A training plan for Limerick

I'm finally back to riding Limerick regularly (I took some time off after running an epic distance). She is doing very, very well, and it's clear that she is eager to please me while under saddle.

Since I am a self-coached runner, I always write up a training plan for myself. Seeing a plan on paper ensures that I stick to it, which of course will produce better results at the race.

In Limerick's case, while I don't have any goals to show her (maybe someday, but not now, nor in the immediate future), I do have a goal of being able to ride a jumping course of decent height--a couple feet or so--on her at least a couple times a month.

Naturally, getting her there will take some conditioning. So I decided to write out a plan for her, just like I would myself! This plan is much more flexible than the complex tables and charts I make for my running, but it's a good start and will hopefully put me on the path to jumping courses again.

LIM TRAINING SCHEDULE

WEEKLY

1-2 Rides Easy/light collection/trail

(NO JUMPING)

1 Ride Dressage

(Individual moves, tests or exercises)

1 Ride Jumping

(poles, individual jumps, courses, or grids)

MONTHLY (from scratch)

1^st Month – Build endurance/rhythm/focus,

no jumping fences, pole grids

2^nd Month – Small jumps/grids, heightened collection and

dressage exercises

3^rd Month – Courses/grids with small jumps,

increasingly complex dressage moves

4^th Month – Medium (2.5ft) jumps,

1^st level dressage tests and up

USE EQUESTRIAN EXERCISES BOOK!

TAKE OCCASIONAL LESSONS! :-)

Still Pinching Myself: A recap of the Breeder's Cup

My husband and I awoke shortly after 2am on Saturday to drive down to Kentucky for the Breeder's Cup. We arrived at Churchill Downs at around 11am and settled in our seats in section 124.

They were nice for bench seats--we had an open aisle in front of us and had brought blankets to layer on the seats. It was my husband, a friend of his, and myself. We watched the first few races from the seats and then for the 7th race, the Juvenile, I headed down to the paddock to "camp out" by the rail until the Breeder's Cup Classic--race 11. I was determined to see Zenyatta up close.

Another racing fan I had met on Facebook, his fiance, and I stayed by the tunnel for the Juvenile, then when the horses left for the track and the crowd began to thin, I steered us to the central part of the paddock rail. There were already a lot of Zenyatta fans camping out by the rail, but we managed to find empty rail space--score!--and settled in for the long wait.

There was a large television screen above the paddock that would allow us to watch the races unfold throughout the day, and on it we watched Uncle Mo deliver an impressive win in the Juvenile.

I had another reason to camp out at the paddock: Goldikova. The great mare was to race in the 8th, the (turf) Mile. If she won, she would be the first horse in history to win three Breeder's Cup races (she won the Mile in 2008 and 2009). An European runner, she was a star in her own right and, if she won the Mile, would be one of the greatest mares of all time.

She arrived at the paddock fashionably late, her trainer, Freddy Head, by her neck. His dedication to her was evident; he rarely took his eyes off her. Interestingly enough, as a former jockey, he had won the Mile on the famous Miesque in 1987 and 1988.

Goldikova was such a lady, such a professional. The crowd in the paddock was heavy with her fans and all eyes were on her. She did not disappoint. As my heart hammered away and the folks at the paddock cheered loudly for her, she delivered a thrilling stretch run and won the Mile handily. What a mare! I felt so fortunate to see history in the making with her.

And she wasn't even the finale of the day!

The Dirt Mile and Turf horses came and went. The sun slowly glided across the sky and down into the horizon. It became colder and colder and my toes slowly went numb despite two pairs of socks and Toastie Toes foot warmers in my shoes. I had not drank any water for most of the day, just some coffee, to ensure that I wouldn't need to use the restroom and lose my place at the rail. Nevertheless, my bladder was beginning to fill. I ignored all this and waited, waited. I had slowly worked my way forward to the rail at the far front and had a completely clear view of the paddock walking ring.

After the 10th race, the crowds trickled in steadily. Jerry and Ann Moss, the owners of Zenyatta, walked in to loud cheers and applause. They waved at the crowd before heading over to stand by stall number 8, Zenyatta's stall. Before long the middle of the paddock was teeming with well-dressed racing folks and police reinforcements were placed around the edge of the walking ring. All around me, Zenyatta fans wore teal and pink and waved TVG-provided and homemade signs showing support for the great mare.

I watched the clock ticking down--35 minutes to post...30 minutes to post...she should be here soon!...27 minutes to post....and then without further ado the paddock television was on her, the Queen, as she walked along the track to the paddock. She pranced and pawed and stretched out that long right leg of hers into her trademark dance. Her constant companion and groom, Mario Espinoza, seemed to barely have a hold on the massive power next to him.

The Queen was arriving!

My eyes grew misty and a huge grin spread over my face. I felt a sudden urge to either laugh or cry, or both. After following her career closely since the 2008 Apple Blossom, I was finally here, I was finally about to see her in the flesh. It almost felt like a dream. It was a dream!

When she entered the tunnel to the paddock, she stopped to gaze at the crowd before her, her fine neck and head held high. She reminded me of photographs of Man o' War when she did that--that trademark high neck, ears pricked, the look of eagles in his eyes. She abruptly pawed the ground and tried to circle Mario. He put his free hand on her neck and shoulder and convinced her to move forward.

Even I could hear the cheers and applause that followed her as she walked out onto the walking ring. I craned my neck to the right and watched for her intently. First a cameraman came into view, semi-crouched down for a dramatic view, walking backwards, his camera pointed ahead of him. I held my breath and did not blink.

And then there she was--all 17.1 hands of dappled dark bay, Zenyatta!!--and then she was gone, headed to her stall. It was just a quick flash--blink and you miss it. I could just barely see the top of her head over the thick crowd (which was saying something, considering that I couldn't see any of the other horses in the walking ring over that crowd).

The other horses in the Classic circled the walking ring but Zenyatta stayed put. Those horses seemed to be but secondary players in the main act of the Zenyatta show. But make no mistake--they were the best male horses in the country. I snapped photo after photo of them.

Quality Road in particular took my breath away--he was a masculine bull of a horse, more Quarter Horse than Thoroughbred in looks. I had liked him immensely since his Derby trail days of early '09, and in fact he had been my Derby pick before he was taken out of the race.

And then it was riders up! One by one, the mounted horses walked by, one or two people--grooms, assistant trainers, or trainers--leading them out to the track and the waiting ponies. As I snapped photographs, out of the corner of my eye I never stopped watching Mike Smith and his bright, familiar teal and pink silks.

The camera was beginning to frustrate me--it was getting dark so I had to use the flash in order to take decent photos, but the camera was slow and uncooperative. I knew I would have one chance at a photo of Zenyatta; any other attempts would not allow me to gaze upon her with my own two eyes.

Neck bowed, she was suddenly before me. Now! I took the photograph then forgot about it. I, as well as everyone on the rail by me, leaned forward to watch her pass. I did not take any other photographs after that--I was so intent on watching the Queen leave the walking ring.

As soon as she was out of sight, I rushed through the crowd, moving as quickly as I could without crashing into anyone, and headed for my seat. I wasn't alone--all around me people were walking and even running (okay, yeah, me included!) back to their seats. I did not want to miss any second of Zenyatta's time on the track.

Back at my seat, I stood upon the bench just like everyone else and my husband gave me the binoculars. I watched Zenyatta and Mike Smith through them as they milled around the the turn for home, awaiting the starting gate.

The horses were loaded and I squeezed my husband's hand. This was it. The gates opened and everyone broke well.

Zenyatta was dropping behind, that's okay--normal for her...dropping behind, behind...wait, why is she so far behind? Dread began to taint the hopeful anxiety I had started with. The horses went around the far turn, Zenyatta trailing the leaders by at least 20 lengths.

The horses disappeared from view and I watched them on the television screen. Come on Zenyatta, move up! I noticed that the horses ahead of her had divided into two clusters. Tricky, but I had confidence in her. Sure enough, she began to eat up ground. Soon she was right behind the trailing cluster, and now she was passing them.

The turn for home was coming up and my heart began to pound. This is it, this is it, can she do it? Make no mistake, I had zero doubts in the talent of this great mare but it was a horse race--anything can happen.

She seemed to swerve off the rail then ended up behind a wall of horses at the head of the stretch. No room! She was several lengths off the leaders, and a horse--I didn't know who--was breaking free and running for home. Mike Smith sent Zenyatta wide and she dug in hard, her massive strides eating up ground. She blew by horse after horse, and the grandstand--me included, the one that never yells at races!--screamed for her to move up and catch the free-running leader, Blame.

It seemed like she was running one stride for Blame's every two strides; she was a giant unstoppable machine, moving faster and faster with every jump, and then she was virtually even with Blame, and then his head bobbed down and the wire went overhead.

In the first instant everyone cheered for her but in the next, the place was silent. Had she gotten it? The PHOTO sign went up and everyone waited. The race replayed on the big screen over and over again, the final stretch run re-played in slow motion. It was clear, Blame's head came down right at the finish line, while Zenyatta's stayed up. He had gotten it...he had defeated the great mare.

I stood on the bench, stunned. All around me, silent people trickled out of the grandstand. I watched her on the television. As she was unsaddled, she pawed the ground fiercely, her dirt-caked face, chest and legs an unusual sight. Perhaps she thought she had won and wondered why she wasn't in the winner's circle. The camera followed her as she was led up the track towards the barns, and no doubt a good bath.

I thought back to an article I read many years ago about Nijinsky II, who was undefeated until his final two races. As he was led back to the barns after his last race, a woman called out, "We still love you, dear!" I also thought about Seattle Slew's defeat in the 1978 Jockey Cup Gold Cup, a defeat so valiant that it boosted his rank amongst the legends of racing from simply great to immortal. And finally, I thought about Man o' War overcoming impossible circumstances in the 1919 Sanford, only to be narrowly defeated by a horse appropriately named Upset. It was the legendary horse's only defeat, and it, too, was so valiant that now a brass plaque re-telling the tell of his lone loss is mounted by his grave site.

Zenyatta--we still love you, we always will--and in your own valiant loss, you have proven yourself to be worthy of mention in the same breath as the all-time greats in the history of racing. Not all will agree with this statement, but over time the specifics and particulars about your wins will be overlooked and your legend will preserve.

Sidney's Candy

The great Goldikova

Goldikova

Sidney's Candy (9) and Goldikova (10)

Goldikova after saddling

Goldikova and her ever-attentive trainer

Gio Ponti (3) and Delegator (5)

Court Vision (5) and Sidney's Candy (9)

Sidney's Candy

Goldikova en-route to a historic third win in the Mile

Dirt Mile winner Dangerous Midge

My view of the Spires from the paddock rail

The crowd begins to gather for Zenyatta

Awaiting Zenyatta


Jerry and Ann Moss arrive

A cameraman films Zenyatta posters

Police enforce the paddock

At last, the Queen makes her way over to the paddock

All eyes are on the television--here comes the Queen!

Quality Road

Blame

Musket Man

Lookin at Lucky

Paddy O' Prado

Haynesfield

Zenyatta leaving her stall, Mike Smith up

Zenyatta!

Breeder's Cup 2010

I thought I had November 5th and 6th all planned out for this year.

March: I was invited (begged may be a better word) by some running buds to run the Ozark Trail 100 on November 6th. I considered it...until I saw that the Breeder's Cup Classic would be run that day. The Classic--how could I miss it? It was likely to be the last race of what is probably the greatest mare to ever set foot on a racetrack.

And even if for some crazy reason I decided to go ahead and run the race, and DVR the Classic for later, I would spend much of the race wondering what happened and before you know it, DNF just so I can get home sooner.

No, no...I would make sure my schedule was clear for that day. We would watch the race on our new big-screen, high-def television (thanks to my husband's mom for the X-mas gift!). I would cheer and cry for Zenyatta, then spend the night reminiscing her racing career with my husband.

July: We were still planning on watching the Cup at home, but this time with a guest--a buddy of my husband's that is often at the racetrack with him. Cool and fine by me, as long as he doesn't mind seeing his friend's wife sob over big Z.

October: I was sitting on the couch at home, doing what--who knows. No, wait, I was sitting on the floor, which means I was either in the middle of yoga or playing with the cats (or both). My husband stood in the door frame to the office and said "Maybe we'll go the Breeders Cup this year?" Should we?! We were, are, broke and really can't afford to travel anywhere but...too late! The ball was rolling, the gears were turning.

Zenyatta in the flesh--she was the horse I had dreamed about for 20 years, and I was going to see her in the flesh?

Turns out my husband's buddy (yup, same one) was headed there and, why shouldn't we go, also? Why sit with our thumbs up our butts when Churchill Downs is within a day's drive away? Last year I had wanted so badly to fly to Santa Anita in California to see the Breeder's Cup, only to be defeated by high airline and hotel prices. That wasn't the case this year. Carpe diem!

Fast-forward to today. We have all the details ironed out and the tickets are in the mail. And no, no--they weren't outrageously expensive and they're actually good seats. They're not right at the finish line but, in my opinion, somewhere even better--halfway between the turn for home and the finish line: Zenyatta's real estate.

And, from what my husband has told me, I know I won't be the only wet-cheeked one in company on that day. To bring: box of Kleenex.

Some great photos of Limerick

Zoe, a high school girl and daughter of a fellow boarder shot these over the early summer, and I didn't see them until a couple days ago--aren't they gorgeous?

Finally getting back on track with the riding! And a heart attack, courtesy of Limerick.

Wow, August was a horrid month for riding. I think I rode only twice during the entire month, and one ride was cut short because the bugs were causing Limerick to go berserk.

Hot, humid, buggy, wet, sweltering...not good riding conditions.

September, on the other hand, has been perfect so far. The bugs are present but at a tolerable level, and the weather is crisp and cool compared to August (I guess, if you can call 75 and low humidity "crisp and cool").

So far I've had two rides after dark (and it was truly dark for the first ride--I could barely see past Limerick's ever-pointed ears, but I trusted her and she was so good! There's nothing like cantering your horse through the dark), one ride in the made-over indoor arena (complete with power-washed and painted rafters/walls and brand new footing) and a fourth ride outside during the day.

We remain at one trail ride for the year but hopefully I'll find time to get out again; it's not too late, yet.

Back to the ride in the indoor arena. During that ride, I jumped Limerick over a very, very small fence as a test. I do want to get back into jumping with her but I am going to move forward very gradually. I first wanted to see how she would react to a small fence; I was pretty sure she would treat it no differently than she would a ground pole but, first things first.

As expected she did really well and I could just hear her thinking, "This is n-o-t-h-i-n-g, come on, you know I can do more!"

When we were done, as is customary when there is no one else in the arena with us, I took all of Lim's tack off to let her roll in the arena dirt. I carried it into the tack room. My saddle rack is by the large windows that oversee the arena and from there, I could see Limerick standing before the garage door that leads into the arena, cheerfully watching it open. As soon as it was open just enough, she trotted through the door, halter-less.

Wait, what?

I dropped the saddle and bridle and ran out of the tack room. It was late and dark and no one else was at the barn; what if she ran down the barn driveway and out onto the road? How would I deal with that alone? Worst case scenarios flashed through my head as I hurried outside.

She stood between the building that housed the arena and the barn.

"Limerick, stop right there!" I said. She looked at me, wide-eyed, then trotted into the barn. I ran after her, hoping she would go into her stall. Sure enough, she went around the corner and right through her open stall door. I ran over to the door and latched it shut, heart pounding.

Whoa....knees weak, I went back to the arena and looked at the garage door. How on earth did she open that thing? She's been loose in the indoor arena countless times before without any problem.

First, I pressed the "close" button from the outside. It didn't close. Hmm. Then I went into the arena and tried to close it from there. It didn't close. Great, not only did Limerick scare me half to death but she also somehow broke the door. Just great!

Then I noticed another, much newer-looking, garage door button by the gate to the indoor arena. It was large and flat. I pressed it and ta-da, the door began to descend.

So that's how she did it.

The new door opener was far too easy for a horse to open. I had to admit, I was relieved that Limerick did this and not one of the pasture-boarded horses. As much as she had scared me, I knew Lim was smart enough to go right into her stall. But if one of the pasture horses had done it, how would they have dealt with it? They have no stall to run to!

I told the barn owner about the incident the next morning, and by that evening there was a wooden box over the garage door opener, placed in such a way that no equine nose could ever nuzzle it open.

Right now I can laugh about it, but at the time, wow! What a scare.

The things we do for our horses...

I mentioned that we are in the middle of one of the nastiest mosquito seasons ever, remember?

Well, Limerick isn't taking this so well...she's always been super-sensitive to bugs (crossing her eyes in an attempt to watch a fly land on her nose and getting her right hind leg stuck in her stall window while kicking out at a fly comes to mind) and I would guess that if you asked her, she would state that this is the worst summer, ever.

The mosquitoes are so relentless that clouds of them hover inside the barns...
...so relentless that they will swarm and bite me even after I apply half a bottle of Deep Woods OFF! insect repellent...
...so relentless that Limerick stops, eyes huge, and goes into Total Freakout Mode when she sees a puddle of standing water....
...so relentless that this summer alone I've seen Limerick go into more acrobatic scratching poses (the type you tend to only see small ponies and dogs do) than I have in the rest of my 14+ years with her.

But despite all this, I thought she was doing ""okay"" with them. I did wish I could bring her home with me at night and bed her down in my living room so she would be mosquito-free for a few blessed hours, but she was ""okay"", right? That belief was knocked down when I visited her one evening a few nights ago.

There I was, standing at the door to her stall, snapping a carrot in half, and did she look at me? Nope! She's only ignored a carrot breaking in half three times in her life, and needless to say, at each of those three times she was in a lot of pain. I went over to her and put my hands on her neck and shoulders. Her pounding heartbeat resonated through her chest and to my hands. I was concerned but after a quick check, found her okay otherwise.

She was simply done with those damn mosquitoes. She had it up to here. She was downright angry with them! That was it, I was declaring war on those bugs.

The very next day, I ordered an Amigo Mio tight-mesh fly sheet with a neck cover for Lim and checked off "overnight" in the shipping options. Then, on my way home from work, I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a dozen mosquito repellent bracelets made for humans, as well as one of those little battery-powered repellent fans.

That evening, I tucked the fan into the waistband of my jeans, switched it on, and spent an hour braiding the bracelets into her mane and tail. I also saturated her so heavily with my usual Pyranha aerosol spray that I momentarily wondered if I would develop lung cancer in a few years. I also told her that she had something very special coming...

The next day, it arrived. Boy, was it ugly:

(Not Limerick)

But it would get the job done!!

Lim doesn't really like blankets or sheets (okay, downright hates them) but she didn't protest in the least when I put this one on her. It fit well (I ordered a size up to ensure good coverage) and actually didn't look half-bad. I think.

For added measure, I pulled the belly straps through a couple extra insect repellent bracelets. So far everything seems to be working OK and holding up in turnout, and Lim doesn't bat an eye when I put this sheet on her (if anything, she nods off).

If only I could permanently attach that little battery-powered repellent fan to her somehow...

I need to update this more often....

I feel like I say that each time I post on here! Here's the run-down:

• The study of Lim's false pregnancy is now officially over; results are pending. Hormone wise, she seems to be in a twilight zone of normal/pseudopregnant, with rare moments of crankiness/flightiness/touch-me-nots here and there. But that could just be the heat.
• We went out on the trail in July, with Corrie and her horse Abby. We headed over to the Danada grass track and trotted and cantered around it a handful of times. Other than the typical nervous-nellie behavior, Limerick was actually very good, despite the bugs.
• Oh, the bugs. We're in the middle of the worst mosquito infestation in 20+ years. As you can imagine, Lim is totally freaking out and my barn time is more devoted to warding off the little bloodsuckers (or trying to figure out ways to ward off the little bloodsuckers--what's up with these things, did they crossbreed with killer bees or something? They are aggressive!!!) than riding.
  

More later....