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Paige Cade

October 8, 2014

Sometimes When A Door Closes, A Window Opens

The other night, my husband and I sat on our kitchen floor and shouted obscenities. Not at each other, thankfully, but at life, at the latest wrench thrown in our feeble plans. Patricia had told me earlier that day that Tebogo would be ending the Thoroughbred training and sales part of the business by January 2015. So in other words, time to start looking for a new job.

June 17, 2014

Drawing Horses

When I was kid in elementary school, I used to draw horses. And trust me—I was not a gifted artist. But on the inside of every notebook, on the margins of math tests and the errant post-it note; horses were popping up everywhere. They weren’t the horses I knew, but the horses I hoped to know.

I was a scrappy short-stirrup rider who refused to count strides and had never been to a jumper show, but I would draw my fantasy grand prix horses, soaring over wide square oxers.

April 8, 2014

The One In The Irons

Sometimes the hardest voice to hear is your own.

Before I came to Tebogo, I was a big fish in a little pond. I had a false confidence in my riding because I didn’t grasp just how much I didn’t know. Within a few weeks, I was unceremoniously humbled. My dream horse got hurt. I was riding some very green beans that did not hesitate to highlight my shortcomings as a rider. And for once, I hardly knew anyone.

February 3, 2014

Walkin' In An Equine Wonderland

There’s nothing like the joy of wrestling a frozen halter in the pre-dawn hours of a frigid January morning or the simple pleasure of icy mud splashing over the top of your aging rubber boots. These are only small insights into the magical, elite world of winter horse care. Don’t take this the wrong way—I love what I do. I would not trade early morning, cave-man-style ice breaking for a cozy desk job any day.

November 25, 2013

Looking For Healing In The Hoofbeats

The words fell like cream into coffee, slowly ballooning beneath the surface, expanding in that void somewhere between hearing and understanding. As calmly as she might tell me that she had bacon and eggs for breakfast, my mother told me she had endometrial cancer.

And no, not the garden variety endometrial cancer, that operable, slow-growing, only mildly inconvenient, drive-thru edition of uterine cancers. No, she had the big one, the unpronounceable, incurable papillary serous carcinoma, that pit bull of cancers that sinks its fangs in and despite “de-bulking,” doesn’t relent.

September 4, 2013

Doing Right By "The" Pony

You never know how easy life is when you don’t have a horse with a broken leg, until you do. It’s been almost two years since my pony broke her humerus in a freak pasture accident.

August 21, 2013

Blinding Ambition

Sometimes, when you want something badly, you go blind. I wanted my sweet, earnest horse to be the one that took me into the big leagues. Well, maybe not the big leagues, but at least a sincere step up from peewee baby jumper-land.

As usual, I had a very limited (practically non-existent) budget that didn’t allow for a tour of Europe or a horse with a passport. So about a year and half ago, Corey walked off the racetrack and into my life—tall, furry, a little skinny, greener than grass and with more scope than I’d ever ridden.

July 19, 2013

Don't Think, Just Do

I’m not a golfer, which is a good thing for everyone in the general vicinity of a driving range. I don’t mind the whole Bagger Vance ensemble, but the game itself isn’t for me. So, I had dismissed most things I’d heard about golf, assuming that they didn’t pertain to any of my equine endeavors. Then the other day while flipping through the channels, one of those monstrously nerd-a-rific shows came on about how the brain works. Being the ultra-nerd that I am, I watched a few minutes (OK, who I am kidding, I watched the whole hour).

July 1, 2013

The Baby Horse Blues

Not showing at the Upperville Horse Show (Va.) this year was a victory. It meant one thing; that I’d sold the horses that were ready to compete at 1.0-meter and above. And that’s the point of this exercise, right? But as I stood on the sidelines, I couldn’t help but be bummed that I wasn’t galloping around the grassy ring. Success can sometimes mean sitting out some shows.

May 28, 2013

The It Factor

I’ve never been much of a tire kicker. I don’t try horses unless I’m seriously interested in owning them. I hate wasting other people’s time and my own. That said, I did something completely insane last week. I tried a horse I can’t afford. I mean, really can’t afford. Like say, even if you dropped a zero from the price tag, it would still be a bit of a stretch for me.

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