A Couple of Shows

 Even before my mind-block-destroying simulator ride, I was determined to return to the show ring sooner rather than later. I worked really hard to get comfortable and confident in competition, and I wasn't about to lose all that hard work by staying out of the show ring for too long if I could help it.

We showed at the beginning of August and the end of September, just a couple of nice, local training shows to let me dip my toe back in the water. Nothing to write home about, just some comfortable experiences that went just fine.

I picked Lancey for my first show back, of course, and we went to beloved Penbritte, whose pizza I had missed passionately. Mawarda and his kid scored in the mid 60s for their first ever Second Level test together, which delighted me.

I entered Lancey in the Novice because I had convinced myself that I would die if I had to sit the trot for a whole test (this was before Theodore proved me wrong). It was our first time showing in the snaffle in years and he was really angelic. Of course he was.

There's not much to say about the actual tests. It's Novice on Lancey. It was effortless, except that I got completely lost during the first one and had to ask the judge which way to go, which was embarrassing. I made a mental note that mom brain means I can't learn the test two days before anymore. Apart from that, everything was pretty great and we scored in the high 60s.

I also landed a secondhand show coat that fits the post-baby-bod in Penbritte's tack shop for like $30, so that was nice.

We took the opportunity to have a photo shoot with Chippy, who is currently obsessed with all animals, especially Lancey's squishy pink nose. We had great difficulty getting Chippy to look at the camera instead of constantly grabbing the ever-tolerant Lancey's whiskers.

The pizza was delicious, the company was excellent, and we coped, which I feared we might not. Doing everything with a baby is like doing it for the first time all over again. It gets less terrifying as you go on, thank goodness, especially since Chippy is the most easygoing baby ever (and beautiful and perfect and wonderful and amazing).

The next show was the one I actually enjoyed again instead of just coping. Arwen has been in lungeing work throughout because otherwise she would split a seam with all her fatness. After riding Theodore, I realized that actually I could ride Arwen again as well, so I did. The lungeing kept her moderately fit and she was delighted to be back to doing complicated things, even being 20.

I realized that Arwen isn't ready to be done. She's sound, she likes the mental stimulation, and she really does need to work constantly to keep her weight under control, no matter her diet. But I wanted to be realistic about how much I can achieve while Chippy is still so little, so I reached out to Mawarda's kid's parents and offered them Arwen on a half lease. 

It's the biggest win-win ever. Mawarda's kid is absurdly talented and doing well in Second Level but Mawarda was never actually trained to do dressage and we taught him the lateral work in the past year. He's also 21 already, and albeit perfectly sound, I figured he'd appreciate not having to learn a whole new job right now. It didn't make sense for his kid to keep struggling to learn and teach the movements at the same time when there was a schoolmaster lolling around in a field. So his kid will keep doing showing on him---I do not trust the dragon with a child to not kick the crap out of whatever other child rides up her ass in the showing ring---and dressage on Arwen.

Arwen feat. kiddo, with cameo by Rene, still going strong

The plan is for kiddo to half lease Arwen for the next 2-3 years, aiming to have her in Third Level next year, and Fourth one or two years after that. Plans go awry, obviously, but I think Arwen would enjoy that and it gives me the opportunity to still enjoy riding her a few days a week without the pressure of keeping her in full work.

Anyway, to start with, I wanted to ride her in a show myself before putting the child on her at a show just because it's been a year and she can be a little... interesting... when she's fresh in the show environment. We were doing a local showing and dressage training show at Equivest (yay!) so I signed her up for a showing class and 3-3. We'd done it so many times that I figured we could muddle through and I would probably remember it.

I did remember it! even the rein-back

At home, the test felt great. She's obviously not back to her full strength and fitness yet but we did 3-3 so many times in 2024 that she can do it in her sleep. Her changes were great and everything else in that test is really easy for her. Plus, I had no trouble with the sitting trot, although to be fair, Arwen's trot is like sitting on a couch.

On the morning of the show, I realized I'd forgotten that she gets Omepracote the day before and day of. She was really good and didn't feel colicky at any point, but I do think the excitement got her tummy burning a bit, because when we went into the showing class the wheels fell off. It was a best trot class and she broke, like, every two minutes, lol. I promise she is actually schooled. (Mawarda and kiddo trit-trotted around perfectly and won).

photos courtesy of kiddo's mom

The dressage test started out amazing. Her trot work was just so good and it felt like we both have totally got this again. Then we started cantering, and it was fine until the first flying change, which was good but maybe caused a bit of gastric acid splash because everything went hopelessly down the drain from there. We muddled through, but she was snorting and bucking and dragoning ferociously through the whole thing, and she did a bunch of really nice fours when she was supposed to do her second flying change, which didn't help. I also had some difficulty getting her off her forehand---I am strong and fit again but not yet strong enough to lift up an entire dragon with my seat, the way I used to. (I had only been riding her for two weeks, to be fair).

Frankly, I didn't bother looking at the test. I knew it wasn't the effort we're capable of, but I think a lot of it had to do with missing her Omepracote and just being fresh back in the ring after a break. She was, in general, an absolute pleasure, much more chill than she used to be pre-2024, so I believe her next go will be much better.

Overall, it just felt good to be out dragoning again. I told Erin that riding a Third Level test six months postpartum felt badass enough for me even if the marks weren't there.

Kiddo and Mawarda steered around 2-1 and a prix caprilli test (which is a dressage test with little jumps in it, very fun). I read their tests while babywearing, which was an interesting experience. I have accidentally woken Chippy by eating an apple too loudly but apparently bellowing "A ENTER COLLECTED TROT X HALT SALUTE" over their tiny head was the perfect lullaby.

this guy 💜

participation ribbon lol

Her new kiddo will compete at SANESA on her next year, probably at Third, because they've been crushing it at home. Right now kiddo rides her twice a week, she lunges twice, and I ride her once. Maybe we'll increase that as Chippy gets a bit bigger and less Velcroed to Mommy, but for now the arrangement suits me down to the ground.

With Arwen sorted and Lancey back in action, it was time to fully turn my attention to Wynnie. But first, a random and wonderful little adventure would occur...

God is good.

Some Things Never Change

Well, folks, it's been a wild ride.

Chippy made their grand entrance in the end of March and immediately turned our world on its head in all the best ways. Babies surely complicate things, but Chippy has brought so much richness and joy into our lives. All the silly cliches turn out to be true: they grow up too quickly, the days are long but the years are short, you can't imagine your life without them.

We soon discovered that Chippy is perfect and wonderful in every conceivable way. I genuinely have to hold myself back from sharing details and pictures, because all of them are glorious. But, in the interests of maintaining our baby's privacy, I'll restrain myself. Those who know me IRL are welcome to send me a message if you're not on the baby group chat already.

Also, this blog isn't about Chippy. It's about walking with Jesus and dancing with horses - both of which have carried me through not-the-easiest-postpartum-experience-ever.

I rode up until I was about 35 weeks. By then, I had absolutely no energy. Just clambering onto Lancey or Arwen to walk a lap or two around the arena left me drained. Then again, let's be real: by 35 weeks, everything left me drained---putting on shoes, getting out of the shower, walking across the house, et cetera. Ladies and gentlemen, I was ENORMOUS. DH had to shave my legs and towel my feet. We moved the car's steering wheel back so that I could fit behind it. It was a whole thing.

When Chippy arrived---at 41 weeks, after two days' failed induction and eventually a Caesarean---we quickly discovered why I had been so enormous. Chippy was four kilos (almost nine pounds). How on Earth my five-foot-four frame had produced a whopper like that, nobody knows. More to the point, Chippy was healthy and perfect in every way, and so was I. The first 24 hours sucked (more on that later) but less than 48 hours after my Caesarean, they let us go home, largely because I begged.

Thus began a recovery that was, well, so much less melodramatic than folks would lead you to believe. I had received dire warnings that there would be pain for weeks and that it would be months before I could get back to normal and so on. Truthfully, those first few days of breastfeeding sucked so much more than the incision. It hardly ever caused me any trouble. For the first week, moving was weird and not fun, mostly because it felt like I didn't know my own body anymore. I had minimal or no pain from the incision even after I quit using the painkillers after a few days.

By our one-week appointment, though, Chippy and I were feeling ready to take on the world. The physio in hospital had given me exercises and instructed me to stick to 1000 steps per day for the first week, then to increase that by 1000 steps per day for the next week, and so on until six weeks. When you walk as much as I do---I was still getting 10-12k steps checking horses in the farthest fields at 40 weeks---this feels like prison. I managed it for the first three weeks. After that, I did whatever the heck I wanted, barring lifting heavy objects, and didn't miss a beat despite all the dire warnings. I started doing some groundwork with Wynnie again at this point, including long-lining, but no riding yet.

I did promise myself I'd wait for my six-week check-up before riding again, but to my great sorrow, K departed for England the day I was six weeks postpartum. We both agreed we had to have one more ride together, so at five weeks and five days, I clambered aboard Lancey. I said I'd walk for ten minutes or so. Forty-five minutes later, after a glorious trot and canter, I dismounted feeling like a million bucks.

au revoir K <3

Part of me had been really afraid that motherhood would reduce me to a shell of myself. That it would rob me, somehow, of my grand passion. The complete opposite was true. In Erin's words, "I don't know why our brains self-destruct without horses, but they do." The Lord gave me a thread to heaven, and it's horses. While I was bouncing on that stupid effing yoga ball trying to get Chippy to descend toward my uncooperative cervix (yoga balls are great when you're in labour, but I personally never want to see one again in my life), I was listening to my riding music, playing a horse game on my phone. Remembering Scripture and thinking about my baby and chatting with my husband and all that good stuff too, but even in those moments, horses were something to dream about.

I made a playlist on my phone called "First Ride Back" with all my favourite riding tunes. "Test Driving Toothless," that song from Top Gun, "Where No One Goes," the music from Narnia, the music from Spirit, a few rousing hymns. "So Will I." "Hallelujah"---the Casting Crowns one. I used to listen to it when everything felt like too much. Did I mention that we built onto our house in my last trimester and couldn't take out any building loans? I picked up extra writing work and earned almost every cent while voluminously pregnant. Yeah, it was a whole thing. Low points were numerous. That playlist, and dreaming of my first time back on a horse, were gifts the Lord used to cheer my heart in those hard, hard weeks.

And that first ride back? It was exactly what I'd been dreaming of. I felt like Hiccup and Toothless soaring over the oceans of Berk, like Spirit running wild in the Cimarron, like Lucy riding bareback and carefree as Aslan bounded over Narnia. I felt home.

God is good.

Arab Summershow 2025

 When people get horrified about me riding while pregnant, I tell them that I'm planning to homeschool, like I was. In terms of controversy, I'm just getting warmed up.

In all seriousness, this wasn't a decision we undertook lightly. It's pretty easy just to say that riding is a risk and no responsible mom would take it. It's also easy to spiral into a pit of depression and doom, which carries plenty of risk on its own. I pretty quickly realized that nothing in pregnancy, or presumably in childrearing, is black and white. It's all a scale of risk vs reward.

please appreciate his post-plaits unicorn hair

With a profound mental health (including PPD) history in my family, I've been utterly bent on not going down that particular rabbit hole. My kid deserves a mentally well mom. For whatever reason, the Lord saw fit to wire my brain in such a manner that it only functions when it has horsy time. I don't make the rules. To my mind, the risk of damaging my body or my baby while riding is puny compared with the risk of damaging my mind and my baby with not riding.

pictured: very good for mental health

So I've been riding.

In fact, I won my Third Level class at Penbritte on Thunder and First Level on Rosemary at four weeks, though I didn't know it yet. Then Chippy, our baby's nickname before we found out the gender and picked an actual name, went on to ride with me at Gauteng Champs. I wrangled my way through this in the trials of the first trimester---and then my second trimester brought glorious release.

The nausea never quite evaporated, but it certainly diminished. My energy bounced back. Everything quit hurting. I started to feel the little thing kick and play in there, we had our gender reveal, and pregnancy abruptly became really fun. So I did the one thing that made sense: entered another horse show.

I'm 35 weeks along now with really swollen feet and zero energy for a proper show recap, but suffice it to say, Lancey and I enjoyed yet another great Summershow and my beautiful little unicorn was perfect in every conceivable way.

the company was pretty perfect, too <3

I asked Erin to ride him in a few classes for me so that he could still go in all of his usual classes and also so that I had somebody to sub in if I felt that I wasn't coping. This worked excellently, because not only did Erin make him go better and better (and bring his turnout to a whole new level), but it also completely removed the pressure from me. I didn't feel like I had to ride every class to get my money's worth; if I felt like skipping it, I could. I didn't end up skipping any but it was great to have that option.

one of the moms made these adorable stall signs

We took a couple of kiddos along, too, and they brought in a significant element of chaos (through no fault of their own), but Lanceyboy remained the calm in the storm. Of course he was perfect for everything. He was perfect to travel, he was perfect in the stable, he was perfectly well-mannered for me to lead around and bath and hand graze even with a belly in the way.

It's the first time I've ever skipped doing arena familiarisation in the Afridome. It would have meant staying an extra night, and we already did four nights, which I thought was more than long enough for the horses. Besides... it's Lancey. I didn't think I needed to worry, and I was right. I rode him right into the Open Geldings class and he was forward, relaxed, focused, and perfectly, perfectly obedient, because of course he was.

Our performance wasn't perfect. Canter-to-walk transitions and big extensions are not exactly easy to do when you have essentially no more abs left and a certain little person kicking you in the kidneys all day. I basically had reschooled Lancey to do his downward transitions mostly off my hands instead of my (amazingly useless) seat, and he did them obediently but not with his usual panache.

I also could not have cared less. I was on my beautiful horse having the time of my life, all with my favourite little passenger riding alongside. It was a really precious horse show memory that we made as a little family---DH, Chippy, and me.

 He didn't place in the Open Geldings, and I immediately knew it was just going to be one of those shows for us. While we weren't as on our game as at Nationals, he still went absurdly well and presented a really nice picture. The judge just wasn't looking for a Lancey at this show. Such is showing. It's just the nature of the game. I immediately let go of expectations for any ribbons.

just a woman on a horse

suddenly a really pregnant woman on a horse

I rode him in the open geldings, the hunter pleasure (where I think we ribboned? fourth or something), and the adult riding horse (no ribbon for us). Erin rode him impeccably in the adult rider class, where they had to swap horses and the rider who got him absolutely could not make him move forward despite being one of the most beautifully stylish and effective riders I have ever seen, perhaps suggesting that most Arabs are just a smidgen hotter than Mr. Lancey.

He even helped out both the kiddos who came along. They each had a bit of a confidence wobble on their own horses, for various reasons, and we all know that the cure for wobbly confidence is just a little bit of unicorn magic. This included getting dressed up as the Grinch for one kiddo,

and going into the best walk class, which he won, for another.

When the General Breed classes rolled around, Erin and I were both excited. She was riding him in the best pleasure horse class, and I had him in the open show hack, my first go at an open hack class on him. Erin had him looking absolutely amazing. She put his mane into the most stunning running plait and we decided to leave his tail as it is, since he is an Arabian, after all. Also, can you believe that not one whisker is clipped on this horse? The darkness around his eyes and muzzle is makeup, courtesy of Erin. She somehow made him look even prettier than the traditionally shaved Arabs without having to disturb a single whisker. We didn't have one single negative comment on his turnout for the entire show.

shout-out to the lesson mom who bought me this stunning browband and matching brooch for Christmas <3 such a bucket list item for me

Erin's classes were first that Saturday, and we were all fairly astonished when she didn't place in the top two in the best three-gaited. Lanceycorn went like a perfect angel, and the judge gave her a test that included two 20m circles; she was the only one who rode actual 20m circles. Everybody else rode them the width of the Dome, which is at least 40m. According to the judge, Erin made them too small. Look, I respect what showing judges do, and dressage judges get their fair share of hate, but at least they know how big a meter is.

We sent them straight into the next class since we had a scratching for it, and in the best pleasure horse, Erin and Lancey absolutely owned. Lancey was picture perfect in every possible way, but Erin also showed him off with the kind of ringcraft that my nervous butt can only ever dream of, and they were such obvious winners that absolutely no one was surprised when they came out with his first big red ribbon of the show.

There was some silly snafu with the championship and they wouldn't let her go into it, which was a bummer, because I believe they would have absolutely kicked butt. Lancey is a stellar little gentleman for me, but under Erin, he looks like an absolute professional.

There wasn't much time to be annoyed about it, because it was time for us to ride our show hack class.

I had told myself that I didn't want to ride to win at this show, just to enjoy - and I had been enjoying every moment in the saddle. He couldn't possibly have been any more perfect. When we went into the show hack class, though, with a fresh judge and different competition, I was suddenly determined to ride the best individual test we possibly could and show this judge exactly what my Lanceycorn is made of.

We pulled out all the stops. Erin had somehow fixed his connection to the point where he was absolutely perfect even in one hand. I did his extended canter one-handed and part of his trot work, too, and Lancey floated around like the most magnificent little white unicorn who ever lived, which he is. The few other horses in our class also went well and were beautiful, tall, typey bays, which always counts in their favour, but this time, Lancey was unbeatable. He placed first.

I offered for Erin to ride in the championship, since she'd had such a disappointing time earlier, but she more or less shoved me through the gates and wouldn't hear of it. In hindsight, I appreciate this more than words can say. It felt pretty incredible to float around the big, beautiful Dome and hear Lanceycorn called out as the reserve champion.

My baby gave the biggest kick in the lineup while we were waiting for our ribbon, reminding me that this memory has my beautiful horse, my adorable husband, my incredible best friend, and my perfect little baby in it. It honestly doesn't get a whole lot better than that.

Not many horses out there can do four days of showing without one single spook, buck, or moment of irritability, much less crown that achievement by winning a reserve championship while toting around a six-months-pregnant rider, but Lancey can. Because he's amazing.

Chippy is due soon, so that was my last show for a hot minute. At 35 weeks I still hop on for the occasional five-minute walk, mildly impeded by the bump catching on the pommel, and I can't wait to get back on once they're safely here.

God is good.

Arab Nationals 2025

I'll start by saying that we've had many really great shows and horse experiences that have brought me so much joy, but this one... well, it takes the cake. This was the best show ever. No two ways about it.

It had an inauspicious start, however. After our debacle at HOY, I had my reservations about entering Lancey at all. I was tired of struggling with the same issue over and over in his connection---and so was he. In fact, I'd largely stopped even trying to do dressage with him because we just couldn't get past the head-flipping. Even putting him in a Pelham did hardly any good at all; he held his neck all pretty, but didn't give me a true connection through to his hind feet.

But the Arab shows at the Afridome are always such an incredible experience that I had to give it another shot. So I did the thing that we're never supposed to do. I put him in the double bridle in a bid to solve his connection problem. And, go figure, it actually really did.

About two weeks before Arab Nationals, I slipped Arwen's double on to see what he thought. I assumed he would immediately be fussy and unhappy about having two bits in his mouth and was prepared to take it off the minute he said no to it. But he didn't. He just stood there looking at me with his puppy eyes. So I took him into the arena and rode him, and it was like having an entirely new horse. His permanently chompy, tight, unhappy mouth was magically still. I could feel his hind legs in my hands and make tiny adjustments. The difference was so profound that I could suddenly sit his canter in a way I never had before. He was immediately up into the bridle instead of falling BTV, which, yes, makes no sense at all, I know.

It was incredible. I'm not sure why the double worked so well, but I'm not complaining, not even a little. Lancey has a long and weird history with connection---he learned quite nicely with me many years ago, but then had a jumping kiddo with stiff hands for a few years, and learned to run around with his nose high in the sky. He's not the typical horse when it comes to his mouth, so I guess it's not that surprising that he goes by a different set of rules.

Anyway, I was just happy to actually enjoy schooling him for once, and he seemed to enjoy being schooled, too. Of course, he needs a ton of strength to achieve true collection and for his gaits to really develop to their full potential---but the difference was big enough that I called the Arab people and asked them to move my entries from the novice classes to the open classes. I would rather do a good ride and get no placings in the open class than wrestle him around another novice and get a ribbon. It's done our relationship no good to fight about the connection all the time. Erin gave us a lesson the day before the show and concurred that he would be fine in the open classes.

It was with happy anticipation that we prepped Lancey for the show. I'd succeeded in doing enough writing in advance that I could take the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of the show off, which was fantastic and much-needed. We would have taken Mawarda too, but he unfortunately had a little bit of biliary, not at all serious, but needed a break. So it was just DH and Lancey and me as we got in the box and headed off for gorgeous Parys.

The heavens opened about half an hour from home and we drove through the most intense downpour ever. It was a white-knuckled few minutes, but thanks to our newly installed horsebox camera, we watched Lancey absolutely chilling all the way. He didn't care even a little and contentedly munched hay as we got through the storm and drove uneventfully to Parys.

It was afternoon when we arrived, but we still had plenty of time to do some leisurely unpacking and stretch Lancey's legs. We had a nice stable on the very end of the aisle in a relatively quiet section (lots of the stables were full elsewhere), and I was worried at first that he'd be all alone in his row, but luckily a friend arrived that evening and moved in two doors down from him. Not that Lancey seemed particularly bothered---being raised as an orphan foal has made him a bit socially awkward but has the advantage that he doesn't really care if other horses are around or not. Useful, if a bit dysfunctional.

I fed him dinner---I suddenly realized that the little bro needs a bit more weight if he's going to be a proper show horse, so he's getting actual grain, which is not something that features in my Nooities' lives---and we quickly booked into the absolutely perfect little flat we'd found only a block away from the show. This place was incredible. If anybody's local, hit me up for the recommendation. I honestly can't overstate how great it was.

On returning to the show, we got to watch the liberty classes for a while. They're so much fun and so unique to the Arab breed. I can't get over how amazing the liberty horses are to go from absolutely flying around with flaggy tails to standing quietly to be caught at the drop of a hat. The liberty always seems to show off the pure essence of the Arabian, allowing them to be what they were born to be, without interference. They're just magic.

Armika Maxilove (I think)

After watching the magic, I went to saddle up Lancey, planning to school him in the indoor briefly. He'd been going like a superstar all week and is familiar with the Afridome, so I wasn't worried about actually schooling him much, but I do like to do a lap in there so that Mr. I Don't Like Weird Shadows wouldn't needlessly lose a class due to a snorty moment.

We ran into the only difficulty he gave me all show at this point. It was raining cats and dogs, and while the stable block and Dome are all indoors, there were a few puddles around. Lancey doesn't do water---it's the one thing he adamantly says no to. I had to get off and lead him to the indoor and get my boots wet because he wouldn't go without my leading the way. Once we actually got into the indoor, with horses spooking in all directions, bright spotlights, and the restaurant clattering around, he was totally chill.

I rode him only briefly; he was pretty freaking perfect, and anyway, there was that one person long-lining a horse in a questionable manner, so we all cleared out of there before that situation could escalate. I tucked him up in bed, put on his suit so he wouldn't get too grubby, and then we went back to our room to eat KFC and fall asleep watching an old movie. Peak showcation, if you ask me.

We were back at the show bright and early the next morning because we had the open geldings class at some dreadful hour and Lancey, the most relaxed show horse in the world, had slept in his poo, as he always does. I'd much rather have a chill boy who sleeps in his stable than a clean one, but it does mean we do quite a lot of scrubbing. Once again, with the wash bays fully populated, the portable horsebox wash bay proved a miracle. He'd been bathed the day before but still seemed a bit yellow around the edges; it was too cold to do a full bath, so I just washed the stinky bits and hoped for the best.

Turning him out was otherwise pretty delightful. Arabs usually show natural so I just brushed him and made him shiny and Wampummed his legs to within an inch of their life. Before long, I was on him and cantering around the warmup, and he felt like a million bucks. We didn't spend much time in the warmup that morning; it basically poured rain most of the day.

Hubby leaped into action as we waited in the chute. This man is pleasantly bored and patiently helpful at most shows, but Arab shows are a whole different story. He is INTO the Arab thing. He brushed. He polished. He wiped boots and bits. He ordered me not to canter in the muddy spot because it would make my horse dirty. It was awesome.

We headed into a big, strong geldings class with no expectations except having some fun, and fun was certainly had. He was incredible on the rail, not even looking at the spooky restaurant that sometimes makes him turn his head or lose rhythm. The judge, who is also a horse welfare representative and the kind of judge you really want to impress, pulled us somewhere in the middle after the rail and let us do our own tests.

I was feeling good as we headed out for our test. Erin made us a nice one that shows off his obedience really well, and he floated around, being his glorious, unproblematic self. We did have a little miscommunication in the extended trot where I touched the curb rein to balance him and he thought he should canter instead. Bummer, but we fixed it quickly, and the rest was gorgeous and perfect, and when the judge pinned us fourth, I was really, really happy. This is Arab Nationals, after all. You don't just get ribbons at Arab Nationals. I had hoped we might get one for the whole show, and having achieved my goal, I could now forget all about ribbons and merely enjoy myself. (So I thought!) The championship class went fine but we didn't get any rosettes, as expected.

Our next class was one I'd been dreading: the best rider class. I'd only ever done one once before, many many years ago on Nianell, and it was a complete train wreck because teenage me had not been well prepared by any stretch of the imagination. I always say that I won't do best rider in case there's a horse swap and I end up on somebody's crazy horse... but to tell the truth, I just didn't believe I was any good. (Thanks, impostor syndrome). But when we had to scratch Mawarda I felt sorry for his kiddo's parents and offered to buy the class from them, and when they said they'd give it to me for free, I couldn't exactly just pull out then at that moment, could I?

So it was that on a wing and a prayer and kindness from good people, Lancey and I headed into yet another big strong class. All the pros were riding with us and the standard was high. I white-knuckled my way around the arena, terrified that we'd have to gallop without stirrups or stand on our heads or something. In the end, our judge didn't ask for any tricks. He gave us an ordinary rail and a dead simple test: walk away, trot a little, canter down the long side, trot, halt. No big deal.

I was relieved when it was over. I was astonished when he pulled us out in third place. My head was still spinning from shock when we returned for the championship, where we rode on the rail only, and I was too surprised to focus at all on anything but Lancey was perfect.

the show photos were SO EXPENSIVE so have a screenshot

We came into the lineup and the riders who'd beaten me in the adult class came first and second, and then they were saying that Sir Lancelot was third in the top five. I did not say, "Glory to the King," or any of the other nice things I should have said. I said, "What the f***," loud enough that the child rider next to me giggled. Sorry everyone. My bad.

Then we headed out to get our first ever championship ribbon at an Arab show, and DH was cheering like a madman.

The judge said he loved Lancey and that I rode "very nicely," but asked me to pick up my horse's frame a bit. (The judge made no mention of my horse's hairy ears and very long whiskers; even though Lancey is almost always the only hairy Arab at the show, I've never had a judge say anything about them). I was still expecting him to tell me that I needed to ride him more forward, but this was apparently not the case. I had finally mastered the art of riding forward enough for showing, it would appear. This gave me a massive confidence boost---I had been worrying about going too slowly so much that I didn't worry about where his head was at all.

day one haul

After this, Lancey had the physio, who offered sessions at the show. I've always worried about the tender spot behind his wither, but she didn't find anything concerning in it. It's just the place where he holds his tension. The only other spot that was a bit sore was his TMJ, which was from the constant chomping and fussing and unhappiness in the snaffle. I anticipate that there won't be any soreness there from now on, he's so quiet in the double. His SI, usually his issue, is perfect. I asked about him carrying his hips to the right and she said his left was a bit stronger than his right and so pushes him to one side, so lots of shoulder-in right is in our future. Overall, though, there was nothing really going on with him.

costume horse inspo, I thought the red looked awesome, Erin says it looks like Father Christmas

Then we hung out in Parys for the afternoon, letting Lancey relax and have some peace. This commenced one of the happiest afternoons I can remember. It was kind of cold, so we started with hot chocolate at this super cute little deli, then proceeded to my favourite secondhand bookshop in the world, where I scored a whole lot of Jeffery Deavers and Dick Francises for like R20 each (roughly $5). We found a gelato shop---it was warmer by then---and strolled along the street eating incredible dark chocolate gelato. I was merrily licking my gelato, chattering incessantly about our noble victory in the best rider championship, when DH put his hand on my head and turned it so I could see a sign for yet another secondhand bookshop. Inside, I found EVEN MORE Deavers and Dick Francises. We left with an inadvisable amount of books. Like... a lot of books. An embarrassing number.

We returned that evening to take His Lanceyness for a long hand walk and get my hired costume from a wonderfully nice man who owns an Arab stud and agreed to let me rent one of the native costumes. He was super kind even though I had to ask him to show me how to put the costume on---I really felt welcomed with open arms despite being a newb in this specific corner of the equestrian world. It was a lovely change from some of the drama we've been having this year.

We rounded off the day by waiting an annoyingly long time for pizza in town, after which I slept like a baby.

Our classes started a little later on Saturday so we had a relatively leisurely morning and gave Lancey a full bath with purple shampoo, which made a world of difference, especially to his mane. Normal shampoo simply doesn't cut it there. It was warm enough that he wasn't miserable---he really hates being cold---and he looked so pretty afterwards. He warmed up like a real angel for the adult riding horse class, which was enormous. I think there were fifteen of us, and it was all the open riders with all their very best horses. It's always a super competitive class and a highlight of the show.

I was delighted to be in such company and not expecting a ribbon at all, but I was determined to improve his frame and ride him like a proper showing pony and not a novice-level dressage horse. He is twelve years old, after all, and I've put soooo much work into him. He can go like a grown-up if I do my bit. I concentrated really hard on asking him to raise his forehand and move more under himself, and he felt different but amazing as we headed into the ring.

The rail went on forever. It was extremely busy, with Arabs in all directions. I passed others twice and then somehow we found a perfect bubble and just stayed there for the entire rail, never getting squashed behind anyone. That can make or break a class like this and much of it was sheer dumb luck. It does also help when we have a very big class because most horses will eventually get annoyed with other horses passing or circling, but not Lancey. He ponies Wynnie out all the time---short of actually climbing on top of him, none of our classmates could do anything like what she does on a regular basis.

The judge called us all to walk and started picking us out of the lineup. He pulled Lancey out first, so I took a respectful spot somewhere near the middle, thinking he'd merely pulled us because we happened to go by him early.

The judge came over and shooed me up to the other end of the arena, and I suddenly realized, like a thunderclap, that we were winning.

My brain dribbled out of my ears at this point. I sat there with my mouth hanging open as the other riders---professional riders on champion horses---lined up all to our left. Lancey cocked a foot and went to sleep. DH was bouncing up and down on the stands, smile lighting up the whole world the way it always does.

there's always time for a Dome milkshake

We still had a test to get through, and the judge explained a simple one to keep the class short: walk away, trot a little, change rein in trot, change rein again with some walk in the middle, canter from the walk, canter down the long side, trot, and halt. It wasn't complicated, which instantly worried me. Lancey's great hallmark is his obedience; the more tricky the test, the more he stands out. I would have to ride for my life if we wanted to cling onto a ribbon in this class.

My blood was pounding in my ears when we rode out of the lineup. I wasn't falling to bits---I didn't have that horrible dead-jellyfish feeling like in previous years at the Supremes---but I definitely felt the pressure of being at the top of this gigantic class. (I was also completely flabbergasted, which didn't help). However, we kept it together. We trotted nicely. We walked nicely. He stepped up into the canter with tremendous obedience but perhaps not as much balance and power as he could have if I'd set him up a little better. It was all fine.

You don't win a class like this on "fine." You win it on "perfect," which is what the second-placed horse---ridden by the nice man who rented me the costume---delivered. I was unsurprised when they called him out for the first-place ribbon, but still completely amazed when they called us out second.

The judge adored Lancey. He said he was "perfectly schooled," but the canter transition of the first-placed horse was better. I knew it was and was still over the moon with our second place. I had him throw his toes a bit in the lap of honour and DH was just about losing his mind in excitement. That's a moment I won't forget for a long, long time, I can tell you.

We headed back to the stables for two more classes. Lanceyboy was still being absolutely wonderful. He was by no means flat or tired, just the same happy, contented boy he'd been all show long. There just aren't many horses in the whole world like this one, and knowing him is a breathtaking privilege, ribbons or no ribbons. Every single time he saw me at this show, he whinnied. It was the cutest thing in the world.

We joked that he did better than the previous day because we'd bought him organic carrots and apples from Woolworths, where the fancy folks shop around here, the night before. Woolworths carrots clearly make your horse more fancy than normal carrots.

The next class was senior hunter pleasure. I still don't know what that is, but I give it my best shot every time. I plaited him up, exchanged the double for a Kimberwick, and scrambled aboard. He goes okay in the Kimberwick---perhaps not as collected as I can get him in the double, but the whole point of hunter pleasure is to go low and forward, so that was fine. We had a quick warmup, practicing our hand gallop, and headed in with a large, strong class. Lancey and I led the way. It's always a bit spooky being the first horse into the Dome, especially in hunter pleasure, where you trot in on the opposite rein to the other classes. But Lanceycorn stormed in there at a bold, flying trot, making me grin all over my face.

We had a different judge for this one, a nice American lady. I never remember how these classes go, so I just listened to the announcer. We trotted, cantered, hand galloped, and then walked. (My dressage soul says that when the judge says "hand gallop" and then says "walk" one must execute a gallop to walk without trotting; Lancey is delighted to oblige, causing great consternation behind us). I forgot which way round to turn (I'm still not sure which way it is, tbh) and we did the same on the other rein.

DH was super pumped after our prior victories. At dressage, he chills on the grandstand, taking video, mildly bored. During this class, he was right on the rail with all the owners. The owners were yelling encouragement and instructions to the riders. DH, who I suppose could classify as Lancey's owner (he refers to him as "Pa se perd," Daddy's horse), was soon shouting at me to pick up Lancey's head. I was mildly surprised by this---he's never tried to coach me before---but obediently did so, and, watching the video, hubby was spot on. I did need to pick up his head. I'm still amused.

Also according to DH, one of the stud owners in the crowd told someone else in the crowd that if the judge didn't place Lancey, she was insane. He told me this very passionately afterward, but he needn't have worried. Lancey pinned fourth. Not too shabby at all.

As the evening rolled on, we gave Lancey a break and went to find a long-sleeved shirt for me to wear under my costume. Then we returned and tackled the mammoth task of putting our costume on. My bit was simple enough---I had to ditch the headdress because it didn't work over my helmet---but getting the breastplate and blanket adjusted right on Lancey took some figuring out. Eventually our friend S who runs a yard in town appeared and assisted, and a friendly lady in the warmup helped, and finally we were all aboard and riding around the warmup in full costume.

Lancey's worn a costume once before in his life, but also, I rode him on my wedding day in layers and layers of petticoats, so I wasn't worried. I didn't need to be. He didn't care at all that he had tassles and things flying all around him.

We did a short warmup to make sure he was happy to wear his outfit and then went to hang out in the chute, where we found another Arab friend---F, Gulfstream's mom---and chatted with her. Then they called us in for the geldings costume class.

This class is possibly the most fun I had all show, even if we didn't get anywhere, placings-wise. It's not a technically difficult class to survive in (winning it is obviously a different matter)---you canter in, remember to do no trotting, and then just go really fast when they tell you to hand gallop. Lancey led the way once more, boldly cantering into the arena, and we even managed a little acceleration for hand gallop bit. Once my dressage rider self made peace with the face that the costume flaps and makes you feel like it's you that's flapping, all was well.

It was so much fun. Of course, I wasn't expecting ribbons. I wasn't in my full costume, for one thing, and for another, one is supposed to emulate a fierce Bedouin prince galloping across the desert to intimidate his enemies. Lancey is many things, but fierce and intimidating are not among those things. We rode the championship because we were fifth out of five (and therefore technically in the top five) and had the time of our lives.

He was sweaty and a bit breathless from all the galloping but still chipper as ever when we returned to our stable and gave him a very well-earned dinner and rest. After sleeping over with Erin's parents, who were so kind to us (and Erin's cat cuddled my husband all night), we got an early start the next morning and brought His Lanceyness home. He loaded and traveled like the perfect angel he is and trotted off into the field without a care in the world, tail flagging, feet flying.

Thus ended one of my favourite ever memories. I'll cherish this show for a long time, especially because of my little white unicorn and my dream-supporting favourite person in the world.

God is so good.