The Nos

Have you ever felt like you hear "No" at every turn. No, you can't do this. No, that's too hard. No, that would take way too much effort. No, just give up or don't even try. It seems to me that not every "No" means your going in the wrong direction, it may just be a test of your resolve. Instead of "No" being a statement, what if it was a question? "No?" feels so much different than "No." It also requires a response. So, then the once statements from above become questions. You need to make a decision instead of receiving one. You're not being told what to do by your circumstances or by chance, but you are taking captive your actions and moving into a forward, decisive mindset. I for one have never been very good at being told "No" in the first place. It feels like defeat. Maybe it's just personality, but it may also be that I come from a long line of extraordinary people who never took it for an answer, unless it was the wise choice. They didn't take it because it was the easiest thing to do or because that's what everyone else around them was doing. My heritage is from a strong people. Stubborn. Headstrong. Solid. Powerful. And I now accept that heritage whole-heartedly. It came to good use in my most recent adventure with Gabe:

My current barn owner has been generous enough to let me borrow her horse trailer now that I have a truck and so on the first Saturday that I had off from work I asked to borrow it to take Gabe xc schooling. I also was hoping to do a "test-run" for our up-coming first show.  I planned to go to a barn where we had been before. It had a great xc training facility and was only an hour away, plus I knew the owners. So, bright and early David and I got up, hooked up the truck and trailer, loaded Gabe and arrived at the facility by 8:30 am with the morning dew still thick in the air. It looked like we were in Scotland.  It looked so promising, then I realized that the dew wasn't the only thing thick in the air. The xc course was so overgrown you would've needed a machete to get through it.  When I walked out to the first jump, David could just see the top of my hand waving at him. I'm 5'7. Ridiculous. Then the owner, whom I had contacted ahead of time to make sure I could use the xc course, came out of the barn, saw us, and then promptly drove off. Insert your own boiling angry description here. Once my anger passed I cried...for the second time that day and it wasn't even 9 am. Eish. The sun had barely risen and defeat was already on the horizon. So, which was it going to be..."No." or "No?".  Both went through my head. Both seemed to be an option. Then I realized that if I accepted a small "No." like this, I wasn't going to achieve anything.  So, I put on my big girl breeches and made a decision. I made sure David was still hanging in there with me and we decided that today I was going to xc school on Gabe no matter what. That was my answer. Now I just had to find a way.  We ended up driving to Gibes Farm in St. Matthews, SC. It was 2 1/2 hours away, we had to go through horrid Columbia traffic, and we arrived in the heat of the day, but we did it. It was so worth it. The facility was AMAZING. It was well maintained and well planned out. Plus, we had the place to ourselves, since all the sane people whose plans hadn't fallen apart had left around 12:30. The only issues I had was when a seemingly pale Indian statue on course came to life and scared me senseless.  It turned out David had left his spot at the rig, taken his shirt off, but left it on his head, and was stoically watching me with his arms crossed.  I thought it was a carving honoring our Native American heritage and didn't give much more thought to it until it moved. The only other thing to go "wrong" was that Gabe kept falling over like a fainting goat when I went to put the studs into his shoes. This is why test-runs are so important. At first I freaked mentally. I thought, "No way he's that tired from a 3 hour trailer ride. How are we going to go xc or even get home?" Then, I remembered that with his new 5-point harness he magically feels like it's connected to some great string in the sky when you pick his feet up and he seemingly forgets to balance on the other three legs and falls over. Bizarre, yes. From now on I will pick his feet and put in his studs before the harness goes on. Fainting goat.  Other than those two things it was a great experience. He also got "style points" from David when we lost momentum coming up to a log on a hill and Gabe slid both legs over the front of the log and stopped. We were obviously leaving our caboose behind. What's a horse to do? He put both back feet on the jump and pushed off. I don't know if that counts as jumping, but we made it over. Later we were able to get into a decent rhythm and Gabe jumped confidently by the end. I worked on my position and responding to him promptly. We're trying to work on resolving the "wet noddle" approach to jumps. I also saw jumps that inspired me and I realized the talent of the people and horses that could jump them. At the end of my ride I told David, "I wish I would've had a trainer with me today to help me know what other jumps I could do" as I had kept it very easy and simple. He said, "Which other ones do you want to do?" My response, "All of them!"

Our next question has since surfaced. There is a Schooling Horse Trials coming up at Windridge Farm this August 24th and I plan on entering.  So, tonight I went on Event Entries to complete our forms and their website is down. "No." you say? Ha. We've heard that before.