#6 - The Wonder Horse - Barr

Barr could do it all…and then some! From the very first show that my trainer, Barbara, entered us in, we were a winning combination. He was a plain-looking quarter horse gelding, a far cry from the fancy Arabians I had been riding, but such a talented athlete. Our first class was at a big out-of-town show. We trotted into the show ring with 30+ other horse and rider combinations of all ages with a bit of trepidation, but trotted out with a big blue ribbon and a shiny trophy, a scenario that would unfold time and time again. Barr carried me through countless English, western, reining, eventing, dressage and jumping competitions and won ribbons, trophies, and high point awards galore.

Barr was a faithful companion and as steady as they came. He wasn’t the in-your-pocket type of horse, rather he was quite aloof. However, I felt like we had a comfortable relationship, as he did anything I asked of him without exception. Barbara had always warned me to be on my guard as she told me, “This sucker will run away with you when you least expect it.” She made me ride in a strong bit with a chain chinstrap and once for a dressage competition where the rules required a snaffle bit, she put a figure 8 noseband on and pulled it as tight as it would go. This gave me an uneasy feeling, asking myself, “Shouldn’t he be more comfortable?” while at the same time quickly pushing that thought aside. I knew what a privilege it was to be riding Barr, so I never questioned Barbara, ever. I had great respect for her as a person and a trainer. Still, I thought she was a little over the top with all of this as I could not imagine him running away while I was riding him. I trusted Barr.

As with most relationships, that trust was tested during a jumping competition at a schooling show. The jump course was set up outside of the arena in a grassy area, so two sides were fenced and the other two open to the parking lot and the lane that wove its way back to the main road. It was our turn to jump the course and we started off like we always had, steady and even cantering up and over the first several jumps. Barr started gaining a bit of speed with each coming fence, but I wasn’t alarmed. After about the sixth fence, he bolted and crashed over the next jump and suddenly we were off-course and careening down the lane! Recalling this incident has always made my palms sweat, my stomach churn and my heart rate increase. All I could think at the moment was that I had to get him stopped before we hit the main road! I braced one hand against the top of his neck and grabbed a handful of mane. With the other hand I pulled for all I was worth. It’s amazing what adrenaline can do! Finally he turned his head toward me and drifted down to a halt.

Barbara was there in an instant, and boy was she hot, as in mad! She grabbed the reins and led us back to the jump course. I’m not sure if we had been the last pair to go or if they decided to have an intermission, but we were back on the course for some “schooling.” She led Barr up to a jump, instructed me to have him jump it from a near standstill and then stop once we landed. We did this with several jumps until she was satisfied that he wouldn’t run off again. I can hardly imagine the athleticism it took for that horse to jump from a halt for each of those fences. I have often wondered why he ran away. Was he excited and having too much fun? Was he so obedient that he was “shut down” and just “lost it” one day? I also wonder how I recovered my trust in him so quickly. We were back to winning ribbons and trophies in no time and I have no memories of feeling scared as his mount.

I did, however, experience what I would later find out was anxiety at one horse show. I whispered to my mom that I felt like I was going to faint. I believe this was the first anxiety attack I had in what would become a succession of them in adulthood. She told me to sit down and lower my head between my legs, “just pretend that you’re cleaning off your boots.” I don’t have any other memories of experiencing anxiety as a kid, but I’m certain it was there, although hidden and never spoken about.

I became proficient at pretending at one particular three-day horse show. During the first day, Barr was racking up the ribbons and trophies so that it looked like he might end up being the high point horse of the entire show. Barbara became fixated on that goal and entered him in any and all classes that he could possibly compete in for the remainder of the show. She even enlisted her husband to ride him in the open jumper classes, my cousin to ride in the lead-line and my mom to ride in the 40 and over class. By the third day, Barr was showing signs of fatigue; he actually stumbled during one of my rides. The judge pulled me aside and told me to pull him out of his remaining classes and let him rest. I knew she was right and I felt sad for Barr, but Barbara would have none of it. As a result, Barr continued to perform throughout the day, but without another blue ribbon. Barr ended the show as the reserve high point horse and we won high point youth. As Barbara predicted, he made a full recovery from his hard three days of riding and seemed no worse off because of it. However, I couldn’t help feeling that I had let him down.

Barr was a steady part of my life for a long time until one day he wasn’t at the barn. Barbara told me there was a boy in California who was ready for a show mount, so he was loaded into a trailer and sent across the country. I’m certain that my face betrayed me because once again she reminded me that this was horse business and that I had better not be getting attached to any of them who crossed my path.

Looking back on my experience with Barr, here are the lessons that I learned:

Broken trust does not mean that a relationship needs to be severed. When Barr ran away with me, I could have refused to ride him again. Instead, I forgave him and continued to have many more lovely rides with him without another incident.
Pretending locks feelings inside your body, potentially creating wellness problems down the road. My parents were professional musicians and I was often expected to play with them. As with my experience at the horse show, all signs of nervousness at performances were to be stuffed down so far that they no longer existed for the world to see. Their mantra that I adopted was, “they were like ducks, calm on the surface yet paddling like hell underneath.” It has taken me years to learn to actually listen to my body, honor what it is telling me, and move forward from a place of stillness. I am still a work in progress.
Do not betray your feelings. Not acknowledging my feelings at the show where Barr was being overworked and when he suddenly left the barn were just two examples of how I found myself years later living an inauthentic life. It has taken a lot of work to grow myself into integrity.
Appreciate your horse’s effort. Just because a horse will oblige you with their performance, doesn’t mean that you should demand it. Looking back at the show where the judge told me to scratch my remaining classes, I realize that if a horse is so weary that he stumbles, he is working too hard to please you.
Don’t get attached to a horse. At the time, this is how I survived the horse world I found myself living in. I have since learned that it is actually ok to get attached to and have a deep connection with a horse.