I don’t even know if that is a word, so I spelled it funny. But you get the idea. I try to write about things I experience during the week that are either great life lessons, aha moments or other forms of self discovery. I think it is more important and more interesting if I write about something that actually happened to me rather than try to demonstrate something I only read about. So here goes.
As you know (or maybe you don’t) my horse has been up here since the end of September. It was with great anticipation and high hopes for our future together that I started going to the barn for lessons within two weeks of her arrival. No such luck. Ruby had never been out in a pasture before and had never hung out with other horses. Back in California she was in her stall, albeit a very nice outdoor stall with a roof over her head and open on three sides, next to the outdoor arena which was great for watching other horses and people. She loved it there. Then what did I do? I moved her to Oregon where it is much colder, rains a lot and where she is outside all day, regardless of the weather! Let me just say that I had tremendous pangs of guilt the first couple of months. In California if she was out in a turnout and it started to rain I would grab her and get her back in her stall before a dozen drops had touched her precious behind. Big change here.
It could have gone either way. She could have hated her new surroundings. She could have refused to play nicely with her new friends in the pasture. She could have hated the rain and the cold and been miserable. Mixed blessing. She loved it! I say mixed because guess what that meant for me when I wanted to bring her in for a lesson? She would run away from me! She would hide behind other horses! Yes, literally, as if I couldn’t see some part of her body sticking out from behind another horse. Pretty funny. Not at the time, but still, pretty funny. Did she really think I would not be able to see her?
My new trainer and I worked on catching her for the next several months. I even had the input and training of an outside professional, twice. His solution was to make her move if she wouldn’t let me catch her. I hated it but that is what we did. For a short time she was put in a much smaller space, alone. She didn’t like that. But even there she avoided being caught. To say that I was frustrated would be an understatement. To say that on several occasions I cursed myself for ever bringing her up here would be the truth. A couple of times I even left the pasture without catching her (cussing under my breath) which I later found out was a big error in training.
Instead of riding her which I fully expected to be doing, and progressing by leaps and bounds, I was just learning how to catch a horse who stubbornly refused to be caught. Not what I signed up for.
Slowly with time it became a little easier to catch her. And I’m talking months, not days. She finally decided that being chased by me or someone else with a noisy stick until exhaustion was no longer fun and allowing herself to get caught wouldn’t be too bad as long as she was eventually brought back to her friends. That was another thing she was worried about. Perhaps it was even the reason she didn’t want to be caught in the first place.
Starting sometime this month, a full six months after getting here, it has become considerably easier to get her. I have been averaging between 20-24 minutes (I know, long time, right?) until the last week or so. Then it went to 14 minutes. Yesterday for the very first time she walked right over to me! I almost broke down and cried. Who are you and what have you done with my horse? I said to her, feeling like I was in some kind of alternate universe. Of course she did not reply. She merely looked at me as if to say, Okay, let’s do this!
In the last week I have been able to get on her back three times. That’s three times in almost six months. But the challenges continue. Because she has not had to “work” in six months except for some light ground training, she is stiff, out of shape and even resentful that I would expect her to be ridden and listen to instructions. How dare I? Which means that I am now on a new journey. A journey to get her back into shape and me back to becoming the rider I was less than a year ago.
I have mentioned that I was sorely tempted to give up, many times. I fought the suggestions of my trainer. (Why, did I think I knew better? Yes, kinda.) I decided one day about two months ago that I would keep my mouth shut and listen to my trainer and do whatever she told me to do with regard to catching my horse. And now that I can catch her, I must continue that commitment to listen and work, little by little but consistently, so that Ruby and I can get back to where we were before we moved to Oregon. Ugh. This requires so much patience, positive attitude and trust. It is frustrating, disheartening, disappointing and discouraging all wrapped up with a big bow.But what are my choices? Quit? No, I don’t think so. The longest journey begins with one small step. One step followed by another and then another and still another.
Sticktoitiveness. I looked it up. It is a word after all. And a very good word I might add. When you find yourself in a place that you didn’t expect to be, but you know it’s not a bad place, stick to it, even if it means taking some steps backwards in order to go forwards. There is tremendous joy and pride when you reach your goal. Don’t give up. God bless.