Hope Horsemanship

Tag: grit

  • Death and Resurrection

    Death and Resurrection

    Everyone dies… but not everyone really lives.

    William Wallace

    As I pondered an appropriate title for this recap I thought it fitting that, on the road to Vermont, my husband stopped to pick up a Garmin Fenix Smartwatch for me as a birthday gift. Next time I might ask if they have a model named: Garmin Victory Lap, or a Garmin Nailed-it…

    Pair of Garmin Fenix Watches

    The Vermont 100 starting line had an eight month lead up from conception to reality — if you don’t count the nine years it took us to crest the first 100 mile finish line in 2023. This was clearly the biggest overall investment in a goal over my decade engaging in equine endurance events. 

    As the event drew near, I realized the larger the investment, the more pressure to produce a favorable outcome builds. What is the point of doing this if it isn’t to ride over the finish line? Most of us know on some level this is not the whole truth. Still, it is a struggle for the goal driven to not only believe there is more to life than a favorable outcome, but to live (and ride) in the peace that larger reality brings.

    I have been binge listening to Jaime & Donna Winship interviews  this year and they have been transformational in my life. The insight and questions have challenged me to up my game when it comes to walking in the truth, and it’s meant being real about what I want to believe, what I know in my head, and what is being lived out in my actions – revealed by my emotional system. I have come to realize, that regardless of what knowledge I have accumulated, my emotional system tells on me, and if I slow down and address it, like it or not, I will find what I really believe, and what I’m actually afraid of.

    I thought the Vermont trip was a test of what my horse was made of, what I was capable of, and if we had what it took to take on an unknown 100 mile ride, and succeed by crossing the finish line. I was probably wrong. 

    As the departure neared it seemed like the resistance grew. Vehicle issues, dog fights, horses escaping in a storm, an entire massive batch of dog food is ruined (this was a huge problem actually!), then bad traffic on our first day of travel leaving us sitting in unseasonably hot temperatures for over an hour— which is not ideal for a horse on her way to a 100 mile event. Each disruption gave me pause and as I wondered “what is this about?” I always heard the nudge: Keep going, do the next step until you don’t have one.

    Shady grass yard for Khaleesi in PA

    I am grateful for the warm welcome from Matt’s family at our layover in PA. Khaleesi had a lovely shaded back yard with grass where I set up her temporary pen, and we enjoyed family time with eggplant and cheesecake!

    The second day of travel brought new territory for both of us as we continued onward and on my birthday we arrived in Vermont— through dark clouds and a rain storm that gave way to a cool evening and stunning colors in the sky. We set up camp alone in the area set aside for smaller trailers, near the start and finish line. This evening I will always remember as a moment of beauty and quiet as we had the entire field to ourselves and the glory of Vermont stretched out on all sides of us. 

    We had arrived.

    Ride camp Thursday evening after the storm

    We woke up to cool breezes and peeking out the tent we watched the grasses dance in the early light. It was sublime and Matt and I took a moment to take in the glory of the last moments of peace and calm we may have for a while. Check in and Vetting in was not available until Friday afternoon, so we puttered about with details, and found a delightful little market and cafe with home made bagels and much needed ice. Camp began to bustle through the day as 450 runners came and went to register for the foot race that would share the trail with us horse riders. When the time came, we checked in with the ride management, then took horse #109 (that’s Khaleesi) to the pre-ride vet inspection. 

    This is where things began to get disruptive again. K had a resting heart rate of 36BPM which is excellent, and her hydration and overall condition earned A scores. The head vet saw something slightly off in her trot out and asked us to try again. We did. He still thought something was questionable and asked us to trot a third time and included another vet to watch. Not enough to hinder us, but enough to plant a seed of doubt, they marked her card with a “B” and suggested I stay aware of the potential something might be off. 

    Checking out the starting line the day before the race.

    This is not what you want to hear the day before you embark on a single-day 100 mile endurance race. 

    I mulled over what it could mean. We visited the ride farrier, Howard, who became a new friend! Marcus had warned that her feet were getting soft from such a wet summer, and I wanted to have her nails clenched in case they were getting loose. Howard chatted with us freely in his Scottish lilt as he checked all four feet and added one nail for good measure in a weak spot. He was a positive and kind guy, and didn’t charge us for the time he spent checking the nails. He wished us the best and promised he’d keep his eye out for us through the day. 

    Still, I had concerns. 

    It clouded my evening. I was nervous. Do I go out with concerns? Once again I asked the question: what should I know, what do I do about it? And I sensed the reply so clearly: You do the next thing you know to do, until there is no next thing. 

    We spent some time looking up references for #109 and I held onto the words from Joshua 1:09 that reminded me to have courage and do not fear because God goes with you. Ok then. We show up to the starting line, and we go. We do the next thing until there isn’t a next thing to do.

    The runners leave at 4am, and what an experience that was! They line up and hundreds of headlamps jog under the starting line turning up the dirt lane past our camp site with cheers and cowbells. Khaleesi was beside herself with the experience! A line of cheering mass in the dark with headlamps bouncing to and fro. She had never seen anything like it. I had been warned of this and she was walking on lead with me when they departed and it took a moment to get her settled back down. 

    Before the start

    The trail opened for horses an hour later, and the eleven, 100-mile equine competitors left camp with my mind on the only problem I thought I was facing: would I end up with a lameness issue today? The trail is monstrously hilly from go. The exit from camp is significantly downhill on a gravel road. I had been walking Khaleesi around camp for 15 minutes, but she was not adequately warmed up for these hills and to make matters more concerning, her adrenaline was way up. Her head was in the air like a llama, and her trot felt like a jackhammer. If I had reason to be concerned she might hurt herself, the tension she was packing along with us trying to race at a high speed in the cool pre-dawn was not helping. 

    I unloaded all my tools to bring her mind back to the present and not run as if for her very survival with the other horses. I was mostly unsuccessful in getting her to relax into the work and had to negotiate with her the best I could. It is common for her to run faster in the morning and I work with her to find a good speed where she is moving freely and soft through her body. Considering the morning was cooler than it had been and her adrenaline was up- I now also worried about potential tie up. Tie up is somewhat mysterious, but the root is usually associated with a horse over running their ability through adrenaline and going into a metabolic state that can be dangerous. This is not something I have worried about with this horse previously, but something about this morning had her running on more adrenaline than I’ve seen. 

    It took almost 30 minutes to get a more relaxed mental state. We rode on this way for a few miles, now in last place, but I have been there many times and wasn’t concerned. She had leveled out, was trotting beautifully, strong, and relaxed.  We may cross the finish line last, but a finish was my goal. We had launched past the danger zone and were well on our way to the first checkpoint at mile 16. This was not a true vet hold, but a 10 minute pass through where the vet gave a quick look as you departed to make sure all systems appeared to be sound.

    It was about mile 13 when the unraveling began.

    Flying along with a beautiful balanced trot I was enjoying the early morning and greeting the runners we passed, when things went into slow motion. First I felt my left foot was not catch the stirrup bar. Then I realized I was coming off balance and wasn’t able to recover. I reached around Khaleesi’s neck and when it was clear I was going down, I swung myself around her neck and landed on the ground in front of her. She was aware something went wrong and when I landed at her feet she came to a stop above me. I remember my calves both going into a tension spasm, but otherwise I was perfectly fine and so was she. How embarrassing, I thought, and assured the runners who had witnessed the crash that I was totally fine. Next I saw my left stirrup and it’s leather on the ground and realized I hadn’t simply come unbalanced in a poor riding moment, the stirrup had come off the saddle. 

    My hope as I stood up, was the leather had simply worked its way off the bar it attaches to. The truth was worse. The metal bar itself had sheared off and there was nothing on the saddle to reattach the left stirrup.

    Broken metal stirrup bar

    I had not planned for this.

    In all the potential things that could go wrong. This was not one of the things I had even considered. 

    I began walking next to K, carrying the stirrup leather in hand and wondered: is this the end for us? Already only 13 miles in? Can we recover? 

    Again I heard the reminder: do what comes next, until you cannot make another move. Do the next thing. Keep moving.

    Service in this area of Vermont is notoriously horrible, but miraculously both Matt (already waiting at the checkpoint) and I (three miles out) had service. The only thing I could think was to try my alternate saddle. However, there were issues:

    • 1) the saddle was in the horse trailer at ride camp. Ride camp (I learned then) was 30-35 minutes away from the check point by vehicle. At least an hour round trip.
    • 2) the alternate saddle was the exact make and model, but it was a “regular” width. The saddle that I was using that fits her properly with the ideal pad set up is an “X” or a wide width. 

    The broken piece of metal would cost us around an hour, and it would mean riding in a saddle that was not the right size. An analogy would be if I had two pairs of identical shoes, the ones that work best for me a size 9, and the other pair a size 8.5. In this example we could say I wear the size 9 with thick socks that help protect my feet from blisters and give the comfort I need to run at my best. If I have to switch to the size 8.5, I will have to use thin socks with less protection and will not be as comfortable running. 

    I walked the three miles into the pit stop and chatted with the vet and land owners while waiting around 30 more minutes for Matt to return with the saddle. We changed the saddle quickly as possible, and trotted down the hill with a green light from the vet to meet everyone at the first vet hold at mile 22. 

    My first go with the other saddle I had left too much padding and had to stop and get off twice to adjust as the pads, but we moved as fast as we could and arrived at Vet Check 1 to find everyone waiting to help us. The vet was taking the heart rate of the horse as we were pulling off the saddle and her pulse dropped very fast to get our hold clock starting as quickly as possible. She looked great and the vet wondered aloud to us why we had a “B” score for her trot the day before, he thought her trot looked great. 

    Arrival at vet hold 1

    After the 30 minute hold we left with almost zero padding under the saddle, and 22 more miles until the next hold. The “rolling hills” were relentless. I had expected hills, but these were mini-mountains. Thankfully she is aces as trotting down the hills and staying in a relaxed form, but every time I thought we hit some level ground, around a corner was another brutal climb. I could feel the saddle impeding her free moving trot and meant a shorter stride. We were running against the clock, and doing it alone except for the runners which did keep us company. The drawback was they often would walking up the big hills, and when I could inspire K to get some trotting intervals up the hills, and as soon as we came to a walking human she put on the brakes and walked with them instead!

    Still, we ran into vet check 2 with a few minutes to spare and met again with the royal treatment. She was pulsed immediately to the parameter of 64 while pulling tack and they started our hold clock immediately. Here we saw Howard again who offered to trot out Khaleesi while a volunteer brought me iced water. He even checked her nails and gave a quick tighten up to be sure. It was wild to watch the whole team working my horse while Matt helped me with my own needs. She passed with all perfect scores and was surprisingly tolerant of all the pampering. They even brought over a pop up tent and fed her apples while continuing to sponge her as we were going into the heat of the day. 

    Volunteers swarm around the royal steed helping us at vet hold 2

    This hold was 50 minutes and then we were pushing the clock to do 17 miles with more nasty climbs (one I think was called suicide!) to make it to mile 62. I had my doubts we could sustain this all the way to the finish line, but the reminder came: do the next thing until there isn’t a next thing to do. 

    The climbing had been grueling and I kept wondering if it would level out. The total elevation we climbed from starting line to Vet Check 1 was 3,200 feet. The 22 miles from Vet Check 1- Vet Check 2 was 3,786 feet. I suppose we got a little relief on the third loop as the 17 miles brought just under 3,000 feet of climbing. The hour we lost in the cool of the morning to get ahead was very costly.

    This mid-afternoon is where she generally begins to drag. It’s hot and here the bugs were voracious. When the flies got really bad she would stop and shake her head and refuse to move onward. She kept begging me to stop in a large grass patch and eat.

    Gorgeous views from the high meadows

    Unfortunately- we did not have time for that while also racing the clock (she had great gut sounds – this was not an issue). I wanted her to be able to graze and go, but once she started eating it’s all she could think about. I could tell she wasn’t exactly “tired” she was hot, distracted, and irritated. 

    And in the background, the clock… always ticking away.

    It was about three miles more to the next vet check when we passed by the runner aid station they call “Margaritaville,” one other frustration was not knowing where the horse vet checks are and for example Vet check 2 showed up almost 2 miles late according to my GPS which had me concerned. If I had been familiar with the course I might have had more confidence, I might have pushed through here, but I wasn’t even sure in 3 miles the mirage of vet check 3 would actually appear. 

    After the hills, the heat, the clock, the flies, and the constant nagging to give up and only eat the grass… I faced the gauntlet of Margaritaville. We had just gotten a little steam rolling and then there are people lined up on both sides of the road waiting to crew for their runners, canopy tents set up, and cheers and chaos and actually lots of fun for humans- but it’s a potential death zone for a horse not used to such things. Each one of these aid stations slowed us down as K navigated what to her was totally new and concerning, and truthfully it about took all the hope out of me as we walked through the town with her worrying about the cowbells and the little kids running out in front of us excited to see the horse, waving flags or shaking bells. 

    It is possible if I had gotten through the Margaritaville gauntlet and ran her up the hill into the checkpoint, we MIGHT have just made it and gotten out for one more loop. It is possible if we had gotten out there we MIGHT have taken the slightly easier next 11 miles and found the day cooling off, and her second wind coming up, and we MIGHT have begun to beat the clock that was breathing down our hind end. I’ll never know.

    Instead, when I saw a house that offered horse water and carrots, I stopped and got off my horse. This act was basically where the white flag came out and went up the flagpole, because I think I knew getting off and taking time here would mean surrender to the clock. I had not taken the time to electrolyte during the 17 miles and I wondered if that was working against us. I allowed someone to offer K a carrot, and I took a glass of cold water (my hydration pack wasn’t empty but it was warm). After a few minutes I got back on Khaleesi and I insisted we keep moving, but I didn’t push. We got into the hold about 4 minutes after the pulse time had passed and were considered “OT” or Over Time, and no longer in the race. 

    After pulling her tack, the remaining vet checked her and with a heart rate of 48 and all A scores, we loaded up on a trailer to base camp. She was healthy and her gait remained solid through the 62 miles without a hitch. All the things I had prepared for and been concerned about did not pose a problem. The extra calcium plan for the heat and humidity was in place, no metabolic issues came. Her shoes held up great. No issues with her gait. Looking back I did a pretty good job getting this non-arabian ready for a challenging 100 mile ride. Regardless of that, equipment failure still turned into a failure to complete. 

    It was disappointing, but I think I had a pretty good outlook. In retrospect, the day before when we heard a vet tell us we might have a problem, I asked: please let me start this race, and please, I want to see some of the trail… we’ve come so far. And as if a response to that request, we saw over half of the trail. We got three full hard loops in and saw 62 miles of the Vermont 100. 

    I thought the test was going to be about getting across the finish line, but in looking back, I think it was a test to reveal what is under my own skin when the cost is high and the outcome is loss. The only way to see what is there is when things get real. The investment has to be real, and the loss has to be equally real.

    The night before the ride, as I stressed over the potential lameness, I looked squarely at the fear that if I did not finish this ride I might feel like I was a wasted investment. I felt if I could not pull off a finish that I was unworthy. That I had less value. I was worried I might carry the label: Failure. I think that “B” grade helped prepare me, because I sat with my devoted husband and in tears I admitted that I felt I will have let him and everyone down if I can’t get this done. 

    And we both knew that was not true. The pressure was internally generated, and completely unnecessary. 

    He assured me that regardless of the outcome, he was here… WITH me. And I kept hearing a reminder over the months and in that moment that also God was with me. Regardless the outcome. As I navigated between the lies and the truth, like a sharp double edged sword separating bone from marrow, tendons and joints, I think the lie was cut away and the truth remained. 

    Jaime & Matt give K a break at a rest stop in NY

    The truth transforms us. The truth sets us free. The truth allows us to respond to what comes and be disappointed without being devastated.

    No matter what came in the test of the event, I had reached for something beyond what my comfort zone could claim. I had dreamed big and made plans. I walked out those plans day after day, and not only did the preparations, but wrote about them and shared them transparently with others. I took the risk because my real identity was not tied to the outcome and I knew I would still be “me” if I shared a victory or a defeat with the stakeholders.

    In the end, only a few days of hindsight, and hours of being able to process, I can see that I carry a failure to complete on my public record, but I am not a failure. My identity is a bold, adventurous daughter of a creator king. That Father created a beautiful world for me to explore. I love a challenge. I want to live fully the life I have been given, and I’m willing to take a risk that things may not go as planned, and then pivot and roll with the next steps. I want to be fearless and free in the truth, and to walk in grace and love as I run and fall, as I encourage others, and help pick them up along the way. 

    I have heard it said that it is only in being willing to die that we may fully live. As Dr. Luke wrote centuries ago: Those who seek to preserve their lives will lose it, but whoever is willing to lose their life will find it.

    Photo taken between checkpoint 1 and vet check 1. Makes me smile as I imagine the hope we held after the trouble began. Ben Kimball Photography.

    In a way, the trailer ride home from mile 62 was like a death. The death of a hoped for outcome. But I have experienced that to move from empire building to living in the kingdom, death is only a door to resurrection. Like the Phoenix (Fenix!), there is a level up that only death of the old can bring forth. I do believe that this story is a good one, and the little voice that came as I looked at my broken saddle from the ground at mile 13 (“Don’t be afraid, this is a gift!”) is somehow right… Even this is a gift, bigger and better than I can see at the moment.

    Possibly the most interesting question that still lingers, floating up in the aftermath of the great adventure, the one I am not certain how to answer honestly… remains… 

    If I knew then how this would play out… would I still have gone?

    Howard the farrier brought us a special momento to honor our spirit with the ‘Broken Tack Challenge’ award. I treasure it!
  • Adverse Conditions

    Adverse Conditions

    If you don’t have something working really well in ideal conditions, you don’t have much hope of them working out in adverse conditions…

    I’ve heard Harry Whitney remind people of this as a fundamental answer to various questions they ask about trouble spots with their horses. It pairs well with another quote, which was my own take home from two days in June watching him at Mendin Fences (TN):

    In my experience, most people don’t know what it looks and feels like to have a horse truly mentally centered and present with you, and so most people don’t really get there, and this is a reason many people can’t seem to get a real change come through. The horse was never really centered up and present.

    It’s been a priority to address Wyoming’s mental centeredness since I’d met Tom Moates early last year.  Tom has been learning from Harry for years, and attention to the horse’s mind is a central focus for him as well. This doesn’t mean I’ve been successful it. We’ve made some significant strides in helping her become more relaxed, less angry, and significantly more cooperative than the other approaches I’ve tried over years. Yet I sensed a trouble in her that I had not gotten to the other side of, even as of this summer and the clinic we hosted in July.

    Harry Whitney, Wyoming & Jaime in Floyd VA, August 2024

    In mid-August, during Harry’s five-day clinic in Floyd (hosted by Tom),  the question came to each participant: what is it you most hope to address this week with your horse?

    I had one request: show me what it looks like to get Wyoming mentally centered and present.

    Harry was willing to guide us through this, and on day one, our lesson hour was spent, from the field to the work space, on learning what she looks like when she is fully present and how to require that she make that a way of life for now. 

    Additionally, my job was to make the times she was present and relaxed as sweet as possible. This is the place that feels good. At first, any time I asked for her attention, she would start throwing out options I might ask her for, like walking a circle. It was as if she had a hard time believing I could ask for her to be relaxed, ready, and present and then just breathe a moment and find peace in that space. Probably I don’t find as much peace with these creatures as I could, and a change here will serve us both. This was all we did.

    Harry & Wyoming finding a sweet spot with her mind present.

    At the end of our session that day, Harry suggested I take her all the way back to her paddock walking backward and not taking a step she wasn’t “with me.” It took a lot for me to stay that present and focused. 

    It took a lot of focus on day one to walk backward to the gate connected at every step to release Wyoming from class. But I was committed to the process. Harry helped me to be able to see when she was present, and bring her back when she wasn’t. The entire week I did not take a step without expecting she would come back to being mentally centered. This is not to be confused with being “hyper focused” on the human at every second for fear of punishment. There are training methods where a horse is ambushed or punished for looking around. Though I use a flag for some of this work, it is built around creating an indirect distraction or sound or movement that draws the attention back to me. The key difference is intention: the actions is not at her – not a threat toward her. I need to become more important or interesting than the other distractions. Working with Harry, we don’t use fear or force as a motivating factor. Doing this takes a shift in thinking.

    Once this becomes a way of life, the horse can look around and notice the environment because they have learned to quickly make note, let it go, and return to the place of peace which is back mentally centered with the human in the work. It is part of learning to let go of a thought that doesn’t serve the horse.

    Wyoming is a highly sensitive horse that has her attention split, keeping everything around her in check in order to survive each day. When she is distracted keeping tabs on everything within five miles, she can throw out autopilot training moves, but she cannot stay present in the active conversation I want to have with her. I don’t want push button autopilot. This has not served us at all. I want actual communication, in real time, addressing the present moment we are in. In order to do this she has to let go of the other things and stay with me. As Harry helped us make this a reality, secondary issues began to dissolve on their own. 

    During the week we addressed some different challenges I had been working on. We loaded her onto a trailer that was darker and had a step up entrance (instead of a ramp).

    Borrowing a strange trailer

    I worked on “knot work”- addressing the claustrophobia from early halter trauma that’s been present in some form the entire time I’ve had her. The day we explored knot work, I expected to see at least some extreme reaction to the halter, but it simply never came.

    Knot work

    I rode her in the round pen; I’d had trouble in the past getting a forward thought to walk on without driving her. We came up against a little drama here, but worked through it in short order, and had a nice shift in riding as well.

    Finally I felt a shift that seemed a significant change and I’ve continued this work at home. If this mare is not mentally present or centered up things do not go well. She gets annoyed at having her thoughts interrupted when she’s concerned about other things. Sometimes she still gets dramatic when she shares her feelings about her own ideas being interrupted or blocked. When she is mentally centered she is like the wonder horse I’ve always wanted. She is soft, adjustable, responsive, and willing. 

    I’ve been riding her at home in my round pen, enjoying great sessions where we are building like one would a green colt, forward, steering, stopping and backing. 

    I am trying to start this journey in as ideal conditions as possible. I continued to prioritize mental connection. I can put on the halter without fuss, load her on the trailer, and ride her in the pen. Each day more positive experiences and progress. Last week, Matt and I took her on a solo adventure, loading her on the trailer for a short drive to our local recreation area. We unloaded her, took a walk, then loaded her and returned home. It was a great success.

    Matt, Wyoming & Jaime have a successful adventure

    My next plan was to bring her to visit my farrier for Khaleesi’s shoe visit on Friday. I want to keep building on experience a real horse can have and farrier visit seemed a great next step to me. I trim Wyoming’s feet myself, and if we were able to get some trim work done or not was not important. Simply the experience of going on the trip successfully was the goal. Keep it simple.

    What I did not account for was hurricane Helene.

    Adverse conditions.

    First, Hurricane Helene turned tropical storm was making her way through the South and though we never had the destructive storms, we had almost 2” of rain and gusty winds. All this boils down to prey animals on high alert. The mares were spring loaded by the time to get going came.

    Second, the weather was crummy enough that though I was minimally willing to do what seemed necessary to have this adventure, I was less willing to go out early enough to assess her mental state, and intervene to find a working mindset before even considering loading. I gravely underestimated the effect of these adverse conditions. I might normally have planned a few minutes to shape this up… What I really needed in these conditions (in hindsight) was an hour of focus… and still, it might not have brought success.

    Third, we had a soft deadline. I highly value my farrier and drive an hour over the mountain to haul to him. He was at home, and happened to be flexible. Still, night would fall at some point, and though I had a time window, it wasn’t endless. Time restrictions always feel like pressure. Pressure brings fear of failure which often makes for poor decisions.

    To make a painfully long story shorter, Matt and I did the things that were successful in the past for about an hour. Over that time I watched the stubborn mare I used to know show up stronger to the forefront and dig in her heels. The more we insisted she join us with the trailer plan the more she resisted.

    I made a pretty good mess of it as I became desperate to get it done. Matt was a phenomenal help, and he never got frustrated though things were not going well. When our best efforts and closest moments dissolved into escapes off the ramp in panic, I saw I was doing more harm than good and creating problems I was going to have to fix. I knew the frustration I kept at bay was getting closer to the surface, and I knew that would only make things even worse. 

    I made one good decision to set aside my own stubbornness. I made the call to abort the mission, put her back in the lot, and take the horse who needed shoes before we had to abandon altogether. Wyoming did not have to make this trip. 

    It was hard not to consider this admitting defeat and total failure. Because that’s exactly what it felt like, and I am not one to admit defeat easily. I told myself years ago I would NOT allow work with my horses to become a win-lose scenario. I am not in this to make my horses into losers. How I want to function is a growth model, and it’s a long journey. I was recently reminded by Adam Grant in his book Hidden Potential:

    though straight line growth feels faster in the short term, it’s been proven many times that growth curves and loops are the only way to get farther over the long term.

    For a straight line thinker I have to remind myself of this intentionally, often.

    The mare was not with me, and we were way too deep in adverse conditions to swim out- especially considering it wasn’t necessary. Hopefully this was a loop in the long term trajectory that would carry us farther than my preferred straight lines of success ever would.

    My biggest miscalculation was to think I could get her out of the field after a half day of being jacked up by her environment, and then load her as if we had already mastered this because we had a few successful trips in ideal conditions. If I would have stopped to ask myself if she was mentally centered up sooner it would have been obvious that she was not. For some reason I thought I could overcome this deficiency by sheer willpower. Strangely enough eight years of trying to overcome her inattentive mind to get her to do anything never worked. Why I thought I could revert to my old ways and get a different outcome is… mostly embarrassing.

    After over thirty minutes of this idiocy, I saw it clearly. I realized she was minimally mentally present and that was my biggest problem. She wasn’t running me over or creating a danger and so I accepted it as good enough- but she was still highly distracted. After starting the process and getting very poor results I took her away from the rig to address her mental connection. 

    This was the most challenge I’ve ever had getting big enough for her to let go of every outside distraction a stormy day could bring. She would look at me and immediately avert her eyes, head, neck or even her body, to a sound or rustle or leaf in the air. To her this was survival and self-preservation. I couldn’t keep her mind for more than two seconds at a time. I worked very hard to get very big and very loud and very active and I could get maybe five seconds. If so I would take a few steps do it again and get a few seconds and take a few steps. In this mode I got her all the way onto the trailer, but as soon as matt touched the butt bar she would explode off because even though I could get her body on, her mind had not settled there. 

    It was a lost cause. I might have stopped after I realized she was not capable of staying present, and I should have realized that within five-ten minutes. I could have asked that question sooner and I might have realized that I was into depths we could not swim successfully. Possibly if I’d have addressed the mental state better in the first few minutes I might have had a chance. I don’t know.

    As always there are the growth opportunities. I get to experience once again as a reminder what many people I care about are also experiencing when they get some momentum with their horses and then skip over – sometimes purposely and sometimes without realizing it- to the deep end and get into a bad situation. Not only is it humbling for me to hit a place I cannot overcome in one fell swoop, it’s good for me to have to experience what people around me are going through. I am willing to go through challenges in order to learn things that might be able to help others. And so as James tells us in his letter: Count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds! For you know the testing produces steadfastness, and let this have its full effect that you may be complete, lacking in nothing! 

    Also, it reveals to me me the dark, stubborn, frustrated part of me I hope to identify and eradicate. If I could have done so, I would have picked up that horse, hog tied her into that stall, and forced her on the journey. At some point I lost most of my compassion for her and the real sense of threat and pressure she felt.

    Working in ideal conditions

    In ideal conditions I have grown so much! I have tons of patience and empathy for what the horse thinks and feels. I can say I am here to help you and mean it. When the conditions squeeze me, what comes out? Eventually frustration and the desire to beat her with my flag until she complied by force, broken mind and broken will. I did not go there, but it was because I know that doesn’t work- not because of my stunning maturity and grace. It’s good to be reminded of the garbage that remains in the darkest corners that still need cleaning out. Lord help me, and thank you for exposing it without me acting on it.

    Something encouraging I considered in my personal debrief: this mare has a history of going to fight mode unusually quickly. She has threatened violence when she feels treated unfairly, with punishment or force. Friday, her stubborn will engaged, refusing to be loaded on the trailer, however, she never threatened with dragon ears, rearing, or nipping. She refused, but she didn’t fight.

    In the end, the conditions didn’t seem adverse enough to me to create this trial. I was wrong. Also, I had thought that our ideal conditions work was going well and it was. But I’ve learned from Harry that me, and many of us who are pursuing excellence and a higher working connection, are not aware enough yet of the subtleties in the ideal conditions that his eye would be. I can hear him say: you’d better get that working better because it won’t hold when things get adverse. The same as he has observed: most people don’t know what it looks and feels like for a horse to be fully present and truly mentally centered.

    Practicing going forward and back through the gate keeping her present each step.

    It seems many of us have to feel in mortal danger before we dig into what seems good enough. Apparently, for each person, there is a different threshold for working good enough. All foundations have a certain amount of weakness. Will it result in a tragic wreck or only sub-standard performance? It probably will depend in part on what kind of conditions you face. For Khaleesi, these adverse conditions were not a huge deal, for Wyoming they were a deal breaker. I want to be someone who digs deeper even when things are not downright scary and grow even when things seem good enough.

    Harry… the ‘Coast Guard’ Whitney

    I still having a long way to go. This means more time in the ideal to expose foundational cracks and more gradual steps into incremental adversity so the cracks are patched up before being totally overwhelmed beyond hope without a rescue effort from the coast guard. Someday I hope to see morelike Harry. Because of his experience and attention to details, time for him is shorter in the shallow end, and he has more tools and experience in the deep end- I suppose in some ways Harry is the coast guard.

    Today I am grateful that horses have memories and experiences, yet they also shift quickly with their experiences. I am pretty sure I caused problems I’ll have to fix, but if I show up fresh the next day, I believe she will as well, and if I bring my A game she will respond. Nothing is beyond repair, even though repairing damage I’ve caused isn’t a good way to proceed. 

    Epilogue.

    The following day we had a break in the rain and I spent some time with Wyoming to assess the damage. She was more difficult to halter in the field, but once I had her on line she came with willing softness and keeping her attention centered was easier in the calm sunny afternoon. I struggled to load her as easily as previous, but Matt had been watching and asked if he could try. It took some communication and patience, but he was able to load her twice fully on where she felt relaxed and calm. We did not close the bar, but took the progress and moved on.

    Matt and Wyoming regroup after the storm

    Matt then kept her attention and held the rope while I attended to her feet which did need a trim. She did so well we also put on her saddle and did some work in the round pen. All of this went well and Matt took the lead (literally) on much of it. He has a grace and patience for that mare I sometimes struggle with, and she responds well to it. 

    Yes there are some setbacks, there was a price from the poor choices and miscalculations I made, but these things will pass, the growth will continue in loops and curves. As always… Hope continues.

  • The other side of trouble

    The other side of trouble

    July 15, 2024

    My eyes began to water in the heat of the afternoon as I stood in the large dirt arena watching the scene unravel. I was glad it wasn’t likely anyone would notice. My back was to the onlookers, and Mark was working with the wild mare, too involved in what he was doing to notice. I’m not so concerned about tears in public anymore, though it’s not my favorite, but I was pretty sure anyone who did notice would misunderstand the reason for the emotions gripping me in the scene. 

    They didn’t come from watching my mare rear violently in reaction to even feather light pressure on the halter. Particularly when she became so reactive she fell on her side in the dirt which was quite dramatic. (She wasn’t hurt).

    The emotion didn’t come from worry that Mark was being unreasonable in his approach, creating unnecesary fear and stress, and watching him work with her might upset me. I knew he did not create any of what I was observing, it had been inside her as long as I’ve known her.

    What grieved me as I watched Wyoming flailing on that lead rope like a fish on a line was a snapshot I had somewhere in my heart of how many of us go through life or seasons of life like this. We are fighting and we can’t seem to stop fighting. We end up getting hurt, and hurting those around us while we flail and fight against what we perceive as life threatening pressure but what is intended to be a comfort. I saw myself at times. I saw people I love at times. I saw humanity. I saw my beautiful mare react in dramatic fashion as if her life was in danger, unable to let go of her past experience, trauma, and fear to trust the guidance. It touched me in an unexpected way in that moment.

    Mark Langley working with Wyoming

    Mark Langley, who was instructing the four-day clinic on the last stop of his USA tour, cares deeply for the horses and this thing in her that overreacts to any pressure is a torment she does not need to carry. He was hoping he could help her get through it to the other side of this trouble. There is a physical or mental memory (maybe a combination) in her that was seared into her on day one of her mustang make over competition training. 

    I was told the history when I picked up the wild mare in Tennessee: the trainer put the halter on Wyoming, the mare reacted in fear and came aggressively toward the trainer, the trainer (in her own words) overreacted, putting excess pressure on the halter, and sent the mare up in the air. Her first experience of education with a human ended in a rear up, back flip, and injury to her neck that took her out of the contest and put her on a trailer to Tennessee to have a slower longer training process through the Bureau of Land Management’s (BLM) Trainer Incentive Program (TIP).

    It’s likely with the trainer’s natural horsemanship approach: round pen, energy work and driving to create draw, the mare could be successful and avoid having the feel of restriction of the halter on her head. She became an amazing energy and body language reader. She became a punishment avoiding release hunter. When we picked her up as total strangers, just walking into the small arena, she would hook on to us or whomever it was, and follow closely. It didn’t occur to me that so much draw had been created in this mare that she felt the only good place to be was next to a human in order to avoid being sent out and driven.

    Since I’ve had the mare, asking her to back up and out of your space brings pinned ears and stress. It’s a huge feat years later to ask her to comfortably stay just out of your bubble. If I do get her to step back three feet and stand she gets anxious and begins to try to offer a circle or creep back in. She has the expectation that the human is going to ask something of her and she throws out possible options anticipating what might come next. She has learned if she doesn’t comply quickly enough with a request, the enforcing punishment will come via escalating pressure: a lead rope to her hind end, a flag will touch her, the bump on the halter. She lives in the future of what might be coming, and how to avoid it. If she can’t avoid it she feels trapped, gets angry and fights back. 

    the potential for pull back is serious in a trailer

    I stopped natural horsemanship style driving about 18 months ago when I watched Harry Whitney work horses in February of 2023. I think it’s begun to help change some of Wyoming’s experience and reactions, but the deep early formative work with her is still churning away at her core, and when it gets poked it comes out in big reactive displays. 

    The physical feel is only one thread of the knot which is inside this horse. Many horses comply to driving pressure (I have one who did), but Wyoming was one of the horses for whom the combination created a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde monster. She is either snappy quick, spot on with her reaction to a request or super angry and violent. Additionally in layer of wound up layers, she is a mare who has a hard time letting go of anxious thoughts. 

    Jaime working with Wyoming during the clinic

    Not only is strong drive and draw set into her, but when she is very close to me she can keep track of me physically while keeping her mind out on the larger environment. Asking her to back off three feet also means the human become part of the larger environment and she has to give mental space to keeping track me as well as everything in the next three miles in every direction. She has yet to become truly mentally centered in the way she can let go of the “other things” she holds onto for her survival.

    It’s stunning how she can be in this mental, physical, emotional place and still function to the level she does. If we could ever get to the other side of trouble there’s a phenomenal mare in there.

    How do we get to the other side of trouble?

    If I could answer this definitively I could have helped a lot more people and horses than I have to date. Yet somehow I’m still at this mystery even when I get discouraged. I wonder if I’ll ever know something definitely enough to be of value to a horse- or maybe even some of my fellow humans who are willing to take the mysterious journey into this wilderness of trying to understand how to help a horse feel better and be a more powerful willing partner.

    I do believe it is possible and so I don’t give up even when there are setbacks and it gets hard.  I do believe with a horse like Wyoming it is a matter of going through to the other side of the trouble and not letting the trouble make her world smaller and smaller until she is afraid of any pressure at all.

    It’s likely that Wyoming’s early training taught her that pressure meant she needed to adjust in order to get the pressure to go away. Unfortunately, anytime someone takes a rein in hand it creates a pressure or imbalance that the horse has to respond to – if done well it should bring the horse comfort through guidance, but if they have been trained to avoid pressure and seek release we have lost the ability to guide them through the reins or the lead rope. Very few people work their horses in the real world without reins or a lead rope. Nor do I recommend it as the ideal. Yet this means anytime someone picks up a rein to communicate with their horse, instead of relaxing into a guiding hand, many horses respond with anxiety to seek immediate release of pressure/imbalance which creates brace and tension through the body which works against strength, balance and grace in forward movement. 

    Jaime & Mark with Wyoming & Khaleesi

    I have a hope that Wyoming can get through this extreme fear of pressure that was created early in her training (and solidified for a time by me) so she can trust me to guide her. I want her to feel the rein or lead rope guide her into where she will find peace and safety in my leadership. I want her to correct the imbalance she notices and in doing so find she has choices, and the freedom to choose a path of lease resistance that is fairly available to her because I am able to offer that. But I also want her to be able to stay connected at the end of the rope in appropriate balance of pressure like I would hold my dad’s hand to cross the street as a child.

    She has to stop fighting first. If she would stop fighting she could follow that feel and see it would not bring her danger or pain, but comfort and safety. I asked myself if this deep sadness that came over me momentarily was indicative that this scene was playing out in my own life, or was a memory now. I’d like to say I’ve learned not to fight against the hand that guides me with strength, kindness and love. I know that my own journey through the wilderness is far from over, and sometimes I don’t even realize that I’m fighting the guidance that feels like pressure and imbalance and sometimes downright life threatening to me. 

    I’m sure Wyoming doesn’t understand what I’m trying to do in the bigger picture just as I really don’t always understand the big picture of what is going on in my own life while I’m in the middle of it all. 

    We were not able to get Wyoming to the other side of trouble in the four days of the clinic, but I learned some things that I hope will help me continue to guide her through. As with most worthwhile journeys, I feel like we’re deep into the wilderness, but in recent years I’ve learned something about the wilderness. I’ve learned it’s the place we least want to go, yet it’s the place where the transformation takes place. If we are going to get to the other side of trouble, chances are we have to be willing to be led into the wilderness.

    And so I go.

  • Change is possible…

    Change is possible…

    Hello! I’m sending this short “extra” to share two videos to show the continued work this spring with wild Wyoming, the horse that was never wrong (for a day).

    Last year I spent some time with Harry Whitney, read some books by Tom Moates– and invited him to come visit with us here in the mountains, and listened to a fair amount of Mark Langley‘s podcast. I was steeping myself in this way of considering the horse that was a fundamental shift in my approach as much as possible.

    I had some nice changes with Khaleesi over the year that I’m loving watching take root into an early harvest this Spring. As we prepare for some events this year, I can feel her new levels of relaxation and adjustability in movement! However Wyoming and I had a rougher go of the changes and trying to sort out how to understand each other in a better way. Last summer there were a fair amount of death threats (probably from each of us) as the lines of muddled communication began to untangle, and sometimes things get looking worse before they begin to smooth out.

    Regardless, I knew there was something important in the process so I kept at it.

    Then the horses moved home in November which has been a big change for all of us that is settling in nicely now six months into it… and I’ve begun to spend some time working with them again.

    The initial work with Wyoming this year has been promising, and in the subsequent sessions, I’ve seen continued progress toward more partnership. Certainly the difference rests mostly in me. Change is possible, but it has to begin with “me” because usually the horse is a perfectly good horse doing what horses are created to do, and usually what the exhibit is in response to the way their environment (mostly human caused) has shaped in them. So regardless of who that human (or humans) were and what it was that did the shaping- that’s not nearly as important as where to go next. The change has been happening in me as I continue to seek and grow and take an honest assessment of my flaws and weaknesses in order to commit to address them.

    I’m encouraged by the start of this year, and it gives me hope that there really is change possible for the two of us. I have a sliver of excitement that maybe this could be “the year” for Wyoming and me to begin to function together in a positive way!

    Change is possible, but it has to begin with “me”

    People have mentioned lately that staying with this dysfunctional situation for over six years must mean I have a whole lot of patience and determination. I suppose in some respects that is a little true. However… I remind them that she had more patience and determination to help me, because she is the one who refused to get on a trailer for that long- and I live in the end of nowhere… which meant I couldn’t move her on if I wanted to and pass her education on to someone else! Unless I was willing to shoot a perfectly healthy horse (which I did consider once or twice, but never seriously!) I wasn’t left with many options but to keep slogging onward. Considering in all those years of lots of sound and fury and threatening, she only once gave me a bruise from trying to bite the halter and grazing my arm, I think she’s been the one to praise. Apparently she never gave up on me.

    I won’t get ahead of myself yet. We have a long journey ahead of us, but I think we’ve begun to sort out a better path, and maybe you’ll begin to see some exciting changes in our story this season… stay tuned and see!

    Meanwhile, here are two videos that will show more than my words are able how the progress is coming for now.