that stupid flare in his toe is wanting to creep back. how much do i have to hack off??
They actually look pretty good in person. They'd probably look better in pictures if they weren't so dirty. Regardless, I only see two or three things to work on this weekend instead of ten or twelve. That is tootsie progress, bitches. Plus, I've taken to trotting him up the driveway back to the barn when we're done riding and he is super, super sound on the hard gravel. What. I'm still aiming for my personal year end trophy of getting Bobby Magee through an entire show season sound on his toes. Or maybe I'll get myself a neck ribbon. Or cooler. Or all of the above.
|as if adorable pony wasn't adorable enough just existing,|
he went an took a nap. awwwwwww.
For today's jumping, I decided to not set up any course work, but instead add some height to the jumps and keep the exercises themselves simple. For warm up, I started off with an oxer on the far side set at 2'6", a 2'6" vertical on the diagonal, and a one stride line with big cross rails.
He was fine the first time through everything, but almost immediately starting jumping flatly and with complete disregard to the height. Look, Bobby, I still think 2'6" is a perfectly respectable height. Just because you don't doesn't mean you get to play a personal game of "How fast can I go? How little do I have to pick my feet up and still not touch the rails? Can I actually make this in just an exaggerated canter stride?"
I decided to just say "fuck it" and put the oxer up to 3'3" and one of the Xs in the one stride line up to 3'. And then I had an anxiety attack about how massive the jumps looked. Nevermind that I've been cantering into 3'6" like it's no big deal. Nevermind that we've jumped these heights before. Nevermind that Bobby has actually been quite reasonable to jump lately, and I've got myself figured out enough that things are starting to become easy.
HOLY SHIT GIANT JUMPS WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.
I had to force myself to pick up the canter and turn in to the first jump. And I had to force myself to keep going around and around or I was going to lose my one shriveled testicle and never jump another jump again. I hate this stupid anxiety when it comes to jumping. I don't even know what it stems from, but it gets so bad that my chest tightens to the point where I'm gasping for breath. If you listen to some of my horse show helmet cams, you can hear me breathing like I just ran ten miles. It's because overwhelming fear of something is trying to eat me alive.
Fuck you, fear. I hate your stupid face.
The moral of the story is: no one died, though my brain thought we were going to.
Another moral is that my lower leg has decided to just abandon ship and not even pretend to hang out with Bobby and I anymore. Talk about rude.