When you sign up for horses as your career, you have some big things to look forward to. If you're doing it right, you will have a horse who exceeds your wildest dreams, one who you buy for a song, or who is broken and you fix him, and go further than anyone ever thought possible. You'll have a student who blows expectations out of the water. They're rare, but you'll find in your work a few little miracles that make your heart soar and that make you want to get out of bed and do it all again the next day.
But you have some big realities to face too. You'll work your tail off on a horse only to have it taken from you at the last moment, by the owner's hand, or by God's. You'll get your own horse to the top only to have it break down. You'll have a colic in the middle of the night, a horse who has every reason in the world to be great and never follows through, and a client who leaves you high and dry even when you do it all right. That's the price you pay for all the little miracles.
Lately, at my farm, little miracles have been in short supply. Clairvoya (Cleo), my big grey Grand Prix mare, is officially a retiree after spending all winter fighting an injury. My schedule is insane. I lost a very dear, dear client's horse to an illness that came up so fast and so unexpectedly that I'm still reeling, and while I know there is nothing I could have done better, my heart still aches. Plans are changing, and not for the better!
The little miracles are still there. My own horses are doing great. Midge won his first Prix St Georges last weekend (only to be eliminated in his qualifier for standing on his hindlegs. I thought judges liked engagement of the hindquarters?!); Ella's up to 67% now in the Brentina Cup test, and is officially qualified for the Championships; and Fender was a pro in his first Four-Year-Old test outing, getting 7.7s. In retirement, Cleo can pop out lots of little embryos for transfer, and we're expecting last year's breeding project to grace us with her presence in the next few weeks. The sun is shining and the grass is growing.
But there's a bit of a dark cloud over my place, and so in an effort to simplify and streamline, I'm signing off from the Horse Hero team. You are not getting my best effort, which isn't fair to you. So "Adios Amigos" for now. If you ever find yourself in Northern Virginia, y'all are welcome anytime. It's been a pleasure!