When the time comes.......... Photo: Photos by Sally H
When I returned to eventing a decade ago after a 20 year hiatus getting married, having children, and of course, getting divorced, I never imagined I’d make it to Pre-Novice and indeed, be resisting the push from several friends and instructors to become a 1* virgin. For years, I thought of myself as the “Intro Queen”.
Now at 52, I often ponder as the countdown for the cross country begins, if this could be my last few moments on this earth. What is a middle aged mother-of-two doing galloping around 1.05 fences on an ex-racehorse? Tempting fate?
When I contemplate hanging up my boots and spurs, I think of the likes of Laurie Lever who competed at the last Olympics aged 60, and Annie Sedgwick who still competes at eventing aged “you’dbetteraskAnniecosI’m not”. Not to mention Japan’s Hiroshi Hoketsu who is doing his 3rd Olympics in London, at just 72!
Well, now I have another option for “when the time comes”. Carriage driving. And before you scoff at the funny photos, it was a fund raiser for breast cancer hence all the pink outfits.
My dear friend Kym who also events, has an adorable Clydie/Standardbred she’s just bought which is trained to harness. Kym is quite experienced at driving through her volunteer work for Riding for the Disabled. So off we trotted to our first carriage driving competition at Koonoomoo. I had to google it too. It’s on the border, south of Tocumwal.
Kym, Axel and me ready for dressage
The other “drivers” assured me it’s just like eventing. A dressage test on a 100 x 40 arena, “cones” which are basically witches hats with balls on top set up like a show jumping course, and if the ball falls, penalties just like a fence down, and the marathon, just like the cross country. Yeah right! 13 km marathon, 10 minutes for the first vet check, another few km’s, then the “obstacles”. Five sets of “gates”, A,B,C,D and E in a very tight square. You can’t go through say, D to get to C even if it’s the shortest line. If you’re confused, imagine how we were! It was the rubics cube of equestrian events. Where is Boyd Exell when you need him? Than at the end of a rip roarer round, another vet check, only this one is easy peasy, half an hour after the finish. They all thought we were very strange getting out the ice boots.
The final, often very small, vet check
The dressage was a breeze. Firstly, the “groom” i.e. me, has to dress the part, but that’s it: sitting immobile, no expression, no talking. Well the last bit was really hard. Our eventing experience of dressage gave us a distinct advantage, and it showed, as did my superb plaits. 37 penalties, the closest to us on 70, and 9 for presentation!
Clear round in the cones, again me having to sit still, expressionless and mouth taped over.
Just the marathon on Sunday. There are 5 phases, so my new “slidy phone” (iPhone) was brilliant for timing. By some miracle, and me shouting, “gate C, not D” gaffer tape having been removed, we didn’t get eliminated. Our competition when like a bat out of hell in the obstacles at a pace you wouldn’t think was possible, with grooms hanging precariously to stop the carriages from overturning. We did have the slowest time, and must have looked pretty silly walking between a few hairy turns on the gates, but our extraordinary lead in the dressage and BINGO, we WON! The second place getter wasn’t real thrilled when they kept saying, “And they’ve never even seen a comp, let alone taken part.”
Does his bum look big in this?
We were overjoyed, although inside my heart was quietly breaking. A decade of eventing with not ONE WIN, and first driving comp, the big blue ribbon (except it was pink for breast cancer).
But we had a ball, and I’m hooked.
And as with so many horse events, it’s the people you meet who really make it worthwhile. A special hug to Wendy who demanded a breast cancer fund raiser. After finding a lump in her breast, she had two “all clears” before she finally got the news she knew in her heart was true all along. A mastectomy and extensive treatment, fingers crossed, she’s on the mend. To quote Wendy at the raffle fundraiser, “Who’s going to dare to say no to a women with one boob and no hair!”
The wonderful Wendy
And a kiss on the cheek to Don who doesn’t usually compete on his 9 hand pony. Yes, 9 hands! A former jumps jockey, Don is now on his own after his wife died from breast cancer. Distance from medical facilities and inexperienced country doctors might just have shortened his darling wife’s life.
So happy carriage driving older folks, and I’m still on the quest for the elusive eventing blue.
