By: Mollie Zobel

My heart was pounding as sweat trickled into my eyes. I swept a gloved hand across my face to wipe it away. My breath seemed loud as I sucked in the cool April air. I looked at my watch, only a few minutes to go. I felt Flash move beneath me and I leaned down onto his golden neck reassuring him. “Only a few minutes left big man, hold on just a little longer, easy now, easy”, I murmured softly. His delicate ears flickered back and I felt his hooves paw the soft ground. I smiled as I looked around.

[private]Horses were everywhere. The warm- up ring was filled with riders dodging one another. The air rang with their yells, “heads up vertical!” “Can someone lower the oxer”, “ Does anyone know how jump # 8 is riding?” To an outsider it is all unintelligible but to me and other riders it is our own language. Coaches called instructions for last minute adjustments to their riders, their voices competing with those of the riders. Parents huddled in bunches, each one trying to hide their nervousness by making jokes and chitchat.

This was my world, there is no were else I would want to be than astride Flashpoint, my best friend and partner in this cacophony of danger and excitement that is the world of eventing. Flash was magnificent. A palomino quarter horse/thoroughbred he did not give the impression of a typical event horse until you took a closer look. Then you noticed the rippling muscles and the legs that worked like steel pistons. His athleticism was only outmatched by his heart. All you had to do was to look in his eyes. They had the “look of the eagles”, arrogant and impatient. We had been through so much together, now we had one more task. We needed one more completed cross-country course at a CCI* Three Day to qualify for the North American Young Rider’s Championship, the Junior Olympics.

“Rider number 127, you’re on deck!” the cross-country starter yelled and we pranced towards the start box. Flash’s ears pricked forward as he watched a horse leave the start box, I felt his muscles become tight under my knees as his breath came in crackling snorts. “One more round boy, we’re almost there.” I whispered as we stepped into the start box. “5-4-3-2-1… have a good ride!” said the starter. I softened my grip on my reins and Flash bounded out of the start box, thrilled to be free and doing what he loved. Over the first jump and then we settled into a rhythm. Over the brush, then a turn to the log, Flash’s strides coming sound and sure. Through the first water complex, “watch the footing”, I reminded myself, then we are out, the chilly water refreshing on my cheeks.

I lean closer over Flash’s neck to balance my weight so it is as easy for him to carry as possible. Through the fields and over the table then to the corner. Then to the last water complex.
When I had walked it had seemed relatively easy: a big log in, five strides across the water, then a big log out. Flash jumped in perfectly and we both settled in the water, waiting for the striding to the log. As we got closer the sun bounced off the log, blinding me. I sat still, there was no time to circle; I felt Flash gather beneath me for the now almost invisible jump out. Then Flash’s legs slammed into the log, it was like hitting a brick wall! Flash had given everything he had, but the sun had made an illusion on the log, and his jump was too long.

His head and neck disappeared beneath me, I felt myself hurtled through the air and slamming to the ground, rolling over and over again. I lay there, gasping for air, a high keening sound coming from within me. I couldn’t breathe. I turned my head and saw Flash standing up. “ If he can get up, so can I,” I thought achingly pulling myself to my feet. Taking the reins, I frantically ran my hands over Flash’s legs, checking for injuries, I found none. “Can I continue?” I asked, turning to the shaken jump judge.” It’s your call, you can continue if you want. Are you sure you don’t want an ambulance?” he replied. Options raced through my mind.

We needed to finish the cross-country course to qualify, was it worth giving up? Did I want to give up when all Flash and I had worked for was within our grasp? I shook my head as I rightened the saddle, pulling tufts of torn grass and dirt from it. “ Give me a leg up in to the saddle!” I said quickly, before I could change my mind. The next moment I was in the saddle easing Flash into a gallop. Thankfully, he felt strong; there were no irregularities in his footfalls. As we approached the next jump I took a feel of the reins and felt an agonizing pain coming from my left shoulder; my hand seizing up. I gasped as I realized I had no use of my left arm. Flash faltered beneath me, his ears swiveling back as if to ask,” what’s wrong?” I switched my reins to my right hand and tried to cradle my left arm to lessen the jarring impact of landing from the jumps. Guided by neck reining and voice commands Flash flew over the jumps.

But, remembering the last complex, my face grew pale. It consisted of two bank steps down and a turn to a very narrow arrowhead jump. How was I going to aim Flash over that narrow of a jump with one rein? We came down to the banks, “Whoa boy, take your time,” Obligingly, Flash slowed his steps. Down the first one, my shoulder making a sickening cracking sound. As we jumped down the second bank I used my right rein to aim as best I could for the arrowhead. Flash locked onto it and then we were over! We bounded up the hill, “ It’s up to you to get us home big man, two more jumps to go,” I said as I crouched still closer to his neck.
Flash’s breath was coming heavier now; I knew the course and the pain of the fall was catching up with him, but his gallop remained strong. He balanced himself for the next jump, then we were heading for the last. “One more, c’mon boy!” Once more I felt Flash gather beneath me, then we were galloping through the finish flags. “We did it boy!” Flash’s strides became slower, and finally we came to a halt as friends and family came rushing up to us. Carefully, I slipped off Flash’s back, handing the reins to my friend, “ I need to go to the hospital, take care of him, he deserves it.” I watched Flash walk off, tired but with his head held high.

At the hospital I learned that I had broken my collarbone. Strapped up in a brace, I made my way back to the barn as quickly as I could. Flash had also been checked; he had major hematoma bruising on his legs, it was a wonder he had not torn tendons or even broken his legs. The veterinarian reassured me that after some massage and water therapy he would be all right. He was amazed that Flash had continued on and finished the course. One might say that this was Flash’s finest hour; we had finished what we had started despite the pain and confusion. He showed that he was a true champion, with an unstoppable heart.[/private]