Archie is amazing.

Breakfast this morning.

I get jealous sometimes, reading other people's blogs and seeing their photos.  We aren't working in a super-nice ring with great fences.  We aren't jumping huge jumps.  I haven't shown him since... 2008?  Our only show and it was schooling cross rails.  I ride and I ride and I ride.  Five days a week.  There are some days that I just don't want to, that I'm tired and busy and would rather just braid his mane, but I do it anyways.  Pushing his body, pushing my body, trying to work on my form the best I can without someone to help me.  I used to video tape myself, riding in circles.  The only problem with that is that I had to stay somewhat in frame and everything came out grainy, anyways.  Old camera.

I get excited when he picks up the correct lead but don't want to hurt him, so I don't ask him to hold it very long.  I keep thinking that if I could lose twenty pounds (as much muscle as I am, I'm not sure that it's even a realistic goal), he would feel better.  His back would feel better.  I've always heard that a fat rider who can balance is better than a skinny person who can't, but, ultimately - if I'm running, would I rather run with an empty bookbag or one with shit in it?  Empty.  Make it easier.

So, a recent my-OTTB-is-amazing story:  Archie was stung by a bee.  It took me, stupidly, a minute to realize what was going on.  We were trotting.  Archie starts to do the "Bugle Boy Shuffle" (RIP), which is a canter on the front end and trot in the back.  Which turned into a couple of crow hops and a slam on the brakes.  Then his face was almost in the saddle, trying to reach something on his shoulder.  When I looked down, I saw black and yellow doing the death dance, starting to twitch under the saddle pad.  I immediately brushed it off of him - too little, too late.  We stood there for a moment before he started walking again.  I didn't pressure, didn't ask.  We'd been working on figure eights, but I sacrificed the rest of the ride to the trails.

Which is the second part of this.  I'll have to show an enhanced picture, but his pasture is pretty well surrounded by trees, while the meadow we ride in backs up to marshland.  If you aren't familiar with this topography, trees block wind.  Marsh does not.  It was howling back there, his mane standing up and his nostrils flared.  I thought multiple times that his butt was going to drop, his head raise, and he would bolt.  Fortunately, he held strong.  I even took him on a trail I'd never seen before and he was brave.

Other Life Stuff.

We ended up not going out with my friend on Saturday.  She wasn't going to be downtown until 10:30 or 11 that night and, well, we're an old married couple.  Fuck that late-night stuff.  I like sleep.  More so when I have to be up early the next day.  So, it was just a quiet dinner with a dessert of pumpkin cheesecake.

The half-marathon is this weekend.  I'm mixed parts of excited and anxious and so incredibly over it.  I'm taking a half day off of work on Friday, which is probably overkill, but I think I'll probably be useless then anyways.  I keep thinking of all the things I think I'll need:  like an arm band for my iPhone or sweatbands for my stinky elbows or what I'm going to eat for breakfast, if I eat breakfast.  We've got to be downtown and parked by 6:30 that morning.  What the hell?  I'm normally waking up at 6:30.  I know my nerves are going to be shot but I've never tried to run on Xanax and don't know how it'll affect me.  I guess I could try for my last pre-race run tomorrow night.  And for my run tomorrow, do I do a blazing three miles or an easy three miles?  Do I go to soccer practice on Thursday or do I just hang out at home instead and eat carbs?  Or walk the dogs for a few miles?

And then, rinse, repeat and shorten the distance but add some incline.  The Double Pump the first weekend in December, marking my one year of competitive running by going for a 15k over the bridge.. three times.

After that, though?  Fives and tens.  I'm staying away from distance because I think between running and soccer, my feet are getting jacked up.  I mean, seriously: my toes hurt!  That's not normal!  Soccer only has three games left.  I'll miss the ladies on the team, but I'm also stupidly excited to have my Sunday afternoons free.  The best light is actually about the time that we're playing, so I can do more photography.

D's lap has good luck.

Kittens.

It's like story time or something.  Savannah loves the kittens.

I *think* this is Ares.