admin - Optimum Equine

29AugAugust 16, 2022

A Picture’s Worth

That’s how the saying goes, a picture’s worth a thousand words. With horses, I think it could be far more than that. Pause to think about what’s behind each photo of every horse and rider… I don’t just mean the crinkling peppermint wrappers or antics intended to get the ears up. I mean think about how many setbacks preceded that smile up centerline, or how many training challenges led up to that blue ribbon, how the stars had to align to get that Olympian on that podium or how long that little girl saved up her pennies to make a childhood dream come true… it’s astonishing.

When Beau was officially retired early this summer, I asked my friend to take his photo for me. I wanted to remember him like he was in that moment, still strong and dappled with a show horse shine. I was also searching for small spots of happiness in the middle of the devastation I felt at having to retire him, and it was nice to have a fun day to look forward to amidst the endless sea of stall rest boredom for him and for me.

Just like anything with horses, nothing goes according to plan. The day arrived and so did severe thunderstorms. We picked a rain date and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day to hang out outside with my friend and my horse. Things slowly started to go awry, starting with a last minute patient forcing me to be at work earlier than I planned then some last minute massages scheduled that afternoon, forcing my hair up into a hat instead of staying around my shoulders in a well behaved mess.

If only that’s where the snafus ended… But with horses, the real catastrophes don’t begin until you get to the barn. I said hello to my handsome friend and took him out of his stall to be groomed and doused in fly spray before going outside. I should have noticed the “crazy eyes” right away but I was distracted trying to get us both cleaned up in time. With one eye on the clock, I took him outside for a quick grass snack, as was our daily routine, and that’s when the day really unraveled.

Our first stop was the patch of the dirt he liked to lick since he was selenium-deficient without access to pasture. The second stop was his favorite spot to snack, the side of a rain ditch where the mower can’t reach and the grass grows extra tall and lush. Approximately two seconds after plunging his head into the daisies he was either A) stung by a bee or B) possessed by demons. In less than a heartbeat, he was airborne, transformed into the equine kite I’d become so well-acquainted with during his time on stall rest. But this time, instead of coming back to Earth, he fired out behind him with both hindlegs, catching me in the wrist and the arm as I pulled the lead rope back, trying to steady him. As luck would have it, he kicked me in the hand holding his lead rope, thereby freeing himself to continue his rampage without me. This horse, who is supposed to ONLY WALK, took off galloping TOWARDS THE ROAD. All my adrenaline and all my half marathon training could not get me to the driveway fast enough. I watched with horror as a car approached but luckily stopped. He stopped too, starting at it, leadrope dangling from his face. I continued running towards him as the passengers began getting out of the car with the intention of grabbing him for me. He thought about that for a half a second, then wheeled, galloping back down towards me before realizing his bad leg kind of hurt then he calmly stopped himself, waiting for me to rescue him.

So, in a nutshell, that was the day these photos were taken. One/both of us almost died, then I gently picked bits of gravel and dirt out of my bleeding arm before putting on a dress and little ankle boots. I unfurled my crumpled hair from under my baseball hat and forced myself into a state of composure before Anita arrived. But you would never know this if I didn’t tell you. In these photos are just smiles and silliness, like it usually is when Beau and I are side by side.

Like every photo of a horse and human, the moment captured is so much more than that moment. When I look at them, I see more than that moment, that day. I see each and every day that lead us to that moment. I see the years of hard work and training, I see the trust that was cultivated through the time we spent together, and I see the bond that was tested through these last nine months–the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through together–his harrowing journey of trying to survive stall rest.

His personality, my unwavering admiration of this goofball, the beauty of spending an evening outdoors…. it’s all captured here so beautifully. Even when things go awry, as they somehow always do, being beside my horse is unfailingly wonderful. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again–Beau is my wise (albeit kind of weird) teacher, keeping me grounded in the beauty of the present moment and showing me how to roll with the punches (and/or kicks).

25JulAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Happy Birthweek, Optimum Equine!

Another year is in the books! This week is Optimum Equine’s #birthweek and I’m celebrating it the best way I know how… driving from farm to farm, massaging horses, enjoying the summer weather, prepping for horse show craziness, and dreaming of what will come next.

Reflecting over the last 12 months, I am struck with gratitude over the ways that this has grown. I am humbled that my bodywork practice has become a regular part of so many sporthorses’ maintenance routines, and I’m proud and elated when owners share stories of their horses’ continued health, happiness, and show ring success. I have been fortunate to meet so many amazing animals thanks to taking this path and it fulfills a lifelong dream of mine, to work with horses someway somehow. There are cold days and blistering hot days, there are long days and days so hectic that my calendar looks like rainbow vomit–there are simply too many pieces in the puzzle of each day. But every day is completely 100% worth it. If you would have told me ten years ago that my dream job would have hours like this, that finishing up at 10 pm on Friday night is pretty normal, I wouldn’t have believed you. But each late night and early morning when I’m doing what I love, the hours melt away.

So many of the good things don’t come as a surprise at all. I love when a horse gives a big eye-rolling yawn releasing tension, or gently turns and tries to groom me in return. I love the beautiful country drives and the peace and serenity of working in a barn. I love using the strength of my hands and my knowledge of anatomy, biomechanics, and dressage training to help these horses feel their best. But there is one big thing that I didn’t count on at all. It’s all of you. I never thought about how fulfilling it was going to be to connect with like-minded horse people, how inspiring to hear all of your stories, how cathartic to commiserate together about the struggles. In everyday life, I am surrounded by “normal” people, and it can feel so isolating to be among people who you can’t share the most important part of yourself with. But with my fellow crazy horse people, I can truly be me.

Being able to share this part of my life with so many people is something that I am endlessly grateful for. This past year has been a difficult one for me personally, with the retirement of my longtime partner, but day after day I was so uplifted by the concern and empathy that all of you showed during my toughest days. I marvel at the number of people this practice has allowed me to meet and how important those connections have become to me. Friendships blossomed and were rekindled out of simple exchanges about scheduling. I have learned so much from my fellow horsewomen, whether it was new knowledge about an unfamiliar discipline, horse care advice, or tips on the best horse show venues, vets, or breeches–I have appreciated every bit of it.

I started Optimum Equine because I believed I was meant to work with horses, but the last year especially has taught me that I am also meant to work with horse people. This blog is a simple thank you to every person behind the camera in these photos–a thank you to each of you who have trusted me with your horse over the years. It is a pleasure to call you my friends and clients–I look forward to many more years ahead!

Life Lessons from Professor Charlie Brown

18JunAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Life Lessons from Professor Charlie Brown

The first lesson he taught me was simple:

Take the leap if you really want something.

I wasn’t in the market for a horse when I met him. I was fresh out of college, just happy to spend my few spare dollars on riding lessons and all of my spare time at the barn. Being the overgrown barn rat that I was, I spent an awful lot of time with Beau in addition to the horse I was leasing. A year later, when his owners put him up for sale, the thought of losing him broke my heart in two. Without realizing it, I had fallen head over heels in love with this horse. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him so I did the thing that no half-broke 23-year-old should do. I bought my first horse. Was it the smart thing to do? Nope. Did it turn out to be the best decision I’ve ever made? Probably.

While I busied myself learning the riding techniques I had not yet mastered, like how to find the distance to a jump or what the outside rein is supposed to do, Beau was patiently and obediently trotting around, setting the stage for the next lesson:

This is supposed to be fun.

We spent our first show season at the local schooling shows, holding our own and having pretty decent rides. By our second year together, I was feeling more serious about going to recognized dressage shows, so we entered an early spring show at Lake Erie College. Entering the warm up ring, I found myself blown away by the quality of the horses and immediately realized this was out of our league. I erased any visions of winning, put my metaphorical blinders on, and told myself to just get in that big beautiful indoor and go have fun with my horse. With a relaxed, obedient test and a smile on my face, he topped the class.

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, and riding is not a sport for those with any kind of ego. From day one onward, Beau consistently and eagerly pointed out lesson number 3:

Know that things will go wrong.

The same year that he brilliantly won at the Prix de Ville, we were eliminated at a schooling show because he saw a gaited horse and it blew his mind. Unable to fathom how/why a Paso Fino moves like that, Beau went into “giraffe mode” with his nose in the air, and whinnied roughly two million times before deciding not to turn at K and plowing down the dressage arena instead. Know that you will be bucked off at a clinic with a prominent clinician and land in the auditors’ laps. Know that you will be launched solo over jumps and at a show he will step on and break your reins so you can’t get back on. Know that he will get turned out with a new horse the week of a show and get kicked in the stifle. Know that as you savor the bliss of a beautiful horse show morning at your first Regional Championships, the cry you hear of “LOOSE HORSE!” will be about your horse…

We all know that riding teaches you to be tough, to be determined, to not give up. This is not a sport for the faint of heart. But it wasn’t until I had a horse of my very own, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, that I really had to learn the next lesson:

Be flexible.

I bought Beau as a hunter who could maybe do an equitation class here and there. We had some success, but we also had some pretty major catastrophes. To stay the course with blind and dogged determination would not have been much fun for either of us. He loved jumping at home for fun, with no flower boxes and no pressure. At the horse shows, he could not handle my nerves or the scary jumps. Yet at dressage shows, he (usually) shined. My horse was trying to tell me something and I had to listen. The path I envisioned for us was not the path he was meant to take. So we doubled down on dressage training and kept jumping oxers of plain brown rails just for fun.

Any athlete struggles with self-doubt. Sometimes teammates struggle to trust one another. When your teammate can’t speak the same language as you and is scared of miniature horses pulling carts, a lot things that move, wind, noise, and some things that don’t move, that trust can be even more elusive. At a particularly spooky venue in Loch Moy Farms in Maryland, Beau taught me another lesson:

Believe in yourself.

As we started moving up the levels in dressage and going to bigger shows, I became more acutely aware of being the hunter rider on a draft horse. My lace-up Ariat field boots were a dead giveaway and Beau, well, if I had a dollar for every time a judge wrote “needs more suspension” I could probably have a horse with more suspension… Finding myself in the heart of horse country in huge class with pros and amateurs alike, the self-doubt took over. I was nervous and Beau channeled his inner Thoroughbred to start seeing dead people around every turn. We unraveled in the show ring and finished with a record worst score. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, just staring at ceiling of the horse trailer I was hoping no one would notice me sleeping in. I rode that test over and over again in my mind, going over every mistake and wondering how I was going to fix it the next day. At 4 am I gave up trying to sleep and went to the barn. I watched him eat grass and gave us a pep talk. We could do better. I would ride better, he would perform better. It didn’t matter how amazingly good everyone around us happened to be, we just had to beat us. I told him I would be the best damn hunter rider on the best damn draft horse at that show. I told him I believed in us and there were no freaking dead people lurking at A. I channeled all of my frustration into motivation and rode the most accurate test of my life. I came out of the ring beaming. Redemption. We walked back to the barns with our heads held high, mission accomplished. It was even sweeter that my underdog with a heart of gold won that class with the highest score we’d ever get, a 75.6%.

More recently, the lessons my wise professor is teaching me are more universal. If you asked me about unconditional love before his injury, I would have nodded and said yes, yes absolutely I understand that. I love my family, human and animal, unconditionally with all of my heart. But after he was hurt, and all of my riding and competition goals were erased, my dreams and plans were halted, and I drove to the barn day after day after day without a second thought… then I really started to understand what it meant. I knew from day one of this journey that life as I knew it was over. I mourned the loss of my riding career and it crushed me. This horse has given me everything I had ever dreamed of. He gave me successes and challenges. He gave me joy and purpose. He carried my dreams on his back for nearly ten years. I could barely envision a life that didn’t involve riding and training this horse. Every day after he was hurt, I was completely dedicated to his rehabilitation and care, knowing that it was only for him. My brief stint as his rider was over, I only wanted him to be happy and healthy again. And for 175 days, no amount of being cold, exhausted, hungry or burned out deterred me from being devoted to him and his wellness. And while I was telling myself, I was doing it selflessly, doing it only for him, here he was–teaching me about love.

He has been trying to teach me this one for a long time, but I am a slow learner… I find peace in spending time with animals because they know nothing outside of the present moment. The past is in the past, the future is nothing to worry about now. I hope that the recent challenges will finally teach me this important lesson:

To live in the moment.

A few weeks ago, Beau suffered a reinjury and the outcome of his vet visit was exactly what I had feared–the ligament which appeared to be healing so well was really just false hope. The ultrasounds which had looked promising, were misleading. The tissue that had regrown was not strong. His recent soundness at the trot was a byproduct of his rehab being done so carefully and so methodically, with perfect shoes and perfect footing, nothing to cause the weakness to rear its ugly head. I cried for weeks, grieving the loss of the hope I started to feel, the devotion of the last six months which had yielded no progress, and I worried of what the future held. The day after we returned from the vet was a clear, sunny day. I took Beau out for grass and watched him graze for hours with tears streaming down my cheeks. He happily plunged his face into a field full of daises and looked up at me with calm brown eyes, as if to say, “isn’t this just the most perfect day?”

My wise, beautiful horse… although our riding career has ended and he will not be the one to teach me how to be a better rider still, he will keep teaching me how to be a better human. With each passing day, I’m starting to see what the next lesson is:

Accept the things you cannot control.

I gave him my everything, and still it was not enough. This is by far the hardest lesson to learn. Sometimes it won’t matter how hard you work, how much you sacrifice, or how bad you want something. These creatures are as fragile as they are powerful. They will bring us both the highest highs and the lowest lows. Life with them brings us the greatest fulfillment and the worst broken hearts. We simply cannot have one without the other and looking back, I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.

My teammate is retired now, but he remains my greatest teacher and my best friend.
Thank you for everything Charlie Brown.
❤❤❤❤

30AprAugust 16, 2022

By admin

The Event Formerly Known as Rolex

They used to call it Rolex. Now they call it Land Rover or simply, Kentucky. But they’ve always called it the “best weekend all year” and you can never go wrong with that name, it’s just too true. By the end of April, winter finally starts to release its grasp on the Northeast, and no matter what the calendar tells me, I don’t feel like it’s really spring until the last weekend of April, when I make my annual pilgrimage to the bluegrass state, where there are foals galore and the greenest, lushest grass.

It could be the best weekend all year simply for the joy of spending a weekend in the horse capital of the world with my horse girl friends, drinking bourbon and microbrews, shopping for horse things and talking about horse things. But the competitor in me is always thrilled about the event itself–North America’s only 5* three-day event drawing top riders and Olympians from around the world. Now, I am not an event rider–never was and I never will be. But I can appreciate that there is something really special about these horses and riders to be able to be so versatile–to pull off the precision of a dressage test and go gallop for 12 minutes across hilly terrain and jump 30 downright terrifying solid obstacles the very next day. Oh, and don’t forget being fit enough to jump stadium the day after that on a horse smart enough to know not to touch these fences…

Certainly eventing is not everyone’s cup of tea (or as a friend likes to say, “why do I want to watch riders who suck at three disciplines?”) and like any sport, it has its flaws. But for me, it’s a lesson in how to be tough as nails, how to fight for something you really want, and how to dig deep when everything is going wrong. You can see all of that on display in a single trip around the cross country course, where it’s not just the physical demands on the horse and rider, but the mental focus and split second decision making. British rider Piggy French had an unfortunate slip around a turn on her WEG gold medal horse, Quarrycrest Echo, and the pair almost went down. In a heart stopping save, no one falls, she trots off for a few moments to make sure her horse is sound and kicks on towards the next fence. Halfway around the course, they have an awkward landing into the water and for a second you think she’s headed for long route or making a circle to compose herself. But no, she knows if she points her horse at the flags, he will jump, and they are clear out of the water. With all of those near-catastrophes, she finishes with just a few time penalties, jumps clear on Sunday, and winds up in fourth place. If that’s not determination and grace under pressure, I don’t know what is.

Sure, Michael Jung has made it look like an extended hunter derby in past years, but the beauty in that is knowing how unbelievably hard he has to work day in day out, year after year, building partnerships with each of his horses to have that level of trust and skill to make it look that easy. That’s the other aspect I am so inspired by in attending this event year after year: just the massive amount of work it takes to get a horse fit enough and skilled enough to qualify for a 5*, and the monumental effort to get a horse and his entire team to that event, then to wait and hope and pray that nothing goes wrong over 3 days of competition. I can only imagine the heartbreak when a lost shoe, a lunging accident, an unlucky fall, or roughly eight million other potential glitches derail that dream. But year after year, those that can show up and try again. I’m inspired by the riders who have made a handful of trips with the same horse and feel like it’s a testament to brilliant horsemanship to see a 17-year-old horse tackling that track and finishing with pricked ears.

What’s more fun that a horse named Pfun? Rider Will Faudree (USA)

Last but not least, don’t forget the fairy tales. I know the best riders are still mounted on the best horses and are funded by big name sponsors but… it’s not out of the ordinary for an OTTB to wind up on the American team at the Pan Ams or the Olympics or the WEG. You’re never going to see that happen in dressage or show jumping. “Ordinary” horses just won’t cut it in those disciplines. But in eventing, you will see tears at the joy when a rider completes cross country on a horse they’ve bred and trained themselves. And stories like that of Chris Talley, the highest placed youngest rider at this year’s event, who finished on a 10 year old he found on the track and is proud to share his love and adoration of his partner. I admire the eventers for their devotion to a sport that relies on a horse’s heart and intelligence, showing all of us that dreams do come true and diamonds in the rough do exist.

So three cheers, eventers! I may not want to EVER gallop downhill at a giant ditch brush, but I do want to tackle my training challenges, show disappointments, and horse life obstacles with the same grit, tenacity, and never say die attitude as you do. Thanks for inspiring this one hunter-turned-dressage rider and sharing your best weekend all year.

Just some horse girls doing the horse girl thing

25MarAugust 16, 2022

By admin

One Day at a Time, 101 Days Later

After three and a half months on stall rest, some of you might be wondering: “How is Beau?”

When this ordeal began, I started chronicling his recovery in my Instagram story. I wasn’t sure where I was going with it, or where it would end up, but it wound up being a fun way to keep myself sane during the incredibly frustrating and often demoralizing process of rehabbing a soft tissue injury with your one and only horse. It became a helpful outlet to vent my frustration about winter, to update friends on his progress, and give me a reason to find an amusing, interesting or just plain cute moment in the monotony of months spent hand walking.

(As you can imagine, half of the content is him eating something… there’s just not a lot going on when you can only walk and it’s winter).

But something really cool happened with those 101 stories, looking back on it now. When we’re focused on our horses as athletes, as teammates, those are the pieces we zero in on and that’s what matters. Nothing wrong with that, when you have competition goals and personal progress goals. But our relationships with our horses are so special because they’re not just our athletic partners, they’re also our friends. They become our family. And day after day what I was chronicling was not just his progress, but his personality. He is this incredibly smart, hilarious, annoying, gregarious, hungry and curious creature who I just love dearly and have spent a third of my life caring for.

Beau destroyed three slow feed hay nets in his first week inside. Beau turned the “licky things” into “chewing things.” Beau was tempted to climb out of his window, so it now it is boarded up. Beau made it a daily habit of turning into an equine kite on his way down the hill to the arena, so now he lives next to the arena. No more levitating, the vets said…

Beau happily made “dirt angels” rolling in the indoor on his nightly walks. Beau stood like a champ for the vets and his farrier and still snoozes during his massages and light therapy treatments. He was a saint the first time I sat on him for under saddle walks and most of the time, I don’t even bother with a saddle anymore.

So how is Beau? In summary, he’s an angel. And a hooligan. Some days he’s my unflappable Percheron and some days he’s a wild-eyed Thoroughbred. It just depends on the day and he can be as unpredictable as life with horses is, period. He has special shoes now, and special supplements, special feed, special wraps, and special treatment, the whole nine yards. And yet, I still can’t tell you how he is. I can tell you he still has the same beautiful swinging walk he’s always had, with two hoofprints of over stride and not a single misstep. He’s been that way since day 1, and he’s the same 101 days later…

Then finally, two weeks ago one other member of the unofficial Soft Tissue Injury Support Group joined me on a pilgrimage to Cleveland to finally get some answers to: “How is Beau doing?” I am happy to report that the vet was pleasantly surprised with how the ultrasound looked–the ligament is definitely healing. This is good news, but still doesn’t translate directly into whether he will ever get better. It just means that we’re on the right track. It means I have the green light to keep going with the rehab, however many more months that might take.

So really all I know is that I don’t know, and some way somehow, I have to be ok with that. My inner type-A dressage athlete who likes to plan and prepare and set goals has taken a backseat to being a one-track mind horse nurse who has learned to find joy in the little things. The side-splitting laughter when Beau carries the manure bucket in his mouth or the simple contentment of spending quality time with my sweet friend. I hope that the next update will come sooner than this one did, but in the meantime I will keep walking him, laughing at him, posting videos of him eating snacks, and taking the best care of him that I can–one day at a time, as long as it takes…

21FebAugust 16, 2022

By admin

#horsegirlenergy

I have to admit, I don’t always listen when my husband sends me links and says, “You have to read this.” But when he sent me a Vice article on a trending hashtag about “horse girl energy,” I was intrigued. I thought the internet had somehow discovered the secret stores of limitless energy that enable us horse girls to do the things we do and was celebrating us for it.

Horse girl energy is the superpower that allows us to effectively work with opinionated steel-shod prey animals ten times our size. It’s the thing that fuels us while we’re horse showing in 90 degree weather, surviving only on coffee and granola bars and probably sleeping in our trucks. It’s how we can clean 8 stalls while hungover faster than most people can make a bed. It’s why we can’t stay awake for an entire movie, but riding a couple of horses before or after a whole day at work is the normal routine. I thought for sure the article would be a witty outsider’s take on what *I* believe horse girl energy means.

It was not.

To my dismay, it was about what the internet really thinks of us: giant dorks.

We might not have been the “cool kids” in class…

Sure, the internet is not totally wrong. I might not be the only one whose horse girl energy led to some embarrassing fashion choices in the seventh grade. According to the article, horse girl energy is “sincerely doing or enjoying stuff that most people think is corny or uncool.”

As I continued reading, the article sparked my “horse girl rage” and I rapid fire texted my unsuspecting husband what a load of bull$h!t this article was, what a travesty, how misrepresented all my fellow kick ass horse girls were, and how if that’s what the internet thinks of us, the internet is sorely mistaken. We’re outside braving the elements day in and day out. We’re doing all of the normal adulting crap that non-horse girls have to do AND we’re successfully caring for one (or maybe several) high-maintenance creature(s) on a daily basis. We’re working out so we stay fit enough to ride such creatures. And we’re constantly learning, gaining new knowledge and skills so we can train our beloved partners and work in harmony with them. What is so “uncool” about living a life with utter passion and devotion, do tell me, dear internet!

The article then touches upon another undeniable truth–“her Facebook profile photo is, of course, her posing with her horse. Perhaps she is brushing it. More likely, she is hugging it.” I rolled my eyes, thinking, orrrrr…. she is executing a perfectly precise dressage movement, or is in mid-air over a solid obstacle, or flying around a barrel at high speed, or a hundred other also cool things.

As my contempt for this author bubbled, I reached the final paragraph–perplexing and satisfying–which stated, “Imagine if you acknowledged loving anything that sincerely? Horse girls have none of this inhibition, and this is why they’re almost certainly loads happier than the rest of us.” The rage subsided. The author is right about one thing… and yet, why WOULDN’T you live life earnestly and openly loving something that gives you joy? I guess I’ll never know because I am an unabashedly dorky horse girl and don’t mind if the world and the internet knows it. Call me a uncool if you want, internet, but I’ll be out prancing through fields of buttercups, grinning like a fool, unable to hear you for the wind in my ears. I may be weird, but I sure am happy.

06JanAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Broken Leg Diaries: The Sequel

Here we go again. New year, same story. It’s a different actor this time though, as now it’s my beloved Beau who’s ringing in the new year on stall rest and not me. I was gleefully looking forward to the first off season in three years where I could do the thing you’re supposed to do in the off season. You know, train…

Life has this funny way of re-routing all of the chapters I want to write. I was training for a marathon when I broke my leg. I dreamed of what that would feel like, all the battles to be fought and won as I trained, I saw that finish line in my mind’s eye. In an instant, that story line was gone and replaced with surgery and 12 weeks unable to walk. I was planning a victorious comeback last fall, and had been steadily working towards new goals when I learned I had to have surgery, again. There went those hopes and dreams. Another chapter on the cutting room floor.

And that brings us to the present.

Beau was going better than he ever had. There was power in the trot. He was becoming more sensitive to the seat aids in the lateral movements. And most exciting of all, he was really starting find a new degree of collection in the canter. I felt like we were on the right track heading towards our goal of Fourth Level in the new year. Then one day something was just not quite right.

Soon after that, it became apparent that he was very not right and as fast I could, I had him on a trailer heading toward a specialty vet clinic in Ohio. I had not slept in days. I could barely eat. I couldn’t focus at work. I was just sick with worry, knowing in my gut that whatever answers awaited us were not going to be good ones. And unfortunately, my gut was right. Even though I knew deep down I was not going to get good news, I still was not prepared to see that ultrasound which revealed a tear in the suspensory ligament.

In that single moment, each dream I held for our future was erased. Each goal we were working towards, halted. Another chapter re-written. I was doing a pretty good job of holding it together until the diagnostic stages were completed and it was time to decide what to do next. I was about to answer a simple question posed by the vet, when Beau turned his head and looked at me with those giant brown doe-eyes. My heart shattered when I looked into his eyes and the only sound that came out of my mouth was an uncontrollable sob.

It remains impossible to put into words the overwhelming emotion that moment held. In those giant eyes, I saw the soul of a creature that had given me more than I could ever ask for. I felt overwhelming gratitude for my boy, my once-in-a-lifetime horse. I felt pain at letting go of the dreams I held for us and I felt grief for the loss of everything we’d worked so hard to do. I felt confusion and panic at trying to balance the medical, financial, and emotional considerations that went into planning his rehabilitation. In the days that followed, I bounced between hopeful delusions that he would make a miraculous recovery and unshakable despair that life as I knew it was over. It took a week for the emotion roller coaster to run its course then I clicked into gear: I had a new goal. Work tirelessly day in and day out to get this horse better, whatever “better” may mean at the end of 6 months.

Each day, the sadness was replaced with a sense of purpose. This horse has carried me through all the trials and tribulations of my adult life. He has made dreams come true. He has taught me everything I know about dressage, about horsemanship, and an awful lot about life. When I was broken, he helped me heal. The universe was just giving me a chance to return the favor.

So each day, we walk. Week by week, we walk a little bit more. I stand in the rain and watch him eat grass. I take wraps off, put wraps on. I groom him daily so he glows like a show horse ought to. I put ice packs on the injured leg and treat it with light therapy. I massage him weekly to help with the stiffness that comes with stall rest. And each time I use my hands to release tension, ease soreness, help him relax, I feel grateful that I have this skill to help my best friend feel better.

This is not the chapter I planned to write this winter, not by a long shot. I like to believe it’s possible that it has a happy ending, even if it is not the ending I hoped for or dreamed of. I’m searching for the silver linings which will surely be there–they always are. I have become more conscious about how the simple act of being around horses makes me feel whole. How listening to hooves clicking down a barn aisle and the happy sound of teeth munching hay bring me peace. How a day revolving around walking him in circles for 15 minutes somehow feels like a day well worth while.

In the new year, we look forward to challenges to come. But as horse people, we don’t always get to choose our own challenges. The last couple chapters in my own broken leg diary have taught me a thing or two about healing, and the parallels the healing process shares with training: patience, consistency, determination. We’ve got this. Just 159 days to go…

22NovAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Thankful for the Crazy Horse Life

For the next five months or so you are going to hear me and the rest of us northern-dwelling equestrians complaining. A lot. Complaining about trudging around in fetlock-deep mud. Complaining about it being dark approximately 22 hours of every day. Complaining about the cold, the ice, the snow, the frozen water buckets and frozen tractors, frozen fingers and driving in the snow, the ice, and the rain-snow–you get the idea.

But I as I mentally and emotionally prepare myself for the next several months of training in the dark and the mud and the cold and the ice… it’s a good time to stop and remind myself how thankful I am for the privilege of being able to live the horse life. Despite my bitter hatred of winter, there are still small joys in every day that I am unbelievably grateful for. The horse life is not an easy one, but is a worthy one. I may have sat in traffic for two solid hours on the way to the barn last night, but my heart still smiles when I see that giant pink nose stretching through the stall window, looking for the snack he’s not going to get until after our ride. I may have spent the better part of a decade working on things any dressage horse should know by now (walk-trot transitions, anyone?) but I still end my lessons feeling encouraged that he’s getting better and stronger all the time. Any maybe I did have to chop his tail off because of the aforementioned mud, but I never forget to say a prayer of thanks to the patron saint of farriers each time I haul him in from the fields still wearing four shoes.

This Thanksgiving I wanted to make it a point to remind myself not to let the misery of winter dampen the glow of this beautiful, crazy, chaotic thing we call horse life. I wanted to really reflect on the good fortune I have to live my life surrounded by good people and their lovely horses. I am thankful that Optimum Equine has allowed me to spend even more time doing what I love and connecting with the things that matter to me. It continues to amuse me that it takes a Herculean effort to drag myself to the office every Monday morning, but a 6 am alarm on a Saturday finds me bounding out of bed and hustling off to a barn somewhere. Sometimes I look at my calendar and think to myself, how?? How in the world is all of this going to fit in, how I am going to survive another week of this insanity? The answer is that you can do amazing things when your heart is happy… I am grateful that my passion for the horses lead me in this direction and that I have the ability and opportunity to do what I do.

I am thankful for my community of horse people that lift each other up–people who share equine first aid tips over cocktails at horse shows, who identify with your training struggles, and lift your spirits after an evil judge knocks them down. I am so fortunate to have people I can call my barn family. Over the past year, I can’t even count how many people have looked after my horse while he was hurt (or while I was hurt) and it blows me away. The connections we have and the bond we share because we live our lives as crazy horse people is one more blessing I am endlessly grateful for.

But most of all, I am thankful for my horse. Day in and day out, I am humbled by what it means to have and to love a horse. From the simplest things, such as lifting up a hoof, to the complex (please canter sideways with bend and lightness and in a perfect rhythm), he does these things for one reason only: because I ask him to.

That’s the only reason our horses let us ride them, train them, and work with them–because we ask that of them. The love and trust and sometimes pure magic that goes into day to day life with horses is something I find myself taking for granted. It becomes commonplace when it’s your day to day reality, but when I pause to consider all of the things my horse has done for me… from walking onto a trailer because I promise it will be safe, to trotting past the plastic bag that I promise will not eat him… I just want to grab his giant furry face and tell him thank you. Thank you for listening to me, thank you for trusting me, thank you for trying so hard. Thank you for giving me opportunity to chase dreams and live a rich, full, completely insane life. And with any luck, I will be thanking him for providing me with an arsenal of funny stories I can tell around the dinner table while trying to distract my family from politics… Happy Thanksgiving fellow crazy horse people! May you feel thankful as I do for the plentiful blessings of this life as you pull on your mud boots, headlamps, snorkels, three coats, or whatever gear you might need to go feed the horses today.

06NovAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Science lesson: pony laser beams!

It’s a question I get asked all the time: “What made you decide to do this?” Usually I give a lengthy answer about the whole journey that brought me to starting Optimum Equine and becoming an ESMT, but what it really comes down to is this: “Because I wanted to help the horses.”

I have been delighted to share the benefits of sports massage with dozens of happy horses and their doting riders over the past year, and all the positive feedback reminds me that the goal of helping the horses is being met day after day. But still there were those four delicate legs that massage could not address, or chronically sore backs, necks, or hamstrings that needed something more. So I started researching options that could enhance the massages and address the problems I continually run into. I am proud to say that Optimum Equine now offers red light and near-infrared light therapy and this month’s blog is a departure from equestrian life so we can delve into the science behind light therapy!

One of the answers I often give when asked the “why” question is: “because it works.” But then I put my nerd hat on and explain that the science behind massage is well-understood. We know that it works and we know the physiology of WHY it works. As a horse girl with a science degree, knowing WHY a treatment works for my horse is crucial to me. So as I set out researching options for expanding my practice, I slowly ruled out many available options because the mechanisms for healing were not well-understood. Or at least not explained in ways that I could understand.
I had heard a lot about low-level light therapy and I quickly realized I was on the right path when I was able to pull up article after article about with pain-reducing effects on a variety of conditions ranging from delayed onset muscle soreness (Douris et al., 2006), osteoathritis (Oshima et al., 2011), and wound healing (Whelan et al., 2001). But the articles I found explaining WHY this works… that was a home run for me (Desmet et al, 2006 & Huang, Chen, Carroll & Hamblin, 2009). So bear with me as we go on a walk down nerd lane and learn about the physics and physiology about healing pain with lights…

Treating the back and sacro-iliac joint with light therapy

1. Pony laser beams!*

*Not a laser.
Laser is the popular vernacular for most treatments involving lights, but the main difference between “light” and “laser” is the lens the light is filtered though. Lasers involve a focal beam of light and can have tissue heating effects or even cut tissues (i,e., when used for surgeries). Light therapy uses lights which are diffuse, which makes them more safe to use, but equally effective for pain-relief and healing effects. That takes us to point 2…

2. The Goldilocks of Wavelengths
All lights have a specific wavelength. Those in the 380 to 700 nanometers spectrum are visible to the human eye. Those in the 600 to 1100 nm spectrum can be absorbed by mammalian tissue. For that reason, low-level light therapy incorporates red lights (635 to 700 nm) and near infrared lights (700 to 1000 nm). The red light is most easily absorbed by soft tissues near the light source, such as muscles, ligaments, tendons and soft tissues near the skin’s surface while the near infrared light wavelengths can penetrate more deeply and to act on joints.

3. Photo-bio-modu-what?!
Photobiomodulation is the process by which light is absorbed and produces a chemical change within a cell, comparable to photosynthesis in plants. Our bodies are full of photoreceptors–in our eyes to absorb light and transmit those signals to our visual cortex in the brain and in our skin to convert sunlight into vitamin D3–but what I learned during my research is that those photoreceptors are everywhere. By stimulating them with the appropriate wavelengths, a desirable chemical change is produced. It is thought that the cells’ mitochondria are the initial site for these changes, leading to increased ATP (cellular energy) production, protein synthesis, and increased oxygen binding. Increasing these processes in a damaged cell helps them return to normal, healthy homeostasis.

Flexible light therapy pads can be used from head to toe–literally .

Whew. That was a lot of sciencing for one post, but I just can’t help myself sometimes. If you’re still with me, you have to admit: that’s pretty cool stuff. Now I know why you really read all the way to the end, and that’s because you want to know how it can help your horse. I love that it can be used for a variety of conditions, but the heart and soul of Optimum Equine is about improving performance, so my hopes were that the light therapy could do exactly that. Enter my favorite guinea pig, Charlie Brown.

Day 1 with the light therapy pads on, he stood like a champ, I had no worries that he would knock over the battery pack or step on a cord. After treating a leg that had an old injury, I moved it to his back. Wow did he love that! His eyes softened almost immediately and he stood like a statue (see Figure 1). He was totally focused on how good the light therapy felt and didn’t move an inch! Normally he’s quite obnoxious in cross ties, pawing and chewing on everything…. it was a welcome change.

He was less than thrilled to wake up from his blissed out state when I tacked him up and took him outside to work. But I had to know if those warm fuzzy feelings made him feel better under saddle! After a long walk warm up in the hay fields, we trotted some straight lines. I noticed immediately that he was more even in my reins–something that we normally have to work up to. The canter quality was a little better right off the bat and when he threw in some changes for fun (he does that… dressage horses, am I right?) they were clean and through. Feedback from a few other test ponies has been positive as well–one rider noticed a big change in her horse’s connection and suppleness over his topline.

Much like massage, light therapy increases circulation to the treated areas, providing the desirable effects that myself and my fellow riders and clients noticed immediately. Also like massage, I know that the light therapy keeps working after the treatment has ended. I’m looking forward to sharing our progress with you in future updates as I continue to use the light therapy on Beau, and I look forward to sharing the benefits of light therapy with your horse! Until next time, happy schooling 🙂

22SepAugust 16, 2022

By admin

Murphy’s Law

There could not be a more perfect day to be writing this one. After our final qualifying show didn’t go according to plan, we decided to enter a schooling show to hopefully end the season on a good note. A crazy week at work and with massage clients meant a long streak of late nights and early mornings trying to make the time to ride and train. There’s still a laundry list of prep for any show, but at least this one is right in our backyard. Friday was an amazing day with a marathon massage day at Coventry Equestrian Center making sure some of my very favorite equines were in tip top shape for their final shows of the year. I had to squeeze in a ride and a run before my first client, so my tack was not so sparkling and my pony did not get a bath. But I would head down centerline, ready or not.

Like most horse show mornings, the alarm starts going off at 5:00 and everyone slowly stumbles around in various levels of consciousness until somehow the boots and clothes are packed, the coffee is made, the dog is fed and off we go. Arriving at the barn, the frantic prep immediately begins. I have a severe case of braiding anxiety that makes me panic about running out of time until my braids are done, and I can breathe easy that I won’t be spending an extra un-budgeted 20 minutes redoing ugly braids. (Unless he scratches them out on a wall. Or with his feet. That has happened). I was feeling satisfied with the state of mud removal and about to get rolling with the braids, when I heard some rumors trickling down the barn aisle… “The arena is too wet. You can’t ride in it. The show has to be cancelled.” Just in case they weren’t true, I kept grooming but it wasn’t long until the official call was made: no horse show.

I vaguely recalled seeing that the outdoor arena was underwater when we drove in, but I was too sleepy and too enamored with the sunrise for that to register as a problem. Standing there with my very clean and very grumpy horse (I had interrupted his breakfast that morning) I felt very mixed emotions to this news. Secretly happy that I didn’t have to half pass through tiny lakes, a little relieved because I was a bit less than confident heading into the show, but definitely bummed that our season ended with us doing less that our best, and a lot of regret that I had poured in so much work into training for it and woken up so. freaking. early.

But that’s horses. Plan all you want, prep every last detail, work your tail off and STILL the room for error is alarming. The was put into brilliant focus for me last week while I stole every free moment I could to watch the World Equestrian Games coverage. Here you have riders with more talent and training that most of us mere mortals have in one foot and horses… don’t even get me started on the horses. The quality of the top top horses is stunning. They hardly seem earthly, the way they move… And yet, the best in the world still go into the ring and have mistakes. I watched Steffen Peters’ young Suppenkasper with awe, and despite his great athleticism and Steffen’s skillful riding, green mistakes still occur in the piaffe. I watched Jessica von Bredow-Werndl ride a breathtaking test to hold the overnight lead for Germany, yet in an interview she said her mare was not quite herself because of the humidity. And the one that pulled at my heartstrings the hardest was Canada’s Megan Lane. Scoring only a 60.9% after some early and very costly mistakes, she came out of the ring fighting tears of disappointment knowing that she and her horse could have performed better, knowing that it was not the way she had planned on her test on the world’s stage to go. These horses and riders have teams of professionals–trainers, grooms, vets, you name it–making sure things go right, and still they don’t. The riders are mounted on the best horses in the world, with financial resources that you and I can only dream of–and still the plans go awry.

But then… sometimes the stars align and things go right. Non-horse people, we’re sorry we blow up your social media with pictures of us in awkward helmets and horses wearing ribbons, but… it’s just so rare and so exciting when things actually DO go according to plan. Just ask Isabel Werth, the most decorated equestrian Olympian in history and winner of this year’s team gold. After scoring a scorching 84%, she comes out of the ring with tears freely flowing. She might make it look easy, but the road to meeting your goals is never easy, not even when you’re Isabel Werth.

And then there are the underdogs who remind me that a gold medal is not everyone’s goal, and you can still enjoy the journey you’re on. Julio Mendoza’s Chardonnay was having a blast in that ring–throwing in flying changes just about everywhere, just for fun. The test was not mistake free and was not going to win any medals, but you wouldn’t know that by the sheer joy on Julio’s face. And while a 60.9% crushes one rider’s dreams, it makes another’s come true. On nearly the exact same score, Ellesse Tzinberg comes of the ring elated–she’s competed in her first world games and is the first dressage rider to represent the Philippines.

After three days of competition, the 15 best dressage horses and riders in the world have fought for their chance to ride for an individual medal. And it rains. And rains some more. And this world-class venue with largely unlimited resources still cannot overcome the obstacles mother nature decided to throw at them. The freestyle is cancelled, the horses fly home to stables across the world and there will be no individual champions at this WEG.

I cannot fathom the disappointment that has to come with losing the opportunity to do what you’ve worked so hard for. There may never be another chance for some of these horses and riders. I cannot even imagine what that flight home must have felt like. And yet, we keep doing this. We know that there is a one in a million chance that things could work out and we roll the dice anyways. We plan our lives around these creatures who are far too fickle to plan for. And we devote ourselves to a sport that requires a partnership with an animal who is as delicate as he is powerful. If this isn’t a recipe for heartbreak, I don’t know what it is. But the victories are oh so sweet, because they are rare and they are hard-earned.

Yet we keep doing it. Because somewhere along the way we have learned the lesson that most of us already have or someday will learn–there are no sure things. The things that can go wrong, will go wrong. If you are going to ride, show, train or love horses, be ready to accept Murphy’s Law. It’s a bitter pill to swallow sometimes, an expensive one too, but try as we might to plan around it-that’s horses. As I look back over my season wrought with missed changes and missed scores, ill-timed time off, terrifying trailering detours, plus all the run of the mill challenges, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. But I also feel proud. We didn’t win medals of any kind this year, but I am wiser, tougher, and just maybe a bit more cynical for having gone through it. I just have to look back and say to myself, “we live to fight another day.”