Five years ago, several of my best friends and I piled into a truck and drove a couple hours north, to help me try out a mare for sale. I ended up passing on her, she felt too green for me and I’ve never built my own horse. After the sudden and tragic loss of the beautiful palomino gelding I’d been gifted to spend time with, I doubted my abilities. Something about that mare stuck in my head though (and my friend kept nudging me about her), so a few weeks later we headed north again, this time with a check. The decision was clinched after the second test ride, everyone was standing in a loose circle and chatting…and Tarma slowly inched her way forward until everyone had to acknowledge her, and she was part of the conversation. At that time I couldn’t even begin to name all the things we had to work on and build together, but I knew she was stout and had a willing and bold mind.

Since that cold November day, I’ve made so many mistakes and missteps, cried and cursed over her countless times, questioned myself and my choices deeply, picked fights with her I immediately regretted, almost sold her a few times, got tossed into blackberry bushes during our first limited distance ride, vomited after we crossed the finish line of our first 50 mile endurance ride, climbed a sketchy mountain pass, picked up a few ETS ribbons, obsessed over saddle fit and boots and shoes and her dang sensitive white legs, raced down the beach under the moonlight, and my son’s ridden her around ride camp bareback in just a halter. She’s gone from needing her feet pried off the ground to trim to falling asleep when I put her glue on shoes on. We’ve gone from crying and running into walls when we canter in the arena to glimmering moments of beautiful self carriage.

Together we’ve migrated from someone else’s English saddle to her own custom built endurance saddle that finally fits us both. There have been so many other tack changes, boots we’ve tried, supplements and grains, bridles and saddlebags (I may have a problem) and grooming tools for her sensitive skin. We’ve climbed hills under the sweltering summer sun, trotted through single tracks at midnight, crossed every single river, stream, puddle or bridge with zero hesitation, (mostly) conquered her fear of traffic and vehicles, pushed cows around, and faced all manner of mishaps with no permanent injuries or bad feelings. I had a custom trailer built for Tarma so she’d haul in comfort and be willing to self load when I had another adventure planned, and had an entire summer derailed by an injury and had to parse out the why behind that.

We’ve accomplished so much, and I’m proud of every hard won mile. The slow slide into winter and the larger goals ahead of us leave me at my annual inflection point. Those wins have come as both Tarma and I tend to focus on “what gets the job done” versus “let’s build some solid fundamentals.” These were also choices I willingly made, to learn through doing. The losses my family suffered in 2020 (and the ongoing response to COVID) left me with the realization that tomorrow is not guaranteed, so let’s say yes to things today. This is partly why I wasn’t as torn up over the way this summer went completely sideways on us when Tarma injured her heel bulb. We’d said yes to so much already, so a slow down and redirection wasn’t the worst thing. We had a wonderful time on pasture board for the summer at Mandorla Farm, enjoying a different pace and different influences.

My aim has always been to build Tarma into a solid, going, well rounded endurance horse, little makes us both as happy as flying down some single tracks together (preferably in a loop, we both dislike out and backs). However, our turn towards more French classical dressage has shown our arena work to have a certain satisfaction as well. It has also reveled every single “Swiss cheese” hole we’ve both got. This winter we’re taking a bit of step back and we’ll play around with concepts I’m just starting to dip a toe into. I’m not focusing on pure “colt starting” concepts since Tarma isn’t a blank slate, but rather addressing some fundamentals that will serve us well in whatever comes next. These concepts are not new of course, but applying them in a way that fits us both is where the fun is. I want to see how light and responsive and willing Tarma can maintain while still trying things that are harder for her as a forward, opinionated horse. Teaching her to carry herself in a stronger frame and be lighter in my hands will make our journey towards goals such as Decade Team, Sandybaar and the Tevis Cup more attainable without breaking her down.

We’ve already managed some solid things, we have a canter we can work with, a decent reverse gear, and a super clear feedback loop. I know when I’ve asked too much or not been clear enough, I can see when I’m being light and allowing her to be so and when we’ve gotten off track. I struggle deeply with my right side, my right leg prefers to creep up and grip like a jockey’s instead of lengthening and allowing Tarma’s ribcage to soften and bend. Tarma’s learning to stretch into my hands but still prefers to charge forward given a slip of attention, and yet she also hates being micromanaged.

I’m so freaking proud I was able to stick with Tarma and I try a little bit everyday to be a better human for her, and I’m thankful for her big heart in sticking with me and all the crazy things I ask of her. I’m having so much fun adventuring with her, parsing through our arena work, even slopping through the rain and the mud is fun with this smart, tough mountain mare. Both in the arena and especially out, we’ve got miles to go together and I’m so excited for each and every one with my spicy chocolate lady.