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August has often called up a sense of panic and impending doom for me. It is most certainly a hold over from childhood and the threat of returning to school in the fall. August is the Sunday of a long three-day weekend — a time to reflect and get your head right for the coming fall or to quietly bemoan the fact you’ve wasted THE ENTIRE SUMMER and to cram in as much last-minute fun as possible.
When Stephanie and I were teenagers, summer consisted of hitting the barn by 8:30 or 9 a.m., getting our horses worked, then heading off to pick up lunch at either the deli or our favorite Chinese restaurant and heading to her house to watch “Days of Our Lives.” We’d usually wander back to the barn and go for a trail ride in the afternoon or catch a ride on one of the school horses, maybe clean tack if we were feeling particularly well behaved.
This loop was on endless repeat from the day school let out until it was back in session, altered only by horse shows. Measurable progress came easily because we were spending so much time in the tack without anything else to worry or care about. August was always the watershed moment of the season. Some years I could reflect upon my successes over the show season and smile. Others years I knew that I had just another show or two left to qualify for whatever silly thing I was chasing and just a few short weeks to really dedicate myself to solidifying whatever skill I was invested in before I was ensnared with the drudgery of school.
For the first time in a very long time, that feeling of an unfinished quest came rolling to the surface again — right as everyone got home from Rebecca Farm. In looking back at the year to date, I really haven’t done much. It was a cold, dark and somewhat wet winter in Northern California, so I spent a lot of time wrapped in a quarter sheet, listening to audio books while my mare Jing and I strolled about in the moonlight. Work was intense, so I spent the winter enjoying the barn as a quiet place to avoid thinking and somewhere that I could exist in the present moment.
At the risk of sounding pretentious, I put a lot of thought to the notion that I don’t have to live my life as though I’m on fire. I often view myself as this 17 year old who suddenly woke up one day and discovered she was 30-something with a proper job at a proper company and all of those other adult responsibilities. The notion that I am a “real adult” scares the hell out of me — more than any down bank ever could, but we’re all supposed to grow up some time, aren’t we?
Spring came and I continued to mostly goof off and just enjoy my barn time. I brought Jing back in to very light work right about when Team DF was starting to hit the early season events. I watched the young riders improve by massive leaps and bounds and the green horses grow more and more confident with each outing.
I admit there were moments of frustration when it felt like everyone was off having a grand time without me, but that was the gentle push I needed to start thinking about getting back on track and to set reasonable goals for myself without abandoning the serenity I’d found in the winter.
Needing to put some sort of accomplishment on the books — a “win” of sorts — I taught Jing how to give high-fives. (This is easily the best decision I’ve ever made and further proof of that whole teenager-stuck-in-an-adult’s body thing.) Spring gave way to summer, and I started doing more. This happened roughly at the same time Stephanie moved to town and brought her horse to Dragonfire.
Doing more is a bit of a misnomer; it really just means we’ve been out cross-country schooling, and I catch a lesson when Team DF isn’t off at a show. Most afternoons have been dedicated to goofing off — playing at dressage, maybe bouncing over a little course or flinging myself off of a deadly down bank — and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.
However, now that it’s August, I’m looking back at the lessons I tried to teach myself in winter about stillness, about simply enjoying the journey and the peace of the barn and all of that other la-dee-dah and find myself starting to feel the clock start ticking down. I won’t say that was wasted time because it wasn’t; I needed that then, but I could have kicked it back in to gear a bit earlier. I haven’t been out to a show this season, and I should probably get started on that seeing as I need four successful outings at Novice to hit the Novice Three-Days next year.
Cramming in four outings in the first six months of the year isn’t unreasonable, but that leaves less room for error than I’d like. If I can get one or even two done before Thanksgiving, I’ll have a bit more breathing room. I know that sooner than I expect it will be dark at 5 p.m. and it will be back to winter gloom. I have precious little daylight, and I need to use it. The 17-year-old me has come roaring to the surface again; summer isn’t over just yet. Time to kick on.
Go Team DF. Go August. Go Eventing.
