On the Line

I  jinxed myself with that post about the fire photo. This week has been nothing but putting out fires – from an unusually hectic Sidelines deadline, to an actual fire on the hill next to my barn on Tuesday morning. After living through this in 1991, there’s nothing that gives me the creeps quite like the sight of smoke where it shouldn’t be:

Oh California, you tinderbox, you.

This fire was teensy-tiny, and the white blob to the right is facility manager Kevin tearing up the hill in his water truck. I think he had the fire out before the firefighters even showed up. It was mostly the symbolism that got to me. Usually I’d just call it a coincidence, but this little blaze was the beginning of a week that only got crazier from there. September’s Sidelines will feature an unusual cover (you’ll have to tell me if you like it) that goes with a cover story by Lauren Giannini about maybe the first person ever to grace Sidelines’ cover who is NOT a horse person. That story and the rest of the issue have been the source of many email flurries, back and forth edits and general nailbiting all around among the staff. Hopefully it’s all worth the trouble! On top of that it’s been a busy week for our new media department (that would be me), as we add a new way for people to buy and read Sidelines on their computers and iPads. It took a lot of talking to get that little link from idea to reality. I haven’t had a minute to take a deep breath until right now, at 10pm on a Friday night. And now, well thank goodness I’m  heading into a busy weekend of teaching, riding, and being at the barn. Horses, clients, grooms, scheduling and all the rest is kind of trading hectic for hectic, but I can’t complain. . . as long as no more fires break out!

I was super surprised to find my old farrier Doug Roberts in a place I least expected last week: the limelight! Doug, who shod my family’s two horses at Piedmont Stables in Oakland, CA a few years back, is a typically quiet farrier who gets the job done without any frills. He doesn’t have an apprentice or a big fancy rig. He’s from Livermore, CA, and most East Bay farriers don’t bother with custom-painted tow trailers like the ones favored by their counterparts who work across the bay in posh and pricey Woodside.

But somehow, Doug got himself entered and is now a finalist in Mitchum’s The Hardest Working ______ in America contest. The finalists make up a wide range of hardworking people. You fill in the blank, fighter pilot, drill sergeant , “do gooder”, custodian and others. Among other things, the winner gets $100,000, but horse people everywhere gain exposure if Doug wins! Just like American Idol, it’s voting time now, so follow the link and vote for Doug! We all know how hard farriers work. Doug is 61 years old and I happen to know from personal experience, he’s no exception!

Vote for Doug here!!

Thanks to Fran Jurga’s Hoof Blog for posting about Doug last week!

Your caption here.

I love this picture. And not only because it could be the subject of one kick-ass photo caption contest:

Dressage or death!!

Walk at A, posting trot at M, duck, cover, and roll at B!

Halt at X or ELSE!

This photo, taken by the very talented Amy McCool, has the power to illustrate so many things that it could be sold as one of those motivational posters. You know the ones. It illustrates extreme focus. Success at all costs. Mounting pressure. My life during deadline week.

But doesn’t it also illustrate a certain apathy with which us Californians treat wildfires? Maybe it’s me, but I don’t think I would have kept showing that day. If you’ve been to the Los Angeles Equestrian Center, where the photo was taken, you know exactly how close that hill is! Southern CA-based Amy doesn’t even remember which wildfire she took this photo during, there have been that many over the past few years. By the way, if you’re saying to yourself right now “yes, but we’d still have plenty of time to evacuate”,  you’ve just marked yourself a local.

I’ll be crossing my fingers that this year doesn’t bring us another fire season to remember. And if it does, you won’t catch me finishing any test or ride. . .  I’ll be out of there!

It’s a new week, which means it’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself (see previous entry.) Worse things have happened, the horse will recover, etc, etc, etc. And if I ever want something to take my mind off mind-numbing rehab schedules, I need only to watch my friend, trainer Chrissy Christensen, jump her new horse Vaalexma:

They see invisible jumps. . .

The jump they just cleared is behind those yellow flowers in the corner of the frame.  Proving once again that a “free” horse is never free – Vaalexma was a jumper out of Mexico with a teeny, tiny little speed issue. But, apples to oranges, what I call a flat-out bolt Chrissy just calls “fast.” Vaalexma came to Chrissy straight from a three-year stretch as a pasture ornament, and against all odds she figured out how to control the mare just in time for the Woodside Summer Classic.

Chrissy is on my list of people I will write about: she trains dressage horses, jumpers and (to mix things up?) Saddlebreds in Menlo Park, CA. She’s determined to ride grand prix dressage AND show jumping, and when she does I’ll be sure she makes the pages of Sidelines. For now though, watching the looks on people’s faces when Vaalexma tears into the ring is entertainment enough.

Last week I mentioned that my horse went lame before the Anne Kursinski clinic. After dealing with off/on lameness all spring, we finally got a verdict –I mean diagnosis- of a deep digital flexor tendon tear. So as I commence upon many, many weeks of handwalking, lots of thoughts are going through my head. Among them, the top ten reasons why having a broken horse feels a lot like . . .

1. When you saw him you just knew it; this was the one you’d been waiting for. The possibilities were endless. He was just so talented and smart! He had a super personality and all your friends loved him!

2. Those first few days/weeks/months were incredible. Everything just clicked! It was like you’d known each other for years.

3. Even better, he had no excess baggage! Well, none that you couldn’t handle just fine, thank you very much.

4. Sure, there were one or two minor communication issues, but after a few heart-to-hearts, everything was A-OK again.

5. Well, except for that nagging feeling you got from time to time that something might not be exactly right. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But anyway, he had no reason to be sore. You always worked so hard to give him the best care and attention!

6. Then one day something came up that you couldn’t ignore. The two of you visited the doctor together. The xray was clean but there was some swelling in the joints. Luckily, after a quick injection the problem went away!

7. . . . for a little bit. But now there was a crack in the foundation. And that darn crack just kept on growing. It was getting in the way of all your fun! You couldn’t run or jump together, and there were definitely no more long walks on the beach. Finally, you called a trusted specialist for help.

8. You should have trusted your gut. The problem had been there all along, but it had taken this long to get a good diagnosis. It took you even longer to accept it. Now what? Back in the days when anything seemed possible, you didn’t imagine this happening.

9.  Maybe you jumped the gun, and pressured him too soon. This could all be your fault. There’s no real way to tell.

10. He may recover, but you don’t know for sure. And after all that optimism at the beginning of the relationship, you don’t know if you’ll ever recover. Right now it just seems hopeless. Was there a time when you could look at him without your eyes tearing up? You can’t remember.

That's about where we are now