Balancing riding and school

This post was inspired by a high school student's cry for help on the COTH forums :

"I'm homeschooled, which is both a blessing and a curse in this matter. I only began homeschooling very recently, a couple of months ago. I'd gone to three different high schools, had to repeat my freshman year and still none of them were working. I'm way behind the schedule for graduating - I'm sixteen and only have my freshman credits! My hope is to graduate when I'm 19 and to work through the summers to achieve that. The only courses I'm taking at the moment are AP World History and Nutrition and Wellness, but the AP is terribly time consuming and I'm not sure how to fit more riding into my schedule because of that.

I'm going to take a break from my weekly art lessons for a while, so that should free up some time.

This all just seems kind of impossible! I have no idea how other juniors manage to ride and show while maintaining a full course schedule and get good grades" -baudelist

I was somewhat shocked that her parents didn't punish her for choosing to ride over going to school and I wonder if homeschool is really the best option for her. I think that is what allows other young riders to balance it all--school isn't optional. However, I'm not privy to whatever her life circumstances are so even though my first instinct is to blame, it's certainly possible that she has had some challenges out of her control, what with switching between 3 high schools.

Balancing riding and school, or riding and work, or riding and school and part-time work (That's me! So glad I quit my second job.) is not easy, and riding is usually the weak link in the chain. There have been some semesters where I rode once a month or less--school was just too time consuming, and I didn't have a car on campus until this year so I'd have to go home on the weekends to ride. And I think that's OK. I've never wanted a career with horses because I don't want the thing I do for fun to become work, so my top priority has always been school. Well, okay, my parents had some influence on that priority too, especially when I couldn't drive myself to the barn. Horses have always been the reward, not the end goal.

Of course I'm not saying that I am the queen of the horse-job-work balancing act. I don't have my own horse, so I don't have the responsibility to keep him exercised. When I did have my own horse in high school via a free lease, I was lucky that he was old and quiet--I got the same ride out of him every time, whether he had worked five days or zero that week. Also (to further list my disqualifications) I often end up not juggling everything so well, and I spend a lot more time at the barn than I mean to...my boyfriend knows that if I say I'll be back by six, it means seven, and that I'll be prattling on about horsey stuff for another hour. Thankfully he just scolds me with a "Bad baby!," keeps on being loving, and then we make fish tacos with pink pickled onions. Yum!! I smell a food post coming up because there are definitely some dishes that really hit the spot after I ride.

Regardless of tangents... here are some tips to balance life responsibilities and riding:

• Sacrifice riding time: That's right, #1 on the list. School (or work) is what will give you the cash to continue riding in the long run, so that has to be the priority. It might feel like it, but you won't die from not riding every day or even every week. Personally, not being able to ride as much as I want just makes me value the time I have at the barn even more.
• Time management: Know how long you'll be at the barn and how long your homework will take you. This, of course, is easier said than done. There have been so many times when I intended to finish my ride by a certain time and then my horse decided to act up...or times when I thought it would take me ten minutes to read for my Spanish lit class and it ended up taking forty...These things happen, but they shouldn't happen every day.
• Plan, plan, plan: I am completely obsessive about my to-do lists, reminders on my phone, and Google Calendar so that there are not so many balls in the air--they're all on paper. I like to put homework assignments from my syllabus on my calendar right at the beginning of the semester, and then I plan out when I need to start working on big projects. I print out my Google Calendar each week and write extra notes on it as I'm working on stuff.
• Choosing a horse: Do you really have time for a youngster who needs consistent training every day? Even if you have the funds and the riding ability for a horse that requires a lot, it might not be a good idea if you already have the full-time responsibility of school or a job. If you already have such a horse, half-leasing him so he has some consistency is a a good idea.
• IHSA: I have zero experience with IHSA. The idea of showing a horse I don't know just goes against what I like most about showing--it's a test of how far you and your horse have come in your training together. However, IHSA does seem like a good way to keep riding without a time commitment every day  if you can handle the significant time commitment (thanks commenters). If anyone has ever done IHSA I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.
• Combine horses and school: I have an internship at a horse publication, and this blog  was actually started for a blogging class. That means my time at the barn is research, right? If you can find some way to combine your interest in horses with school assignments, you might be able to sneak in some extra barn time as part of your project. If not, it's still fun to write essays about things like the steeplechase scene in Anna Karenina... well, if not fun, at least not horrible.
• Look ahead: One day I will have my own horse and no homework. One day I will have my own horse and no homework. That's what gets me through the readings in Spanish that take a zillion years to read and the essays on differences in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in the quartos and folio of Hamlet...ugh, who cares??? Not me! Why did I ever pick that topic?

I'm opening it up to you guys--any other tips on the balancing act of horses, school, and work?

Weighing in on fear

Over the past six months, I've been taking lessons and working off rides at a small farm owned by a hunter/jumper judge, and while I have really been smoothing over some bad habits, a new one has arisen--fear. Mugwump Chronicles covered this topic in October, right about when I started riding at the new farm, and I think it's time for me to weigh in.

I feel lucky to ride my trainer's horses--she doesn't have a big lesson program at her farm, so I ride her horse, Clyde, and a sale horse we refer to as "Manly Stanley". They know more than I do, which on one hand is great, because I have a lot to learn. On the other hand, it puts a lot of pressure on because I'm convinced I will somehow ruin them or otherwise prove that I am not worthy to ride horses worth as much as a Lexus sedan. Plus, my trainer's horses are actually fit enough to do some damage, as I found out when I uh...dismounted from the most athletic buck I've felt since the Appaloosa I used to ride in high school, who was impossible to rate, but didn't take so kindly to a crop and would show his displeasure with a high-speed horsey balancing act on his front legs. Clyde had injured himself  in the field, felt ouchy when I asked for the canter in a corner, and wanted me OFF (don't you just LOVE when they buck on a turn?). I understood, though, that it was a medical thing rather than a behavior thing, and it was impossible for us to have known since he wasn't acting lame or sore before that--but it really impressed upon me that I could get hurt at any given moment.

For me, fear when riding kind of ebbs and flows. I get hurt, or hit a wall with my progress that I feel I can't overcome, and I get discouraged. I lose faith in my abilities, which of course actually makes my riding worse since I'm tense, anticipating problems. I keep riding, realize that yes, I can actually get a good canter transition (or whatever the fear du jour is), and my confidence slowly comes back and turns into cockiness. Some other disaster happens and I'm feeling down again. You get the picture.

I remember the first time I was able to overcome one of those fears du jour--two years after the only really scary accident I've had.

Story Time!

It happened when I was 14 years old. It was the final show of a spring series, and I was riding a Paint named Moon who hated to be petted, but loved when you blew your breath into his nostrils. We had just rocked our first division of the final show in a spring series, and we were waiting to be called for the jump class of the second--18 inches, a piece of cake.

 Nervously waiting for our class at a previous show in the series. Oh, the days when my boots were that shiny...

My trainer led me to the side of the ring and asked me to recite the course to him.

"Outside  verticals two times to the left, then an X on the diagonal."

"Good. Don't forget your circle."

It was time for my round, and my trainer opened the gate. I looked around the arena, led Moon to the corner, and picked up a trot. We circled, picked up the canter on the corner toward the first vertical--and something was wrong. Moon was really running--something I had never seen the lazy school horse do. We were almost at the first jump. I hoped for the best.

We popped over just fine. I made sure to sit up straight for the one, two, three, four terrifyingly fast strides, and we popped over the second. I looked around my corner towards the other pair of verticals on the straightaway, Moon stumbled, yanked the reins from my hands, and I was on the ground. His strong neck pinned me down, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up. I wondered how long I was going to be stuck there. I figured it was fine to stay there indefinitely. This was probably really going to hurt soon.

I don't remember the exact moment Moon stood up, but I do remember a total stranger with a country drawl bending over me, asking me how many fingers he was holding up.

"Three." I said, wondering who he was and why he thought that was what people legitimately did outside of cartoons. My father arrived soon after.

"Hon, do you think you can get up?"

"I don't want to."

"Just try to get up."

I got up, no problem, and was surprised at the fact that I felt only a dull ache in my shoulder from the impact (it hurt a lot worse the day after, of course). But overall, things seemed fine and I was determined to do the flat classes of my next division. My father led me to my farm's shiny aluminum-sided trailer to get some water (and perhaps to discourage me from what he saw as a reckless plan). I saw myself in the trailer's reflection and burst into tears.

The brand-new, hundred-dollar show jacket I had bought myself, my precious velveteen helmet--caked in dirt. I unbuckled my helmet and rubbed at it furiously, which only spread the stain.

"Dad, my helmet is ruined."

"That's okay hon. It's just dirty; you can still use it." He didn't understand--I couldn't continue to show with my helmet in that condition.

"Daddy, can we pleeeease go to the tack shop on the way home to see if they have something to fix it?"

We did, and they did. And that is how my father became even more skeptical of my equine obsession, and how I learned the importance of being on the right lead, especially in corners on a five-year-old horse.

A little jolt of fear seized my body each time I asked for the canter in lessons after that. I became convinced that it would happen again whenever a horse lowered his head or tripped. So I was terrified when I began free-leasing Spur, an old Thoroughbred named not for his speed, but because he was so quiet and lazy that you needed spurs. He had picked up the habit of rooting and bucking immediately after a jump (or whenever he felt frisky).

"Nya nana nana na!" Spur said, mocking me cruelly.

I avoided cantering for too long or fast when I rode for practice, but in my lessons it was inevitable. I spent weeks with my instructor working out how to strengthen my leg and seat so he couldn't pull me off-balance, and finally, it paid off. I could ride Spur anytime, anywhere, and he was rooting a lot less now that he realized I wouldn't put up with it.

I decided to challenge myself (you see the cycle? I got cocky again...) to ride out in the field. Maybe one day I would even be able to jump the cross-country coops in the schoolies' field. I led Spur up the driveway and into the field, closed the gate, and mounted up from the fence. So far, so good. I warmed him up, pleased that I didn't really have to worry about diagonals or leads on the long straight stretches. Then it was time for the canter. I trotted up to the fence line, and pointed him to the opposite side.

"Caaan-TER," I said softly, and gave a nudge with one leg. He stepped out--a little forward, but nothing I couldn't handle. I followed his head--and-a-one-and-a-two, and-a-one-and-a-two. This was fun! I was outside with my horse! Most people at my hunter/jumper show barn rarely ventured outside!

At this moment, Spur was feeling as good as I was. He flung his head down and gave a little buck. I gave the wrong-answer buzzer, " Ehhh!" and held fast with my lower legs, using them as a lever (or fulcrum? whatever) to bring his head back up without losing the pace. No problem. He picked his head up, and took my added leg as a cue to go faster. He was really running.

"Fol-low, fol-low," I could practically hear my instructor's voice in my head. Spur and I were galloping--outside, for the fun of it! There was no jump I had to get to, no annoying little kid tailing me in the show ring, nothing. I had fixed the problem. Spur and I were a team.

Moral of the story: Hooray for free leases!