This took forever because I wanted to use my iPad to draw.

While I was warming up Archie last night, in the cold, dark, drizzle, I had some time to think about stuff.  Because focusing on random shit was a better option than focusing on the things that went bump in the night.

I downplayed my fall off Archie a little, I think, on the blog.  I was left sore and mildly concussed and mildly miserable.  I'm dying to show y'all photos of my ass.  A non-equestrian friend, because an equestrian wouldn't ask this, asked me how many concussions it would take before I stopped riding.


I've thought about it and, while it's not like I'm out galloping solid fences, I think the type of riding I do could be scaled back.  I think if it became a question of my physical health, I could convert to a slower pace, a bigger saddle, and a smaller horse.

This is Toni and she's closer to the ground and I've been eye-balling her since I fell and she's only $1,600 and she's in Ohio and why the fuck did I ask for anything else for Christmas?

Then I start thinking - when I'm older and the probability of me staying in the saddle diminishes at the same rate as my muscle tone, why give up?  You know what, I want to fucking drive minis.  I want a pair of either mini donkeys or mini mules or mini assholes to be my team and I want to take those little muffins trotting down dirt roads.

Just in time for Xmas.

Since I've started leasing Ox, I've gotten increasingly appreciative of his owner and her knowledge.  We vary on a few things, but she's overwhelmingly consistent in the "making Beka a better rider" department.

On Saturday, we were at the barn at the same time, tacking up.  It was unplanned, but it's always nice to have someone else around.  She worked outside the ring, and I kept Archie in the litter box.

And Archie wasn't being bad.  He wasn't scaring me, I wasn't frightened from my recent fall, there was no real trigger.  But I asked trail buddy/Ox's owner if she wanted to ride him.  Which, I mean, if you've known me any length of time, you know is a BFD.

She had his number almost immediately.  He evaded from the bit by inverting, he told her to go fly a kite (I like to think that he only tells me to fuck myself), and he gave his little spastic crowhopping canter departs of dissent.  That's my boy.

These have accompanying farts.

But it was absolutely invaluable to see him being ridden by someone else, someone who has no hang-ups, won't take any of his shit, and isn't going to coddle him like I do.  It reminded me that my nearly-twenty and crippled horse is still an active old man and is fully capable of performing up to his previous flat work standards.  I don't need to be afraid of him breaking.  In fact, I need to keep him at a decent level of work so that we keep those joints and muscles strong.



There was a point where I said to myself, "I need to ask as much of Ox as I do of Archie." And then that transitioned to me doing more intense work with Ox and Archie just toddling around with his back hollow and now it's.. I need to ride Archie like I ride Ox.