There could not be a more perfect day to be writing this one. After our final qualifying show didn’t go according to plan, we decided to enter a schooling show to hopefully end the season on a good note. A crazy week at work and with massage clients meant a long streak of late nights and early mornings trying to make the time to ride and train. There’s still a laundry list of prep for any show, but at least this one is right in our backyard. Friday was an amazing day with a marathon massage day at Coventry Equestrian Center making sure some of my very favorite equines were in tip top shape for their final shows of the year. I had to squeeze in a ride and a run before my first client, so my tack was not so sparkling and my pony did not get a bath. But I would head down centerline, ready or not.
Like most horse show mornings, the alarm starts going off at 5:00 and everyone slowly stumbles around in various levels of consciousness until somehow the boots and clothes are packed, the coffee is made, the dog is fed and off we go. Arriving at the barn, the frantic prep immediately begins. I have a severe case of braiding anxiety that makes me panic about running out of time until my braids are done, and I can breathe easy that I won’t be spending an extra un-budgeted 20 minutes redoing ugly braids. (Unless he scratches them out on a wall. Or with his feet. That has happened). I was feeling satisfied with the state of mud removal and about to get rolling with the braids, when I heard some rumors trickling down the barn aisle… “The arena is too wet. You can’t ride in it. The show has to be cancelled.” Just in case they weren’t true, I kept grooming but it wasn’t long until the official call was made: no horse show.
I vaguely recalled seeing that the outdoor arena was underwater when we drove in, but I was too sleepy and too enamored with the sunrise for that to register as a problem. Standing there with my very clean and very grumpy horse (I had interrupted his breakfast that morning) I felt very mixed emotions to this news. Secretly happy that I didn’t have to half pass through tiny lakes, a little relieved because I was a bit less than confident heading into the show, but definitely bummed that our season ended with us doing less that our best, and a lot of regret that I had poured in so much work into training for it and woken up so. freaking. early.
But that’s horses. Plan all you want, prep every last detail, work your tail off and STILL the room for error is alarming. The was put into brilliant focus for me last week while I stole every free moment I could to watch the World Equestrian Games coverage. Here you have riders with more talent and training that most of us mere mortals have in one foot and horses… don’t even get me started on the horses. The quality of the top top horses is stunning. They hardly seem earthly, the way they move… And yet, the best in the world still go into the ring and have mistakes. I watched Steffen Peters’ young Suppenkasper with awe, and despite his great athleticism and Steffen’s skillful riding, green mistakes still occur in the piaffe. I watched Jessica von Bredow-Werndl ride a breathtaking test to hold the overnight lead for Germany, yet in an interview she said her mare was not quite herself because of the humidity. And the one that pulled at my heartstrings the hardest was Canada’s Megan Lane. Scoring only a 60.9% after some early and very costly mistakes, she came out of the ring fighting tears of disappointment knowing that she and her horse could have performed better, knowing that it was not the way she had planned on her test on the world’s stage to go. These horses and riders have teams of professionals–trainers, grooms, vets, you name it–making sure things go right, and still they don’t. The riders are mounted on the best horses in the world, with financial resources that you and I can only dream of–and still the plans go awry.
But then… sometimes the stars align and things go right. Non-horse people, we’re sorry we blow up your social media with pictures of us in awkward helmets and horses wearing ribbons, but… it’s just so rare and so exciting when things actually DO go according to plan. Just ask Isabel Werth, the most decorated equestrian Olympian in history and winner of this year’s team gold. After scoring a scorching 84%, she comes out of the ring with tears freely flowing. She might make it look easy, but the road to meeting your goals is never easy, not even when you’re Isabel Werth.
And then there are the underdogs who remind me that a gold medal is not everyone’s goal, and you can still enjoy the journey you’re on. Julio Mendoza’s Chardonnay was having a blast in that ring–throwing in flying changes just about everywhere, just for fun. The test was not mistake free and was not going to win any medals, but you wouldn’t know that by the sheer joy on Julio’s face. And while a 60.9% crushes one rider’s dreams, it makes another’s come true. On nearly the exact same score, Ellesse Tzinberg comes of the ring elated–she’s competed in her first world games and is the first dressage rider to represent the Philippines.
After three days of competition, the 15 best dressage horses and riders in the world have fought for their chance to ride for an individual medal. And it rains. And rains some more. And this world-class venue with largely unlimited resources still cannot overcome the obstacles mother nature decided to throw at them. The freestyle is cancelled, the horses fly home to stables across the world and there will be no individual champions at this WEG.
I cannot fathom the disappointment that has to come with losing the opportunity to do what you’ve worked so hard for. There may never be another chance for some of these horses and riders. I cannot even imagine what that flight home must have felt like. And yet, we keep doing this. We know that there is a one in a million chance that things could work out and we roll the dice anyways. We plan our lives around these creatures who are far too fickle to plan for. And we devote ourselves to a sport that requires a partnership with an animal who is as delicate as he is powerful. If this isn’t a recipe for heartbreak, I don’t know what it is. But the victories are oh so sweet, because they are rare and they are hard-earned.
Yet we keep doing it. Because somewhere along the way we have learned the lesson that most of us already have or someday will learn–there are no sure things. The things that can go wrong, will go wrong. If you are going to ride, show, train or love horses, be ready to accept Murphy’s Law. It’s a bitter pill to swallow sometimes, an expensive one too, but try as we might to plan around it-that’s horses. As I look back over my season wrought with missed changes and missed scores, ill-timed time off, terrifying trailering detours, plus all the run of the mill challenges, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. But I also feel proud. We didn’t win medals of any kind this year, but I am wiser, tougher, and just maybe a bit more cynical for having gone through it. I just have to look back and say to myself, “we live to fight another day.”