A few weeks later I entered my first competition.
And as I drove through the gates, I realised that something bizarre happens when a gaggle of grown-ups descend on a public space for a horse riding event.
It seems that many of these high functioning people (me being one of them) leave their ability to ‘adult’ at the last roundabout as they make their way in.
A few weeks earlier had decided to enter a Dressage competition so I could dip my toe in to a single sport competition before taking on the trifecta of dressage, showjumping and cross country at the Horse Trials.
It had been a good twenty something years since I participated at a horse show and this experience was nothing like I remembered
Back in the 90s, they were the absolute high point of mine and my friend’s lives. Horse events were the occasions of unadulterated euphoria. It was a chance to eat junk food, fuss over your horse and spend the day laughing and admiring our heroes.
So when I submitted the online entry for my first post-hiatus competition, I felt a huge surge of excitement.
It was finally happening.
After two decades of being busy being a business woman and developing an alcohol addiction, I was returning to the thing in my life that gave me the biggest dose of non-chemicallly induced happiness I could ever remember.
But as I closed the gates behind my banged up trailer, a cold cloud of doubt started to descend…
“Where do I park? Are there rules about where I should go? Is there a cool person section I need to avoid? Oh Jesus, I hope I don’t have to reverse” I thought, my brain suddenly packed with panic and my hands starting to sweat.
None of this had ever been a problem before, because back in the day I’d be too busy pointing out shiny horses or frantically flapping at my friends to ever worry about details like that… Which I guess is one of those things you never consider when you’re a childhood passenger.
In the end, I edged in between some cars, and took a minute to issue a prayer that I was not breaking some kind of ‘bro code’ by doing so.
Then I unloaded Shades and had exactly the same feeling as I headed towards the yards. The online entry had simply said ‘Yards are available’ and I hadn’t put much thought in after that…
But now as I walked up to the rows in front of me, I was getting visions of those movies when the awkward new person (be it in prison or primary school) has to walk around asking if this seat is taken.
Should I go right next to someone?
Should I try and leave a space?
Should I ask if it’s ok?
Do we talk to each other?
And within the space of about 15 metres, I was suddenly so intimidated by the whole place I wanted to turn round and go straight back home again.
But I braved up and found a yard, and offered a meek smile to the people on either side. A bit like how the newest inmate in the clink does, as if to say “I don’t want no trouble around here” and set off to find the one person I knew in the whole place.
She was a member of my Riding Club, and like most of them was a no-nonsense lady with a polite disposition. Definitely not the type to give you a high five on arrival or fart out loud…
Which, incidentally, is not the sort of person I’d ordinarily have in my friend circle but I was so grateful to know her as she walked me through the admin component of having cards stamped and gear checked.
It was quite a minefield, and even years later, I still don’t know how an ‘outsider’ would ever figure out how to do all that stuff.
With that done, I felt slightly relieved and made my way back to the yards. It was then that I was able to breathe and take a bit more in…
Here we were at a horse event with a hundred or so (mostly) women milling around. And I assumed seeing as we paid an entry fee, that most of them were there of their own free will.
But My God.
I had never seen a bunch of more miserable, stressed faces in my entire life. Honestly, it looked like these people were holding onto so much anxiety that their faces were contorting with the anguish.
And I’m pretty sure I was one of them… because correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the greatest single fear of doing something new, not knowing about unwritten rules?
Because despite poring over the rule books and learning my dressage tests inside out and back to front, it seems I’d missed a few things.
The first was plaiting the horse’s mane… Which in the rule books AND the event’s advertising material said was ‘optional’…
The second was that a polo shirt was acceptable uniform for the rider.
So being a pretty normal human, I took that to mean that I could wear a polo shirt for the day and that my horse did not need to be plaited 🤷♀️
Makes sense, huh?
Now for anyone playing at home, plaiting is the tedious and time-wastey practice of plaiting a horses mane into little strips and rolling them up to look like little bobbles on the top of their neck.
Which might make sense if you have trouble finding your reins in a mane like this 👇…. but in reality, it’s just another one of those dumb ‘tradition’ things that makes the average equestrian’s sphincter tighten at the idea of stepping out of line 🙄
But as I filled my water bucket and looked around me, I realised that the words ‘optional plaiting’ and ‘polo shirt’ had been interpreted a little differently by everyone else.
“Oh Jesus” I thought to myself “I knew I was going to make a dick of myself today”
“Not only am I competing as ‘the new person’ in the lowest grade, I’m going to stick out for all the wrong reasons 🥹“
Because, yes.. as you may have guessed…The dress code was the first of the unwritten rules I’d gotten entirely wrong.
My tights and matching polo top were no match for all the people I could see sporting hairnets, immaculate tight white pants, pressed blouses and tailored vests.
As an aside, a few years has now passed between now and then, and I can hold my own in some horsey competitions. So for those uninitiated into the ‘English’ world of equestrian competition – I’d like you a quick rundown from head to toe of how you’re SUPPOSED to look, regardless of what the rule books and posters say 🙄
Up top there is one bulbous sometimes velvet helmet. And you know what’s weird.. some people have a special ‘competition’ helmet because apparently saving yourself from brain damage should look better on some days than others.
Second up, we have a hairnet. Which actually is optional… and I always think they’re quite odd, because these aren’t some sexy silver screen siren hairnets you’d expect to see on a pinup models, they’re more suited to the costumes worn by the servants on Downton Abbey.
Each time I see these grown women wearing floppy nets on their head I’m expecting them to say “Thank you Guv’na, I’ll bring the tea along to her Ladyship in the parlour”
Anyhoo…
On the torso you can expect to see a pretty unattractive but always expensive shirt, featuring a standy uppy collar. The shirts are accompanied by a vest or a jacket – depending on the league you’re playing in.
The vests are never, ever cool and if we’re sticking with the Downton Abbey theme, would be the sort of thing worn by the footman. Maybe with a pocketwatch and a handkerchief square.
Jackets at least, generally are marginally more flattering but still, not something you’d ever really wear in ‘normal’ public.
On the bottom half we have tighty whities… which as the name suggests, are very tight, white or pale pants… and these things are where the crimes against camel toe are committed.
Don’t blame me.. i didn’t make the rules.. and the camel toe? It’s most definitely a thing…
But to conclude… there are always long shiny boots. These usually cost more than the wearer’s first car and are excruciatingly uncomfortable (not that anyone will admit to that).
So back to the Dressage Day, there I was, grooming My Beloved and trying to take the whole thing in… I was mesmerised by these weirdly dressed women, scowling furiously as they stomped around. And if I wasn’t so terrified myself – it would have been hilarious.
After I’d finished saddling up, I sidled up alongside my horse float, mounted My Beloved and set off toward the warm up area.
And it was on this part of the journey that I noticed the ‘thrusty walk’…. which is probably the weirdest thing you’ll see at competition.
It’s unusual because I never see people heading to lessons doing this, or casually walking down a trail gyrating their pelvis back and forth…. but for some reason I noticed that there were a HEAP of riders, walking around look like they were giving the saddle a jolly good rogering.
Add to that, everyone looked like they were at a funeral.
And I was one of them.
Because for some reason, the concept of paying a stranger to judge me while I rode around a sandy rectangle in the hopes of winning a polyester ribbon had somehow put the fear of God into me.
And for someone who had ridden reasonably successfully as a child, as I was preparing for this event, it deeply wounded my ego to read the judging criteria for my division.
“Riders may have an unsteady position and ineffective, obvious and/or uncoordinated used of the aids” along with all the other descriptors of being a ‘beginner combination“
So with words like ‘unsteady, ineffective and uncoordinated’ ringing in my ears I set off around the rectangles, determined to show everyone how wildly talented I actually was…. .
And sadly that didn’t happen. I placed second in one dressage test and third in the next… Which placed me third overall. And before you go thinking ‘Hey that’s pretty good!’ there were only three of us contesting the honours in the ‘Obviously Uncoordinated’ division.
But still it could have been worse 💪
Despite the fact I wore the wrong clothes, looked like a total amateur and had the results to match – it was still a fucking triumph.
I stopped and went when we were supposed to and cantered without crying.. It was a wonderful, wonderful day. And even though my face was prickling with awkwardness about being ‘the odd one out’ with my attire – I felt some relief in the fact that I now knew how these strange things worked.
So the next weekend when I headed off to do it all again, I at least knew how to look the part.
And of course I’d like to say that we had a resounding victory to correspond with my new, improved presentation for the day… but no, we again held up the rest of the field of five other competitors in our division.
So naturally, because I still couldnt reconcile how I was consistently coming last in the lowest division – and completely forgetting the fact that I couldn’t canter the horse 2 months ago – I was seriously and sulkily disappointed with those results.
In fact I cried on the way home.
But let’s not go there.. I was still using these dull Dressage Days as a stepping stone to the upcoming Horse Trials, which is where I knew the real fun would begin.
Which in some respects is a lie.. because I was still not yet finding jumping ‘fun’ and had not even ventured onto a Cross Country course this century.
But that was about to change…. as I had been invited to a Cross Country schooling ride the following week.
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Stay Tuned – Chapter 9 will be released shortly 😀
If you’ve missed any – you can see the full chapter list here https://horsegurl.com.au/category/tales-of-a-terrible-equestrian/