days, when I'm lashing out or I've completely removed myself from everyone and everything, that I still have that one goofy friend who manages to make me crack a smile. I have that friend who relies on me constantly. I have that one motivator that keeps me active. The one being on this earth that I've promised to NEVER EVER let down.

If it weren't for Maxwell, I'd probably have stopped traveling to the barn, stopped being physically active when my body aches and stabs me in the gut. But I made a promise to Max. I promised that his needs would always be met, and that his care would always be above and beyond what should be expected for a horse. This includes his training and exercise. There are days where it literally feels like the inside of my body is dying. It takes me an hour to get out of bed and ready to walk out the door. If it weren't for Maxwell, I promise you most of my weekends would be spent laying in bed groaning. Instead, though, because I promised my best friend all of these things, I get myself together, whether it takes me 10 minutes or 2 hours. I pull my breeches on, figure out what cocktail of medication I need to make it at the farm for a few hours, and I get in my car and drive. I usually spend the first 5 minutes cursing the morning. Reminding myself that if it weren't for this "needy animal", I could be at home relaxing, maybe not feeling so badly. All those negative feelings, even the physical ones, seem to diminish, however, when I pull down that driveway and see my pretty bay's head poking out of his side window, ears as far forward as they go, staring intently at my little red car.

Time stands still when I'm with my best friend. The healing that takes place when in the presence of these animals is astronomical. I know I'll regret saying this, because it is quite possible that it's all a coincidence (I AM a realist, sometimes, after all)...but it's rare that my symptoms get to the point of limiting me while I am with my horse. They seem to be so much less intense when I'm at the farm. I'm not sure if it's because while there, my mind is focused 100% on Max, and therefore I'm not busy worrying about how badly I feel, or if he does, in fact, carry some magical medicinal property in his coat, slobber, or sweat. But I do know that it's a rare occasion that I feel so terribly as to have to stop what I'm doing, while in his presence.

There are days where riding sounds like a terrible idea, as most of what ails me is right in my stomach. But I still climb into that saddle. And we put down some fantastic rides. I don't even know how my body manages, to be honest, for there are times when I am doubled over in pain, unable to handle the discomfort my body at times produces, but I manage to put in some amazing rides, still, and Maxwell, my best partner, always tries his hardest for me. Don't get me wrong, he still tries to get away with things. He still acts silly, he still makes mistakes. But his trying attitude makes up for it. He might not perform each maneuver I ask of him perfectly, but he sure does try so very hard to figure out what I'm asking of him. That's the most I could ask of any horse. I especially love his imagination. I've never been on a horse who has such an idea about the world as Max does. He truly looks at new exercises and really tries his best to figure out what it is I'm asking. We tried raised cavaletti over the weekend for the first time. It was a hilarious fail, but once again, it gave me a wonderful glimpse into the mind of my Thoroughbred. He didn't give me the correct answer the first time through, but GOD did he TRY. It was a one side raised, to a fully raised, to an opposite side raised cavaletti. He managed the first and last perfectly, as we'd been working trot poles like monsters lately. But that middle one? Well, when he sees a solid obstacle in front of him, he's been told to JUMP! So JUMP! he did, even though the spacing was clearly for that of a larger trot step over. But by god, this horse managed to trot the first, jump the second, and find his body with enough time to properly trot over the third. We only went over it three times, and when I realized he just wasn't ready for the entirely raised cavaletti, we stopped. But his continued effort to figure it out, and put together the two pieces of the puzzle that he did know, speaks VOLUMES for the mind that he has. He has such a brilliant mind. Just because he thinks differently than a human, doesn't make him stupid. I think people really need to remember that when having a difficult time with their mount. These animals are pretty brilliant, and deserve far more credit than many give them.

So thank you, Baby Maxwell. You really needed a human when you retired from the track. You really needed your person. You had a rough last go of it, and deserved someone to build you back up to the horse that you've always been. I like to think you found that in me. But in return, you've been better than I could ever ask you to be. For keeping me going when I want to give up, not because of anything you've done, but because that's the easy way out, and I just don't feel good sometimes. Thank you for being the driving force that keeps my body moving. Thank you for giving me so many hours of bliss when I'd otherwise be in pain or discomfort. Thank you for holding up to your end of the deal, being the best friend a girl could ask for. I promise to keep up on my promise too. That's why you're back in 4 times a week work. No complaining, Mister. I know you like that firm round rump you've already started to define in the last 4 weeks. I'm sure your back feels it's best when it's strong and filled in with muscle. And I'm sure those harder weekend rides feel much easier now that you're working more regularly again. It's Spring now, Baby boy, and this is our year. I can't promise that I'll always feel my best, but know that you, being you, that silly silly Thoroughbred I fell in love with 11 months ago, is enough. It's enough to keep me going, to keep me working, to keep my motivation up.

I often wonder where you would be, without the good people at the track, Summer, and myself. But maybe I should start wondering where I would be, at this very moment in time, if it weren't for you.

Sorry I've been lacking so much in posting! It's been a rough go of it lately. I'm suffering with some pretty interesting stomach and GI issues. Now you all know why GI health is so important to me for my horse! I've started to live the pain! I'm going to try and make a better effort to post more. It feels good. I don't even know if anyone reads these...but who really cares? I'm perfectly okay with talking to myself. At least if no one is reading these, there's no one to make fun of me for talking to myself, right?? :-D Check back soon. I promise another post, not gushing over the amazing animal I own, will be forthcoming!