On My Obsession with Measurable Results

So something to know about me is that I love me some data (insert nerd humor). I'm all about a measurable result.

Well I found something that combines my love of data with Pancake's fitness program. Huzzah! There's a free site/app called Endomondo that you can use to track workouts. It uses the GPS on your phone to measure distance, altitude, speed, etc. And it lists Riding as an athletic pursuit. (Yay!)

My at-home riding program normally goes something like this: Oooh, oooh, I have a chance to ride! Yippee! Come here, pony. Walk over to the flat(ish) spot. Let's go trot. Bend, please. Yes, even to the right. Change direction, bend, change direction, bend. Ok, you trotted a lot. Now let's canter. Ok, take a breather. Now let's canter the other way. Ok, take a breather. Now let's work on refining that trot self-carriage a little more. GET. OFF. MY. RIGHT. LEG. Walk. Trot. Walk. Trot. Halt. Trot. Halt. Trot. Take a breather. Now let's trot up the hill. Now let's canter one loop up the hill. Take a breather. Trot up the other hill. Canter one loop. And now I'm hot and tired and you're really puffing so let's walk a loop. Now let's walk to the end of the driveway so you see some new and different stuff. (Oooh, look, chickens!) And we're done. Good pony.

So I thought I'd try that Endomondo thingy and see what that typical workout really consists of.

Umm, this is way fun. (And it's easy to see I was a dressage rider for a loooong time. If you scroll over the graph at the bottom, the little dot will show where we were on the map (that's the aforementioned flatish spot). So you can see all our nice little circles and loops and figure 8's.)

Because I'm a masochist (or, trying to build up my leg and improve my own fitness) I decided not to wear spurs for this ride. As a result, I had to work really, really hard and she was way behind my leg. It'll be interesting to try this again with spurs and see if it influences the average speed. (I know it'll influence my stamina if I don't have to beg for every stride!)

Fun. I like it! 

We're All About That Bass

Ladies and gentlemen, Pancake has a dressage freestyle song. It's perfect. I love it.

Riding playlist > ADD.

Now to find a radio edit (easy) and a dressage show with a sense of humor (less easy).

On the Wonders of Genetics

We called our grandmas "Big" and "Little" based, not on physical size (about the same), but on sheer force of personality.

Little Grandma is the sweet, nurturing storybook grandma everyone wishes they had and I'm lucky enough to actually have. Her hugs are magical.

Big Grandma was hell on wheels. She was so blunt, her internal filter was a hula hoop. This became awkward when her hearing went, because she had no issue with saying things like, "Isn't that the homeliest child you've ever seen?" Loudly. In church. Regarding the child in the pew in front of you.

She was the best. I loved the woman and miss her terribly.

So, anyway, Big always had a comment or six. And this one time, a few years ago, as I was giving her a hug and saying goodbye to go back home to Kentucky, she gave me an assessing look and said, "You know, you're a lot bigger than your sister."

Oh, gram. What you lack in tact, you make up for in accuracy. Love you too.

Which brings me to Pancake.

Fjords are stout, hardy little horses. And Pancake typifies that. After four months of intense dietary restriction, she's been plateaued at 1130 for weeks. I have yet to feel a rib. That's just the way she's built. She will never be a sleek, athletic Novice eventing beast. Which is fine, because I got her as a quiet, steady Starter eventing beast. At which she excels.

But sometimes ... you happen upon a windfall.

My parents retired to Wisconsin, their home, last spring. My mom left her longtime horse (my sister's retired show horse) in Michigan. Having high regard for Pancake, she went to the same breeder and purchased a steady older gelding. But she didn't want him to have to live alone over the winter, so she got a 4-year-old mare (Pancake's half-sister) to keep him company.

Fast forward to this spring, and mom doesn't want to fool with a youngster, and selling greenbeans isn't ever much fun. So this sweet little mare, Biscuit, has come to stay with me.

But wait, you say: Erin, you don't have time to mess with a greenbean. Correct, friends.

Luckily, I have really excellent help. Team CEO Eventing does an annual young horse program, matching youngsters and students up for a 60-day training challenge. At the end, they w/t/c, jump little courses, and do a little freestyle demo to show any special tricks or talents, people judge, prizes are given. Tra la la. The timing worked out just perfectly for Biscuit to get in on that.

And the thing about Biscuit is, she may be Pancake's half-sister. And she may be a Fjord. But she is naturally fit. And athletic. And forward. And really seems to like her new job.

So we'll see how this all works out. For now, I have a stand-in if I want a really impressive "after" picture for Pancake's diet plan.

Pancake, I love you. But you're a lot bigger than your sister.

In Which We Rally

To review my previous post:

• Pancake is still (although somewhat less) fat
• Pancake needs to be ridden more
• Pancake is lame

Total bummer, huh? Well, things are looking up.

First off, documentation of two important points. 

1) Pancake is determined to get any little scrap of grass she can possibly reach. (Which admittedly saves us time on weed-eating.)

2) Pancake is secretly a yoga master. The view is somewhat obstructed from the house and she won't do this if I'm within sight (I might feed her!), so here's the best image I have of the elusive Downward-Facing Pancake.

So you can see how she managed to blow up her knee--by kneeling on it like this All. Day. Long. The solution to this issue brings me to two additional points.

1) I have wonderful friends. Erika, Patty, and I have been trying to get together to go riding since about March. One or the other of us always has something come up, or my truck's broken, or the weather's bad, or I need to baby wrangle, or something. So last weekend we had a time, date, and place all sorted. Perfect weather. Babysitter. Stars aligned, winning lotto tickets, all that jazz. After a week and a half off, lots of bute/cort/diclofenac rub, I go out to the barn and Pancake's knee is huge. And she's gimpy on the longe. So, terribly disappointed and fighting a tear, I text and say I can't make it.

Patty replies with: I have a spare horse and a resident veterinarian. Put the pony in the trailer and come over.

And that, my friends, is how I spent last Saturday having a perfectly wonderful time, riding a perfectly wonderful grand old horse, with my two perfectly wonderful friends and Pancake got a checkup from Dr. J who says she'll live if she quits being silly. (And he's right, the knee looks great.)

2) I have a wonderful husband. Who ran an electric line around the bottom of my barnlot, right under the bottom board. Complete with beautifully trenched lines under the gates and everything. And got the biggest, baddest charger.

Sorry, Pancake--snack time is over.

In Which I Shake My Puny Fists in Rage

Just when you think you have a system that works. That's effective. That's manageable. Something changes. And you have to start over.

My barn features stalls with rear doors that access two good-sized barnlots. The barnlots feed into the pasture. This give the option of in, and/or barnlot, and/or pasture. Since I've been keeping the ponies up to prevent them from overeating, they've had free access to one stall and both the barnlots. They can walk around (or canter/buck/act like fools if their little pony hearts so desire), sleep in the sun, hang out under the overhang, go in the stall and stand under the fan, lounge and groom each other in the shade under the tree and generally freely interact and be horses. I have to clean the barnlots every day, but that's not too bad and there's no shavings so it's great soil amendment. I get that they would rather be on grass, but limits have to be set.

This was fine. Until recently.

Pancake has decided that contorting herself under the fence to nibble tiny mouthfuls of grass is totally legit. She kneels down on her left knee and reaches her stumpy little neck as far as she can to grab pitiful tiny tastes of grass.

Fine. You want to be an idiot, go for it.

Except ... she's bruised the heck out of her neck. It's hot to the touch and obviously sore. She's rubbing her mane. Her right shoulder's sore. And the final straw, her left knee has a huge bubble of fluid sitting on it.

So now I'm hosing. And icing. And using the butecort rub. But as soon as she's out in the barnlot and her (soaked, slow-feed netted) hay is gone, she's back out there kneeling on it again.

So she's in the stall. And she'll stay in the stall other than when she goes out for two hours in the evening. And I need to clean the stall. And buy more shavings. And hose. And ice. And rub. And, despite it all, she's still really, really fat.

This weekend, maybe I'll rig up an electric wire under the fence. Or add another board along the bottom. Or obliterate all grass within reach with Round-Up. Or maybe I'll put the muzzle back into service. Right now, I just feel totally defeated.

"Easy" keeper. Yeah, right.


On the bright side ... 

When you have a baby, the nurses give you really great ice packs (if you don't know why, that's a topic for an entirely different blog). The kind you snap and they get really cold really fast and stay cold for hours. They're long and super pliable and have a strip you can pull off to stick them. Anyway, they work really well for icing horse knees.

So I got that going for me.

In Which We Sing the Praises of Oats

In my previous post, I had just received a recommendation from Dr. Crandell to add 1/2 to 1 lb of oats to Pancake's daily ration in the hope of boosting her energy stores to sustain exercise without increasing weight. I was, of course, hesitant to *add* anything, since her weight has been holding steady on the current management. But having to pony-kick and pray to simply get around around 2'3" courses wasn't the aim of the whole diet exercise, so to the feed store I went.

And what timing. I started introducing the oats mid-week before a weekend clinic, which included three schools in three days (as much riding as I typically average in three weeks ... but that's another post).

Team CEO Eventing Weekend I,
photo courtesy Howard Moore

The verdict? IT WORKS.

While not a raving tearaway by any means, Pancake had some pep in her step! I was actually able to get up in galloping position without her dropping the canter. And that's a big deal for us.

Her dressage canter was the best it's ever been--light, forward, lovely. 

During the clinic and subsequent rides, I'm definitely noticing she's more willing to move forward off my leg. And while I haven't taped her in awhile, she seems to be maintaining her girlish figure, if not continuing a slow, steady reduction in girth.

It seems so simple, but adding plain old rolled oats would never have occurred to me. Ok, ok maybe I'm also holding her more accountable for her forward momentum. And maybe I found my BIG spurs. But at least a chunk of the credit still goes to OATS!