A Waiting Game....

And so to Hartpury CIC 3* and our last chance to qualify for Blenheim.... Despite trying desperately to think of it as just another competition, my nerves were amplified in the knowledge that it wasn’t – it was our third and last attempt at a CIC this season. I tried not to feel the pressure but however hard I tried to suppress them, those thoughts lurked surreptitiously within my subconscious.....
Having fallen off at Barbury and then tripped up the step at Aston Advanced we hadn’t had the best of build ups. But both blips served as a wakeup call as I realised that I’d been riding xc in cruise control..... letting rather than making it happen.... that needed to change if we were to go clear at Hartpury!
Walking the course too far in advance is never good for my nerves but this time I had little option if I wanted advice from Chris. I’d heard it was big and walking it confirmed the rumours; a tricky double of corners and the second water complex were my ‘bogey’ fences. Chris advised me to take the long route at the corners which were made more difficult by the undulating ground. I had several sleepless nights as my mind took me around the course on a never ending track of anxiety...
This time I had thankfully been given Saturday dressage (meaning that I competed over two days instead of three) although it did also mean a very long wait between phases - about 5 hours to deal with my nerves, watch and contemplate the potential significance of a bad round. My section were jumping indoors – better than out because he was less likely to become long and flat but worse because the fences looked massive! Bow rose to the occasion and really tried to jump the jumps – the two we had down being due to rider error. The relief was immense but not complete.... it was all down to the xc the following day....
Being scheduled to run at 15.30 created time management issues .... if my nerves had been bad the day before, they were likely to be far, far worse before the final phase. I planned my morning at home to include a few mundane chores to keep my mind occupied before heading off with time to walk the course again and watch a few horses over each fence.
Seeing the fences ridden successfully usually gives me confidence but I hadn’t banked on seeing quite so many people fall off....especially in the water... knowing only too well how that feels by the end of my walk I felt sick...but I knew that I had to hold my nerve and stick to my game plan.
A good warm up was essential: walking Bow down to the start I tried to block any negative thoughts and focus upon how I needed to ride him. He felt keen, alert and responsive. I trotted and cantered him before beginning to jump; keep a good forward, controlled rhythm I reminded myself. Bow seemed to sense the occasion and answered every question I asked of him; all we needed to do was maintain that and we’d be fine.... I patted him firmly on the neck; we were as ready as we could be. We had to wait for a few more horses in front of us but I wouldn’t risk jumping anything else just in case...
The steward signalled to me; our turn. The knot in my stomach tightened as we headed down to the start... ‘Good afternoon Sophie.’ said the starter, ‘just over a minute and a half...’ I nodded, keen to get going and shake off the sickening nerves which I knew would disappear as soon as we left the start box. Seconds later my heart sank as the red light flashed up on the control box accompanied by the warning tone. Another hold; not what I needed. I looked to the starter for information but thankfully he told me little of what was happening out on course. After our round, my supporters who were watching anxiously at the first water complex, told me that the two riders before me had fallen there. Had I known that....?
Several minutes later the green light flashed on again. I picked up the reins agian, hoping I wouldn't transmit my nerves to Bow.‘Okay to go in just over a minute Sophie?’ I nodded, my mouth too dry to reply. ‘Thirty seconds.......10..’ I walked Bow into the white railed start box, ‘9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Go. Good luck!’ Squeezing my heels onto his sides and we were off.... we cleared the first three fences easily before heading onto the embankment where he was a little surprised by the double of skinny hedges. A positive kick gave us a better jump over the next big hedge before the water. A good shot in .... over the cascade and out... surviving that first real question gave us confidence and he jumped boldly (albeit a little high at times) around the rest of the course. We survived a couple of slightly hairy moments – one at the second water where he jumped the first element so high that he fitted an extra stride in before the rail – good job I was riding defensively there! But crucially we’d jumped a clear round. We’d finally done it! We’d qualified for Blenheim... That night I felt a mixture of relief, euphoria and exhaustion as we toasted the day.
Entering our first CCI3* the next day I tried to be rational. I was lucky to get to this stage; entering was one thing but actually getting in was going to be a lottery.
Several agonisingly long, anxious days followed as we waited to learn our fate.... desperate to know but hardly daring to look....19th on the waiting list. I’d anticipated disappointment but any ounce of optimism I’d dared to cling on to was overwhelmed by a sense of defeat.... 19th .... a seemingly impossible position.... I couldn’t wish the 18 horses above us to suffer misfortune but without that happening we surely had little chance of realising our dream....
All I can do now is bite my nails, watch the list and wait......