Goodbye Handsome Hephalumph

You came into my life when I needed someone steady, someone solid, someone kind and reassuring. You gave me so much. I am going to miss you for always, and I hope that what I'm doing will ensure that you have lifelong love and happiness.

I love you more than words can express, my Strider, and owe you so much. Goodbye my friend and many blessings.

Excercises for Riders

I did not write this, but came upon it on the internet and was VASTLY amused... if you own a horse you will know just how true this is...

"With the right horse, you begin your fitness program by walking out to the pasture. As you stride briskly, you carry the halter and lead rope behind you, pushed up high on your back so the lead doesn't drag. The purpose of this is to tone your chest and upper-arm muscles (because you're not fooling your horse, for he knows what you carry). As you approach to within a few feet of him, he'll walk slowly away from you, but at a pace just so you can't reach him, then stop. This will be repeated several times in succession, until you're ready to jog. At that point, because you own just the right horse, he will trot, then gallop around the pasture. If you're at the advanced level of fitness, you may continue chasing after him for maximum aerobic benefits, or just stop and start throwing rocks at him to give your rotator cuffs a workout. (Make sure you switch throwing arms. Not only is this a benefit to you, your horse will think it hilarious). Beginners may =0 A prefer to toss the halter and lead on the ground, bend forward from the waist, and engage in heavy breathing and chanting (that's what we'll call it, anyway -- chanting) as the horse continues to circle the field. For those of you that have experience with this exercise, you may choose to throw the halter and lead, walk briskly, bend, pick up, repeat. When the horse determines you've had enough of this warm-up session, he'll allow you to catch him.

Now comes the total upper-body workout of grooming. The right horse, of course, will be caked in dried mud. The cement-like consistency of it will require work-to-exhaustion effort of your biceps and triceps. NOTE: This exercise has added value, the dried mud will stick to your face with perspiration, instant facial! Next comes the bending, stretching, and toning of hoof-picking. Bend over, pick up the horse's left front foot, then be prepared to jump back as he stomps it back down to the ground, narrowly missing your foot. (Keep your knees bent as you jump, to protect your lower back.) Reach down and pick up the foot again, hopping about with the horse to maintain your grip as you attempt to pick what seems to be dirt mixed with Super Glue from the hoof. Eventually the horse may stand still; you may be chanting by this time. Repeat the entire circuit 3 more times with the remaining feet.

Once you can stand erect again, it's time for the insect repellent exercise. True, with this one, your horse may actually get more of a workout than you do, but you certainly get more of the repellent. It goes like this: Squirt!-circle- circle. Squirt!-circle- circle. Squirt!-circle- circle--- and so on, until you're completely misted with repellent and chanting 'whoa you sonofab... whoa'. To receive maximum benefit from this exercise, make sure you are at the beginning of a deep inhalation during the 'squirt' cycle and exhale after the last chanting 'whoa'.

With the right horse, saddling up provides both aerobic and strength building benefits. The trick is to keep your feet moving as you heft the saddle blanket over and over (and over), trying to keep it in place on a moving target. The blanket exercise warms you up for the saddle exercise, for which the routine is the same, only the weight is much greater -- perfect for buffing those hard-to-tone shoulder muscles.

Now comes the mounting exercise. With the right horse, it's left leg up, hop-hop-hop, left leg down, heavy breathing. Left leg up, hop-hop-hop, left leg down, heavy breathing. For balance, go around to the other side and continue the exercise (right leg up, hop-hop-hop, heavy breathing, right leg down, heavy breathing, etc.). When your heart rate begins to exceed your target range, look for a bucket. Bend over, pick it up, place it upside-down next to t he horse, wait for the horse to move away, then bend over, pick it up again, place it next to the horse, and so on. NOTE: This is a cooling down routine, not to be confused with the warm up pasture routine. When the horse deems you've had enough of these repetitions, he'll stand still and allow you to actually mount.

At this point, of course, you'll be too exhausted to ride and your facial mask will be dropping off in chunks. It's best not to overdo it, so dismount, grab a glass of wine, and head in to recover in a bubble bath." ~ author unknown

How I met the Banana Shaped Mare, aka Susan's Glory

Some years ago at the ripe age of 34, I decided to start a riding career. Actually, I just decided to start a riding hobby, but people seem to use this word “career” quite loosely in this context. Initially I had romantic dreams of riding endurance races cowboy style on a beautiful Arabian stallion, but my start in riding was nothing like that.

In truth, I was vastly overweight and unfit, and I think, somewhat depressed. My father had just passed away and I was in a difficult long term relationship that just would not reach a satisfactory conclusion, while simultaneously having lost its spark some three years before. I inherited a small sum of money, and decided to put this to use doing something I have always dreamt of, and might have enjoyed as a child.

After some soul searching, I remembered that some of my happiest moments as a child were spent on horseback, on a fat, ugly little pony that refused to canter and tried to scrape me off against barbed wire fences and thorn trees… In spite of the pony’s evil disposition, I adored that feeling of freedom and peace I had while on horseback, with wide open spaces all around and the only sound that of the wind whistling through the long grass. In those moments it was as if I was enveloped in divine glory and time simply stood still. I remember that I used to slip down to the stables at every opportunity to lavish attention on the evil pony, for which my love was pretty much unrequited (unless I was armed with a tasty treat of some sort).

So, armed with my happy memories, and a pair of brand new (uncomfortable) Jodhpur boots and unflattering beige Jodhpurs, I set off to the first riding school I could find on the internet. My instructor was a pretty but quite pimply faced teen. I wondered casually if the CCMA would take on the riding school for using child labour. The teen asked me what my riding experience was and what I hoped to achieve from my lessons. I replied that I rode a bit as a child, and that I hoped to learn to ride again, as it has been a long time and I seem to have forgotten how to ride.

The pimply teen produced a sweat drenched riding school hat and a horse that from close up appeared to be the size of an African elephant (probably to match my own rotund stature). Said furry mammoth turned out to be a 16.3hh thoroughbred mare of about 20 years old, kind and patient and certainly deserving of a better life than to take rotund ladies on their first rides. Nervously I clambered into the saddle from a high mounting block, and was led into the lunge arena, where the pimply faced teen (PFT) handed me the reins and a riding crop. My word, I had forgotten how high it felt from the back of a horse! Once we were safely inside the arena, the torment started… and my Arabian endurance dreams starting imploding softly, one by one.

The PFT stood in the centre and shrieked commands: “Heels down, Thumbs up, Shoulders back! Push her forward! Lift your hands! Nooo!!! Don’t pull her in the mouth like that!!! Heels down, I said!” This continued for 30 minutes, as I made noodle shapes in the arena and tried to figure out what to do with the crop I had been given, and how to make my legs and my hands do different things. I should point out that I am not exactly the most coordinated of people… I am normally the one at the back in the aerobics class ungracefully tying myself into various pretzel shapes.

All through this the furry mammoth lumbered along in benign patience, carefully following the decidedly directionless path I was steering her on. After ten more similar lessons, I decided to give up on my riding dreams. I felt that I had neither the coordination nor the ability to understand the commands, and that spaghetti curves at the walk was the best I was ever going to be able to do on the back of a horse. I bid a sad farewell to the hairy mammoth, and a rather happier one to the PFT.

Several months passed during which I often reflected wistfully upon my happy childhood, and wished that I could have stayed there. One day a colleague announced that she had found a very nice stable yard that did Outrides, and invited me along on an outride. I remembered my disastrous experiences in the riding school arena, but my colleague was quite persistent and assured me that I would not really need to know how to ride to go on the Outride. That Saturday morning we drove out of town to the stable yard in question, and were met by a young woman with a huge, beautiful smile. She announced that she was leading the Outride, and that she has had horses saddled for us all. I was presented with a dark bay gelding called Star.

Star was apparently 26 years old and I was assured that he would not run or make any quick movements during the Outride. There was no mounting block and I was given my very first “leg up”. I was petrified that the smiling woman would not be able to lift me even a millimeter off the ground, but found myself unceremoniously flung onto the horse, almost missing the horse entirely. I gained great respect for her strength.

The intrepid outriders set off on the Outride in single file, the smiling woman in front on a beautiful black horse, and I on Star second to last. Once we had crossed the road safely, we rode in pairs. The girl on the horse behind me fell in line beside me and proceeded to tell me about her horse which she had recently bought. He was a stunning looking horse, like horses you see on postcards, with a big white blaze down his face and a thick mane and tail. I thought she was incredibly lucky to have such a majestic beast all to herself, and told her so. After a while I came to the realization that I was actually riding, and we were moving forward in a straight line; I was not steering in spaghetti shapes at all! All around us the wind was whispering softly through the tall grass, birds were singing in the trees and we were surrounded by wide open space. Suddenly I had that old familiar feeling from my childhood again, and I was hooked.

After the Outride I slid ungracefully to the ground and gave Star a cuddle, which he accepted with glee. He truly was an old gentleman, brimming with knowledge and good nature. I then approached the smiling girl and asked her if they did lessons at their stable yard. She confirmed that they did and so became my second riding instructor.

For the very first lesson I managed to persuade a colleague to join me. We arrived at the riding school with our jodhpurs and Jodhpur boots, and were placed onto two chestnut horses. I was given the “tamer” of the two because I confessed my complete inability to do anything but steer haphazardly at the walk upfront. My colleague stated that she had ridden a lot on a family farm and was given a fiery 3 year old chestnut horse to start on, which promptly bolted with her and carted my screaming colleague to the very edge of the stable yard’s property. It felt like ages before our instructor managed to retrieve my petrified colleague and her excited steed. After this little incident our lessons were moved to the lunge arena.

These lessons, apart from the fact that they still took place in the lunge arena, bore no resemblance to the first ten lessons I had had with the PFT. I managed to steer the horse in a circle and even managed to trot and steer at the same time! I was not given a crop and not asked to do too much with my body. I started to build up a little bit of confidence and a vague belief that I might be able to learn to ride after all. The lessons with the both of us in the lunge arena became a bit hectic and my colleague and I were split up into individual lessons.

Soon my lessons progressed to lunge lessons, where my instructor put the horse on a lunge rein and my reins were taken away. The aim was to learn to do sitting and rising trot with my hands on my hips, though for a long time I clung to the saddle like a drowning sailor might cling to a life-raft in a turbulent sea. Once I had mastered the art of trotting without holding on, I was allowed to ride in the dressage arena by myself and my lessons were moved to that venue. Around this time I decided to start looking for a horse to purchase for myself. I could confidently walk and trot on a horse, though cantering was still a fearsome prospect to me. In retrospect it was way too soon to purchase a horse, but of course there was no dissuading me.

I looked at a few likely horses I found advertised on the internet. I took my instructor with, and the yard owner, who gave the advanced lessons, as well as her son, who was said to be a very accomplished rider. None of the horses I looked at were suitable, with the best looking one rearing and fighting and refusing to go near the arena even with the accomplished son in the saddle. Quite frankly, I was terrified of it. I heard a few years later that it had Navicular disease and unfortunately had to be put down, when it could not be sold. At the time I had no idea that people would try to sell one a diseased horse simply to get it off their hands. I have since learnt to be a lot less trusting, but I digress.

I was despondent. I wanted a horse of my own, as I felt I wanted to ride more often, especially on weekends. I wanted to do more Outrides as well. And I wanted a horse to love and build a relationship with, which I did not have to share with many other people. Selfish, I know. My ailing relationship was on its last legs and I spent most weekends alone, with my boyfriend visiting his friends or going hunting, a pastime I abhor. I trailed listlessly about the house by myself, and spent more and more time hanging out at the stables, watching the lessons and getting to know the people. My longing for a horse of my own became even more intense. It was then suggested that I try out Susan’s Glory. She belonged to the yard owner at the time and was being half leased to a skinny boot faced girl.

I was told that Suzi was a very good natured mare, if a bit fast, and that she had been a broodmare until a few months before, when the yard owner ‘rescued’ her and started training the horse up for herself.Enter the banana shaped mare. I went on one Outride on her to try her out and I knew I had found my horse. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, a bay mare 15.3 ¾ hh, with no white markings and beautiful big brown eyes. Her mane and tail was thick and shiny, and she seemed to float and prance along, rather than walk and trot. The boot faced girl became even more boot faced; not that I can blame her as she lost Suzi, and I probably would have felt the same about it. I bought my Suzi and so began our journey together.