When I was back at the miserable Old Barn, with my one crossrail that couldn't really be adjusted and the cluttered pasture in which I rode... can we take a moment and remember how miserable we were?..., the Archer surprised me one day by dragging me to that little crossrail and pounding over it.

I take this horse for granted.

I like to think that the love I have for him oozes from my pores, that people can see it from miles away.  Be it the bell boots, the shiny coat, the arrogance in his walk.  But sometimes, I fear that I don't show him enough how much I appreciate every step he takes for me.  How do you show something like that to an animal?  Treats, an enthusiastic "good boy!", a pat, a loose rein.  What else?  What more can I do?

Because I had yesterday off, I opted to ride earlier in the day.  Let me back up:  the dogs were taken on a walk, I ran a couple miles, I downed a few beers while catching up on Instagram and eating nachos, and then I rode.  In hindsight, the running and the riding should have been reversed, because I had no legs.  None.  I'm sure the beer helped.

I could eat Mexican and drink Miller Lite every day, every meal.  The subsequent weight gain might be worth it.

I set up two crossrails, a little bit higher than the ones we'd been jumping.  They were at about the height of the low vertical that we jumped in the last lesson with T3.  He had a stop at a crossrail earlier in the week - his first stop ever, if I can even call it that.  It was more like we broke from a trot to a walk and then ponderously ambled over it - and I was concerned that the Kid wasn't respecting the small questions I asked.  So let's ask harder questions.

I derped on video set up, but here's a complilation of what you can actually see me jumping.  The fences were almost aligned on different sides of the ring and I would trot one, pick up the canter, canter the second and canter around to the third.  Thrilled.  Just fucking thrilled.


So here are some screen shots from my geriatric Mac.  I saved you from having to pause to gander at my (lack of) perfection.

Sproing!

Contact without toooooo much contact.

Who cares about perfection?

I just love this.

You can't tell me that he doesn't love to jump!

This blurry shot?  Because his knees are actually together.  I'm a sack of moldy, festering potatoes, but, dammit, my horse is hot.