Liar Liar Pants on Fire!

Or, in my world, the LLPOF CLub. I always tell my students to avoid being a member of the LLPOF Club, which is invariably met with nervous laughter. In reality, sometimes a lie is a good thing.

I do worry, about a lot of stuff, but I just don't let myself pick at it or follow the train of thought for more than a minute. If I let myself indulge in playing out every horrific scenario, the next thing I know, I've led myself to believe that the apocalypse is imminent which means I will be faced with deciding if I would ever consider eating one of my horses for survival. 

Really. That's where my worries take me - eating my horse! I don't obsess about broken legs or colic surgery. Instead, I worry about the end of the world (with or without zombies) and having to barbecue my four-legged family - somehow the dog is excluded.

Was that a wonky step? OMG, the apocalypse is here!

Saying I don't worry would be saying that I don't care. That happens too. Sometimes I really don't give a rat's ass about something, but most of the time, I care too much. All of which means that I have to lie to myself by saying, it will all be okay. I KNOW it's a lie because it cannot be okay when the end of the world has arrived. But strangely, the placation is consistently proven to be RIGHT a week later. No, I never remember that part, but I do accept the lie so that I don't make myself ill with the fretting.

When Speedy pulled a little butt muscle a few weeks ago, I was worried, but I suffered in silence as I tried to believe in the tenets of THE LIE. And you know what, it really turned out to be okay. Shocking, I know.

I didn't write this, but it is so me!

I had a lesson last night, which was totally awesome, but that's how I know Speedy is back on track. Over the weekend, I schooled him lightly at the walk and trot, but I avoided the canter work as I was worried about him being NQR. Bolting around the arena during turn out is what caused him to be ouchy, so it seemed prudent to get back to work slowly.

Because I am such a lying chicken, I waited to canter until I was with my trainer. My rationale was this: if I am riding alone, I am focused solely on what he is doing and how he feels. Every step feels wonky when you're looking at it that hard. 

On the other hand, when I ride with my trainer, I am focused on what she's asking me to do and not worrying about how he feels. I just didn't tell her I was worried until part-way through the lesson. She hadn't seen a thing, but when I mentioned it to her, she had me do a few things to check him out. By the time we finished for the evening, we both agreed that he was fully sound. 

Whew! The world can now continue to spin.