PUBLISHER’S NOTES 2017
54 • THE PLAID HORSE
theplaidhorse.com • February 2017 • 55
theplaidhorse.com • March 2017 • 33
The Best Horse PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
I don’t get to ride very much. Between constant travel, late nights processing photos, perpetual emails, and trying to keep an ever expanding (incredible!) team running smoothly, I rarely actually swing my leg over. Every time I get to ride, I feel happy and blessed to have friends that invite me to ride their wonderful animals. When I actually do get on, I feel timid, weak, and indecisive. I imagine myself as this brave amateur, but I am not. My body does not listen – I do not spend enough time in the gym between riding occasions and I do not eat healthy enough on the road. My mind does not listen – I see the perfect distance and then panic and pull. I get anxious over head shaking. I worry about the horse moving off my leg and about him not moving off my leg. I have ridden enough bad ones and greenies to know how it can go wrong – and my memory retains those experiences. So, last year, I was elated to have the opportunity to ride not just a good horse, but the best horse. Seriously, Sundae already had the hashtag #Sundaethebesthorse. He has a whole fan club. I had never ridden a horse of this quality. Ever. I had constantly mooned over him and gushed when he won in the 2nd Years and Conformation Hunters during the circuit. PIPER WITH BALMORAL'S SUNDAE AT HITS HORSE SHOWS WEEK IV IN THE DESERT ADULT HUNTERS.
34 • THE PLAID HORSE When I rode Sundae, it was an education that I could not have imagined. I had no spurs and no stick, and he moved off my leg perfectly in a way that never inspired fear. He organized himself in the corner and flowed up to the perfect spot out of the turn. He was straight as an arrow down the lines and into the corners. I truly sat there and focused on myself, the ultimate indulgence in learning. I came around the turns and instead of anticipating the things he might do, I was working on holding my body down to the jump and putting weight into my stirrups. These two rides changed how I watched hunters all last year. Every time I was at a horse show, I would compare each round to how Sundae felt. I noticed many horses not moving off rider’s legs, which I came to see as a training issue and not “laziness.” I saw a lot of horses fail to stay straight, and again saw it through the lens of a training issue, not just rider error in that singular instance. I went back to my own ponies and, as they returned from lease, sent some back for a few more months of training before they went back out on lease again. In 2017, for the rider in me, lightning struck twice: I was able to ride Sundae again. After a whole year of watching and learning, I was so excited and so nervous to see if I had actually learned anything – or if it was a fluke. I arrived to the task at a level below last year – my appendectomy this fall left me with no core strength. I was armed primarily with my mind and my wits. Sundae is known as the best horse for good reason – he was perfection and totally covered up for all of my nerves and weaknesses. I trusted him and he rewarded me by somehow elevating my confidence level to match his. How can I preach that a few rides on a good horse can make such a colossal difference, when I also am always saying excellence is the act of being excellent over and over? Well, we have to start somewhere and improvements are always incremental. My path to excellence in my own riding will be long, wiggly, slow, and frankly, I might never get there. But, no matter the outcome, the thrill of riding the true greats here and there, the opportunity to practice, and the love of the whole process is enough. I am a lifelong supporter of this sport and, in return, this sport gives me an education that will last my life long.
◼ BY PIPER KLEMM, PHD
28 • THE PLAID HORSE
ARE HUNTERS ART? PIPER AND SUNDAE IN THE DESERT ADULT HUNTERS AT HITS COACHELLA 2017. PHOTO © AMY DRAGOO.
theplaidhorse.com • April 2017 • 29
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: I am no artist. The pen, the paintbrush, the hunk of clay – they do not take form in my hands. But, when I see art, I feel it. At first, it was all about The Classics. I did not have the perspective to understand or to feel Modern Art. Now, I try to respond directly to what I see and not demand predictability in my reaction to the details or message in art. My job demands a lot of travel so I try to take time when I’m on the road to explore the creative. The Legion of Honor is my favorite San Francisco excursion, complete with the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean. The de Young Museum (also in San Francisco) had a mesmerizing Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit a few years ago, and I keep a print of Wayne Thiebaud’s “Three Gumball Machines” from an exhibit in my home office. When I did the math on Van Gogh’s daily, weekly, and monthly lifetime production, it inspired productivity in me that has lasted for years! The single most impactful artistic experience for me was Alexander McQueen’s 2011 “Savage Beauty” exhibit at the Met (NY) in 2011. It expanded my understanding of the tortured soul, the loneliness and isolation of being a peerless visionary, and – similar to the Van Gogh exhibit in Amsterdam – it showed an unfathomable volume of work.
THE HORN OF PLENTY, A DRESS MADE OF BLACK DUCK FEATHERS IN MCQUEEN’S 2011 SAVAGE BEAUTY EXHIBIT AT THE METROPLOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NY.
“You’ve got to know the rules to Recently, I spent a wonderful break them. That’s what I’m here for, evening at the San Francisco to demolish the rules but to keep the Ballet where I saw people tradition.” – Alexander McQueen pushing their physical and artistic boundaries to new limits. The George Balanchine-choreographed ballet “Diamonds,” with music composed by Tchaikovsky, was mesmerizing. I saw people who took their natural gifts, body types, and athleticism, and stretched, strained, devoted themselves, and studied until, ultimately, they created art.
And, somewhere in the middle of this experience, I got to thinking… Are hunters art? We endeavor to take horses with natural aptitude for the sport and stretch, train, strain, and devote them, ultimately creating exquisite jumps, perfect cadence, and seamless performance. I have never consciously considered hunters as artists or their rounds as artistic performances before. But was the ballet on stage so different from watching Louise Serio, John French, or Jenny Karazissis in the ring?
Horsemen and skeptics may say, “Those ballerinas choose that life. They choose to practice for hours each day, to destroy their feet, to do God-knows-what to their bodies in order to stay at the top of their game. They choose their devotion.” But as horsemen, we all know horses that want to win; the ones who like to practice, to compete and win, to inspire expression, and create perfection. These are the ones that make us gasp at the beauty of their jump. These are the ones that we clamor to watch. Catch Me clearly likes the stress, the tension, the drama, the lights, the applause – or else he wouldn’t do it. There is no forcing that performance. Most horses, like most ballerinas, never make it to the top of their game, and in the mid-range may have less risk for injury, less stress, less investment in the outcome, and more reasonable challenges. Plenty of things can show up to sully art – money, desire, greed. The need for prestige and accolades leads many astray. Obviously, our sport contains people with flawed motives and misguided actions. But, I think that the majority of horsemen understand that a good horse wants to succeed. And, in a beautiful performance created by the synchronicity between horse and rider and horse and trainer, we evoke emotion in the audience. We create art. So, are hunters art? Yes, they are. Agreed, some art is more amateurish than others. When I ride, it is not Met-worthy, but I have a blast in the process of creating, trying, experimenting, and aspiring. Does anything embody art more that that?
◼ BY PIPER KLEMM, PHD
34 • THE PLAID HORSE
36 • THE PLAID HORSE work and ideas. I picked up the phone and explained my vision for TPH. And did it again. And again. For every dozen people who told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, one signed on. I told them they wouldn’t regret it and set to work making sure they didn’t. Many riders (and horses for that matter) out there are waiting for an owner to make a bet on them. This responsibility belongs to all of us – to bet on the future of our sport in any way we can. I have made the bet on 11 ponies and countless young writers, photographers, and great minds in our sport. Personally, I played the numbers game until I got a critical mass to make a bet on my vision and set to work. Every client, every account was handled to the absolute maximum, every person engaged and driven to push their social media ahead, every magazine passed out by hand over hundreds of horse shows, and a host of exhibitors congratulated for their personal successes. Seriously hundreds of horse shows – I have logged 90,000 miles in the last three years while The Plaid Horse is based at home.
PIPER WITH POSEY AT KILHAM FARMS IN NICASIO, CA. PHOTO © ADAM HILL.
As a primary lone wolf with a web of collaborations, (which is how I ran my time in graduate school) I completely left my comfort zone and took the next step. About a year and a half ago, I expanded the TPH team to meet demand. Sharing your vision internally and incorporating more ideas and more visions into the mix has been exhilarating, exciting, and a tough learning curve for me. Mistakes that impact team members hit me a lot harder than mistakes that impact me alone. While stumbles and hiccups have certainly occurred along the way, they have been countered with sheer volume of work and dedication to my belief that we should lift up those around us. Right now, and moving forward, I’m betting on the expansion into podcasting and, on a personal level, I’m investing in my own riding in a way that I haven’t since I was a junior. Back to how it all started. So, what’s my over-under now? Betting on me as the underdog always seems to pay, but now the odds won’t be so high. ■ BY PIPER KLEMM, PHD
20 • THE PLAID HORSE PHOTO © BYRON ROE PHOTOGRAPHY.
I didn’t think much of it, initially, as Adam spends much of his time letting me “be Piper,” as I spend much of my time letting him “be Adam.” But, after mulling on it later, I realized that this is why this partnership works. We learn from each other; we make suggestions; we help each other grow. But, most of the time, we give space to allow each other to make progress along our own paths. It’s what works for us – we’re both independent, big personality, and have the tendency toward becoming lost in our work, gathering data, evangelizing, or being generally bullish about our opinions. It’s what allows him to tolerate me spending my days as a “time anarchist” while he has this thing called a “routine.” Although I’ve studied it intently for ten years this September, I still don’t really understand its purpose. But, it’s what allows me to tolerate his stress over traveling, which includes stressing out that I’m not stressed enough. And, the often real possibility that I might be sleeping so soundly at the airport, I forget to get on my flight.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: I love my phone. As publisher of this
magazine, I am constantly keeping up with a delightfully rabid fan base, covering up to 30 different horse shows in any given summer weekend, and perpetually giving pep talks. I sleep with it under my pillow and when I awake in the night, I often pop on to answer a few nocturnal emails or post on Instagram. I think we live in the greatest time in human history, mostly because I can watch Netflix in my bathtub.
So, as we gathered for my wedding on June 10, 2017, at Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood in Oregon, the texts, phone calls, emails, publishing deadlines, social media questions, and minor dilemmas kept progressing as usual. One of my guests asked my husband, Adam Hill, “How will you keep Piper off her phone on your wedding day?” To which he calmly answered, “I’m planning on letting Piper be Piper.” Of course, I left my phone away for the day and only used it for as needed, day-of coordinating. But, business as usual went right down to the day before and resumed a day later. It’s a busy time of year and a lot of people are relying on me, which I never take lightly.
One of the tenants of Lean In is that the most important decision we make as women and the biggest indicator of our success is whom we marry. At the wedding, it was said that it took Adam a “few minutes” to know he was going to spend the rest of his life with me. It took me a few years; it took me until I was comfortable that we could learn to work together, to truly, deeply, and honestly look out for each other, and make each other better. For these two hot-headed youngsters, it took a few years. As I head back to horse show land this week, trekking by myself through my dream job, spending my days in the sunshine smelling horse hair, I stop to smile. It’s good being Piper. ◼ BY PIPER KLEMM, PHD
42 • THE PLAID HORSE
The Pony of a Lifetime
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
As we prepare my fourth Annual Pony Issue and read all the stories of ponies who made their people, I have to share my favorite pony story. Many years ago, seventeen to be exact, after eons of begging, dreaming, and pleading, a little girl got her own pony. It was not destined for success. You see, the pony wanted a little girl who knew what she was doing, and this little girl did not. The little girl wanted a pony who knew what she was doing, and this pony did not. She wanted a pony she could jump and show and trail ride. Oh yeah, and a Butet, and to go to Florida, and to show at Devon. The pony was two years old, unbroke, and to call a two year old pony a monster is redundant. She was opinionated about simply everything. Trips to the paddock led to shredded blankets. Reins flying too fast over her head were broken. She was not patient while the little girl practiced braiding her jet black mane. And God forbid she had her mane pulled or ears clipped. No, the pony did not tolerate that at all. Some days were so hard that the little girl wanted to give up, but her mother supported her to keep trying and see what she could do. It took the little girl forty minutes to catch her in her stall some days. But, the little girl had a pony. This was her pony and her only option to jump or show or trail ride again was to make it work. She pulled up a chair, put a basket of carrots next to her, and began to read her homework out loud. She couldn’t get behind in her schoolwork just because the pony was being stubborn. Eventually the pony wandered over and tentatively ate a carrot. She did it the next day and it didn’t take quite as long. She continued every day until the pony walked over and just hung out munching on carrots while she read her homework. One day, the pony nickered when she heard the girl’s footsteps coming around the corner and was waiting with her head out of her stall. Then the pony needed to be broke. The girl laid over her back in her stall for weeks. From the left side, from the right side, patting her and taking it slow. Finally, she swung her leg over and sat up. The pony seemed huge. She was the biggest pony the little girl had ever ridden. She felt on top of the world. Next came riding in the ring, trotting, cantering, lead changes, first jumps, first horse shows, baby green hunters, and incremental successes that thrilled the little girl. The pony won the under saddle and always put a smile on the shy girl’s face. The pony loved to jump and horse show and show off her athleticism. She continued to test nerves by jumping out of trailers, paddocks, and generally living life as she felt like it. When the pony grew up and the little girl was not so little and didn’t look good on her, the pony started to be leased out and moved to California. The pony had found her home – she traveled up and down the state, never changing
residence, winning all that was available to her, and teaching little girls over and over to ride and to win. The pony was very competitive once she got a taste of horse showing. She hunted down her own distances out of the turn and performed in the ring. At home, she barely left the four beat canter and found practice to be rather boring and unnecessary. She never stopped being opinionated. She still will not stand for being told what to do. She rears when you pull her mane. However, she has acknowledged that clipping her ears is cool in her old age. When asked, and not forced, she excelled at every task. She is the only pony I know to win in every program and with every trainer she went to. Today, I unloaded my Butet from my car and heard a nickering as I rounded the corner and she heard my footsteps. I groomed and tacked up Brighton Boast A Bit, the Posey Pony, age 19. While brushing her, I listened to a story of how they had turned her out in what she felt was the wrong paddock the week before, and she jumped out to graze in the “correct” paddock. Currying her now flea bitten coat brought back as many memories as riding her. Jumping her around, I never touched the reins and she hunted the distance out of the corners. Despite the many big horses I’ve now ridden, she still feels larger than life – her step, her jump, and her absolute importance. She bought that saddle and my first plane ticket to Florida, and she marshalled me into the Gold Ring for the first time. Looking back, those are not the things that really mean the most. You see, she took all of the lessons that we learned together
44 • THE PLAID HORSE and used them to be one of the winningest ponies of her time, as well as a great teacher for generations of riders. I adapted the lessons she taught me to achieve through the progressions of my life and be a more considerate teacher. To the pony who made me – who made me believe in myself, who taught me how to win. She taught me that anything worth doing is worth fighting tooth and nail for, and that anything is possible if you want it badly enough and do not give up, ever… Thank you Posey. ◼ BY TPH PUBLISHER PIPER KLEMM, PHD
(FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM AT @PIPERKLEMM)
I’m the luckiest little girl in the world.
18 • THE PLAID HORSE
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
Those who say “kids these days” to me already know that they’re
in for an earful. Most “kids these days” that I know are doing their best, confronted with excessive expectations and access at younger and younger ages, a lack of constructive confrontation for their actions, and a world that is seemingly not thrilled to greet themwhether it be in the show ring, the workforce, or high academic achievement. So, while I mentor The Plaid Horse interns, young riders on the circuit, and do my annual tour of college speaking engagements, what bothers me about “kids these days”? I would say that many young people today have very linear expectations. Given the nature of PHOTO © ADAM HILL.
20 • THE PLAID HORSE
social media and instant gratification, their brains are conditioned to see A -> B. If I’m not getting B, why put in A? What about doing for the sake of doing or putting yourself out there for something that may work over time (could be days, weeks, months, or years), or may be a complete flop? For example… why write the article unless you’re sure it is getting published? Why buy that horse unless you’re sure it can move you up to the 3'6"? Unless B is on the table and mapped out, why begin a process? This has many surrounding effects on academics, horsemanship, and to a big extent, adventure. Adventure is saying yes, when you’re not sure what you’re getting into. It is what makes brave horsemen, lifelong competitors, and entrepreneurs. Jumping in with two feet on a minor scale (e.g. taking photos you hope might get published) or a major scale (e.g. buying that horse) is how you learn, how you grow, and how you determine which cautions are necessary or frivolous for you personally. What can we do to push ourselves and others to step into the unknown, to risk failure in order to experience personal success? The same process we use to educate – encourage, mentor, and lead by example. Riders – face your challenges with courage, not fear, in this Finals season. And we must explain the difference to the young people in your lives. Take the mystery away – show them what they’re going to confront and give them a framework for contextualizing the experience. Encourage your young equestrian to ride and love the process as much as the competition. Love to write and create as much as being published, experience the satisfaction of photographing a truly incredible moment. So, go out there. Be kind and gracious without expectation. Give and be pleasantly surprised when things come back your way. Live in a manner that makes the world more palatable, pay back what you owe people, and leap straight from intention to action.
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BY TPH PUBLISHER PIPER KLEMM, PHD
(FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM AT @PIPERKLEMM)
“Adventure is saying yes, when you’re not sure what you’re getting into. It is what makes brave horsemen, lifelong competitors, & entrepreneurs.”
26 • THE PLAID HORSE
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Six divisions ago, I wasn’t really sure I wanted to ride anymore. I have always loved this sport and always will, but my love is only somewhat related to saddle time. I love spending time with my fleet of ponies – the quiet mornings hand grazing as the sun rises fill me with as much joy as anything that happens in the ring. I love being an owner – watching young riders advance in their own riding, horsemanship, and career from the sidelines with a guiding hand. I don’t publish The Plaid Horse out of any gift or ability I have in the saddle. If I never were able to ride again, I would still happily thrive laying down in a pony’s stall with him while I answer a horde of emails on my phone, holding treats out as they emerge from the ring, and grooming an ever-more-beautiful animal. And my nervous pony-mom tick – rolling wraps. When I’m back at the barn, there is never anything unrolled. Ever. So, six divisions ago, I was in a lull. I was seldom riding and when I did, I spent my time scared, nervous, in my head, and not having much fun. I felt unfit and struggled through the most basic exercises. I knew what I needed to do – I knew how I should coach myself but the magazine monolith led every decision, every action, every late night and early morning, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do better. I knew I wasn’t enjoying what was happening and I knew none of the horses were either. While I puttered around not riding through indoors two years ago, Fall turned to Winter and I had no plans to make another go at it. But at Thermal opportunity knocked. I walked in the first week and Traci Brooks said, “Hey! Are you going to come show with us this year?” And I just said
yes. I didn’t say I haven’t sat on a horse in months. Or, I’m in a funk. Or, I’m a terrible, incomplete, shade of a rider right now. I just said yes. My mom got home to our condo that night to find me doing squats in the kitchen. To her queries, I tried to explain… I might get to ride (if Traci was serious – I didn’t even know) and they’re going to think I’m such a buffoon. Morning and night, before and after the horse show each day, I tried to get as fit and/or strong as I possibly could within a span of a few short days. I had a goal. It was potentially not even a real goal, but it was enough to prioritize me slightly over phone calls, texts, and endless emails. And then the most magical thing happened – I got on for the first time in months, about half hour before showing, and I learned. I made mistakes and was walked through correcting them. I felt improvement. I started riding the correct track. I got on the right pace and rhythm. I felt occasional glimmers of confidence. I walked up to the in-gate and – still terrified – knew that I had already won. The next week, I kept improving. I felt like I was accomplishing. All hope was not lost on me as a rider and I felt like I shouldn’t throw it all away. Quite the contrary, now was the time to buckle down and become. As those of you who follow my journey know, it was not meant to be last year. Business success led to business stress led to my inability to see past my computer and just when I was able to say ‘ride’ again, my
Be bold, say yes, and be the grassroots change you expect to see in yourself! appendectomy put me square back in the nonriders camp. One year of ‘noodling’ on how to ride better and attempting to get fitter was derailed by having to spend weeks not lifting anything and moving slowly. Despite my best intentions, I arrived at Coachella this year at roughly the same place as last year… not having ridden a horse in months and physically weak. (cont’d on pg 29)
Riding on the first day, I felt lost and nervous and stressed again. I had reverted and was overwhelmed in the schooling ring. We moved slowly and built my confidence to be ready to walk up to the ring and somehow, Sundae pulled out consistency for me when I brought none to the table. The second day, when I walked into the show ring and cantered down to the first jump, I took a deep breath and smiled. I saw the distance from so far out and rode down to that jump and it was perfection. I hope I remember that one jump for the rest of my life. It was the best feeling in the world. With much larger success than ever before, I started to add riding into my life, to squeeze in more days at the gym, and with the help of my husband, Adam, to eat better at home. And by larger success, I mean I rode almost once or twice a month on average this year. We’re improving on an incremental level here – life is a grassroots campaign and my riding is a grassroots rally. With the encouragement of my team, I took the plunge again. I decided to show at the Maryland Horse and Pony Show. I arrived on Friday to have two (TWO!) lessons on two different horses. I really enjoyed riding a beautiful hunter named Amasing F or ‘Foster’ to his friends. I made mistakes and he was unconcerned and I tried to match his spirit. We showed the next day to exciting rounds and fun success. As any good streak goes, all you can do is wait for the inevitable end. It outwardly came on my second day with Foster. He was tired, I was much more tired, and my inability to communicate what I wanted could not have been more evident. He tried his best, but his mind reading and override buttons were a little too rusty to bring home top calls. However, as my goals are to learn, it was a satisfying attempt, division, and day. I felt myself getting physically stronger while fighting through fatigue, heat, and trying to use my legs and aids more effectively. The funk is over… for now. I’m sure it will happen again, but I will have better strategies in place to work out of it. For now, it’s all about putting myself out there, making mistakes, challenging myself, and thinking of the long term goals: becoming a real rider and horseman in the saddle again. So, here’s to doing the extra class, taking the harder option, one more interval at the gym, and trying to keep up with the world spinning around me. This year, 2017, I’m wrapping up ten years of consciously saying yes to opportunity and being game. Through no real intention or planning, this year has been the year of Piper. I’ve enjoyed success like no other time in my life and appreciated all of the interactions that have led me to this place. I’m not sure what is coming, but I will always smile with the rides I’ve had the opportunity to have. I hope saying yes and being game to new adventures yields a fraction of these riches in the years to come.
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BY TPH PUBLISHER PIPER KLEMM, PHD
(FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM AT @PIPERKLEMM)
theplaidhorse.com • October/November 2017 • 29
theplaidhorse.com • December 2017/January 2018 • 33
The Right Stuff PUBLISHER’S NOTE: Some moments, memories, podcasts, or readings really outlast their significance. You read, listen, glance once and then find yourself, years later, relating to the concept, noodling on it, or still unable to grasp how you feel about it. When I was about 15, I read Tom Wolfe’s 1979 astronaut classic The Right Stuff. I don’t think I ever discussed it with anyone. I certainly couldn’t pick out its cover and I returned it to the library a few days after reading it never to pick it up again. But, throughout my teenage years, college, and graduate school, I would look down at my hands shaking in a chemistry laboratory and think about how I don’t have the ‘right stuff’. My blood pressure would rise in every situation – fear, excitement, anticipation, joy – and I would beat myself up for not being calm, cool, collected – not having the ‘right stuff’. Even right now, at 29 years old, with all the praise and accolades I have received, I’m usually frustrated that I need too much sleep, that I cry way too often, don’t work hard enough, can’t move toward my zen, am not physically fit enough, and am too worked up. I’m frustrated about my lack of ‘right stuff’.
PHOTO © AMANDA UBELL PHOTOGRAPHY.
I’m no closer to having the ‘right stuff’ than I was at 15 when I read the book. I still shake. Writing his, I hold my hand out trying to steady it and I still can’t. I sometimes shake at the ingate when I’m nervous about showing. My heart races over most situations. I cry when I feel like I need to, which is probably too much. So, what has changed? I’ve come to realize what the ‘right stuff’ actually is. This fall, I was able to show at my first downtown indoors – the Royal West in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. I entered into the lowest division I could – the 2'9" Modified Adult Hunters, which is still pushing my current training and ability level. I rode with a trainer that I have never trained with. I rode the horse for the first time that morning. Usually, I can take odds stacked against me. But, as soon as I got into this situation, I realized that I was probably in over my head.
34 • THE PLAID HORSE
The Right Stuff I struggled to figure the horse out in the morning. She is a lovely mare and after a few days with her or with a coach who knows me and how I think, I would have been golden. But, instead, I got scared. Not really by the horse, but more by the situation. I got scared that I had made dumb decisions and my lack of preparedness was going to bite me. I’m not the best at practicing consistently or sleeping at horse shows or the self-care needed to be a real athlete. We all know what happens when you go into the ring scared. I got organized in the schooling ring, was going and feeling good, felt like I had it… and then walked into the ring. The ring was suddenly huge, the lights bright, the scoreboard humongous, the jumps built up and beautiful, and the crowd full of people watching me with keen expectation. The owners who generously let me ride their lovely horse gave her a treat at the ingate, the trainer who has never seen me ride sent me into the ring, and I froze for a second. I came around the turn to the single oxer, saw the distance I liked, and just sat there frozen. I didn’t put my leg on, didn’t help out, didn’t contribute as the jockey. Sans guidance, she hesitated off the ground and popped up and I nearly came off on the other side. My lifelong dream of
wanting to ride better horses at bigger shows felt shattered in that one jump. There was going to be no tricolor, no ribbon, and seemingly no satisfaction. I screwed up. Taking a moment, I tried to get my nerves organized. I added down the next line, crawling at a pace that matched my confidence, feeling the sting of my scratched chin. I was still going forward, but barely, and in full timid mode. Then, my epiphany happened. It was get in and get it done – that’s what the real rider I aspire to be would do. I turned my toe out and dug my spur in. I wish this was a fairy tale story – that I could say I went back in and won. I didn’t. I went back in and turned my grit on, had some beautiful jumps, beautiful lines, wanted it, and achieved my goal of being as brave as I could in the ring. I didn’t jog in any of the rounds and, physically spent, I went back to the barn and untacked instead of waiting to under saddle. Which gets me back to the right stuff. The right stuff is not not shaking; it’s not not being afraid; it’s not about keeping your blood pressure low; and it’s certainly not about never crying. It is about being all of those things – nervous, scared, upset – and rising to the occasion and doing it anyway. It’s about challenging yourself to produce a better product, create better art, become a better rider – no matter how much fear you have. It’s about putting your leg on even when you’re shaking. It’s about surrounding yourself with people who encourage you to go for it and applaud you when you do, even when it is accompanied by mistakes. Yes, I have the ‘right stuff’. I bet you do too! ◼
BY TPH PUBLISHER PIPER KLEMM, PHD
(FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM AT @PIPERKLEMM)
PUBLISHER’S NOTES 2017