Leslie and Tout de Suite (Colby) at Rocking Horse.
Valentine’s weekend we were at the Rocking Horse Event. Leslie and I were having a great time. All of our horses have come out swinging this year (probably cursing myself) and on day one after some dressage and show jumping most of our horses were in the top five placings, the sun was shining, life was good. There is a certain euphoria that comes when things are going well and you are doing what you love, making a living out of it and basking in warm Florida February sunshine. Still after all of these years doing it we have a really good time at most of the events. We laugh a lot, we enjoy the animals for what they are and the sport for the exciting thing it is. We really like and enjoy the company of our clients and students, experience interest in watching each other compete still and pride and excitement when it goes well for us and the young horses we have educated and brought up. We love it when our son comes along and he goes off with his friends like a tribe of wild children and have a fabulous time in nature during this age of technology and, if you look really carefully you may even spot us holding hands during the odd cross country course walk.
Later as we were driving home and I was sat in the passenger seat of the truck checking the social networks we learnt the horrible news that a young man Francisco Seabra had died on cross country at an event across the pond on the Sunshine Tour. Although neither of us had known Mr. Seabra, it was clear that he was a competent four star rider who had the misfortune of dying at what was in fact a two star event. Hearing that news sucks the life right out of any event rider. You immediately can relate to them and think first of them and all of their lost dreams and then of their family and friends who are left with a total devastation with no idea where to start picking up pieces of a meaningless tragedy. Leslie and I don’t speak about it much out loud as a small part of you believes that one daren’t speak the words lest your speech give them life. But believe you me, all we have to do is look at each other in the eye and everything is said and understood… not that one can ever truly understand those deaths and that level of sadness.
Later that evening as a Valentine’s day celebration we, and a few of our eventing friends, celebrated in style by taking our kids with us and going to the ‘Highschool Rodeo’ which was being held under the big covered school at the Ocala Horse Park. Having come from the UK where Rodeo is not a big deal, Leslie has always taken a keen interest in Rodeo and will often watch the PBR on TV so with it in our back yard we could not possibly miss it!
We had to sit through quite a bit of ‘goat tying’ and ‘steer wrestling’ which I found quite boring yet Liam found every moment of it riveting and stood at the metal bars around the arena the whole time. The saddle bronc and bareback bronc riding were unbelievable. Keep in mind these kids were all high school age, these horses would burst out of the pens and run full balls to the wall around the arena head down and bucking like mad. Incredibly not one kid had a helmet on. Liam was amazed and kept looking back at us with wide eyes marveling at the “naughty horses” and all I could think of as I watched the interest in him grow was that perhaps I had made a massive mistake bringing him along. I turned to Leslie and said, “I hope he never wants to do this because if so I will be THAT mom who demands her kid wears a helmet!” The odd time a kid would get hung up in the roping as they were trying to get off and for a few very scary runs around the arena be hanging off the side of the horses with their heads just inches from the metal walls. It almost made me sick to be fair. The next thing we knew they were letting one horse out of the gate and as it burst out it took three strides and then started spinning and spinning like you wouldn’t believe just around and around so fast your eyes couldn’t focus. Next thing we knew it just fell down pinning the kid underneath and before you could even process what was going on there were about five grown men sitting on and around the horse and another pulling the boy out from underneath.
Leslie and I and our adult friends just sat in disbelief our mouths hanging open while our kids leaned through the bars watching for what felt like at least five minutes. Liam looked back at me and said, “Is that horse dying Momma?” All that was going through my head was, “I cannot believe we came here for an entertaining night out and here we go… a horse is dying right in front of us.” I had no clue what to do with Liam, what the Motherhood Handbook would prescribe in this situation, and felt sick that no matter what it seemed like death in horse sport was following us around. Next thing we knew…up popped that horse like a bloody jack in the box. It was the darndest thing. It must have laid there for a good five to eight minutes and then all of a sudden up it jumped, shook itself off and ran back to the other horses’ pens. This is not much of a vet diagnosis, but I reckon it made itself dizzy or something… I don’t know but thank god it got up and the boy was fine.
Where I’m going with all this is that it was a very intense day, between the man dying and the horse falling down, that by the time I got home, put Liam to bed, grabbed a large glass of red and thought about my cross country rides for the next morning all I could really think of was “What the hell are we thinking? We must be mad. What are we doing this for? Do I really think I have such luck as to dodge the bullet every time I flirt with our version of Russian Roulette?”
The next morning we all left the house a bit morose perhaps but went out on our young horses and had great rides to be honest. Then Leslie had to get on his and Beatrice Rey-Herme’s eight-year-old horse Tout de Suite to take him around his first advanced…then my stomach got to turning.
We’ve had ‘Colby’ since he was a five-year-old. Leslie has done every step of his education himself. Took him to his first event as a five-year-old. Colby was the most winning six-year-old event horse in America and as a seven-year-old, Colby won CIC two stars and multiple horse trials. He’s a fabulously talented horse but, of course, not without his quirks, as they all have. Although I have faith in his talent, and my husband’s ability, one never knows how a horse is going to take to the first advanced track.
That’s the horse, now for Leslie…. We have seven medals hanging in our house from the Worlds, Olympics, and Europeans. I think after you achieve that, it is hard to be as happy as the rest of us over smaller accomplishments like winning an intermediate horse trials, for example. Once you have something as massive as an individual gold, I am sure for the rest of your life some smaller triumphs are minimalized, if you know what I mean. It is because of that I think that often one would not see Leslie really, truly, elated at an event. I always marvel at him when he comes home with his young horses all having won at events that he doesn’t seem over the moon…but alas…that is just him. He is happy don’t get me wrong…but he is level headed I guess…not ecstatic like most would be. On the other side of the coin, you rarely see him scared or worried. He is cool as a cucumber on most occasions and hardly ever breaks a sweat when competing. Well, except when he takes one out for their first advanced. Then…if you look real real close…you can see perhaps an extra wrinkle on his forehead or a slight, tiniest look of worry in his eye.
As they went out of the box, I sat on our four-wheeler with Liam in front of me ready to race around as much as I could after them. So many thoughts flew through my head in the 15 second count down in the box. Amongst them, “What are we doing? What would we do? Why do I have Liam here in case something were to happen?” and then, “Shut up. They will be ok.” And then they are off…
The first half of the course there were a few elbows flying in front of the bigger fences in the last few strides and my heart was in my mouth as you could literally seethe horse computing, “Huh. These are bigger than normal.” But then about half way through they had got it. You could genuinely see the confidence in the horse swell as he took to the challenge and ate it up. You could magically see with your eyes the invisible communication between horse and rider as they spoke their way through the course. You could see the horse swell up with something like pride as he tore up that course and as Liam and I and our head girl literally chased him through the finish flags at the end of the course the most magical thing happened. The joy on both the horse and the rider’s parts literally emanated from them.
I hate to anthropomorphize horses ,but I tell you what, that horse was happy. His ears were pricked, he walked like we was the cat’s meow, and you could just tell he was proud. It is so easy to see a horse that has been deflated, used up, discouraged by bad riding, or pain, or whatever, but just the opposite you could see the pleasure in this horse as he walked back to the trailer. And Leslie? I had to hold back tears as when he pulled up, my normally composed, British, husband couldn’t help himself and did a fist pump when there was no one there to see it and the smile across his face and joy in his eyes were of innumerable value. You could see the hearts floating out of him and towards his horse just like in the cartoons and I think when he got off his feet did not touch the ground for a good few hours after.
On top of that was Beatrice. Beatrice has been a dear owner of ours for years and has owned about four horses with us over the years. She has gone through some very nice ups and many nasty downs with us and to see her run around the course on her feet with her binoculars glued to her eyeballs and then the look on her face when they passed the finish flags… That was another treat in itself. We are a family all of us with these horses and without any one of us the equation would never work. I was so happy for her to have that special moment as well.
It has been just over three years since that horse hit our barn door. Three years of riding, talking, planning, organizing between myself, Leslie, Beatrice, all our staff and not to mention the willing, wonderful horse himself. Three years that accumulated into that five-minute cross country ride in which your green five-year-old magically transforms into what looks like could perhaps be a world contender one day. It was a moment that I will treasure for a long, long time. A moment of pure delight and happiness in its truest form.
And as I drove slowly behind him and Colby, back to the trailer, I thought, “That. That is why we do this”
Here is a link to his cross country if you are interested!
