Friend

After losing her previous pregnancy thanks to an EEV outbreak somewhere around the 90-100 day mark, Rene had a visit with Dakota---Wynnie's dad---again last year. She was confirmed in foal and rechecked multiple times, but we never quite got an exact cover date. Dakota is a total gentleman and the two of them were allowed to live in the field together for several months, and for some reason Rene is a super discreet mare and we never actually saw her come into heat.

Nonetheless, as we reached mid-January, it became obvious that we didn't have much longer to wait. With alarming suddenness, Rene developed an udder and a low-slung belly. I moved her in at night and started a maddening series of late-night and early-morning checks during which nothing whatsoever appeared to change. Her milk didn't quite come in, remaining mostly transparent. The foal never kicked. I watched her like a hawk and yet she seemed to be making no progress beyond simply feeling very huge and pregnant.

One morning as we breakfasted on the stoop in front of our cottage, my husband gazed across the horse fields and announced, "Rene's going to have her baby this week."

I scoffed. How would my non-horsy husband know from a distance of fifty metres when the mare was going to foal down when I, the horsewoman, had been hovering over her for days?

"Look at her," he said. "It's obvious."

Three days later, I peered in at late night check to see Rene eating hay peacefully. Still no real milk and certainly no wax.

"Nah," I told hubby. "We've got a few days."

The next morning there was a fluffy little brown creature waiting in the straw.

In my tremendous excitement, I forgot everything that I had learned in a lifetime of farming and decided that the foal was a colt. It was also dry, strong, and able to stand on its own, but it was sucking everything: me, the mare, the straw. Correction, it was sucking everything except for the actual teats. Worried that the foal was already a couple of hours old and hadn't gotten any colostrum, I tried to help it drink, but it just wasn't getting the hang of it enough to ingest a meaningful volume.

I texted the vet, who agreed with me that there was nothing wrong with it except, and I quote, "it's clumsy stupid". So I milked Rene. To her endless credit, she stood munching on her breakfast while I milked her like a dairy cow. The hungry foal blundered all around the stable, sucking the walls, sucking my hair, sucking every part of its mother except the relevant bits.

Once I had a nice, frothing litre of colostrum, I tipped it into one of the sterile bottles we use for the calves, topped it with a rubber teat and prepared myself for a fight. Calves usually take a second to learn how to drink from a bottle and cover you with colostrum in the process. As I was figuring out how to get this done, I realised that the foal was, in fact, a filly. My bad. She was solid bay with only a white coronet on her right hind.

I wrapped an arm around the filly's neck, with DH watching in adoration (of the filly, I might add), and put the tip of the rubber teat in her mouth. And she slurped up the bottle all in one go.

With that, the filly had thoroughly imprinted on me, but she was still more than happy to search her mother for more milk. I let them be now that I was certain she'd had that essential first colostrum, and within an hour or two, she'd figured out how to suck
le all on her own.

After much intense debate, DH and I finally agreed on a name: Morning Star Raya. Not only do we both love Raya and the Last Dragon, but it's also a Hebrew name meaning "friend". And if that's not already an excellent description for this precious little filly who loves everyone, I don't know what is.

Despite her inauspicious start, Raya is one of the strongest foals we've had. She was born with lovely straight legs and has had no drama at all. At a week old, with her toothies barely making an appearance, she's already eating and drinking water on her own, lets me lift all four her teensy feets, and walks to the field and back with a soft rope around her neck like a big girl.

She adores the riding school kiddos and, especially, me. Although she hasn't had any difficulty suckling from Rene ever since, she still likes to suck my arms. We spend a lot of time allogrooming. Is it adorable? Yes. It is the most adorable thing in the universe.

I only realized now, and perhaps I never actually connected the dots, but Rene is also the dam of my first purebred Nooitgedachter, a beautiful grey filly named Arop Amelia who died from tetanus ten days after I brought her home in 2016. I called her Rainbow and she took a chunk of my heart with her. Raya feels a little like getting a piece of Rainbow back.

RIP sweet Rainybow

Rene is doing fabulously well for an older girl who's about to turn eighteen. Obviously I'm feeding the living daylights out of her, but she's holding her weight and clearly enjoying being a mommy mare again. She's so experienced and relaxed that she makes everything seem easy.

We'll retain Raya for now and, Lord willing, produce her and see what she would like to be. With her temperament and breeding, she'd be useful as a schoolie or a kids' horse. If she inherited her daddy's engine, she might make an appearance in the dressage ring someday, too. For now, she's just our precious baby Raya, bringing smiles everywhere she goes.

God is very good.

Is That Another Train?

 The riding school where I had my first lessons from Auntie M as a tiny kid is down the road from us, and my first coach's stepdaughter happens to be one of DH's best friends. Growing up in a small town will do that to you. Friend C---who handled Arwen and got kicked by Wynnie at HOY 2022---works overseas for much of the year, so we've seldom actually ridden together, but on Friday we changed that.

I asked the ever-lovely M to give Lancey a bath for the occasion, at which request M scrubbed Lancey to within an inch of his life, so it was a snow white and show ready Arab who we loaded up on Friday afternoon. He got out at the riding school where I had my very first gymkhana on Skye about fifteen years ago, tail high and neck arched, snorting so that C thought he was a Wild Stallion. I assured her that he is all bark and no bite as I threw on his tack, and we left DH to hang out with C's fiance while we went riding.

C was on Salsa, a daughter of Auntie M's treasured old mare, and we rode past a field full of horses I'd known as a little kid - Polka, Stefanie, Bolero, Isak, Dirk, Mazurka and even the pony on whom I was an up-downer, Mystique. It was lovely to see them all grazing in a big green field, looking wonderful and happy in the home they've known for decades.

C and I haven't ridden together much, but we instantly settled into a merry rhythm of walking and trotting through the summery fields. Salsa couldn't decide if she was going to be a bit nappy or a bit excited, but Lancey seemed to hit his happy, I-can-do-this-all-day stride immediately without his usual few minutes of stop-and-snort first.

We rode across a small vlei and then along the edges of the fields, which were deep with the rich green of soyabeans. Salsa charged into them with a great rustling at one point; Lancey spooked at that, then spooked again at a mealie leaf. Both were spooks-in-place - I didn't bother to pick up the reins.

wow I really need to cut his bridle path

As we wound our way along the fields, I remembered the train tracks running through the middle of the farm from pony camp years ago when Skye was pregnant with Thunder and didn't bat an eye at the speeding train. Then again, Skye didn't bat an eye at anything.

"Do you think there'll be a train?" I asked.

We moved on between two soya fields and C asked if I was up for a canter. As usual I asked to go in front and squeezed him forward, and Lanceycorn responded by Bronco Leaping, ie porpoising that doesn't panic even me. I pulled his head up and booted him and he cantered off like a good boy, albeit a very happy and excited good boy, who settled into a far more acceptable canter by the end of the field and happily dropped to a walk on a loose rein when asked.

Five minutes later, there was indeed a train when we were quite close to the tracks. It clunked past quite slowly, and despite the fact that I was definitely worried, Lancey barely looked at it. He grabbed a few bites of grass and we continued along, unphased by the tractors and trailers that were heading along the fields, "following" us (did I mention those?).

We had another lovely long trot along the edge of the field, Lancey absolutely powering along despite his lack of fitness, hitting that extra gear that he only ever finds out on a long ride. This dude was born for endurance and he knows it.

I declined to try to get Lancey through an underpass that had water in it, so we headed for a bridge over the train tracks instead. This was our mutual first bridge, and bridges give me the heebie jeebies even in a car, but Lancey clopped over without batting an eye. We walked along the vlei on loose reins, enjoying the sunshine and excellent company, when I realized sharply that the tractors were no longer behind us despite the clanky sound I heard.

"Is that another train?" I enquired.

It was, and it was loud, fast, behind the trees, and had something wrong with it that made it squeal appallingly. Lancey took a couple of walk steps backward and sideways, but he didn't offer to turn around. We stood and watched it zoom past and then continued on our merry way at a happy walk, even wading through belly-deep vlei grass, normally a thing Lancey does not enjoy. He snacked happily and I let him.

We had one more nice stretch along the fields before we got back, and we took advantage of it. This time, Lancey stepped up into canter without a peep of protest, and I urged him on to the point where C could actually canter too (my little dressage-queeny collected canter on outrides is decidedly unpopular). It felt good to let him out a little, and we were all grinning by the time we reached the end of the field and he went back to an obedient, quiet walk.

The last stretch involved following a busy main road, and while we were across the fence from the road, the traffic still swished by much closer than Lancey's used to. He didn't care, though. Even when I made the mistake of waving to a trucker, who cheerfully hooted in reply, Lancey didn't even flick an ear.

Relaxed and happy, we got back, unsaddled and left Lancey in a field with Mystique and Polka, two ancient mares unlikely to beat him up even if he annoyed them. To my relief, Lancey didn't try to play with them. He happily grazed while we visited with C and her fiance N, and even though it was totally dark by the time we left, he walked straight into the box with no hesitation.

We did 6km in an hour in the end, which for this ploddy dressage queen and given that Lancey is by no means fully fit again, was more than enough for a lovely Friday ride.

My little white unicorn amazes me everywhere we go.

God is good.

husband feat. C's amazing dogs

Renewed Awe

Being home again has brought with it a renewed awe of the glory with which we find ourselves surrounded every day. The Lord ensured that we were always provided with somewhere affordable and beautiful to stay during our unexpected six-week sojourn in Ballito, and it was wonderful to have a comfortable seaside flat to stay in during those tenuous first weeks after DH was discharged.

Yet we're both grateful to be back in our little house on the Highveld, surrounded by the pets and people we love.

DH has been doing phenomenally well. Recovering from two open laparotomies is not a quick or easy process, but my superhero is a little better every day.

As for the horsies, they mostly had a break while we were away. K rode them a couple of times, but they didn't exactly stay fit, so I got started toward the end of December with slowly increasing their fitness.

Thunerbirdy was going SUPER WELL. It always takes him a while to rebuild his fitness, but he was giving me his best work yet. We even played with the two-tempis (J showed me his ones, boggling my brain, in October) and everything felt amazing. Of course, after the first proper rain of January, he slipped in the field and pulled a tendon, because horses gonna horse.

The vet came out and took some X-rays that showed no major damage (and beautiful joints and foot angles, I might add - hallelujah) so we're doing the ice, cold poultice and paddock rest thing. He's sound to all appearances but the flexor tendons are still a little thickened at times. 

Despite the fact that she is ridiculously overweight and 17 years old now, the return to work has been going much better for Arwen. She and I have unfinished business with the higher grades this year, Lord willing, so we've been working to regain all of her strength and suppleness while polishing up the movements that she already knows well - single changes, half passes and the like.

I'm honestly astounded with how rideable she became last year. We didn't actually compete in dressage, but we put in a ton of hours in training and lessons, and they're paying off.

Our show season starts this weekend and I'm really excited for it. We've even been going on a bunch of outrides together, with a minimum of dragoning, and it feels like our 16-year relationship is the best it's ever been at the moment. I'm enjoying her more than I can express right now.

As for my Lancey, he's loving life as a pet with a few fun, relaxed rides each week. We had a ride with plenty of spice involved last week, when I thought a nice solo hack was a great idea while he was very fresh and a swarm of horse flies descended upon it, but all he did was jog a little bit - nothing naughty.

Since then we had a much nicer, very relaxed ride with A, who owns Mawarda and is becoming a staple of the little riding friends group that has developed on the yard, to my eternal delight.

K did an admirable job of keeping the yard together while I was gone, and we returned to lessons in full force this month, with a few changes to the lineup. Spirit went to her owners' farm to retire and her kiddos both moved onto big horses - Jamaica and Faith. Despite my initial misgivings, Faith has been fantastic with her very small kiddo so far.

Flash, Sahara, Stardust and Midas make for a wonderfully varied and useful school pony lineup and each have a couple of lessons a week, so they're earning their keep at least.

Thanks to E2, we also arranged a really nice junior horse for BarnRat. She has put in so much work and dedication and she absolutely deserves every minute of pleasure and performance that this gorgeous new mare is going to give her. It's a lovely, quality OTTB mare by Futura out of a Western Winter mare, officially named Wedding Bliss. I call her Wedding but kiddo insists her name is Blossom, so whatever, kiddo.

God is good!

Fourth Man in the Fire

“But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him." --- C. S. Lewis

God's love pursues. There's nowhere it will not go.

I can never escape from your Spirit!
    I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there;
    if I go down to the grave,[a] you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning,
    if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
    and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me
    and the light around me to become night—
12     but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
    Darkness and light are the same to you. Ps 139:7-12

His love followed us from hospital to hospital at the end of 2023 as my beautiful husband went from fighting fit one day to doubled over with abdo pain the next. It pursued us as he was grievously misdiagnosed and as we went off to the coast on holiday thinking it was just what DH needed to recover from an "upper GI infection".

It followed us into a radiology department in a town I'd never seen before, and from there it followed him all the way into emergency surgery to remove a ruptured appendix.

God's love cradled me as I sat waiting, curled on a hospital couch in the middle of the night, absolutely alone. It bore my critically ill husband through a four-hour surgery as his septic abdomen was washed out and chunks of necrotic bowel were removed.

The Lord's love upheld us both through a two-week ICU stay, a second surgery, and the long, rough road of recovery. The Lord's love cast us to our knees, showed us the extent of our helplessness, and greater yet, drew back the curtain on the unending ocean of His mercy. He brought us to the edge of our worst fears so that we could see how very small they are compared to His majesty.

Our God towered over us, the Lion of Judah. He stripped away everything, all of our hope, except for Him, and He was enough.

I had not expected to spend our first wedding anniversary on our knees as my husband fought for his life, but He was there. Fearless and completely in command. God is good.

It is easy to say that now, now that we're home after six long weeks away from our farm, now that my husband is strong again and filled with life, now that we can praise Him for a miracle. Yet, in the valley of the shadow of death, it was still easy to say, easy to see. He was with us in every part of our fiery trial. The fourth Man in the fire.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[p] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

We will never be the same after what happened to us. But we are not meant to be the same. Hardship is meant to do exactly what this great trial did: to make us better, more trusting, more hopeful, less stressed, more eternity-focused, more oriented toward the eternal things of the Kingdom of God, because at the end of the day, they are all we have.

I praise the Lord for healing my husband. I praise Him every time I get to wake up side by side with the man I love more than life. Above all, I praise God for being God.

He is so, so good.

Anxiety at A Blog Hop: 15 More Random Questions

A whole month down the line, I find myself still mostly confined to the indoors with this stubborn respiratory infection. It has certainly been a lesson in gracefully accepting my human limitations and allowing myself to be human and God to be God.

We'll resume our adventures when the time is right. In the meantime, I'm grateful for a good old blog hop from the delightful (and relatable) Anxiety at A!

1. If you could create your dream horse, what would it look like?

I feel like the ones I have are dreams enough, but in the spirit of the question, if I could build-a-pony it would be a 15.2hh floaty thing with both baroque and Arab vibes. It would have a super cute head, a really muscly topline, and a high tail. Also it would be a really golden tiger dun with four even white stockings and a perfectly diamond-shaped star and snip. It would be a gelding who could have babies. (We are in dreamland here, just roll with it). He would have a wavy mane to his knees and a super thick wavy tail.

or I'd ask for Shy Boy back

2. Least favourite equestrian brand?

I honestly don't buy enough stuff new to feel particularly relevant here---I ran the stableyard on pure hand-me-downs for years---so I'm going to take a different twist on this and say that one thing I absolutely don't understand is the amount of big stableyards that feed the most el-cheapo concentrates (grain). There are plenty of grain manufacturers I won't touch with a long pole that nonetheless supply some of the top yards in the country. I'm a master of saving wherever we can when it comes to making horse ownership more accessible, but quality feed and appropriate hay are not negotiable in my book.

even this low-maintenance beast gets the best balancer on the market

3. Favourite horse show memory?

Oooh, tricky. It's a toss-up between this year's Horse of the Year, dressage at Easter Fest this year, and this event in our youth.

4. One thing you learned in your youth (or early in your horse experience) that has stayed true in your horse training today?

Riding absolutely rocks and horses are incredible, created beings that will take your breath away every day if you let them.

certified 100% breathtaking

5. How many horses do you think you've ridden in your entire horse career?

Lots. A hundred? I don't even know.

6. Favourite "celebrity" horse?

Easy! Valegro. Obviously. I mean, not only is he THE dressage horse, but I feel like a bumptous amateur like me could even enjoy a ride on him without being overwhelmed. He seems so kind, relaxed, happy and lovely.

7. Embarrassing moment in your horse experience?

Oh, so many. So, so many. One involving a pair of show breeches that had seen much better days and an adorable pony stallion named Reed. They split right down the middle as I came down the centreline and thus we rode Prelim 2 and 3 in sitting trot.

Also, I'm not sure why these stories are both about underwear, but I only discovered after getting the show photos that cute white panties with little black hearts on them are a poor choice under show whites. That was a memorable moment for 18-year-old Firn flushed with victory after a not-as-bad-as-usual show on Magic.

Ugh, not to mention the time I rode over to the judge's box while the rider before me was still doing her test. I'd just turned 18 and didn't know any better. I still think about that every single time I'm about to go to the judge and it makes my toes curl.

Reed and teenage Firn

 8. Favourite stallion in your discipline (or generally favourite stallion if you have one?)

It's a toss-up between two Nooitgedachter stallions that I both really like.

First up, Wynnie's dad, Wilgerus Dakota. I used him on Arwen, Faith and Rene (Rene is back in foal to him as we speak) and I will use him again if I get the opportunity. Of course, he ticks all the basic boxes for me: straight legs, great teeth, doesn't need much extra feeding, excellent bare feet, trainability and safe and simple to handle even for kiddos. I picked him specifically, though, based on his outstanding movement. He has a lovely free shoulder and a level of elasticity that the breed misses at times, and it complimented Arwen really well. He stamps his foals with a really beautiful head, always a bonus. I also love the fact that he's bay. I love my greys, but with melanomas so prevalent, it doesn't make sense not to avoid breeding them.

Having said that, my second favourite Nooitie stallion is a grey named Waaksaam Staal. Arwen and I rode against him a lot in his younger days and he is not only one of the most decorated stallions in the breed, he was also shown extensively by an expert junior, and he just never put a foot out of line. He's a real gentleman, doesn't fuss in the stable at a show, doesn't scream, his grooms lead him around in a flat halter. More than that, Staal has won everything there is to win both in hand and under saddle in the Nooitie classes. He's a bigger stallion with a bit more athleticism to him than Dakota but hasn't been tested in veld conditions the way Dakota has. Still, he's an older boy now - older than Arwen I think, with a lot of mileage - and still sound and healthy. He also has the loose, open movement that I'm looking for. I'm really hoping to get the opportunity to use him on a few of my mares this season or next season.

I almost forgot that Midas pony is actually a grandson of Staal through his sire.

Wilgerus Dakota

9. How's your sitting trot?

On Arwen? Pro level. Amazing. Anybody else? Absolutely useless. I mean, my butt stays in the saddle, but it's amazing how many parts of you can bounce uncontrollably without your seat bones ever losing contact.

10. What are your favourite colours on your horse(s)?

I love colours! Skye's was always sky blue, although she is a naked feral old woman now so she doesn't really have any of her own stuff. She more or less takes herself where she needs to go - I don't remember the last time she wore a halter - but she gets fly masks in her colour and is due a new blanket.

The yard colours are green and silver, so our shared stuff is usually green, like lunging gear and travel boots.

Arwen's colour is royal blue, which Wynnie will inherit. Honestly, I think royal blue looks gorgeous on basically any colour horse, but it's especially pretty on Arwen's brand of dark-for-her-age grey. It'll be cute on Wynnie too, though, especially with how rich her colour is.

Thunder's colour is purple because purple is beautiful. I sent him to J's with all sorts of cute purple things and found them all neatly stowed in my trunk when I went to visit lol. Also, with that tailcoat beckoning on the horizon, how do we feel about a deep plum fabric for that?

Finally, there's Lancey. His colour is rainbow/floral/glitter/whatever satisfies my inner child and I love it. If anyone out there has done temporary dye on a mane/tail, let me know what you did. I'm thinking of trying hair chalk on him this December to make him my honest-to-goodness unicorn.

unicorn

11. What social media do you spend the most time on?

Facebook. What can I say? It's something I'm trying to do less of.

12. Any horsy books you've read recently?

I spend so much time in the written word for work that I have to be really careful not to kill my love of reading, so I'll be honest: apart from Scripture, I read only fiction, and only fiction that I really like. When I want to improve my knowledge, I'm far more likely to pick up a video or podcast. That said, I'm nearly done with my equine behaviour course and loving it.

13. What is your favourite online store to buy horse products from?

Bridle Boutique has been a staple for well-priced leggings and blankets for years. I also love Horze for great service and value for money, especially their helmets.

beloved Horze helmet

14. Is there a supplement you give your horse that you don't think you could go without?

I'll say it again: horsemanship doesn't come in a packet. That said, I've seen good results this year with collagen for elderly horses with mild joint stiffness.

15. What is your favourite part about blogging?

I know blogging is not the in-thing anymore, and one effect it's had is that the horse blogging community has become smaller and rather tight-knit, which I love. We all know each other's horses and cheer each other on, and I truly feel like it's one of the few mostly supportive equestrian internet communities out there. I love reading other blogs as much as I enjoy writing mine.

My other favourite thing about blogging is being able to go back years and revisit in-depth write-ups of memories that only get more and more precious as time goes on. I have long recaps of Arwen's (and my) first shows, of backing Lancey, and so many sweet memories of my Magic pony who is not with us anymore. Especially in the last few weeks, with being unable to ride, I do go back and reread my old posts to smile at all the fun things we've done together. What's more, it shows me how much I have grown personally over the years, how my philosophies have changed, how the Lord has been at work in me. It's a testimony to His faithfulness and a way in which to remind myself over and over of who He is and what He is capable of.

God is good!

hunky man after the 20 minutes of groundwork I managed this week

Bad Decisions, or, The Time of My Life

The week before last, I'd caught some silly cold that then blossomed magnificently into a super gross bacterial sinus infection. It kept me flat on my back for a week, but when Thunder came home, I decided that I was all better and went back to doing whatever I wanted.

In general, I love our weather here. Winters are cold enough for cuddling but feature balmy, sunny days, perfect for the outdoors. Summer has afternoon thunderstorms but usually very beautiful, clear mornings. Even autumn is gorgeous and crisp. But August to September---technically late winter and early spring---are less pleasant. It's dry. It's windy. It's sort of hot, but you can still freeze at night. Above all, after months without rain, it's extremely dusty. There's pollen everywhere and all the animals are shedding like mad. It's all a necessary part of how our seasons turn, but it's not a good time to be a respiratory system.

Since doing whatever I want includes a lot of riding, teaching kids and general running around on the farm, racking up eighteen to twenty thousand steps a day and breathing all that glorious dust and pollen and hair, I will count this as the first of several bad decisions present in this post.

By Friday afternoon, I was no longer feeling particularly hotshot. I was tired and sniffly and really needed a day in bed, but we'd committed to a mounted unit event for Saturday, and I decided that I couldn't back out of it. (Bad decision number two right there).

I took Lancey out with Mawarda and his mom for a really nice, relaxed ride, wherein Lancey didn't put a foot wrong, which was a good thing given that my legs felt like noodles. As we were hacking around the freshly tilled lands, with puffs of fine red dust coming from Lancey's feet with every step he took, I did not pause to contemplate my actions. Much less so when a giant truck passed by on the dirt road and a huge cloud of fine dust floated across the farm.

I thought nothing of it. I did not pause to rub those two brain cells together. I just dressed Lancey up in his clown suit to keep him clean and went to bed.

My sister was my wingman for this event since we were shorthanded on first responders, so we both woke up at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning to load Lancey and Flash into the box for the short road trip to the event. It was relatively undeniable that I woke up sick, but I drank some water and decided I'd be fine. (Can you see how these decisions are starting to add up?)

Although Flash gave us a little uphill with loading, Lancey was content to waltz right in as usual, and soon we were off. Sister kept trying to feed me muffins but I was queasy and refused any (more bad choices).

The event was a fun run and hike, the longest distance being an easy 10km, but the venue's terrain was notoriously difficult. We hadn't had any injuries at this event last year but it was worth being careful. Once we arrived, groomed our ponies and got them tacked up, we had a quick rendezvous with the other first responders to decide on our positions. It turned out that our quad bike for the event had declined to start that morning so the horses were the only off-road vehicles we had.

I instantly made my next bad decision: to sweep the 10km on horseback, making sure nobody got hurt or left behind. We have learned with events that having a sweeper is absolutely essential - it's quite startling how many people will tackle a run or bike ride alone without their phone, and we've scooped up several injured athletes in the past who had nobody to miss them and no way to get help. Coughing up my lungs though I was, I thought the 10km would be easy. Even at a walk Lancey would cover that distance in two hours without any difficulty. The 10km was specifically advertised as a run, so I doubted we'd be walking the whole thing. It would be a nice, relaxing hack, I thought to myself.

We set off with Lancey on a loose rein and Flash looking very chirpy. Lancey was acting a bit nappy at first, snorting and staring at random stuff, so Rain took Flash up ahead and Lancey contentedly followed. 

He settled almost immediately as we rode across a field, following the runners, and took the lead when we headed into the most beautiful, peaceful little wood. The trail wound between the trees, and we had to duck in several places.

Lancey was bold here and stepped over logs and things easily, having hit his stride. We dismounted to go around a little bridge that would never have taken a horse's weight, but then hopped back on and continued through the trees, keeping the runners just in sight. There were splashes of colour everywhere as trees had begun to bloom.

vest stuffed full of basic first aid supplies

We emerged from the little wood onto the gravel road and followed our runners along that, waving to friendly volunteers along the way. This event had such a great vibe. It was a charity event for an extremely well-deserving local organisation and everybody was friendly and fun. The photographer caught us as we headed past, Lancey leading the way on a long rein.

Next we rode around another field, and it was here that things began to get frustrating. We were sweeping the group and had been moving at a slow walk since we left the trail, having given them plenty of space. Since it was advertised as a fun run, I believed the competitors would have no problem staying ahead of the horses. We were now not yet 2km into the run and there were two participants who were moving more slowly than a horse walks.

In hindsight, this is the point where we should have turned back to camp, grabbed something to eat and some water, and given it a rest. If we sweep a group of runners again, we'll give them several more minutes' head start. It's always worrying, though, because if someone near the back without a companion twists an ankle and is out of cell range, you never want them to lie there waiting for ages. So we opted to carry on.

there were many snack breaks, albeit not for me

We headed up the hill next, having to abandon our runners on one loop and wait for them at the end of it as the terrain was too rough even with us both on foot. Lancey and Flash were content to graze while we took pictures against the breathtaking views.

Now there was only one way left to go: down the mountain into the river valley. Thus commenced two of the longest hours of my existence. (One more bad decision).

The trail was gnarly - so gnarly that there is no way I'll ever do that again. Steeply downhill, extremely rocky, and very windy. There was no way we could have ridden it; we tackled it on foot, the horses behind us, Lancey and I leading the way much of the time to give Flashy confidence. Rain, an avid hiker, did an admirable job and Flashy behaved so well for her. As for Lancey, he barely lifted his nose away from my back for more than a second. It was steep and dodgy but not in a fall-down-the-mountain-and-break-your-neck way. Taken slowly, it wasn't dangerous, just a little nerve-wracking.

In fact, it might even have been fun if it wasn't for a handful of fairly miserable factors. The first was that my riding boot's zip stripped ten minutes in. If you've never had the pleasure of scrambling down a mountain in knee-high boots while one does its best to fall off, I do not recommend it. The second was that, as we scrambled down in the incredible heat, I felt myself growing steadily sicker. The third was that our friends up front were going at an impossibly slow pace. Every time we made two minutes of headway, we found ourselves catching them, and took a five-minute break halfway down a mountain to give them time to go ahead and not feel like we were breathing down their necks.

It took us two hours to cover the 3km down the mountain. Throughout this whole thing, Lancey was absolutely impeccable. He tackled the twists, turns and rocks with aplomb, followed me wherever I went, and was always content to stop, rest a hoof and nibble some grass. I was shaky by this point and sitting on every convenient boulder, and he just stood over me, chilling.

We finally reached the halfway point, confidently expecting that our struggling competitors would hitch a lift back with the water point people. They did not. Having taken three hours to cover 5km, they decided to carry on. One more bad decision on my part: I didn't have this conversation with them or leave them to their fate and go back. There was absolutely no phone signal at this point and I didn't want to just leave them. Besides, who knows what finishing this 10km meant to them? Maybe it was something they felt they absolutely had to do.

At least we got some water, which perked us up somewhat, and the trail turned absolutely beautiful. It wound along the riverbank between blooming spring trees. Given the difficult terrain we'd just covered, we trotted the horses a short distance to see how they felt. Both still had plenty of pep in their step and no signs of soreness. All of the breaks had clearly been good for them. So we wandered along the lovely trail on loose reins, taking in the views.

This would have been an absolutely gorgeous ride if it wasn't for the fact that we had to stop and let the horses graze every few minutes. We took a few fun little detours to canter up and down a trail here and there and give the competitors some space. At one point, we lost the trail completely - the organisers had already taken the markers down, thinking everyone was done - and Lancey and I cantered on ahead to find the rest of it. He was bold, happy and chilling on a loose rein, being absolutely perfect.

By this point, my body felt like a wad of well-chewed gum. I was desperate to get back but well aware that nobody knew our friends were out there. With no signal, there was no way I could leave them or arrange for a sweeper vehicle (since we were now on broad farm tracks).

If Lancey had acted up in the slightest I would never have been able to hold him with my noodle arms. But bless his perfect soul, Lancey trucked along on the loosest of reins, contentedly taking care of his potato sack of a rider. Rain and I were fitting in some really quality sister time - despite not riding frequently, she was an amazing sport about it all - and despite my wobbly state, all of us were honestly having a really fantastic time.

We left the river behind and headed up and down some gentle hills, passing right by the bottom of Shaila's rider's home.

Finally, 8km and nearly four hours in, my phone binged. We had signal. I sent a location for our two competitors and asked for someone else to bring them in. We headed off at a brisk trot up the hill, only to find that the gate at the top had been closed and locked, since everybody thought that all the participants were done.

It was only a few minutes before an organiser arrived to open up, and with our participants having now caught up to us, we were within sight of home. We set off at a brisk trot and covered the rest of the distance in about ten minutes flat.

This part felt incredible. Lancey said that this very slow 10km had barely warmed him up; his head was high, tail flagging, and he ate up the ground in an easy, swinging stride. I'd thought he felt a little tired coming up the last hill, but the moment we moved out, he was delighted to go. We had one spook at a scary piece of black pipe, but while he cantered sideways a few steps, he had settled down before I could really pick up the reins.

The organisers gave us prizes and plenty of thanks, and we spent some time hanging out with the happy crowd. Flashy was irritated by this point so we gently redirected curious people to Lancey, who found himself being petted, poked and cuddled by everyone. He soaked in the attention even after four hours of riding.

Both horses drank deeply and loaded up without batting an eye. I was worried about them after the length of time we rode and the rough terrain, but they were both absolutely fine. In fact, even non-riding-fit Rain was off to her ballet class as usual the next morning. The only one worse for wear, it turned out, was me. By the next morning I was back at the doctor's being told that I now had a raging infection and ordered to stay in bed for a week. Of course, given the number of truly questionable choices I had made, this was entirely my own fault. It's a week and a half later and I still haven't been back on a pony or fully functional yet.

Looking back on it, though, it was a truly awesome experience. I have never had more love and admiration for my incredible horse or for the people with whom I'm so honoured to share my life.

God is good.