I wrote before about how much my riding means to me.
My horses are my everything. They are the reason I get up and push through every day, day after day. My dream is to wear roses. I'll never stop fighting for it. I am willing to push myself to my breaking point and beyond for it.
I came into this sport as an underdog, a nobody with no name or titles to speak of, from a family completely new to this. A little girl with a spotted pony that I loved more then anything else in the world. I used to call him my Romeo, I never thought I could love anything more. The first year with him I became very acquainted with the hard reality that was the ground. He was young, a greeny three year old. He knew about as much about riding as I did at seven, coming eight years old. We were new to this, and I fell undeniably in love with him. So he became mine.
Ride after ride, tumble after tumble, we grew together. There was hardly anything that could keep me off his back. Even after he threw me in the pasture, breaking some bones in my back I was counting the days until I could ride him again. Then again when I came off and broke my leg, I was so concerned that he had been frightened by the accident. He came back around and stopped next to me, lowering his head down to my level as I sat of the ground and waited for my dad to reach me immobilized by the shock setting in and the pain in my leg. It was only 24 hours before I was out to the barn to be with him again, he was never spooked by my uncoordinated moves with my crutches or the loud plastic bag my dad had tied around my foot and leg to keep it dry.
He was patient and stood still, halter-less while I tried to brush him.
My first real show was a big one, but I didn't know the difference. We had only been together less then a year when we decided to attend this show with the rest of our barn. We packed up and drove nine hours to Loveland, Colorado for the POA World show. I was excited beyond belief. Our placings were to be expected, even better in some cases but that didn't change the fact that I was immensely proud of our 10th, 11th, and 12th place trophies. While others in my barn won giant wooden trophies with shiny champion plaques on them and long beautiful ribbons, I placed my small much less elaborate trophies in front of Kips stall with great joy. I couldn't be happier or more proud of my pony for no more reason then the fact that he was mine and we had done that. As the show went on we came to one of the last nights. It was time for my favorite class, one I had waited all show for. The Open Costume class. I anxiously waited all day for it, and late into the night, it became so late with classes running long that was forced to lay down in a make shift bed in the tack room. Then finally at 12:00 am I was stirred awake by my mother who helped me adjust my braided pigtails and clamber on to my waiting pony.
Dressed to the nines in real overalls my mother had altered to fit his front legs and attach around his neck and a green plaid shirt with arms stuffed with news paper and gloves attached to the ends that swayed when he walked, and topping it off with a straw hat with holes cut out for his ears tied to his head, he put up with more then you could ever ask of a three year old broke primarily by a little girl with nothing but dreams. I fidgeted in my dress as I walked to the large indoor arena, waiting in the warm up area for my class to be called. I struggled to keep my eyes open as the time ticked by, trying to remember my story I was supposed to tell the judge about my costume. When the class was called Kip moved around the arena, being cautious of the wobbly body swaying on top of him as he moved himself to keep me balanced. Every time the Judge would catch a glimpse of us he would laugh. Once in line up the Judge moved down the row of horses listening to each story and judging each costume. Then coming and stopping next to me. He looked up and grinned at me and asked me to tell him a little about our costume. I nodded and started.
"Hi sir, my name is Beckie Thatcher, and this is my boyfriend Tom Sawyer..."
I panicked, I was too tired and couldn't remember the rest of my story, something about a glass door knob and barefoot summers by the river... I stared back at him I felt my ears get red and could feel the tears welling up. I mumbled the first words to come to my mind.
"I'm sorry mr judge sir, I had a very good story I promise, but it is so late and I am so tired, I just can't remember what it was."
He patted my leg and said it was okay before moving on down the line. My fingers curled up in Kips mane and I combed it with them in disappointment. It took a good fifteen minutes for the results to be calculated. I waited not even daring to hope for my number to be called. We were called forward in backwards order by placings, numbers were called and horses and riders stepped forward until I was left on the far side of the arena alone with three other pairs far down the line in the other direction.
Reserve was called and the arena hushed for Champion, a number was called, I glanced down at the other riders but neither moved forward. I also stood still not knowing what to do. The announcer called the number again and laughed making a comment about how "she must be shy". I looked up to the crowd for either of my parents I found my dad holding the video camera smiling from ear to ear, he shouted, "Thats you sweetheart!" the audience broke out in laughter and the announcer called me forward by name this time.
I held my beautiful trophy tightly as I rode Kip back to the stalls, my dad leading him because my hands were full. Once dismounted I looked at my small group of trophies from the days before, they were still shiny from all the care I had taken cleaning them only hours before, yet my new wooden trophy still looked out of place set down in front of them all. My mom saw my face and came over. I watched her remove my Champion trophy from where I had sat it down and moved all of my others forward, arranging them in an appealing manner. She then placed it behind them and told me it looked much better that way. I asked her why and she said something I'll never forget.
"It took every one of these to get to here, every bit of every class. You should never let where you are now over shadow the places you've been, because without the effort you put into the past you would have nothing to show for in the present and nothing to strive for in the future."
I've never had the money some riders do, the non existent budget that pays for top trainers, beautiful talented horses, or expensive tack. I make the best of what I am given, what I have been blessed with. Sometimes I find myself thinking what I would give to ride that 50,000 dollar horse, trot into the arena with no doubt you'll to trotting out with roses. Then I remember the 1200 pounds of animal underneath me, the one I bought with pocket change compared to the others, a meer one tenth of that. The one, like Kip and Kori before him, has put effort into every step, knows what its like to be beaten and knows what its like to win. I am not someone who has had everything handed to them like my critics believe, I've been to the bottom, I'm actually quite familiar with it, but I've also pushed and pushed and worked to get to the point I am now.
To the rider and equestrian I am now.
I have been a lot of places, been through a lot of pain, found both joy in victory and joy in defeat, the kind that burns in your chest, pushing you to move forward and progress. I've lived though tear stained cheeks that scar my soul, and moments that made my heart swell with happiness. I've fought for my dreams. Put every ounce of effort into my present because I know some day it will be my past. I am still the underdog, the long shot, the nobody, but I will never stop fighting.
Not until they know my name, not until I accomplish what I set out to do.
