Memory Lane Friday - 6th Grade

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "6th Grade." For some reason, I'm not remembering anything specific from school for 6th grade. But I'[m pretty sure the horse memory I'm thinking of was from my my year in 6th grade. Yes, of course, I have to write about an equestrian memory . . .

This memory is from a spring horse show toward the end of the school year (probably over a whole weekend), or maybe during the course of a few days, right after the school year ended.

I had my gray horse, Chico; he and I made a great team. We were so in tune with each other, he'd become known as a "push button" horse. That means that you could basically just think of what you wanted him to do, and he'd do it, with only the slightest of cues from the rider's (in other words MY) legs, seat, and hands.

Anyway, we'd gone to this show in town, and I was so excited. It was basically down the road from the stable where Chico was boarded, so we didn't have to trailer him and stay in a hotel overnight (which was fun - don't get me wrong, but sometimes it was nice to show near home). And it was a BIG show, which made it even more exciting.

Well, one of these days of showing, Chico and I were in an "over fences" class, meaning that riders would go into the ring one at a time and jump a combination of fences (or "jumps"). This particular class was a "hunter class," being judged on how nice and smooth the horse went around the course; if it looked like the horse was super easy to ride around the course, then the rider did it right.

I memorized the course, and then Chico and I headed into the ring, when they called my number. We were going around nice and smooth. Now, I'm not sure exactly what happened next, but Chico and I came around a corner to a fence mid-course, and for some reason (probably mostly rider-error/maybe part horse error), Chico refused the fence. He basically just slammed on the breaks right before the jump. That caused me (at 11-12 years old, or thereabouts) to do a somersault over his head, landing on my back, right onto the little flower box right that decorated the front of the jump. I landed on that thing just above the kidney area.

It knocked the wind out of me, of course. And it startled me, more than anything else. As I tried to sit up, I saw a familiar face running toward me. It was my dad. He had gotten off work and had headed over to the show area in hopes of watching me ride a bit. I'm assuming that since my mom was there watching, she had sent him out to see if I was okay.

I was okay, of course, after catching my breath, my pride taking the most damage. My riding instructor had caught Chico, and led him back to me. Once I got up and indicated I was okay, my dad left the ring, leaving the pep talk to my instructor. She told me to get right back on, which I did (with a leg up from her). I don't remember the pep talk, but I do remember being ready to get right back on, in hopes that I could finish the course.

She told me to trot right over to the judges' stand to ask if I could take that one refused fence before I left the ring. I was nervous about doing that, but I didn't question her. I just did it, lightbulb going on over my head, realizing I wouldn't be able to finish the rest of the course - but hoping I could do just that one fence.

I remember asking, "May I jump that one jump before leaving the ring?" and getting a "Yes. Good job getting right back on, young lady."

So I went and did that one jump Chico had refused, and then trotted out of the ring. With a quick "I'm okay" to my mom and dad, and a "What now?" to my coach, I was told I could head back to the barn and put Chico up for the night (remember, this show was near the stable where we kept Chico). That class had been my last of the day.

As I rode Chico up the path from the show to the stable, I suddenly started crying. I was really upset that I'd fallen off. Okay, it happens sometimes, and I wasn't hurt, but it was the last class of the day. I was crying with disappointment at how I ended that day of showing.

Anyway, I guess I was also crying because I was a pre-teen and, well . . . you know how hormonal and upset pre-teens can get, right? I was just plain upset!

I did, however, wake up the next day with a big, ol' rectangular bruise on my back. I was actually a bit sore from the fall, but it didn't affect my ability to show the next day.

Here's a photo from that very same show. It was a day when I'd won some ribbons, and for one class, even some money for coming in 3rd or 4th place! (I remember a check having been stapled to the back of my ribbon.)

This was in the day before we were required to wear ASTM/SEI riding helmets. Photo ©Rick Bate

Thanks form stopping by and reading today's memory. I appreciate it. Come back next week when we have another "No Theme" Memory Lane Friday!

Memory Lane Friday is hosted by Lisa at Two Bears Farm. Please click on the button below to read her entry, as well as other contributors' entries:

Memory Lane Friday - An Injury

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "An Injury."

I had an easy time picking an injury to write about, because I've fortunately had only one significant injury - and it happened Monday, May 13, 1985.

I was at the stables that day for a riding lesson with one of my great riding instructors, Deb. It was a beautiful spring day, the day after my youngest brother's birthday, and toward the end of the school year, my eighth grade year.

I clearly remember being dropped off at the stable after school so I could spend the whole afternoon there, taking care of my horse, Chico, taking a lesson, and hanging out with my friends.

There was a lady who boarded her gray horse there, too. I don't remember her name or her horse's  name, but I do remember something remarkable about this lady - she was legally blind - but that did not stop her from using what vision she did have, getting out there to do something fun.

Anyway, I remember talking to her in the tack room when I went in there to get my brushes before heading out and grooming Chico.

I remember tacking Chico up so we could head out to the outdoor arena for our lesson. And I remember working on the flat.

Then we began practicing jumping a course, so we could consistently produce a nice, flowing, smooth round in the show ring. I was enjoying the lesson because we were jumping a lot. It was fun!

And that's about all that I can clearly remember.

The next thing I know, I was in the dimly lit barn office, with Deb and my friend Leslie. I distinctly remember saying, "This is just like the movie International Velvet . . . this is just like Sarah Brown in International Velvet . . . "

While we sat in the office, I also remember getting (seemingly) ridiculous questions from both Deb and Leslie, like, "What's your name?" or "Where are you?" and even "How many fingers am I holding up?" and "What's your home phone number?"

They kept repeating questions, and I kept getting irritated, telling them, "I told you that already."

And then I was suddenly out in the bright sunlight, getting into my grandfather's silver Subaru (this was when my maternal grandparents lived, for a couple years, in our same town).

He and Deb were talking and talking . . . and talking, for what seemed like forever.

I remember trying to close the car door - I was in the front passenger seat, but I found I was having trouble reaching my right arm out to grab the car door. It felt like shards of glass were grinding around in my shoulder every time I tried using my right arm.

And then Deb closed the car door, and my grandfather pulled away from the barn.

As we headed down the dusty dirt road and over a couple sets of train tracks, I was in some major discomfort. The jostling hurt my shoulder and made my head throb.

After a few minutes, we were finally on a paved road, and I was much more comfortable. I don't remember having any kind of conversation with my grandfather. I vaguely remember heading down a familiar street.

The next thing I know, I found myself on a hospital gurney next to a wall with a big "X-RAY" painted on it in navy blue letters. I remember people walking past, peering at me curiously, trying to not be conspicuous about looking at me.

Then I was in a dim room, with lots of friendly faces telling me they were going to have to move me, and it may hurt for a moment. (They were going to move me onto the x-ray table.) Again, these friendly faces kept repeating things to the point where I got irritated, and said (or thought I said), "I heard you the first 10 times. Just move me already!"

And here is another spot where my brain didn't accurately record current events. Immediately (or so it seemed) after being moved onto the x-ray table (and yes, being moved hurt like you-know-what), I found myself alone again, this time in a hospital bed, in a room by myself.

Suddenly a nurse (a male nurse - no Meet the Parents/Meet the Focker jokes, please!) with a shock of vibrant red hair and a full red beard rushed in. He talked as fast as he moved, and then left me alone again. I was a little confused. I had my dirty jeans on, and one of those "wonderful" hospital gowns on top, and was in a hospital bed.

Some time later, and it could've been just few minutes or two hours - I don't know, the red-haired nurse came back in, asking me if I wanted a shot or a pill. Imagining a big ol' 2-ft needle, I opted for the pill. (It was for pain.)

Sometime later, my mom was there. I really had to go to the bathroom, and I asked her to help me sit up (trying to sit up on my own caused sharp pains to blow through my shoulder - I'd already tried it). She said she couldn't; I was confused as to why. A gray-haired woman in a nurse uniform came a little later in to help me sit up and get to the bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom, I was told I could get dressed, and then this second nurse disappeared.

Well, getting dressed was easier said than done. It hurt trying to get my shirt on. It hurt to bend over in an attempt to get my boots on. Bending over put tremendously painful pressure on my shoulder. I noticed, at some point, that I had a foamy, supportive "strap" going around both shoulders, underneath my arm pits and across the back of my neck - well, just below my neck.

At some point, as I tried to bend over and get my boots on, my dad poked his head in the door. I asked for help. He said he couldn't because he had an emergency to tend to (he's a cardiologist). I wondered why *I* wasn't the emergency! He just poked his head in to see me; seeing that I was sitting up, and getting attempting to get dressed, he realized I was okay - as okay as the circumstances allowed.

After a few minutes of struggling to get my boots on my mom finally came back in. She helped me finish getting dressed, and then we were off.

As we got closer to the house, I remembered there was a "shortcut" with a short, bumpy dirt road. I told her (a few times, I think), to NOT take the dirt road, and go the "long" way, which would actually only add an extra minute or so to our total drive time. All I know is that I was NOT going to go down another bumpy dirt road that day; it hurt too much being jostled.

And then we were home and I was in my room, in my bed, expected to get some rest. My body needed to heal my broken right collar-bone, and my head needed to recover from a concussion, after all.

I'm riding Chico in a show in 1981, 4 years before the accident. Photo © Rick Bate.

Please check back next week, when we have another "No Theme" week.

Memory Lane Friday is hosted by Two Bears Farm and the Three Cubs. Please click on the button below to read her post for this week, as well as any other entries for the week.

A Blast From the Past - Horse Show pics

Wow! I found a few horse show photos from way back when . . .

In the first one, I was about 9.5-years-old (April 1980) on a chestnut pony. . . I think her name was Blue Jeans. Looks like a schooling show.

I'm the one right in the middle, leaning to the side, looking at who-knows-what. The pony I was riding looks less than thrilled. I take it I hadn't learned how to pull a mane yet, judging by the pony's bushy, unkempt mane.

The next two are from a show at the Iowa State Fairgrounds a couple years later, sometime in April or May 1982, so I was about 11.5-years-old. 

This time, though, I was riding my own horse, Chico. I vaguely remember that this show was very muddy; it had rained for a few days leading up to this show. So in this first photo, you'll see that I had done up Chico's tail in a "mud tail" so it wouldn't get all gunky and gross from the mud. 

This second photo is also from the same horse show with Chico. I'm not sure why, but it sure looks like I'm biting on my lower lip in this photo.

I even braided him myself. Not bad for a pre-teen who always got impatient and bored braiding manes.

Memory Lane Friday - A Time You Were Sick

This week's Memory Lane Friday topic is "A Time You Were Sick."

There was this one particular time I was sick in high school, and it's this one time that I want to talk about. It's one of those Teens Don't Necessarily Have the Most Common Sense type of stories. And yes, it will have a horse-related theme incorporated into the story. 

It was my sophomore year at Culver Girls Academy. I was in a quad (4-person room) with Candi, Kristi, and Wendy, in the dorm called Tower. Candi and Kristi were seniors, and Wendy was a junior and the only non-equestrian among us (but she usually came out to watch us in Equestriennes performances, or Culver-sponsored horse shows - the home ones, obviously and not the away ones).

Well, anyway . . . back in the day when I was a student there, if you wanted to be a part of the Varsity Jumping team (the team that went to horse shows, competing in hunters/jumpers/hunter points, etc), you had to be enrolled in the Equitation/Horsemanship department (taking Equitation - Horsemanship - classes during the week), and try out/make the JV Jumping team.You had to participate on the JV team for at least one semester before being allowed to try out for the Varsity team.

So my first semester my freshman year, I made the JV team, as did a bunch of other students, including Gavin, a fellow freshman. He and I had also been involved in Pony Club in our respective home towns before attending Culver.

When the second semester of my freshman year started, I'd found out when Varsity Jumping try-outs were (I was also eligible to try out for the Equestriennes at this time, too) and I was there!

Needless to say, I'd made the team as a freshman, as did Gavin. The two of us were the only freshmen on the team.

So . . . fast forward to sophomore year. I can't remember if it was late in the first semester, or early in the second. But it was wintertime and COLD in NW Indiana. Maybe February?

A few of us Varsity Jumpers were getting ready to head to a one-day horse show in Michigan City, IN on a Saturday. By mid-week, I was starting to feel run down, like something was not quite right. I wasn't sure if it was just from classes, studying, and all the other stuff I was involved with - but I just wasn't feeling 100%.

By Friday, though, I knew something was wrong. We'd been at the Riding Hall after we'd ridden that afternoon, just making sure we'd had everything we needed for the show the next day. Since it was just a one-day show, we'd leave early on Saturday to get there, we'd show, and then come back late Saturday evening, so we only needed to organize stuff for one day. We typically stopped at a steak place on our way back to campus so we could eat something tasty for dinner.

This Friday night after wrapping up at the Riding Hall, we'd dispersed our own separate ways, each of us going to our respective dorms/barracks. Candi and Kristi were on the Varsity Jumping team with me, and the three of us headed back to our dorm to shower, change into cozy pjs, and then hang out in our room . . . eventually going to bed at lights-out.

Well, I just felt HORRIBLE by this point. But I didn't want to say anything. I really wanted to go to this horse show. This was my first full year as a Varsity Jumper. And while I wouldn't have been bumped down to JV because I was sick and had to miss a show or anything like that . . . it's just one of those weird thought-processes of a teen's brain. I didn't want to miss the show. And I was NOT going to the infirmary! (Nothing wrong with the infirmary . . . I just wasn't going.)

Anyway, I showered and changed into my pjs and headed straight to my bed. Luckily, my bed was right next to the window.

Now, I think I must've just had some viral bug that was going around (no gastrointestinal, um, "issues" to deal with - just a fever and fatigue) so it's not like I could've done anything to get rid of it (other than to rest, drink fluids, and probably spend a night or two in the infirmary so as not to spread the bug).

But back to the story . . . on this particular cold, winter evening, I was hot. I was burning up. Tired Fall-down exhausted. Had a headache. I went to my bed. I felt like I was going to burn a hole through my sheets. So I opened the window.

In the wintertime in NW Indiana.

It felt WONDERFUL. Ahhh, relief. Nice, cool air flowing over me. I was in a haze. Was I awake? Or asleep? I vaguely remember hearing voices. My roommates? Friends from across the hall? They were familiar voices, nonetheless. Wendy? Rosann? Kristi? I'm not sure.

I remember that the bedroom lights were on.

I then remember that Wendy came over and closed the window. Somebody had gone to our dorm mother's apartment down the hall and had gotten a thermometer. In my mouth it went. Obviously, I had a fever. I was burning up. I wanted the window open. Somebody got me a glass of water; another got me a glass of orange juice.

I think I'd said I didn't want to go to the infirmary. That I was going to go to the horse show. I have a little bottle of Tylenol in the lock box in my desk. Please get a couple for me.

Our dorm mother came in to check. No, please don't make a fuss. I'm going to bed; I'm okay.

I slept fitfully. I had to keep getting up to go to the bathroom, after all the liquids everyone had pushed on me. My three roommates must've really bundled up that night, because I remember begging and pleading to keep the window open a crack. But I'm assuming one of them closed it after I'd fallen asleep.

And then the alarm clock (mine? Candi's?) went off way too early. Horse show mornings always start off really early. Especially early if you've been sick the night before.

We'd made it to the Riding Hall that morning, got the horses loaded into the trailer, made sure all the equipment and necessities were loaded in the "tack room" portion of the trailer, and we were ready to load ourselves up. Typically, those teammates with the most seniority would get to ride in the dually's cab, enjoying either heat or a/c, depending on the season. Everyone else would have to ride in the "tack room" portion of the trailer. Shhh, that probably wouldn't fly very well these days.

Well, since I would've had to ride in the trailer as a sophomore, with a bunch of juniors and seniors taking up the dually (our coach would've been driving), I was kinda milling about, waiting til the last moment before getting in.

But then Candi came to me and stated, "You're riding in the truck." She had a you're not arguing with me tone of voice.

Okay. I wasn't going to argue with her. Not only was she giving me an order, I wasn't feeling like arguing. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. But I desperately wanted to show at the same time. I was sick. I was a teen. Don't try and find the logic.

As I was getting ready to get into the truck, I heard somebody - another teammate (Drew, maybe?) - arguing with Candi. All I could hear was Candi's voice quietly, but forcefully saying, "She's SICK! She WILL ride in the truck. Do you understand?"

And that was it. I was definitely riding in the truck. I think everyone knew I wasn't feeling well, but it was something that nobody talked about, other than that brief exchange I'd overheard.

Fortunately, I didn't get anybody else sick, though I vaguely remember trying not to breathe near anyone else. And I brought home some ribbons, too. Nothing stellar, but in the ribbons, nevertheless.

And that is how I remember the event. Now, keep in mind I was sick and in need of sleep, so I may not have remembered it exactly as it happened, but this is the way my brain stored my memories of this event.

Oh, and that Saturday night's sleep? It was the smartest thing I'd done that week.

Riding Hall circa May 2009, Culver Academies, Culver, IN

Please click on the button to read the rest of this week's Memory Lane Friday posts, hosted, as always, by "Two Bears and the Three Cubs":

Next week's Memory Lane Friday is "No Theme" so it'll be a nice surprise to see different topics.

Reminiscing about the 2010 Iowa State Fair, Part I

Here are some pictorial highlights from our trips to the 2010 Iowa State Fair.

Liv and I headed out alone on Friday August 13th. Here's the view when we first walked through the gate:

We stopped at the Paul R. Knapp Animal Learning Center first. This is where the coloring-contest artwork was displayed. The three pictures off to the very right were the 3-4 year old category's 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners (looking, in my opinion like the artists had a lot of adult help). Unfortunately, Liv didn't get a ribbon (I didn't help her color - I let her do it all by herself). Hers is the one on the top right corner of the big group of entries.

Click on the link - Liv's entering an Iowa State Fair Contest! - to see a better view of her artwork, which I scanned before I sent it in.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. There were plenty of baby animals in the Paul R. Knapp Animal Learning Center to get her mind off the contest results. Here she is, all excited to see the new ducklings.

Here are some sheep and lambs.

Off we go to see other sights, like this big marble globe, which floats and spins around on some water (which is why North America is currently upside down in this photo).

Here's the famous Butter Cow, made of approximately 600 pounds of butter on a wood and metal frame.

It's hard to get a good photo of it when it's behind glass. 

And here's the Green Eggs and Ham butter sculpture to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Dr. Seuss' famous book.

I took Liv to the horse barn and the new AIR CONDITIONED indoor arena to see riders warming up for a western class.

As we headed out of the horse barn, we noticed the weather was starting to change.

We ended up getting caught in a thunderstorm, complete with thunder and lightning. We took cover in a cow barn to wait for a safe time to run back to the car. 

In the meantime, here are some photos of some cows we liked. 

This one was Liv's favorite cow (and mine, too). She's got a pretty coat. I don't know what kind of cow she is.

These are Milking Shorthorn cows.

These are Guernsey cows.

This is a whole lotta bull!

Liv wanted me to take a photo of the cow-colored trash can!

And before we left for the day, she asked if we could go see the piglets.

These three were hungry. The rest of the litter is sleeping.

I'll post Part II of Liv's 2010 Iowa State Fair pictorial tour later this week.

In the meantime, check out which activity I got to check off my bucket list by reading my "I Get to Check Something Off my Bucket List" post.

The Fabric of Our Lives

Got lots of words swirling around my little gray cells but I lack the inspiration (or motivation) to wrangle them into a good story right now.

Instead, I thought I'd share a few photos of a well-loved friend of mine. I've been thinking about him a lot lately, now that spring has arrived and Cinco de Mayo is a little over a month away (I'll share that story on May 5th).

Scroll down a little and you'll see "Wild Stride," an American Quarter Horse Association (AQHA) registered Appendix Quarter Horse; his nickname was "Cotton." You'll see why we called ol' blondie "Cotton" when you see his photos.

He came to me on May 5, 2001, and after September 11th, I sent him back to his original owner (due to time constraints of mine while I was on active duty); he left me mid-October 2001.

But those few months he was with me in Tucson, AZ were wonderful. I continued to love him for the rest of his life, and I miss him.

I took these photos mid-May 2001, in Tucson, AZ. 

Here's his "head-shot":

I'm not sure exactly what he's looking at (maybe those other horses over yonder), but whatever he IS looking at sure has his attention - just look at those attentive ears:

Maybe you can see his golden dapples in this photo:

I had grand ideas of showing him in hunters/jumpers. Or maybe dabbling in Eventing. I think he would've been good at that, and the dressage training itself would've been good for him. 

Maybe one day I'll have another Quarter Horse or Appendix Quarter Horse. Once in a while I'll look through the "classifieds" on the AQHA website, just to browse through the horses that are for sale, and daydreaming about another Quarter Horse of my own.

Memory Lane Friday (a day late) - A Sporting Event

Okay, I'll play along; I like the idea of Memory Lane Fridays.

I was thinking about what I'd post yesterday and then the next thing I know, it's mid-day Saturday! Oops! Next week, I'll be sure to post (or try to post) on Friday evening after Livie has gone to bed. ;)

Let's see. There are a couple of sporting events that I was thinking about writing about, but I think I've narrowed it down to the one really FUN memory.

Back in the day, I used to be an avid equestrian. I really didn't care much about anything but riding . . . except for maybe photography, art class, and what book we'd get to read next in English. (I was . . . and still am . . . a big ol' bookworm.)

Anyway, while I attended Culver Girls Academy (CGA), I was on the Varsity Jumping Team. We usually had a blast going to various shows in the area. And we'd typically have the Culver Invitational Horse Show (a home show for us) in the spring, in the big outdoor arenas across the street from the riding hall. Riders from around the area (Indiana, Michigan, maybe Illinois, and perhaps other places) would participate in this show. And a horse show judge would come in to fulfill judging duties over the weekend for this show.

It's actually this show that I'm thinking about and fondly remembering - the May 1989 show during my senior year at Culver: just about a month before graduating. I'd actually been on the CGA Varsity Polo team this particular semester. But since I'd been on the Varsity Jumping Team since the spring semester of my freshman year, I had a tremendous urge to ride in Culver's Invitational Horse Show one final year. This would probably be my last big show before heading off to college and not being able to ride regularly, if at all.

So about a month or so before the show, I spoke to my polo coach and told her I was thinking about riding in the show; would she have a problem if I rode with the Varsity Jumpers for that week prior to the show, and then compete that whole weekend? I was so excited when she said go for it.

Meanwhile, I was still going to polo practice, having a blast picking up a new sport. After we tacked up our ponies and headed to the arena, I'd mount up and warm up without stirrups, picking up my stirrups only when we started scrimmaging.

See, I was riding as much as I could without stirrups to get my legs super tight, like steel. I knew I'd be riding in Adult Equitation classes for the first time, and I wanted to be ready.

Oh, a bit of an explanation for those of you who are not familiar with equestrian terms: riders in equitation classes are judged on their form (correct posture while mounted), and how they handle their horses (the more invisible your cues to your horse are, the better). Plus, since I'd already turned 18 in November of 1988, I was no longer able to ride in the Junior equitation classes - it would be Adult classes from here on out.

And of course, I was still practicing with the CGA Equestriennes (the CGA Honor Organization team that performs musical rides). These practices occurred after jumping and polo practices were over. So when I rode with the Equestriennes, I'd ride the whole practice without stirrups.

So after my "show preparation week" with the Varsity Jumpers, I was ready. And I was excited. I really enjoyed showing.

After a full morning of showing, it was now late Saturday afternoon - the first day of showing would be over within a few hours.

Finally, it was time to head into the ring for my first ever Adult Equitation class. I was riding Sir Ebon, a kinda fuzzy horse who was so incredibly smooth to ride - he had gaits that truly felt like you were on a rocking horse. Nice and smoooooth.

Once all the riders were in the ring, the judge had us go through our paces, including taking our feet out of the stirrups and crossing them over the the fronts of our saddle (so they wouldn't bang against our horses' sides each time they took a stride, and probably to ensure no one's feet "accidentally" went back into them prematurely). Since I'd been practicing so much without stirrups, this was a piece of cake. I could've gone on and on without stirrups, even smiling at the judge as Sir Ebon and I trotted past her, neither of us tired at all.

One of my riding instructors (Lt Michael Stahl) was standing by the ring, watching. At one point, he said, "You're doing well. Keep it up and you should place high!"

But, since riding without stirrups does take a lot of practice and is a lot of work to maintain, there is only so long a judge can have a class ride without them. So we eventually got our stirrups back.

Finally, after the judge had seen all she needed to see, all the riders lined up in the center of the ring, with our numbers (on our backs) facing the judge.

It seemed like we were there forever. Finally, after what felt like HOURS (but was only a few minutes - 5-10, tops), the announcer stated over the loudspeaker that we had the results. A lot of times, horse shows will have ribbons for 1st through 6th places. I've occasionally seen bigger shows having ribbons through 8th place. This show had ribbons through 6th. And a person (one of the horse show volunteers) with all six ribbons was standing near the middle of the ring, ready to pass them out to the riders who earned them.

And then the announcer started with 6th place, stating something to the effect of "In 6th place, number __(whatever it was)" and then saying that rider's name. That rider walked up to the volunteer, received his or her ribbon, and exited the ring.

Then 5th place . . . I think I was holding my breath, waiting to hear my number. When the number was announced . . . it was somebody else's.

Waiting for the 4th place announcement . . . more breath holding, and more disappointment that it wasn't me.

When it came to the 3rd place announcement, I was thinking that it was altogether possible that I was in the top three, especially since Lt. Stahl had thought I was doing well enough to place high.

But when they announced the 3rd place rider, it still wasn't me. I took a deep breath, trying to hold back disappointment, and telling myself not to worry about it. That I'd be in other non-equitation classes at this show, other types of classes where I usually performed much better.

So now it was time for the red ribbon - 2nd place. I held my breath, looking at the volunteer with the red 2nd place ribbon and that blue ribbon I wanted so badly. The volunteer was a fellow Culver student; if I remember correctly, I think it was Rosann, a fellow Equestriennes teammate and good friend. She was standing there looking at us, a bunch of riders still left, but only two ribbons remained . . .

. . . and then I couldn't believe it! 2nd place was announced and it still wasn't my number. Suddenly, just before the announcer said the rider's name, I had a panicked butterfly sensation in my stomach! What the heck WAS my number?! I suddenly couldn't remember! Was it me? No, it wasn't. Was it?

Nope. During my momentary confusion, the announcer said someone else's name.

And then I was really disappointed.

But then the 1st place number was called while I once again held my breath, feeling that familiar disappointment again, and wishing it were just all over already . . . and when the number was announced, it was the number I'd kept repeating over and over in my head! It was my number! But I was so surprised, I didn't move at first, not sure if it had really been my number.

Then I heard the announcer say my name, and I was filled with relief and disbelief! I just couldn't believe I'd won! First of all, wow! I'd won an equitation class! That rarely happened (I usually did well in other types of classes). And secondly, it was my first Adult Equitation class! Double wow!

The Varsity Jumping coach, Capt. Chris Kerner, a long time instructor of mine while I was at Culver, was sitting near the gate with the biggest grin I'd ever seen as I rode past. Another instructor, Ms. Leslie Gordon (the Equestriennes and JV Jumping coach), saw his big ol' smile, teasing him about it. And Capt. Kerner's response? "Well, what else would you do if your kid was the best!" That kind of compliment meant as much as the blue ribbon.

I was so excited about this win; it seemed like an unlikely victory and I really appreciated it. After this first day of showing was over, and I'd cared for Sir Ebon and returned him to his stall, I was walking back to my dorm in the twilight. It was during this walk while I was replaying the events of the day, that I came upon one of my English instructors, Mr. Wiley. He saw me in my riding clothes, and asked how I was doing at the show. I was so excited that I just blabbed on and on about the day. He laughed, smiled big, and congratulated me on how well I'd done. I think he must've been surprised because I was usually much more reserved during class, not getting quite so animated, even if we were talking about a book or story I really loved.

As we said our "I'll see you on Monday in class" and goodbyes, I enjoyed the remaining walk back to my dorm, that wonderful spring evening after an exciting day.

(Oh, and by the way . . . I think I still have that blue ribbon somewhere, tucked away with other very important mementos. LOL!)