When Seeing Red is a Good Thing

Be forewarned. I am over it already, so if I sound blasé, know that it is not out of arrogance, but out of humility. One good show does not make me any better than I was two weeks ago, although Chemaine hates it when I lowball myself. (Sorry, Chemaine. I am just not good at blowing my own horn.)

I was the first rider in ring 2 on Saturday. That can be either great, or a little unnerving. I felt like I was setting the stage for everyone else. If nothing else, the rest of the riders would reap the rewards after the judge saw us go as it's a near certainty that they'll be better. For the last two years in a row I've scored dead last in the RAAC class. Not just low, but DEAD last. TWICE. I hoped this year would put me at least in the middle of the field.

When I go to a show, I am truly riding to beat my last score regardless of where that places me against the rest of the field. I am not too terribly competitive against other riders, but I do want to kick my own butt. But last? I wanted to do better.

I finished Training Level Test 2 with a feeling of having put in a solid ride, but I knew it wasn't perfect. There were some bobbles here and there, although nothing went spectacularly wrong.

I had about 45 minutes until Training Level Test 3, so I took Speedy back to his stall and let him get a drink and hang out for a few minutes. I didn't have time to check my scores, so I had to wing my next test without the benefit of seeing what the judge liked or wasn't so pleased with in Test 2.

I left that test feeling like it too was fairly solid, but again, there were little hiccups here and there. I untacked Speedy, ditched my breeches for shorts, and walked over to the board to check my scores.

When I looked at the first score, my heart dropped into my stomach. My score was scratched out which I was CERTAIN meant that I had been disqualified for some reason. When I looked closer to see why, I realized that my score was written above the scribble, and then my heart took a magnificent leap. Was that right? I had scored a 70.179% at a USDF show.

Hello!

Not only was I not dead last, I had just earned a personal best on a USEF test (I have another 70% at a USDF shows, but it was at Introductory Level and not recognized by USEF). My mission for the weekend was complete. I had earned a qualifying score for the CDS Championship, and I had ridden to the best of my ability. I was ready to pack it up and head home.

Life doesn't get a whole lot better.

My first 8 on the collectives, and it's for harmony. My weekend was made. I was in Heaven.

I couldn't have been more thrilled with a second place ribbon. And to make it even better, there were more than two riders in the class. I never place high so this felt pretty sweet. Then I checked out my score for the biggest class of the show. The Training Level 3 class had ten riders, which is pretty rare for around here. Our classes tend to have five or fewer riders, so this class was HUGE by our standards.

Are you kidding me?

When I saw that "2" next to my score, I practically swooned! The score was pretty nice (68%), but the placing just stunned me. I actually am good enough to compete. I am going to treasure that red ribbon forever. It's the first time that I've ever really been competitive in a class.

I think I can safely say that I have mastered Training Level.

I love that there are no 5s or 6s; everything is a 6.5 or higher.

I went to bed on Saturday night feeling satisfied with the world. Since coming back home, I've had a bit of time to reflect, and there are a few things I want to share, but I am going to wait until I've written about the classes on Sunday. I know we did well this weekend, but like I said, I'm over it and moving on. My 12 minutes of awesomeness have passed, and it's time to get back to planet Earth. I had a great lesson on Sydney on Monday night, which was a great reminder that I am not all that.

Seeing red; I can live with that!

Sunday's rides tomorrow ...