Friday, January 29, 2010

Argh.

Lanky racetrack rejects are not meant to run around bucking and snorting. Especially when they're clumsy like Berkshire.

My maniac has had a month and a half off, two visits from the massage therapist, and his grain ration cut. Yet, he still insists on running out to the pasture and bucking so hard he makes himself sore.

In our downtime, we've been long-lining and puttering around. On a good day, I took him to Gainesville for a hunter show. It was 30 degrees the whole time and we had a half-inch of snow on the ground when we arrived. In Florida. Really now?

Everyone's psychotic warmbloods and TBs were flying around like maniacs, mine was no exception, but there were no serious injuries. A couple of people were thrown, including an older British man on a massive chestnut. I mention this because he left the arena swearing about his "effing warmblood," in the most civilized way.

We competed in the Pleasure division, and then Green Hunters. We took reserve in Green Hunter, and placed fourth overall in Hunter Pleasure. Very exciting.

During our warm up in the back ring. God, we're so out of practice.

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