Let me back up...while Rojo was hurt, I rode a bunch of schoolhorses -- a 15'1 chestnut named Robin (skinniest, bumpiest horse I've ever ridden....like a washing machine), Lefty (sweet bay horse who would only canter on the left lead due to an old injury), Rosco (the schoolhorse-in-training who bucked everyone off), and many more. Always random. On a lucky day, I'd get to ride a horse from the "New Barn," which was where the nicer horses lived. Maybe the 17'1 hand, handsome gray, Lochan Bear. Yes, he was huge. Very rare if that happened, but it did. Or the bay, incredibly soft gelding named J.P., who was so comfortable to ride it was like sitting in a couch.
Jimmy always found something for me to ride, and I learned so much from riding so many different horses. Later on, this experience sure helped me when I rode and showed professionally. In a 60-horse barn, some horse always needed exercise and since I was small, I could ride anything -- from the huge monsters to the smallest ponies. I hated ponies, and Jimmy knew that, but he made me ride them anyhow. He always found something for me.
Anyway, Jimmy started letting me ride the big chestnut fellow called Trump It. A thoroughbred, Trump was a big boy, about 16'2, and he was finely boned, long-bodied, and striking -- he had a flashy, big, white blaze and four white socks. In the show ring, those markings always stood out as fancy. I loved riding him, so when Jimmy said I could take him to that Wilmington show, I was thrilled.
Well, Trump It was a beautiful horse, incredibly smooth to ride, and he was a flawless jumper. The judges absolutely loved his look; however, Trump It had one fatal flaw...when it was his turn to show, when he started cantering around alone in the ring, during the middle of the course, he would let out this earth shattering, lonely sound that vibrated the walls...he would yell so loud, his entire body shook, and a few times he almost shook me right out of the saddle.
So every time, even if we had a perfect, beautiful round, when he would let out those bellows (sometimes even over the top of the fence), of course the judges would take points off. So I always ended up with 3rd and 4th place ribbons, even if I should've been 1st, regardless of how I rode. Never #1 with him, because no matter what we did, we couldn't get him to shut up...hence the double meaning present in his "Trump It" name. Freaking TRUMPET.
For a while, I felt continually frustrated, and I became the literal laughing stock of the people from my barn. Whenever I went on course, they'd all crowd around to watch and laugh. Then people from other barns started to watch and laugh. At first, I was embarrassed, but then I started to laugh as well.
See, some days, someone else is supposed to win. Winning is fun, but winnings come and go. So it's best to keep a sense of humor about this mess we call life. Also, these adventures with Trump It and other difficult horses taught me how to deal with the frustrations of the sport and later, I was able to mentor my students and help them grin and bear the more difficult rides. In life and in riding, it taught me to keep on keeping on, let go, and focus on the next show.
Later, my horse Rojo got better, and we went on to win many Champion ribbons. And many, many years later, when I was working at a farm in Loveland, Rojo's new owner brought him out to the barn, and we used him for beginner lessons. He was so old then, but one day I hopped on his back, and we went for a canter around the field, just for old times sake. I could almost hear him say, Still goin' strong, mom.
Rojo, my sister, and me
When it comes down to it, riding horses is a lone journey -- in the show ring, it's just me and the horse. Writing is the same way. Just me and my typing hands. I have to be my own advocate, my own mentor, my own trainer, so to speak. So I may have had some difficult rides, but I've had some great successes as well.
-- C.A. MacConnell
