What's Wrong With Speedy G (part 4)

Before I even continue, I want to express my sincerest thanks for your kind and supportive comments over these last few days. I assure you, I have read every comment, and I would love to reply to everyone individually, but this week has really kicked my butt.

If you've read the first three parts of Speedy's little tale of woe, you know that I declined the MRI and opted for the Wait and See approach. I am still waiting, and I don't see too much difference except that Speedy is quite perky and hasn't taken any more of those OH MY GOD MY FOOT IS KILLING ME steps. At least not as of Friday night. For that I am grateful.

This post really isn't about Speedy, though. That title is a serious misnomer. It should be titled, What's Wrong With Speedy's Owner? And even that might be a misnomer of sorts. You see, I had big plans for Speedy and me this year; big plans. We have been kicking some serious butt in our schooling rides, and First Level was calling our names. I had my show calendar filled out and was prepared to qualify for the CDS Regional Adult Amateur Competition at Training Level and First Level.

And now … zip, zilch, nada. Ouch.

Not for us ...

So what's wrong with Speedy's owner? An emphatic nothing. 

I desperately wanted to throw myself a pity party. I deserved a pity party, and I was fully prepared to wallow in pity for weeks. Months even. But I didn't, I haven't, and I won't.

I quickly realized that heading down that path was a lot like polishing off a half gallon of Dreyers Cookies and Cream. Those first ten bites are sooooo sweet and yummy. And even the next 10 bites are pretty darn good. But then you get to halfway, and you realize you're not feeling so good, but in for a penny, in for a pound, right?! That night, you feel like absolute crap as you fight nausea, and then you're pissed for a week as the scale goes up each time you step on it.

So yeah. A pity party is a lot like eating a half gallon of ice cream. I knew it would be so satisfying to cry a little bit and feel sorry for myself, but I knew if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. And then, I would feel really crappy about the whole situation which would make working with my other, already difficult horse, that much harder. And before you know it, my happy place, the barn, would no longer be my happy place, and then life would just suck. Have you ever read, If You Give  a Mouse a Cookie? Throwing a pity party is a lot like that.

One thing just leads to another.

So I am not going to cry, and I am not going to whine about missing a show season. Instead, I am going to love on Speedy and feel confident in his quick recovery, that abscess could still blow after-all, and I am going to spend a lot of time riding Sydney. Instead of USDF shows, I am going to focus on taking Sydney to some schooling shows and some CDS shows.

Speedy and I will enjoy our afternoon walks, we've already done several, and once he can carry me again, we'll happily tootle around our neighborhood trails.  And I am quite certain that in six month's time (or sooner), we'll be ready for at least one late season show!

How much more handsome can a dude get? (photo by Lori Ovanessian)