the only reason i will willing get out of bed at 4 a.m.

my favorite show picture

there's really no way to describe the feeling.  it's 4 a.m., the sun has yet to rise.  i can see the steam from my breath and the hot chocolate i got at starbucks because it's the only place open this early.  it's eerily quite, uncommonly still, and strangely peaceful all at the same time.  the dogs are asleep, the cows are asleep, the horses are asleep, even the damn peacocks are silent for once.  the tack room door groans when it's opened because the cold of the morning causes the hinges to stick.  a flick of a switch and a soft glow starts to break its way through the mists that engulfs everything at this time of day.  the lights only covers half the way to my horse's pen, but i've done this so many times by down that i could do it blindfolded.  the metal gate freezes my hands as i fumble to unlock it, but i barely notice.  too many other things on my mind, mostly regarding if i have enough bands, yarn, and corn starch.  i wake up the horse and lead him back to the stable yard.  there's about 5 hours until our first class, but that's barely enough time.  i set to work on my horse's mane, banding if it's a western day, braiding if it's an english day.  i've become so efficient at it that i can braid a tail in under 10 minutes, a mane in less than 40, and i can band in under half an hour.  next comes the clippers for any stray hairs that were missed yesterday.  after that, cornstarch applied to socks and blazes, and baby oil around the muzzle and eyes.  now the horse has a chance to wake up a bit while the trailer is loaded and the hay nets are filled.  a quick check to make sure everything is in place, and it's back to the horse.  on goes the sleezy, the show sheet, the tail bag, and the shipping boots.  he no longer looks like a horse, but a giant horse-shaped blueberry.  by the time all the horses are in the trailer and we pull into the show grounds, several hours have passed.  while i made sure my horse got his breakfast on the way over, i have forgotten my own.  i don't even notice.  too many more important things to worry about besides food, and i haven't passed out at a show yet.  i figure i needed that time to sleep anyway.

some of my more meaningful awards

once there, i need to sign in and register for classes.  i always sign up for halter, my guaranteed ribbon of the day.  other than that, it might be some combination of pleasure, equitation, trail, jumpers, showmanship, and gymkhana, depending on where we are.  after that, it's back to the trailer to regroom the horse, because even if i had wrapped every inch of him in scotch guard, he would still have managed to make a mess of himself again in the trailer.  i then need to somehow make myself look nice, even though i'm now covered in horse hair, hay, and who knows what else.  a quick lounge will warm up the horse and get him used to where he is.  then to tack up.  waiting is the killer.  i walk my horse outside the gate until my number is called.  up until this point, i've been soothing nerves and memorizing patters.  but once i pass through that gate, i change.  i'm totally calm, in control, and i know that if all else fails, my horse and i look damn good together.  what happens after that doesn't matter.  ribbons and trophies are nice, but that's not why i show.  not even close to it.  i've had days where i've taken high point trophies, and i've had days where all i left with was my ribbon from halter class.  and at the end of both days, i still have the same feeling.  the connection between myself and my horse, that's why i do this.  nothing else in the world compares to it.  the feel of the power and dedication of a 1,000 pound animal that wants to do whatever he can to please you, knowing that he trusts you entirely and would walk off the edge of a cliff if you asked him to, nothing comes close to that.  it's an accomplishment for my horse, for myself, just to be there.  that's why i show.  and it's that feeling that gets me up at 4 a.m. with a smile on my face.