Chatsworth 2011 ..... a moment of miscommunication...

I’ve already notched up a few ‘first time’ experiences during the course of this milestone year; competing at Chatsworth horse trials in May was another.... our first CCI3* and my first time competing at the spectacularly picturesque venue in Derbyshire.
As ‘first times’ go it went relatively smoothly, but in terms of the grand scheme (Blenheim this Autumn) it didn’t quite meet the necessary criteria. In order for the master plan to succeed, Bow and I need to achieve one qualifying score at Advanced level (completed at Weston Park) and one at a CCI3*.... and having come so close to pulling it off, I confess that the sense of achievement at having completed my first 3* was marred by the disappointment of having collected an avoidable 20 penalties x-country.
We completed a satisfactory dressage test; as always there was room for improvement. My nerves, which don’t usually affect me in the first phase, caused Bow to become a bit tight. As a result we completed an under par performance to score 56.5 – respectable but not our best. Watching the show jumping in the main arena the following morning made me feel sick with nerves; when the pros have several fences down it inevitably makes me feel the sense of occasion even more intensely. Trying desperately to banish any self doubt and put our blip at Withington behind me, I told myself firmly, ‘It was just an anomaly.... he won’t make the same mistake again...’. Bow didn’t warm up very well but we managed to jump our round with only two poles lowered; the relief was immense. Not our best round, but certainly not our worst either.
Saturday night had been a restless experience, I don’t sleep very well in the lorry anyway but with my mind replaying the course on a continuous reel... my worries intensified and fences were magnified... particularly the fourth and fifth – two huge box hedges on a curving line.... A second course walk early that morning helped to put everything back into perspective although being early on, I was unable to watch how it rode.
My renewed confidence was soon challenged by the commentator whilst waiting at the start, ‘...and there has been a fall at the fourth fence causing a hold on course ....and unfortunately we hear of a stop at the fifth for....’ both horses I knew had form at two star level.... I couldn’t help but wonder if Bow, or I for that matter, were up to the challenge..... I supposed I’d know soon enough.... what was it Chris had told me? Something along the lines of ‘...if you reach fence six then you’ll know you’ve got a 3* horse underneath you....’
.... By the time we were flying the fifth I’d left the nerves behind me and began to enjoy our round.... Bow was a bit green at times but seemed more overawed by the crowds than the fences so I stuck to my game plan at the brush corner; situated at the base of a steep bank I knew I needed to have him listening to me so at the top I applied the brakes...only on this occasion Bow responded too literally and broke to a trot.... unclear as to what I wanted... I tried desperately to kick him back into action but with our momentum broken the entire question became ambiguous and we trickled past the fence.....damn! Negotiating the alternative successfully I galvanised myself to put it behind me and we completed the course without further incident..... but that familiar elation on passing the finish eluded me as disappointment quickly overrode any sense of achievement....
Watching others opt for the long route after many problems at the same fence did little to assuage my frustration.... on the long journey home I couldn’t help but beat myself with a battery of ‘if only’ scenarios. But at least I know one thing.... I do have an amazing 3* horse and more importantly, we survived to fight another day... an awful lot to be thankful for in such a game of chance.....

Crashed... not burned....

Sometimes life goes to plan and sometimes, unbelievably, it just doesn’t.... last weekend was one of my favourite occasions on the eventing calendar – Withington Manor – with both horses doing day before dressage, I was all set for a three day equine fest.

Things began well on the Friday afternoon; Roger did a good test and some much needed rain fell onto already well prepared ground. Perfect. I walked the novice track which looked challenging but fair; the water looked like the hardest test with a jump straight into water (my greatest fear – proven unfounded - was that he might over jump and submerge us both!)

Saturday also began well – Roger stayed calm for his show jumping – so although we had two down I was pleased with him. He gave me a fantastic, safe ride cross country...phew... Bow did a good test despite putting in an impromptu flying change. So far so good....or so I thought....

Having put the boys out for a few hours r & r before tea, at approximately 18.30 hrs on that fateful sunny evening, I happily climbed back into my lovely husband’s cherished open top sports car to ‘whiz’ back and put them to bed. We have a close neighbour with a large white van, so it was with great care that I reversed around him (not so easy with v. limited rear vision) Sighing with relief at having navigated that obstacle I accelerated a little.... BANG...CRUNCH .... OMG... SHIT... where had the 4x4 come from (parked in the middle of the road!)?

I tentatively climbed out to survey the damage...greeted by a very angry, leather-trousered lady who shouted at me instantly as I interjected profuse apologies... she clearly thought I’d done it on purpose despite the fact that my car had fared far worse! My silent prayer that my husband would hear the commotion and come out so that a. he could protect me from abuse and b. I wouldn’t actually have to tell him what I’d done...went unanswered...glancing up at the window it was clear that I was on my own.

Worse was to come as I realised that my bumper was actually hooked onto her tow bar....and was grimly informed by scary lady ‘you’ll have to pull yours off...I’m not moving mine!...’ How humiliating is it to have to rev husband’s sports car in order to disentangle it with crash victim? VERY! Thankfully I have the most understanding husband in the world but that didn’t really lessen the feelings of worthlessness.... guilt...stupidity....

So it was with slight trepidation that I headed back to Withington on Sunday morning; I needed to make up for my blunder and give Bow a good prep for our first CIC 3* at Chatsworth. I fended off my nerves by focussing on the process...soft, light, collected forwards.... and not the outcome. He warmed up well; jumping cleanly and confidently.

We cantered into the ring with assurance. The bell rang.... we cleared the first five fences easily, turned to the sixth, a big upright.... a little tight around the corner maybe but on a good stride...or so I thought...Bow clearly thought otherwise as he went to chip another one in, realised there wasn’t room...veered sideways into the wing... demolished the fence with a familiarly loud CRASH...and deposited me feet first, confusedly, next to him.

Oh shit...I’m on the floor, what now? Bow had scraped his chest but seemed ok. Had to think for a moment; was I allowed to get back on? ...Decided yes... but needed a leg up... much to my relief a very generous spectator came to my rescue....had to wait whilst they re-built the offending fence....Bell... ready...deep breath... gave Bow a reassuring slap on the shoulder... approached it confidently and cleared it easily... we completed the course without further error.... in fact without that blip it was a clear round!

What happened? I don’t know...and having watched the video several times over I’m none the wiser...maybe he misread it...lost his focus.... one thing I do know is that I’m not going to dwell on it. Having checked him over thoroughly and pulled myself together, I at least made sure that I gave him a good ride cross country...

Here’s hoping that it was just one of those inexplicable equine anomalies..... and that I don’t repeat my crashing crusade...

So does life really begin at 40?

When I was a twenty-something, 40 seemed positively ancient. If anyone had asked me back then what life could be like beyond the age of 39, I’d probably have mumbled something about anyone who got ‘that old’ being incredibly boring, aged, out of touch.... I can just hear myself saying dismissive things like ‘people over 30 think that making a fashion statement is like buying a new pair of velvet slippers or a paisley dressing gown....so un-cool..’ I just couldn’t imagine being that old. But now that I’ve passed the milestone I honestly wouldn’t turn back time and put myself back in my youthful self.
Whilst a few less wrinkles and a little more flexibility would be good, why would I want to return to that penniless, paranoid, precarious time of life? The decade when I tortured myself through a turbulent love life, struggled with self-critical shame, vacillated over the variety of vocational routes open to me and tolerated a long queue of overly zealous advisors. The fact is, I don’t really feel any different than I did in my twenties apart from having become more my own person; or, as some might argue, more like my mother.
No, I really do think that despite the fact that it can be more difficult to mobilise my overworked body in the mornings, I’m happier now than ever. Having stepped off the teaching treadmill, I am living the dream and loving every minute of it; it has to be said that working outside in the amazing weather we’ve been having recently, certainly makes it feel more like a holiday!
Maybe I am experiencing some kind of mid-life crisis but I’m incredibly lucky to have many things during this stage of flux in my life: a wonderfully supportive, loyal and lovely husband who is letting me live my dream; two amazing horses who I’m living it on; an extremely tolerant trainer who facilitates my equine aspirations; many very understanding and supportive friends (one of whom made me the cake pictured here!).
This critical combination of factors must be working because I’ve already achieved two critical check points within a month of passing the major milestone: the first draft of the ‘book’ is finally complete... all I have to do now is get it published - no problem there then! Bow and I also recently and successfully, completed our first advanced event....taking us one adrenalin fuelled step closer to Blenheim..... Who knows what else I, or as I should say, we, can achieve in my milestone year? At the moment anything seems possible.....

And they’re off....

On what’s already a rollercoaster ride...although Bow’s white cell count had been on the way up I decided to have him re-tested two weeks before our first event; disappointingly it had gone back down again. What to do? The vets advised me to carry on as normal but with our first advanced scheduled quite early on in the season I opted to try something I’d never tried before; the Black Box. A friend recommended a Radionics practitioner; I sent her the required hair, picture and other details and waited. She told me that she thought it was something to do with his liver and that he’d picked lead up from somewhere, recommended a liver tonic, said she’d treat him and we’d see what happened. He’s been firing on extra cylinders ever since. Purely coincidence? Who knows.
Our first outing, the unaffiliated at Aston Le Walls, was an experience on the wild side. With the dressage arenas situated in the middle of the cross-country, the combined proximity of loudspeakers, galloping hooves and chilly breeze was enough to put most horses on the sharp side of fresh and mine were no exception. Roger (the understudy) almost managed to contain himself and had almost settled until we entered our arena; from there he could see another fence which nearly blew his mind completely. I struggled to keep him between the boards as we performed some lovely movements that weren’t actually in our test; I thought we might gain a few extra marks for our ad-lib half passes and flying changes but the judge clearly disagreed and we were placed almost last. Bow felt similarly fresh and managed to get his tongue over the bit twice before his test. I had to jack his bit up so high that he looked somewhat like a Cheshire cat but it worked as he did a good test; his score placed us a more respectable third in his section. Both boys jumped double clears although Bow’s performance was considerably calmer than Roger’s and he finished third.
Our first affiliated outing was at Tweseldown; making the most of my new flexible lifestyle I was able to enter the Thursday OI on Bow. A slightly calmer test preceded a respectable show jumping round; although we had two fences down, I rode him well. After a slightly hesitant start (on my part) I got my act together and he flew around the xc. Roger was also slightly calmer in the dressage but tried to take off around the course of show jumps before letting me ride him more calmly over the twisty xc course. No prizes but a promising start.
Then came my fortieth birthday weekend but with Roger at Swacliffe 100 on Saturday and Bow entered at Aldon OI on Sunday there was little time for partying. Roger was calmer in all three phases although his show jumping still felt out of control. Bow was the star of the weekend and helped me to celebrate my milestone with 2nd place; a good test, one fence down and a clear fast xc round left us on a score of 34. Having ridden well I was elated especially when Horse & Hound published our picture; with their accompanying caption I reasoned that at least I wouldn’t have to tell everyone how old I’d turned!
Gatcombe followed swiftly. With Roger’s continued wildness in the show jumping I wasn’t sure whether to take him to his first novice but decided to give it a go. He was still wild but jumped a double clear giving me a really good ride xc. Thinking about trying the black box on him; anything’s worth a shot to harness his talent.


Perhaps I should have anticipated my nerves escalating on Bow in the AI; having opted to do day before dressage I thought hanging around at home would be easier than a long gap on the day. I thought I’d get loads done on Sunday morning but instead spent the entire morning worrying a lot and achieving very little. Arriving on site did little to ease my mind; with the tragic news of Spring Along’s death combined with the vision of a tricky sj track, my stomach twisted itself into tight ball. Rescue remedy eased the tension briefly but wore off before my turn came. I entered the arena surrounded by all too familiar faces and simply overrode to have four down. Frustrating and disappointing as Bow had been jumping really well. Next time sod the rescue remedy, I’ll be having a nip of brandy before I go in; maybe then I can let Bow jump the fences!
Deciding to run xc for fitness I set off determinedly; with our first advanced only two weeks away I wanted a good run. Having jumped the first few fences well we approached the double of corners. On our approach a fence judge walked onto my line. I thought I was about to be stopped; I should have shouted at him but instead just froze. We got to the fence but had both lost focus and Bow decided to run past the first corner. Having turned the air blue and given Bow a hard smack, our second attempt was foot perfect. He flew around the rest of the course.
Although very disappointed, especially following our previous success, I’m not going to over analyse it; I’ve learnt from it and am moving on. Future fence judges who get in my way had better beware; next time I’ll ride on (and over if necessary!) regardless, unless someone actually waves a flag at me. After all, at least we’re both fit, well and ready to fight another day.

Preparing for the off...

January always seems to drag its heels through a fog of cold, dank darkness. I always struggle to lift my spirits above the depressing emptiness which follows the festive social frenzy; with only the crumbs of the Christmas cake, the hazy memories of friends and family and what was once a chocolate mountain reduced to a remnant, every day seems like an effort.
But with February just around the corner, I am fending off the winter blues with thoughts of the imminent start of the eventing season – only six weeks away and counting. Poised upon the brink of a new phase of my ‘new life’, I feel a new optimism for the year ahead. Without the demands of teaching my stress levels have diminished along with my anaemia. Purely coincidence? Surely not.
Looking back, I was living on adrenalin as I tore myself in too many different directions. That can not be a healthy state to exist in. So without that pressure? I have more energy, am more relaxed and feel happier. I have more space in my mind to put things into perspective, no longer overreact about trivial problems and have more time to think about what I’m doing and how.
Apart from the book (nearly finished – still no agent!) the competition season is my main focus. Riding lots of different horses has given me a greater edge of confidence; I am riding more consistently and with a far greater feel. New challenges are exciting rather than terrifying. Self doubts are replaced more quickly by positive thinking and self belief; those distant goals seem somehow more obtainable.
My new life style has enabled me to fit in more training, more practice and more fun; with the luxury of flexible time, it all seems more manageable. I now have time to think about how I ride my own horses, more time to put theory in to practice and more time to enjoy them. Consequently they are both on very good form. We’ve been out to a few shows and performed well; we’re already looking forward to the next. Although we’ve already had some highs and lows this season, I’ll be taking each day as it comes and keeping things well in perspective. Bow Roger and I are definitely ready for the off!

Dealing with rejection.

I knew getting into print wasn’t going to be easy. I watched my mum struggling to get her writing published and so I know how difficult it is. But it was still quite a blow to receive my first rejection from an agent even if it was phrased in a positive way:
Dear Ms. Hearle,

Many thanks for sending me your manuscript.

I thought that there was much to admire here, in particular your prose style, but I’m afraid I don’t look after any books in this sort of genre and as such I do not feel that I would be the right agent for you, but please do not give up.

With best wishes and good luck in your future endeavours….
Being my first, I found it hard to tell if this was a standard rejection or not, but I’m learning to read the positives within the negatives; in so doing, I am choosing to take solace in the fact that he ‘admired’ my ‘prose style’ and am certainly not going to give up just yet. In fact I’m half way through my manuscript and will persevere in my pursuit of representation despite having already received a second, less positive rejection.
People keep reminding me about J K Rowling’s struggle to find belief in Harry Potter; whilst I don’t live under any illusions of harbouring a similarly global phenomenon on my hard drive, such thoughts do help to keep those flames of hope burning. I will strive to write more powerful, poignant and popular prose.
I’ve also suffered rejection with Bow; we didn’t make it onto the short list for the 2* team. The reason? Our show jumping hasn’t been consistent enough. Pragmatically I saw it coming; we haven’t had the greatest season, Bow isn’t the most careful jumper in the world and there are a lot of very good horses on the list. What's more important is that he's making a good recovery from his mystery virus. And whilst I was obviously disappointed, I’m not going to let it ruin next season for us; if anything it’s made me more determined.
We’ve nothing to lose and everything to prove. I learnt a lot from my mistakes last year and will use that learning curve to my advantage. Now that I’m riding more horses, more often, I know that I am riding a whole lot better. Whilst I would have loved to represent my country, I now have the freedom to choose where I compete and who knows, without the added pressure, how far we’ll go.
Tomorrow is after all, a New Year; for me it's also a new decade. I’m turning my negatives from 2010 into positives for 2011. My aim? To make it a good one.

A change for the better

Marcus recently pointed out to me that I don’t do change very well. I’ve decided that he’s right – he usually is - just like my mother used to be. I put it down to the fact that as a teenager I went through an unsettled time when the family fortune was squandered by my father, my parents divorced and we were forced to leave my childhood home; consequently we ended up moving about five times in the space of five years. It was an unsettling time which I think may have had a lasting impact upon me; I have become a creature of habit, routine and regularity. It’s perhaps the reason that I don’t really like the thought of going on holiday; the fear of abandoning my everyday life unnerves me and makes me irrationally anxious.

Let’s face it, it took me twelve years to leave the school where I began my teaching career. I used to travel over an hour to revisit my childhood dentist because I couldn’t face finding a new one; ridiculous I know. When I have dared to embrace change things have often gone horribly wrong; there was the new dentist who tried to ‘sell’ me a root canal filling that I didn’t need and the vet who fatally misdiagnosed a horse. Such happenings have inevitably compounded my hate of change.

I struggle to change hairdressers let alone cope with the potential stress of moving my horses from the yard where we spent the last eight years happily together. And yet move we have. This time the change is definitely for the better; in pretty much every way. The horses are happily installed in their cobbled stable yard with acres of grass to graze or roam. The riding takes us through stunningly picturesque, Cotswold countryside and for schooling, or if it’s raining, we have an indoor school. Luxuriously I no longer have to face the political tension inherent in most livery yards because it’s just me and the owner muddling harmoniously along. I’m just keeping everything crossed that my bubble doesn’t burst.