We all do it.
It is with bruised knuckles and sore ribs that I write this confession. The sun came back. I told you yesterday that we were mired in rain and stormy weather. Well, I guess I lied. This morning was cloudy, but then this golden light threw itself across the landscape again. And I smiled. Amidst feeling terribly guilty, of course.
Why do I have bruised knuckles and sore ribs you ask? Oh my, well you’re very kind to care. Today was one of those jumping from one extreme to the other kind of days. This morning one of the horses was an arsehole and decided to barge me against the stable door frame. She winded me and went trotting off up the yard. I tried to run, but couldn’t breathe which is apparently quite a useful thing when you’re trying to do anything fast paced. Or anything at all in fact. So that was fun. Fortunately I’d already put up some of the fencing ready for turning the horses out into the top paddock. So she was secured, but I was infuriated by the whole thing. Stupid horse.
That explains the sore ribs anyway. Recovering from having the air crushed out of me, I felt fine. In fact for the rest of the day I was okay. It wasn’t until I was changing after my shower this evening that I realised I was sore. Pfft.
And the knuckles? Well that happened later. I’d already had another horse escape on me. He was supposed to come into the stables, but when I moved the fencing to let the others out, off he slipped out. Sneaky devil. “Sod it” I thought, and said as much to Anita. The farrier is coming to sort his feet out next week and it’s not like they can get much worse at the moment, so he may as well go out and be happy. So I came back to the yard mildly annoyed, and proceeded to muck out the remaining stables. Which weren’t too bad, but I’d already done three so my barrow was pretty full. As I wheeled it through the gate to the muck trailer, I had an extreme failure of depth perception. Which resulted in getting a little close to the vacant dog pen, bashing my hand into the metal lock. Crap it hurt! But it was one of those “Oh god oh god oh god the pain but if I go to clutch my hand and whimper like my instincts are telling me to then this barrow full of poo is going to go everywhere and that’ll create even more work for me” moments. You know the ones, we all have them.
Other parts of the day included my bank being total arseholes. Apparently I am in possession of a credit card for which I am being charged. Except I cancelled that account and requested all associated cards be cancelled also. Turns out the bank can only do half a job, because the account is cancelled but now they’re saying (six months later I might add) that I have a card with fees on it. STUPID. I hate banks. Wankers.
Thank god for Cleo and Skooch is all I can say. Because while the previous events left me feeling pissed off, cranky and miserable, not to mention sore, the times I rode today gave me a great deal of satisfaction and joy.
I worked Skooch again, giving him a chance to show off all his new found supple abilities. And, of course, he worked his little socks off. His attitude is just so refreshing. We didn’t do much different from yesterday’s session as I wanted to reinforce what we’d worked on, getting him to improve on his bending through corners and continue getting that nice steady trot. He sweated up like crazy again. Poor fat boy. But he’s looking less like a pregnant mare by the day! Woop.
And Cleo was a surprisingly good ride. Sometimes she can be a resistant madam and refuses to listen. She tried for a bit, by heading off in a fast paced trot and ignoring my aids. But eventually, with some encouragement and patience on my part, she started to listen and came back around nicely. I got some really nice trot work from her, with a couple of beautiful floaty feeling canters too. I even popped her over a jump which she fumbled the take-off and landing of the first couple of times. But she sussed it out and by the fourth time she was clearing it smoothly and cleanly. Not that she knocked it at all actually, she just launched from too far away and landed awkwardly. The last jump I got from her was a beauty though, and she cantered away with the lovely light canter we’d had on the approach. So I was very happy with her. And with myself.
Although she’s quite fat at the moment, she’s so much fitter than Skooch. She worked just as hard as him today and yet she sweated about half as much. She still sweated a fair bit, but nothing like as much as him. Shows how much having that higher level of muscle tone and strength will do for you. Skooch is getting there though, bit by bit.
Thanks to those two, today wasn’t a disaster despite my injuries. I’m fine, but when I got out of the shower and came back to my room I was feeling thoroughly miserable and sorry for myself. Like a sulky kid.