This past weekend, Lyric and I headed south to Flying Cross for our second recognized training level event. Since we live in the sticks, we took the scenic route, all the way down IN 421 to KY 42. There wasn’t a stretch of straight road, we saw mansions and shacks, a nature preserve, tiny towns, crops (FYI, the giant cabbages are actually tobacco), crossed the river, then saw some feral people that all smiled and waved, and it was all beautiful and so much better than taking the boring dumb interstate.
I’ll admit that I haven’t gone to Flying Cross in the past few years because I’ve been in the sandbox (boo, hiss). With Squiggie out of commission, I decided to take the opportunity for another event, and I’m glad I did. The show is what all eventing should strive to be, held at an established farm run by people who love the sport. The organization was amazing, scores were posted quickly, the rings were maintained and the cross country was fun yet challenging. Mary Lowry and her crew deserve medals for all their hard work. Most importantly, every single person I met was friendly and seemed happy to be there.
I’m lucky and cool enough to have lots of friends. My friend Stacy came from northern Indiana with her RV, so I invited myself to stay with her. Stacy is a pretty fun person, so I figured if nothing else, we would have a good time. Which we did. With some vodka. Like two bottles. Maybe.
Lyric decided to be compliant in dressage and went around in a fake-ish frame 85% of his test, and only ear tipped me in the nostrils once, which for him is wonderful. He went on to jump around like a rock star and left all the sticks up in stadium. We were done on Saturday by 11 a.m., which leaves tons of time to relax, hang out with friends, have a drink and begin the worrying process about how gigantic cross country fence #8 was. But first, competitors party! Amazing food, the macaroni had all the carbs and more, a live band, door prizes, did I mention every competitor got a free t-shirt? Did I also mention how awesome this event is?
Saturday we broke the RV. We still had AC, but no water, which sucked because it was hot and we smelled like the south end of a vodka pickled mule. So, we used what the half dead water pump spritzed us with and wash ragged as much dirt off as we could. We walked the course one more time, continued to worry about #8, the table of death, and retired to our RV.
Sunday I got up, cheered on some Prelim friends, walked the course one more time, nervous pooped, forced myself to eat half a granola bar since I was shaky, which meant my blood sugar was probably 25 or 550, one or the other. I got on and immediately felt better. The time finally came and Lyric was absolutely amazing. My pucker factor went away after the death table and I almost bit it in the water, but it was SO MUCH FUN, and MY HORSE IS AWESOME. I hopped off after the finish and embarrassed him all the way back to the stall by telling him loudly in front of all his friends what a good boy he was.
We ended up with a huge pink ribbon, which Lyric wore with pride like the unmasculine dorky gelding he is. I’m thrilled with his progress this year and I’m excited to see where we can go in our crazy sport. We went home the way we came, through the hills, turns, over the river and back to Shelbyville. I was happy to see the kids and the farm still in one piece, but I’m looking forward to heading back to KY and doing it all again very soon.