Some background info.

Since basically everything is constantly the same on the work I'm doing (a lot of cleaning) I figure I would write a post on my history with horses.

First off....it runs in my blood....my aunt and uncle were both jockeys....my mother and other aunt grew up riding...my cousin showing a pony named Jingles is what first peaked my interest in them and my uncles father is a TB trainer in Cleveland....I was born to ride....and although I'm only 5'1" and do not have the body of an "equestrian" home for me is in the saddle.

The first horse that I ever remember riding is my Bullet James....I believe I was 7 and he 6 or 7....he was an OTTB and as soon as I got comfortable walking him around I told my aunt I wanted to go fast. In very many ways I am so proud that I am like her when new people get in that saddle...we both have the same approach to it....alright well here is how ya do it....have fun. Bullet took off into a canter and it was the most terrifying thing that to this day I could never get enough of....that horse cantering with me will forever be the best feeling in the world. 

Shortly after that ride I went home and told my parents that is what I wanted to do. After my Dad put me through a couple things to make sure I was dedicated (the infamous move the pile of dirt story and the paper route so I would value the price of my new infatuation). I was surprised one summer day with Bullet James in a red bow thanks to my beautiful family.

After that my Mom coached me for a year or two on the basics....which would have been enough until I decided I wanted to show and I wanted her to do it with me. She and I moved from barn to barn with what feels like a million different trainers learning so much and slowly molding me into having my own style and approach to horses.  I had veryyyyyy aggressive trainers that believed in massive amounts of equipment and demanding things from these 1500 pound animals instead of asking and showing would produce results....of course the horses did what any animal would do....react violently to get away from the abuse. So because of this I became terrified of these beautiful creatures for quite awhile....although I loved Bullet so much I would never admit it and risk the chance of loosing him.

Eventually I found 4 trainers that I rode with regularly that shared my beliefs and built both mine and Bullets confidence back.....this was when I turned into that evil monster 13-14 year old that I'm sure everyone in the horse world remembers very very well. I believed Bullet and I were better than everyone and was a giant twat! If I had the chance to meet that girl now I would break her jaw and hug her parents, family and trainers for putting up with it. 

Eventually I got a huge dose of humble pie when my Bullet got severely ill and I couldn't ride anymore.  When he was better (never the same but better) I got away from the show world and back to basics....he and I went to a small farm and worked a girl scout summer camp and I gave MRDD riding lessons....by far the most amazing summer of my life. After that barn became a mess James and I moved elsewhere and just spent time alone getting to know each other....walking around on trails for hours until one day he showed me he could and wanted to run. Then for months we would go out into fields and do whatever he wanted with nothing more than a halter and lead rope. Sometimes I'd ride....sometimes just walk....whatever this brilliant boy was in the mood for.  When my family had seen the huge change from evil show monster to human being that actually had a way with horses Bold Run was purchased.

Since Bullet had been retired and only ever made appearances at shows when he and I were both bored and just felt like having fun down the road at the small shows held there, I decided I wanted a project horse finish the journey Bullet and I were headed down before he became so sick....enter THE Mike Jones. The horse I wanted to finally make it to the New Albany Classic with. When we went looking we went straight to the track and saw a dozen or more amazing horses and one dumpy terrified chestnut that was going to slaughter by the end of the week. Needless to say the dumpy one became my little monster. It took us about .0385 seconds seeing that horse in the pasture for us to realize the nut was painfully talented....figuring him out however took a lot longer....about 50 broken cross ties, stall guards and a few stitches later...there was a gleaming athlete in our backyard. This is important because I very much think Michael was very misunderstood....he was never ever mean or violent under the saddle or on the ground. The horse CLEARLY had a very rough life before we found him and he was scared to death of people. One night a friend of mine was holding him while I was grooming and she SNEEZED he reared up, smacked his head on the ceiling and started to shake. At the moment I was so happy that I had found him and he didn't end up with those overly aggressive crazy horse people that would pull out shanks, twitches, kick chains and whips....that is what made him like that you assholes! Michael never had a whip or spur or anything aggressive used on him.....to this day he only ever refused 3 fences (one because I had a seizure on him) and did have a small bucking issue for a few weeks because he needed a damn chiropractor. Within 6 months of actually training consistently (I had been on and off for awhile because of my health). Mike was a dream! He and I found a new trainer (Mike....which would get very confusing) and were on our way. He had found so much love and trust for humans that he would follow anyone around like a puppy...we were his safe place no longer a nightmare....he didn't even need a lead rope. Tell me that horse you beat the shit out of can go without one......you can't shut the hell up. With such a profound difference my Dad had a realization that this is what I need to spend my time doing....and started to help me plan :)

Unfortunately with my father's passing Mike was sold and is now proudly shown and ridden by a young girl in Ohio...the only issue they've ever had...one we were unable to tackle because we simply didn't have the room was his separation anxiety that he got when he was left alone in the barn....that is now completely resolved and he is the amazing horse he had never gotten a chance to be because no one would just get to know the poor guy.  

So now I'm doing everything I can to get back to that place where I can grab another Michael and allow him the chance to be loved by a little girl and thrive on his God given talent.

It's slowly becoming reasonable.

So the tack room project is proving to be a LOT more then I thought it would be. The junk, mice, spider webs, power washing, chicken shit (never own chickens....fresh eggs are not worth it...more on that later), oiling all the leather, bleaching all the grooming stuff, washing blankets and wraps, and the hardest part...throwing away all the meds for my beloved Bullet James that were too hard to go near right after that angel got his wings...it's gone from trainwreck to not quite reasonable! Sigh. Sometimes I wish my Father had raised less of a perfectionist (this only pertains to my barn/horses....everything else I really don't care). Also one irritating thing....2 horses....6 damn blankets....WHY?

Being out here however has brought back some amazing feelings that in the last 2 years of a drunken stupor I had completely forgotten about. I remember being in this barn organizing or playing with the horses and seeing a small issue. Then trotting over to Dad's barn where he would be doing whatever men do...no doubt it was incredibly manly... and I'd tell him a little issue. Something absolutely tiny and stupid, give him some easy solution, ask for the tools to fix it and assume I'd be on my happy barn rat way. Oh no....Dad would come back to my barn...see the thing and he and I would start brainstorming....next thing you know the we are knocking down walls and drawing blueprints for NASA's new space center because somehow it made sense. Seriously if he was in his barn and it was related to horses and I caught it....world hunger would have been solved in this barn...shit and because he and I would get so into it we would probably figure out a way to build them all 4 bedroom homes with a pool....all before Mom called us in for dinner of course!  This is because my Dad was/is a F'in badass!!

Now about chicken HELL! So the idea of chickens and fresh eggs probably sounds amazing to most people....that's because you (and us 3 years ago) are an a hole. One big stupid thing about my family is we care way too much about animals...32 chickens and 3 awful satanic roosters that Dad (after building the Ritz of all chicken coops) decided would enjoy life more if they could roam the farm freely. He read books...they told them this...the only time I will ever say this....F books!!!! Chickens will roost on everything....cover everything in shit and roosters will attack you...until you DIE or run screaming to your convertible where you will wait for hours until a family member comes home with an umbrella (they are scared of those) to chase them away and be your bodyguard to safety. They will attack you when you are tacking up your horse. Which is worst case scenario if you have a nervous horse and you are running around it in circles screaming because the seed of Satan with feathers has found you and decided it is now your time to die. I hated them....Dad loved them...I now required a bodyguard at all times to walk out of the house....so never, under any circumstance, if you like having nice things or living, acquire these monsters!

And some pictures....tackroom progress....I want to paint it next....can't pick a good color....maybe a dark brown...maybe a stain.

Background....

Well the max history I'll give is that in 2006 my parents bought a farm to help me pursue a career in horses. In 2010 my Father passed away, we sold our animals and shut up the barns. I moved away to Pittsburgh to try and figure out wth I am doing with my life....while I was there I was sure my calling was to be a jockey and planned on moving to Florida this August. Then something unexpected happened and I moved back to the farm very suddenly. It took me about 3 weeks to realize that my real dream has been and will always be to run a successful Thoroughbred rescue center.  Not like most current rescues (although they are amazing) where they just grab a horse and put it up for adoption quickly and hope someone wants to pick it up and hope it's good at something. I plan on training horses for their new career and placing them in a home where it will strive as a show ready and well trained for most riders horse but still adopting them out for the same reasonable prices. Of course there is no profit there so I have hopes that producing great horses will provide me with the credibility needed to give lessons and business training others horses.

Although my Father set me up with everything I could ever need.....the farm did not get the necessary TLC to just start up....plus horses cost money....something 21 year olds don't really have access to. So here is a blog about my blood, sweat, and tears put in to achieve the dream my Father and I shared. Including going back to college.....wish me luck!