I'm writing this post many many months after the fact, but not for the usual reasons. In fact, this post contains a little bit of news that I was waiting to share until it felt right. I couldn't quite do this story and these memories justice without it, so here we are, talking about this ages and ages later.
After our scintillating Advanced debut at Penbritte in June, the logical next step was to aim for Gauteng Champs in August. Arwen had never gone so well in her life. The test was tough: 4-3 is a long way from 4-1, with actual pirouettes and tempis in it. But we buckled down at home and made it happen. Are the tempis and piros really polished? Not even a little. Is the rest of the work totally solid? Absolutely. I wanted to do it, so we went out and did it. As you may have noticed, I overthink a little less these days.
Another reason why I was really motivated to go out and make it happen was that we'd received news that meant I would have to shelve riding at the higher levels for a little while. After much anticipation and hope, DH and I are finally expecting our first.
The Internet is a weird and dangerous place and certainly not suitable for babies and little children, so I won't be sharing much about our little one on here, but pregnancy is part of my story and I'd like to honor it.
This is an intimate part of the story of 2025's Gauteng Dressage Champs, because when the big day rolled around, I was nine weeks pregnant and in the throes of a truly horrible first trimester. Delighted by the existence of the tiny little peanut, overwhelmingly excited for the journey ahead, and also constantly throwing up and exhausted. That thing they say about "morning" sickness? It's not. It's really not. Totally worth it, totally sucks. But dressage gave me something to focus on, something to motivate me to get outside and do healthy things, even if we needed to double up on sports bras and wince through most of the sitting trot and sometimes jump off to just lie in the shade and groan a little.
As we led up to the show, she grew more and more confident with the test. We had only one little whoops when she flew back while tied up (goodness only knows why) and pulled hard on her neck and poll. I may have panicked a little. I summoned our local bodyworker in great distress, only for her to come out, poke around Arwen's body, and shrug. There was nothing wrong with her. She got a nice massage for her troubles anyway.
Our preparation went swimmingly until I dropped my last sewing needle in a pile of hay while plaiting Arwen's mane. After several minutes on my hands and knees under her feet, I had no choice but to give up on that and do the last few plaits with elastics, which I always hate. Nonetheless, we bundled Arwen into the box that Thursday afternoon and set off for Kyalami full of excitement. I had luckily chosen that day to crave Kyalami Park's absolutely elite chicken strips, so that worked out pretty great. (Have you ever been absolutely bloody starving and simultaneously on the brink of vomiting? It's not fun.)
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| having had four kids, Arwen says I'm weak |
Arwen was so chill that I was a little worried about her. She dozed by the box while I got ready and wondered where on earth my husband was with the lunch I was growing so desperate for. He returned ten minutes later, triumphant and bearing a hilarious story.
He'd arrived at the cafe and placed the usual order, but the server told him that they were out of chicken strips. Now, we are both introverted people who don't do confrontation. Usually, if a place is out of something, we get something else. But this time, DH moaned, "Oh, no. You're the ones who have to tell my pregnant wife that she can't have her chicken strips."
They must have seen the light of desperation in his eyes, because the ladies at the cafe immediately sent a luckless young cashier all the way up to the big restaurant at the other end of Kyalami Park Club. I got my strips. They were the best thing I'd tasted in weeks.
Thus satiated, I hopped on my extremely relaxed horse and proceeded to the warmup. (Why did I feel way better with a bellyful of fat and carbs? Girl, idk. I was eating steak and kidney pies at 7am but gagging at the thought of water or crackers or any of the things you're supposed to eat. Pregnancy is wild).
All day long, Arwen was an absolute pleasure in every way. We were so harmonious in the warmup that it was actually a little freaky. She was spicy and energized, but not in a let's-chuck-you-off kind of way, more in a this-extended-trot-is-absolutely-LIT way. I was grinning all over my face when we finished our warmup. I'd never felt her that amazing before. Also, pregnancy mood swings are a thing. Apparently my hormones were set to "delighted" that day, which certainly helped.
The steady low-grade discomfort---the sore boobs, the nausea, the near-constant need to pee---evaporated just for a little while as hubs helped me into my beautiful tailcoat (back in the days when I could still wear normal people clothes) and we headed into the ring.
We were in the Members Arena, DH was watching, and I had the most wonderful little passenger riding right along with us. It was a moment I won't ever forget. After the bell rang I took a few moments just to soak it all in, the glory of it all. Life on this side of Heaven is a weird mix of the glorious and the fallen, and pregnancy is no exception, but that was one of the Heaven moments, one of those instances when the sheer joy and beauty and glory of God bursts through in a way that nothing can stifle.
Then we were cantering down the centreline like we belonged there, and that day, we absolutely freaking did.
Nothing was particularly spectacular---and the judge was not into anything that wasn't a 5, 6, or 7---but we made no big mistakes, which, for our first bid at 4-3, was pretty epic. I juggled the halt a little badly and we landed a bit crooked for 6.5, "more straight in halt." She soared through her medium trot, as much as 14.3 hands of tubby Nooitie can soar, leaving the judge unimpressed for 6.5, "more airtime" (ma'am pls how much more airtime do you think this little animal has in her?)
Our shoulder-ins and half-passes and first extended trot were solid, long string of 6.5s, the judge asking for more bend right and a freer shoulder in the extension. Her rein-back was obedient but she ducked hard behind the bit for 6.5, "steady halt, very deep in rein-back". She popped back up again, thankfully without any difficulty, and pulled out a 7.0 for the next shoulder-in and a 6.5 for the half-pass and then listened for once into the collected walk for another 7.0.
This started a walk tour that blessedly does not include any stupid turns on the haunches. I'm so over those, not gonna lie. I'd rather do twenty canter pirouettes. We still managed to get a bit tense and weird at the end of the extended walk for 6.0, then anticipated the canter for 6.5.
Arwen LIKES the 4-3 canter work, which is to say that keeping a lid on it is not simple. We rushed in the medium canter for 6.0, but got things together and half-passed for 6.5, "more bend," then headed into our first canter pirouette in competition. I felt her lose the rhythm a bit and tried to help her out but my general ineptitude was fairly obvious for 5.5, "together behind for one step."
She did, however, remain super quietly on my aid and listening into the flying change, which was 7.0 despite being our difficult rein. The judge wanted more bend in our next half-pass but still gave us 6.5. I followed this by completely ruining the next pirouette for 5.0, "together behind throughout." She sits really well and understands the trick---Arwen loves her tricks---but actually doing it properly is still a work in progress.
The next flying change was smooth again for 6.5, and we redeemed ourselves in the extended canter for another 6.5. Then we had to scrape ourselves up for the three-tempis.
These are hit and miss. Sometimes we absolutely nailed them at home, through, steady, collected. Sometimes I completely fail at the timing. Sometimes she gets hopelessly overexcited. These were a bit more miss than hit, but we fuddled our way through them for 5.5, "jumping together behind." The tempis also have the effect of lighting the dragon like one of those flaming Chinese rockets from Mulan, so I piloted my rocket down the centreline with a certain amount of difficulty, still managing a square and immobile halt for 6.5, "fairly straight, not quite on centreline."
I couldn't possibly have been happier with her. I knew we'd made our share of mistakes in the difficult movements, but we'd been working together with every step. She gave me a feeling of total harmony; even when she was hot and fizzy, she took me there with her. It was amazing. I was grinning so hard as I rode out of the arena that a passing coach remarked I was the happiest person at the show. I said that she would be, too, if she had an Arwen.
We had our first official bit check in competition right after that, which consisted mostly of the official laughing at the daylight she could see under my noseband, and then went to greet hubby, who knew from my face that things had gone well and was already as proud as could be.
Arwen was happy to chill at the horsebox (who is this woman?) while I hurried off to check our scores. To my delight, the judge had liked us, and it showed in the collectives. Let the record reflect, now and forever, that a barely-more-than-pony Nooitie is perfectly capable of earning a 7.0 on paces at freaking Fourth Level. We got a 6.5 on impulsion, 5.5 for submission, 7.0 for rider position, and 6.0 for aids.
"Horse showing ability," the judge commented, "but at times could show a little more." Couldn't we all?
That was good enough for 62.778%, considerably more than I'd expected for our first ever trip at 4-3. Better yet, we placed 7th out of 24 in a whole class full of warmbloods and professionals. I was absolutely stoked, to say the very least. We'd only come to the show to ride, with no illusions of getting anywhere, but we found ourselves through to the championships.
The championship day was the Saturday. I could have schooled the piros and tempis on Friday, but I felt that we weren't going to fix them in one ride and messing with them more might make my brain fall out, so we just had an easy stretchy ride and hack that day.
Saturday rolled around with a whole different mood attached. My hormones had decided that this was the day to be unbelievably overstimulated and mad at everything that moved, even though I sewed her plaits in and she looked nice. Arwen is used to my general emotional instability and didn't bat an eyelash at me. Hubby plied me with snacks, and Erin showed up with a giant bouquet of flowers, because everyone in the world should be lucky enough to have a friend like Erin.
This buoyed my mood considerably and I was feeling better, albeit on the verge of puking and probably needing to pee as I did 24/7 for about six weeks back there, when I scrambled into the saddle.
To her credit, Arwen was perfect. She strolled off to the warmup on a loose rein, chill and ready---maybe a little more chill than I would have liked.
I soon discovered that the only thing more chaotic than a warmup arena full of little kids jumping around on ponies is a warmup arena full of upper-level dressage riders. You never know where somebody's going to go next. Lateral work gets right of way, sure, but that's absolutely no good when literally everyone is shoulder-inning and half-passing all over the place. Pirouettes complicate everything; the horse and rider that was peacefully cantering away from you six strides ago are now barreling towards you and doing flying changes everywhere.
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| the photographers did not capture one single extended trot lol |
DH also went to find the relatives who'd come to watch (the family support is honestly amazing 💜💜). I didn't know this and thought he had disappeared into the ether. Erin appeared in the nick of time with something cold to drink and instructions to look up, but I had broken our tempis hopelessly (as you do in the warmup for a championship test) and can't do those without looking, so her good advice fell upon deaf ears. Also I kind of wanted to throw up. It wasn't good.
Arwen, however, was extremely good. As usual, she was coming through for me when I was operating at like 50%. Erin wrestled me into my tailcoat and I took a deep breath as we reached the arena and I spotted DH, instantly making my life much better. I had a lot of hormones to contend with and every inch of my body wanted me to be angry and upset with the universe, but at the end of the day, I was on the best horse in the whole world, flaunting the tails we'd worked our butts off for, with a lot of people who loved me watching.
There wasn't a lot I could do about my mood, but I could still be pretty dang grateful in that moment. I picked up my reins and my wonderful dragon glanced around the massive atmosphere of the Peter Minnie on championship day and said, "Just hold on. I got you." And she did.
To be completely frank, in the (many) intervening months, I totally misplaced the tests. I know that we made a few little mistakes. The tempis came to bits completely - in all honesty, those are still unbelievably hard for me, and I need to be really switched on to make them happen, which I was not - but the pirouettes felt a little better and the single changes were smooth and lovely.
The best part was that, once again, Arwen was right there with me. She was not only responding to all my aids and really listening even through moments of anticipation, but she covered my mistakes at times, stayed cool when I stuffed it up, and offered me so much more than I genuinely deserved for how well I was riding. It wasn't smooth and fluid and easy the way it had been that Thursday, but we were in harmony. Connected, communicating---dancing, if not very well.
The marks surprised me a little. We got 59 from one judge and 58 from the other, not with any dramatically bad moments, just a general decrease in the overall quality. My more lackadaisacal riding had everything to do with it (and judges are always just a little more cranky on championship day). But it didn't matter.
We'd earned our tails and we'd come out---a pregnant amateur on a little round 19-year-old Nooitie---and shown that we deserved to be in this level. We might not have lit the world on fire, but we did our tests in harmony, with lightness, with ease. None of it felt hard on her; the mistakes were largely mine.
It felt like dancing. It felt like dressage.
It'll be a long time before I fit into that tailcoat again, but I'll never forget the awesome privilege of wearing it on the horse who carried me all the way from Training to Fourth against all odds, or the endless support from the tribe we've gathered along the way.
God is good.
A little throwback: our mutual first Prelim, 2014, and our Advanced, 2025
