Mulling over goals and suitability

I've been mulling over a couple heavy subjects since I read Emma's ('Fraidy Cat Eventing) posts on goals and suitability, which has led me to write this rather lengthy post to organize my thoughts. Apologies if they're still rather unorganized. You've been warned.

Several things have come up in the past few months that caused me to further inspect the topics of what I want to do with horses and whether the horses I have are suitable. My latest concussion... a reintroduction to the world of driving...

...a welsh filly coming on my radar who is a lot of things Pyro is not...

...all have me frequently assessing my current situation with horses, how I'm spending my time with them, and whether or not it makes me happy. The biggest question I've been asking myself is: 

"What do I enjoy doing with horses... NOW?"

To be completely honest with myself, this latest concussion has me reconsidering a lot of long-held goals and beliefs. While I had the TBI in 2018 due to back-to-back concussions in the same afternoon which took me a couple years to recover from, I didn't expect something as simple as passing out into soft sawdust would set me back for months. I figured I'd wear a better helmet when riding, listen to my body about when I'm too tired to ride, and be good to go. However, I'm feeling a lot less protected when I strap on my helmet than I did before. Even wearing a highly rated MIPS helmet when I slipped on ice didn't prevent me from having a setback. It is clear to me that I'm both very susceptible to concussions and I tend to have a longer recovery timeline than most. (I'm beginning to suspect that the root cause of my hypermobility has something to do with this, but that's for another time.) 

Weaker than normal connective tissues cause all sorts of interesting issues...

While I don't see a valid path forward for me where I'm happy and have ZERO risk of hitting my head again (no one can truly live in a bubble), when I think about activities like jumping XC... rather than the excitement and anticipation I used to feel when envisioning galloping and tackling tables and banks, my thoughts are centered on the risks and whether it's worth it. I have very fond memories of eating up the XC course with Missy, and it has always been a long term goal (since before he was born) to get Pyro going at least at the Beginner Novice level for local shows. 

Many good memories eventing with my dragonmare

But now... I just think about all the potential wrecks that come from educating a horse about jumping XC, even at the BN level. As someone who has considered "eventer" a part of my identity (even when I wasn't competing in the sport) for the past 14 years... this is a serious shift. Does this mean I'll never jump XC again? I don't know. Maybe? I haven't decided yet if that's something I can live without, or if I'd rather scale down to something simpler, like ground poles and small terrain changes. Are there other activities I enjoy doing with my horses that fall lower on my perceived risk scale? Certainly. 

Slower speeds and more time with feet on the ground... dressage definitely falls in the lower perceived risk category, lol. Gosh I feel old as I type this.

What I DO know is I enjoy spending time with my horses where we are comfortable in each others' presence and can interact with mutual respect and understanding. I enjoy learning with them, deepening our relationship, and working together as seamlessly as possible. I love the soft, quiet, gentle moments of interaction and the joy of completing a challenge together as partners. 

I don't think I could go without jumping as a whole, but popping over baby jumps at slower speeds is just as fun and fulfilling for me.

While I might lament the "loss" of a goal I've held dearly for many years, it's obvious that I can find horsey happiness and fulfillment through a lot of other sports/activities while at the same time lowering my perceived risk level. 

I'm 34 with a history of brain injuries and want to be able to enjoy the view between my horse's ears as long as possible. 

I think this is where Emma's note on becoming process-oriented, rather than outcome-oriented, comes in. The day-to-day journey of building a relationship with my horse and finding fulfillment in the tiny steps of progress we make together as a team is more important to me than what shows/events/adventures we take part in, so that's where I should focus my energy. I want to be calm, clear, and kind (inspiration for that wording from Sprinkler Bandits) as I work with my horse, who is safe, willing to try, and interested in connecting with me. The goals for how I conduct myself don't depend on my equine partner. Those are all on me. However, I am starting to believe that when I put them in focus, it's easier for the other parts of my goals to fall into place. 

My relationship with Missy would still be fulfilling if all we did was repeat the ritual of her reaching her muzzle out to say "hi" and me scratching her withers. Such is the way of the golden years with a mare I deeply love, respect, and trust. 

The next major question is: "Is Pyro suitable for these 'goals'?" 

(Yes, I'm skipping right over Missy as she IS retired, and I've concluded she'll be spending every golden day with me living her best life. While I have thought about retiring her elsewhere, such as a therapeutic riding program where she could help people in need, I can't imagine missing a single day doting on her, and I think the change would likely bring her a lot of stress. Plus, who is going to obsessively manage her pink, sunburn-prone skin, or deal with her seemingly annual choke, or lovingly glue on shoes every 5 weeks... Taking care of her in her retirement, while exhausting, is a privilege that I wouldn't miss for the world.)

Baby noodle

First, some context. 

Well aware of the risks that come with breeding (especially cross-breds, where it's such a crap shoot how the different traits will mesh), I purposefully bred Missy to produce my next "sport horse" (an all-arounder who was athletic and game enough to dabble in all the fun, low-level disciplines I enjoy for many years to come... with sturdier feet and hopefully less pink, sunburn-able skin than Missy), crossing my fingers for a filly with her gritty personality. Of course, she popped out a flashy colt with a personality more like his sire's: born to play. While not exactly what I was hoping for, I set to work raising and training the "baby dragon" to be my future equine partner, with dreams of eventing, playing ranch horse, and adventuring down trails. 

Despite his... unconventional.. conformation, he showed a lot of promise as a bold baby willing to jump

I've stuck with him through thick and thin since then, and he'll be turning 6 in a couple months. As I think is common with raising young horses, it was HARD. There were times it was decidedly NOT FUN. While I'd started a couple horses under saddle previously, I had no idea it would be so challenging to shape this colt into a good citizen. I wasn't expecting all rainbows and butterflies and magical, "horse whisperer" connection... but I hadn't anticipated a colt that would laugh off my corrections and take them as an invitation to rough house or turn every interaction into a (typically unwelcome) game. 

While flinging a rope toy around was all well and good, there was a period of time when he would drop to his knees, biting similarly to how stallions play with one another, every time I tried to brush his front legs. While short-lived, that was NOT a fun game.

There have been times when the answers to Emma's questions of "Do I like spending time with the horse? Is the horse pleasant to be around, do I feel safe handling it? Riding it? Does our time together bring joy more often than frustration?" have been a resounding "NO".

"HECK"

As he constantly tested/pushed/leaned-HIS-WHOLE-DANG-BODY on boundaries, I spent a lot of our time together not trusting him. I didn't trust him to have good ground manners (especially with new people who hadn't earned his respect yet). I didn't trust him not to pull shenanigans under saddle (see above photo). I didn't trust him not to make poor decisions during turnout (he has come in with gaping wounds of unknown origin SEVERAL times). None of this helps build that mutual respect and understanding I mentioned is so important to me. It's hard to enjoy a horse's company when you have to be "on" and aware every moment, ready to ask them to do something hard (and back it up) when they make a "wrong" choice. There were days I outright did not like this colt. 

Dressage whip in hand, always ready to protect my space (photo by Jen)

This history has colored the way I see Pyro, even though, with a lot of incredible coaching to improve my horsemanship (bless Kate Little), consistency (from both myself and my co-op barnmates), and perseverance (SIX YEARS), he has started to noticeably mature for the better. I know it's not fair to him, but I can't help but compare my experience with that of friends who have young horses who seemingly exited the womb as good citizens (although logically I know they required training too). There have been days when selling Pyro, buying a weanling welsh cob filly who is "easy to handle", and starting over look really attractive. 

Can I trade in for a less mouthy model?

Now, back to the present.

Saturday, I had the opportunity to take my first lesson post-concussion. While I could've put the bareback pad on Missy and just farted around for 45 minutes, I knew this coach had experience with morgans and other "off-breed" dressage horses, so I wanted her input on Pyro and guidance as we start to come back into work together. It was an exhausting, but very positive lesson in which we focused on bending his ribs off my right leg, figuring out the differences in how he needs me to ride in each direction to deal with his crookedness, and letting him find the right answer so I can LEAVE HIM ALONE. Much to my surprise, as we wrapped up the coach exclaimed, "I like him! [...] He's rather keen!"

...

*please imagine the utter shock written across my face at hearing those words*

...

I can't recall a coach ever saying anything like that after an initial lesson. It was... refreshing... to have someone lay eyes on him for the first time and like him for what he is, rather than seeing what he isn't (a warmblood with naturally fancy gaits and suspension who just *knows* how to use their body if you only push them forward). It was also a bit of a wake-up call. I realized I too needed to see Pyro for who he is today and compare his suitability for my current goals, rather than focusing on the negatives, taking the "grass is greener" approach, clinging to goals that no longer serve me, or letting our history color my view. 

Of course no media from the lesson, but here is a patient Pyro waiting for his bridle while his helicopter mom creeps on us through the door.

So, I asked myself: are Pyro and I comfortable in each others' presence?  Do I feel safe around him? Are we able to have and build upon a relationship founded in trust, respect, and understanding? Can we learn and work together? Is he interested in engaging with me and willing to try? Can we share the joy of completing a challenge together as well as have quiet, gentle interactions?...

Honestly, while this has not always been true, the answer to these today is yes (at least, most of the time).

Believe me, it was a surprising realization.

I don't know if it's the persistent training, him maturing into his 6-year-old self, or a mix of both, but unless he's been cooped up in his stall for 24 hours and is stir crazy from lack of mental and physical stimulation, I'm able to be at ease when I'm around him.

Duh, Leah, when his needs are met, he's pleasant to be around.

While I have a habit of carrying a dressage whip whenever I'm interacting with loose horses, I haven't needed it to defend my space from him in a while. He's starting to accept that I'll greet him by rubbing his forehead or scratching his neck rather than engaging with his mouth. He's no longer the constantly pushy, mouthy baby he once was.

I'm beginning to trust him. 

I felt confident hopping on him in a bareback pad our first ride together post concussion, walking on the buckle. 

Is he perfect? Obviously no. I still worry about him testing new people, but he has come a long way in that area, plus I have the right tools and knowledge to set everyone up for success. I don't worry quite as much as I used to that he'll do something particularly rude or even dangerous. 

Thank you again, Kate

As I inspected our daily interactions, I realized it isn't just me experiencing a change. Nowadays, he typically responds to slow, gentle cues on the ground with a soft eye, no need to escalate pressure until he tenses and jumps into action. He often relaxes into my touch instead of trying to nip/play. He quickly transitions to yawning and letting go of tension when I do massage and body work instead of getting defensive. He follows me quietly with a level topline, not flinching and expecting me to back him up every time I look over at him.

He's starting to trust me. 

This foundation of mutual trust opens so many doors for us.

I've gained understanding of how Pyro learns (which is rather quickly IF you are clear and give him time to process), what motivates him (play above all else, although attention and cookies are acceptable too), and his unique needs (mental stimulation beyond a hay net in his stall, acceptable outlets for his mouthiness, verbal reassurance he did the right thing, etc.). 

Setting up stall toys for him daily has been a game changer.

I find it extremely rewarding when Pyro and I progress in our dressage practice together, finding a more biomechanically correct and harmonious way of working together. 

No matter the tack 

I doubt I'd ever find a horse more driven to engage with me than Pyro. Honestly, sometimes I think I might need a restraining order! While his mother waits for me to walk all the way out to her in the field (neither running away nor taking a step towards me), I can count on Pyro to come trotting as soon as he realizes I'm there. While he never misses an opportunity for entertainment, he isn't people-oriented, he's me-oriented. He will nicker just for me when I walk in the barn, watching (borderline stalking) to see if I'll come pay him attention or bring him out to do something fun. Talking with Jen last night, she brought up that she doesn't know what it would do to Pyro if I ever did sell him. While we both agree that is not a deciding factor in whether he's right for me, it speaks volumes about how clearly he has chosen me as "his".

Pyro: "Hi favorite human!!"
Missy: "Do you have cookies, servant?"

When it comes to going on adventures together, Pyro has shown that he is game. No matter what I've thrown his way, he has always been willing to at least try for me, both on and off the farm. 

Even in the face of super spooky/exciting cows

He had me grinning in the dressage arena (a novel concept) last season,...

Dressage is fun with the Pinto Party

...carried me through my first ever endurance ride,...

Which felt like a major accomplishment for our partnership despite only being 6 miles long

...and tried his heart out when I asked him to do a reining pattern for the first time at a show.

In the rain, no less

Additionally, his conformational "flaws" do not prevent him from doing any sports at the level I'm interested in.

His scope exceeds my courage.

A critical piece of the suitability puzzle finally fell into place recently. Pyro and I can share quiet, peaceful moments together.

Good boy

With as wildly playful as he is, I feared he would never mature past his obnoxious mouthiness and tendency to turn any of my attempts at affection into a wrestling match. 

put_everything_in_mouth.exe has been running from the start

However, just last night, I stood in his stall door as he ate a snack. He would lift his head to look around, allowing me to gently rub his face. There was no touching me with his muzzle, using me as a scratching post, or attempting to instigate play, just quietly enjoying each other's company. 

No photo evidence of that, just this picture of him staring at me while I stuff my face with "your mare is choking, so here's food and alcohol while we wait for her to clear it" tacos. Credit for all the things goes to Jen

While we may have taken the long road to get there, it appears that my goals and Pyro's suitability have serendipitously aligned. I like 6-year-old Pyro. So long as I don't let our past cloud our future, it's looking pretty bright. 

We'll enjoy the journey through the next adventures, both big and small, together.