the good old days;

[{{helena}}]

I mount up and we walk to the trails. That last few days were spent at Kirsten’s working on her sand track. We’re trying to get accepted into the Dubai World Cup. I have decided to work Dylan on the trails today to build up his strength; his pushing power. I also want to change the scenery. I believe that it isn’t good for a horse to just see the track. No, a horse should be taken out and about every now and then. He should get the chance to relax and enjoy himself. That’s what Dylan and I are doing today.

We walk along the path that leads back to the trails. It’s a cool November morning, around six thirty am. It’s probably about 40 degrees Fahrenheit. I look around and take in my surroundings. I love the sparkling grass, shining with droplets of dew. I love to listen to the birds sing. I hear a mocking bird right above me. I remember how I used to ask Daddy how he could tell if it was a mocking bird if it always sounded like other birds. I just didn’t get it back then. Dad would always take the time to explain it to me, no matter how many times I asked. We used to go on walks together in the early morning. This whole day just reminds me of my father. It's perfect.

We finally make it to the trail head, and I pat Dyl on the neck. He's such a good boy. He always does as I ask and never fights about anything. He's going to be the best event horse ever. He already has a big neck: perfect for dressage. He also has strong hindquarters, great for jumping. I am so excited to start him.

Once we're about ten minutes into the walk, I ask Dylan to trot and we jog along the river happily. We are so free spirited. He is moving forward freely, stretching down into the bridle, and I feel relaxed and confortable. I feel like I have a forward adjustable horse, which is what my trainer always taught me was necessary, whether your racing or jumping or doing canter half passes. As we come over a smill hill, I see a log in the trail. I ponder what to do for a minute. Should I ask him to trot over it? Should I have him go around it? I bring Dyl back and walk him up to the log confidently. It's brobably only a foot high, no big deal. I keep my legs on and look forward, not down at him. He steps right over it without even hesitating. I may be over reacing, but I pat Dylan a praise him extra for being so brave. I just love this horse.

I ask him to trot again, and he does so. But after a while, we canter. I feel so free, cantering up and down hills in the forest. It's beautiful. Dylan's head bobs rythmically with his hoofbeats and I follow with my arms. He is starting to accelerate, but I let him. If he wants to run, so be it. He's a racehorse, I shouldn't hold him back, plus, he needs the workout.

We gallop along the flat for a few minutes until we reach the back field. Then, I slow Dylan to a walk and enjoy myself. The wheat is high, up to my knees. Dylan is grabbing bits every otehr step, or so it seems. I drop my stirrups and just let Dyl plod along. It's almost eight o'clock. We've been out for about an hour and a half. I guess it's time to head back. I continue on the loops that the trail makes, still without stirrups. We finally reach the stable yard and Dylan is all cooled off. Thank God, because it's to cold to hose him down. I jump off him as we arrive in front of the barn and give him a big, thankful hug.