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The Difficult Task Ever | A Sad Horse story
By: Kristine Smilsky
The Oxford Canadian Dictionary defines a challenge as: “ a demanding or difficult task.” Through out our lives, we face many challenges, big or small, whether we are young or old. One of my first challenges came when I was twelve years old. I purchased, with my own money, a horse to call my own. Now as an eighteen year old, I face yet another challenge, the possible sale of my horse.
An animal which I have bonded with, an animal that I have dedicated the past seven years of my life too. During these past seven years, I have committed myself to one of the most challenging tasks of all: proving others wrong. I took a trail horse that no one wanted and turnedhim into a show horse that turned heads.
I began riding at the age of five, by attending local riding camps during the summer. At age eight, my parents bought me my first pony and I began taking regular riding lessons and practicing for local competitions.
Like most children, I eventually out grew my pony and began to search for a horse. My parents had taught me the philosophy that things are more satisfying and rewarding when you earn them yourself, so I was determined to pay for my own horse. Once I had earned enough money from hours of babysitting, doing chores for my parents and neighbors, and with a little extra help from my grandparents, I began the tedious task of horse
shopping.
Since I was only twelve, my mom insisted that we look only at mature-aged horses (ages 8-12) since I was coming off a pony that took care of me, even when I made mistakes. After looking at nearly 12 “mature- aged” horses, that would buck me off or refuse to jump, I came across a horse that no one wanted. Southern Sky, who is known around the barn as Arizona, was a three year old appendix quarter horse that was currently being used as a trail and lesson horse. He was for sale because all of the lesson kids at his current stable were afraid to ride him.
He had the reputation of bucking people off while they were riding him on a trail, and then running home to his stall. My mom was horrified at the thought of me even considering such a young and inexperienced horse, but I convinced her that it never hurt to try something new and it couldn’t possibly hurt just to take a look at this horse. I am a firm believer that just about anything is possible if you try hard enough and training my own horse has further strengthened my faith in this statement.
When I rode Arizona for the first time, he was a perfect gentleman. He was inexperienced, but what set him apart from the others was his willingness. Unlike the older horses that I had ridden, he did every movement I asked of him, responded to every command, and jumped every fence I put in front of him. Against my mom’s wishes, I decided to take a chance on him because the only regrets in life are the risks you don’t take. I finally had a horse to call my own, one that I had earned.
Most people don’t realize the amount of work involved in the ownership of a horse. Everyday after school, I headed straight to Cedaridge, the boarding stable where I keep Arizona. In exchange for board andlessons, I acquired barn chores such as cleaning stalls, feeding, and turning out horses. To have my own horse, every moment of work was worth it. My first few months with Arizona were a learning experience that I will never forget. I had grown accustomed to riding a perfectly trained pony.
I admit now that I also had the same expectations for Arizona as I did for my pony performance wise, even though their age difference spans almost ten years. I spent seven months working with Arizona before I took him to his first local competition. The months leading up to this competition were very frustrating. Aside from the bucking, the spookiness, and the occasional attitude problems, he still jumped every fence I put in front of him, which inspired me to think that there must be hope for him.
My first competition, I was bucked off and Arizona jumped out of the ring to join some other horses grazing in a field nearby. My coach at the time told me that I should quit wasting my time with a horse that would never amount to anything. I’m not certain whether my anger caused by this remark or my love for my horse convinced me to continue; perhaps it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, I continued with a vengeance.
I kept riding and competing, improving with each competition. My horse and I were both young and inexperienced, but we were learning quickly. Our first season together, we attended only six competitions, but we both gained valuable experience and by the end of the season, I had gone from getting bucked off to finally winning my first class. I felt as though I had finally begun to move in a more positive direction.
After the end of my first show season with Arizona, I decided to make what I felt was another move in the positive direction. I changed coaches. My current coach, Carolyn, still believed that even though my horse was winning at local competitions, he would never amount to much. A friend of mine recommended that I try taking a few lessons with her coach Janet, who trained horse and rider combinations for the provincial and national show circuits. At first, having been influenced by my previous coach’s negative attitude, I wasn’t sure that my horse was good enough to be evaluated by a professional.
I decided that I had nothing to lose and began taking lessons with Janet in the fall of 1998. I had prepared myself to hear the same negative comments from Janet that my previous coach had used, but to my surprise, she had only positive things to say. I learned then, yet another important lesson: not everyone thinks alike. During the fall and winter months, Janet began to prepare my horse and me for the most challenging task that we had to face yet: competing on the provincial level.
After a long winter, I attended my first provincial competition. Nothing could have prepared me for what was to come next. I had grown accustomed to the quietness of local competitions that usually contained approximately ten horse and rider combinations in each class. Now I was up against forty or more competitors in each class. For the first time since my first competition, I came home without any ribbons. I will admit that I was somewhat disappointed, but my coach reassured me that my horse had performed wonderfully, especially for a young horse.
She also explained that the jump from local to provincial competition was a tough one, and when you’re in a class with over forty horses, the smallest error can send you plummeting from the ribbons. I went without ribbons for nine competitions straight and was ready to give up when, to my surprise, at the final competition of the season, in a class of forty-six horses, I came in first. That ribbon put me 22nd overall in my provincial zone for my division and it gave me the inspiration to continue and look forward with confidence to the next competition season. My second year on the provincial circuit, I learned from my previous mistakes, and just like my horse, I matured from them. I was more consistent the second time around, and with ribbons at almost every show, I finished 11th overall in my provincial zone.
This past 2002 competition season was the most grueling and challenging of all. I moved into an adult division, and after competing almost every other weekend from the middle of February to early September, my dream, which at one time seemed impossible, came into reality. My horse and I finished as year-end provincial champions in our zone. The trail horse that no one had wanted had carried me to what seemed to be impossible. For me, the most rewarding feeling is knowing that all of the late nights, early mornings, endless days, getting bucked off and hours of practice have finally paid off. I have overcome my challenge of taking a young, inexperienced trail horse that no one wanted and turning him into a top notch show horse. When I reflect on the past seven years I have spent with this horse, I remember the times when I wanted to give up, but kept on going because if I gave in, then everyone who had doubted my horse and me would have been right. I remember lying in the dirt after I had fallen and wondering what possessed me to get back on again, then I look at my championship award and realize that it was all worth it. I am more grateful for the things I have because I have earned them the hard way. The next challenge that I must face is one which I do not look forward too. The sale of my horse will not be an easy task, but it is one which I must complete. It is not fair for a horse with so much talent to be sitting in a field grazing while I’m away at university. He belongs in the competition ring. The day Arizona is sold will be one of the saddest, most challenging days of my life. My only comfort from this current situation is the fact that hopefully, someday, he will make someone as happy as he once made me.
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