The weather continues to be swell, but other than that, the party’s over. This horse show thing is WORK!

Working student Stephanie and I knew we’d need a full night’s sleep, so we retired to our hotel early, only to find that said hotel is also playing host to some kind of boy’s sporting event tournament. Soccer, perhaps. Apparently parents were not invited to this tournament, because when I say there is no adult supervision, I mean there is absolutely zero adult supervision. Kids running up and down the halls. Kids screaming. Kids laughing. Kids doing something in the hallways that sounded a lot like a wrestling match with rabid ninja wombats. It was a rough night.

But we were up and at’em, and Ella got in a nice school—neither of my big horses is fit enough for three days of Grand Prix competition in a row, so Tres shows Friday and Sunday, and Ella Saturday and Sunday. She’s still got a minor case of the squirrels, but in a positive, going-places way. 

Mel was up next, and she got the pleasure of experiencing that thing that all dressage riders dread—the inconveniently-timed poop. RIght in the middle of a simple change, her mare had to take a (rather large!) No. 2. Doh! But both rider and judge found it funny, and the rest of the test went very well.

Then the chaos really got going—10 rides, all between 10:30 and 1:30, including several scheduled for the exact same time on opposite sides of the park. Unfortunately that meant I had to miss a bunch of my students’ rides, but everyone rode great and they were all rewarded with good scores.

In fact, the lowest score of the day was my own—a just-shy-of-60 percent for Tres, whom I completely abandoned in the two-tempis and forgot how to count, or ride, or do anything at all, really, followed by a rather uninspiring canter half-pass zig zag. The piaffe isn’t Tres’ highlight yet either, which pulls down the transitions scores, but already he’s SO much stronger than he was two weeks ago at PVDA—he finished the test with energy, instead of pooping out (bad pun, Mel, sorry) three movements ’til the end. He still placed fourth in a class of some heavy-hitters. Good boy!

I’m particularly proud of Landon, who, with the exception of a very abstract-art version of his first halt at X, was a model citizen and acted like he’d been doing it all his life to earn a 70 percent, and his first qualifying score for the Regional Championships. Of course, in this part of the country, 70 percent at training level is still going to get beat, but he was a close fourth. I’m just so happy that the last show was a one-off story.

I do not think I actually improved the state of my lily-white legs at all, but I certainly ran up and down that stupid hill enough times to make my butt look like Beyonce. Totally. 

My Sprieser Sporthorse banner is covered in ribbons, and we’ve only just begun! On to tomorrow, which will bring more uncharacteristically good weather, and hopefully a good night’s sleep. Or a news report about a savage attack on several teams of 8-year-old soccer players by the psychotic dressage riders staying at their hotel. Could go either way, really.

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