THE ADULT BEGINNER RIDER

THE ADULT BEGINNER RIDER

By Tom Gumbrecht

I'm not sure if I technically qualify as a beginner rider, but at age 63 with only 18 years of riding behind me, my experience pales to many my age who have been riding for a lifetime. My beginner experience is fresh enough in my mind that I can fully relate to other adult beginners and the unique challenges, fears and frustrations we all face. Moreover, I started my riding "career" at an age where I had all of the normal responsibilities, expenses and fears that elude those who learn riding at a young age.

One of the author's first times jumping OTTB Lola.
With trainer Laura Ruben.

I may further qualify for the title "beginner" since I have been a beginner at many different aspects of horsemanship along the way: Starting as a first-time-on-a-horse beginner at age 45, I have been a beginner basic student, a beginner lessee, and a beginner rough boarder. Then a beginner barrel racer, a beginner trail rider, a beginner jumper and a beginner eventer. I was a beginner at dressage and a beginner at horse showing. I was a beginner at trailering, both local and long distance when Samantha took her horse to college. I was a beginner horse owner, a beginner barn owner, a beginner facility designer and a beginner "trainer."

I have been a beginner to treating different injuries and illness in horses more times than I care to remember. I have been a beginner in dealing with the death of an equine companion.

By the time we reach middle age, I will hazard a guess that many of us Long Islanders in the position to consider riding as a hobby have become accustomed to being fairly good at what we do. Riding -riding well- as I quickly learned, involved (at least in my case) a willingness to be really bad at something I was totally drawn to, and doing so in public without knowing if and when I would ever "get good" at it. I was out of my comfort zone; frustrating to say the least.

I have met riders who have been riding nearly all of their lives, and even some "natural riders" who started as adult beginners who can't seem to relate to the level of frustration that many of us experience. I have had many times over the years when I have been frustrated in lessons and I think there were many different reasons..

Finding the right trainer goes a long way toward eliminating
frustration for the adult beginner. DannyBoy here with
trainer Laura Ruben.

A few that come to mind:

1) My first trainer told me, "Your problem is, in your world you're a boss; you want to THINK it, and for it to be done. That's not the way it is here. You have to do all of the work yourself."  I hated him for it at the time but his assessment was spot-on. Understanding the concept of something intellectually and putting in the work so that it eventually reverts to muscle memory are two very different things.

2) I needed to find the right trainer. I rode with quite a few before I "struck gold." The best trainers for me were the ones who had struggled to "get it" and could empathize with my struggles. Those who considered themselves "natural riders" usually didn't work out for me. Also, I needed a trainer who was not only an effective communicator but was able to communicate in a way that I could learn. I learn by visual images. A five minute detailed lecture on how tightly to hold my reins might as well be in Chinese. But tell me: "You're holding a small bird in your hand. You don't want it to get away, but you don't want to crush it to death either." That I get. Immediately.

3) Fear is a thing. When it takes hold, "just suck it up" doesn't always cut it. When my eventer was out of commission for over a year, I had my OTTB project waiting in the wings. She was very green and a little unpredictable. I was 56 when I started working with her and she dumped me at fences more than a few times. I found it hard to "throw my heart over the fence" and she definitely needed me to do that. We had to back down and do flat work, poles, little cross rails again-- for months! It's important to have a trainer who pushes you out of your comfort zone, but it's also important to have one who knows how much is too much. Pushing too hard or to far can let the paralysis of fear take over and that's a breeding ground for frustration. It's important to have a trainer who gets that, and also equally important for me to be able to leave my ego at the gate and not consider that "rebooting" to be a failure. I had gotten myself to the point that I was afraid to canter my own horse. And perhaps more afraid to admit it because in my mind I had developed a reputation as a fairly "fearless" rider. The only way I was able to get past it was to admit what I was going through, take a small step back to what I was still comfortable doing and build off of that. The obstacle was not in the arena; it was in my head.

When faith replaces fear, cool things can
happen. Faith in trainer, horse and self.

4) Goals are a good thing. I would accomplish little without them. But it was important that I keep my goals flexible. That applies to my goals for the year, for the show season, for the week, and even for the lesson or the ride. I had big goals for DannyBoy in eventing one year. It was going to be our move-up season. Then he got hurt and needed surgery. I allowed myself one day of "poor me" then brushed off my OTTB mare Lola, and called my trainer. I wanted her to train me to train the mare. It was a big undertaking for me because she knew almost nothing except how to run fast, and how to behave on the ground. My most cherished ribbon to this day was from her first show, an eventing dressage-only class. It was a second place ribbon, out of a class of two riders. But I cherish it because of the amount of dedication from Lola, my trainer and me that it represented.  Goals are great. Inflexible, unrealistic goals are an invitation to frustration.

5) Accepting change. There were a few years where I was able to devote the time to training vigorously and I had a few pretty good seasons in local level eventing and jumpers. I have a bunch of ribbons that represent accomplishments that were beyond my wildest dreams. It's human nature to want more of something so rewarding. But... life is change. I have a lot of added business and family responsibilities now; that's reality. Horses are still a major part of my life but I'm not currently in training nor showing. Will I ever go back to it? I like to think so, at least the formal training if not the showing. But if not... that's ok. I still ride, and have my own training regimen and also love to be out in the woods with my horses. I help others, try to at least. I have learned to appreciate my horses for who they are as much as I used to for what they could do. I have been blessed with a grandson, now two years old, who seems to have the horse gene and a lot of my time is now spent introducing him to the joys of horses. Not embracing change is one of the quickest paths to frustration that I know.

The horse world is full of experts and I'm totally ok with saying that I'm not one of them. If I'm any

New beginnings. A life with horses isn't
exclusively about riding.

good at anything it could be that I've learned to see "pride" in a different light and lay out the challenges I've faced for other riders to see and maybe identity with.

So yeah.. I've been frustrated in my riding, but I no longer stay that way for very long. I hope to stay a beginner forever.  There's no shame in not being perfect. It would be a shame to give up on a passion because we thought we had to be.

The author and DannyBoy at Good Shepherd Horse Trials

Night Check

by Tom Gumbrecht       

 Originally published in Horse Directory in 2008                          

I just came back up to the house after putting my horses to bed, and I lingered a few extra minutes to feed a few carrots and take in the night air.  For some reason, my thoughts took me back to a night some years ago, when I had just finished building my barn and paddocks, but they were still empty.  I had worked in the barn all day, and later, back up at the house, I noticed that I had forgotten my wallet or phone or something, and walked back down just before bedtime to retrieve whatever it was.

I remember that on that occasion, I was just slightly uncomfortable walking into the empty barn and looking around for my forgotten item. The remoteness, the darkness, the emptiness, and the quiet all teamed up to create the hint of the memory of a monster that lived in my basement when I was a kid. But I’m a big boy now and I know there are no monsters here. Still, it was a little eerie, and I couldn’t wait to take care of my business and get back up to the house.

The Birth of Dreamcatcher Farm, 2000

Tonight, I went down to that same barn, on a cool evening similar to that one  years ago, and I had to pull myself away when it came time to come back up to the house. One more carrot; OK, two. OK, let me just brush you for a second. And scratch your back. Maybe you need a little more bedding. And another carrot. I turn the light out and hold your neck and watch the moonlight filter through the cedar tree and down past your forelock through your ears and spill onto your  blaze. It’s almost chilling that I have the privilege of being in your company tonight and I don’t want it to end.

This is the same building that stood here those years ago, save a few cobwebs. I walked the same hundred steps from the house on that evening as I did tonight. But now there are these three magnificent creatures here who have made that foreboding structure in the back corner of the property into a barn. They look forward to me coming and make no attempt to hide it. They want to stay with me until I have to leave and then that’s OK too. We have made memories here. We have laughed and cried in this aisle and these stalls. Acquaintances have become friends here.  We have turned normal kids into horse crazed fanatics here. We have learned much and maybe taught a little here.

I guess that’s the real difference between tonight and that night. On that night, this barn was just a blank canvas. By now, the canvas has seen quite a few brush strokes, some bold, some subtle, and by all means still a work in progress. Tonight, this place is alive with the smells, the sounds, the awe, the wonder and spirit of horse. That night, I had apprehension. I didn’t know if, in deciding to keep horses at home, I had made the right decision, or if I was getting in over my head. Tonight, I have only gratitude. I AM in over my head, and I have no idea how I got so lucky as to be able to live here.

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT                                                                                               December 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

“The longer I live, the more I realize the importance of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is

Trainer Laura Ruben of Affari Horse Farm teaches the author about the
patience needed with a young racehorse, first by watching and
then by doing.

more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than whatever other people think or say or do.

“It is more important than appearance, than giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company, a church, a home. The remarkable thing is that we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day.  We cannot change our past… we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way.  We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. 

“I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you… we are in charge of our attitudes.” – Charles R. Swindall

Powerful words… a quotation that someone my age might put in a frame and hang on the wall of

The author beginning over-fence work with Lola
in 2009. Two years earlier we were thrilled that
she could walk.

a young adult perhaps, but notable in that I was introduced to it by my twenty-something trainer a few years back.  She had adopted it into her life and is a living testimony to its accuracy.

I have had more than one teacher of this concept in my barn; one in particular left the racetrack injured and showed up for our date with destiny at the New Holland auction. Now a permanent resident of our barn, she goes by the name of Lola.  We didn’t know that Lola had an injury because an unscrupulous seller had medicated her, disguising a severe lameness. A day after we got her home she was walking on three legs and a veterinary exam was not encouraging.

Sometimes my initial reaction when faced with a situation I can’t see my way out of is to feel sorry for myself, and this was no exception. I had just gone through treating a severe, multi-year illness with my gelding, Buddy, and I felt that I couldn’t endure that terrifying roller coaster of emotions once again.  Poor me..

After a day or two of trying to figure out how to get myself out of the situation, I soon came to grips with the fact that Lola and I weren’t going to be riding off into the sunset in pursuit of eventing ribbons anytime soon. No, we now had another injured horse to try and mend.  Once focused and armed with a rehabilitation plan from the vet, we began the daily work needed to give Lola a chance. But how would I ever find the time to do this day in and day out? It was still all about me, my bad luck, my disappointment, my frustration. What I needed was a severe attitude adjustment, and Lola gave it to me.

In 2014, the bond formed by Lola's attitude and the author's
attitude adjustment was now unbreakable.

Did you ever have a dog who, after you left her for two minutes to run out to get the mail, greeted you as if you had just scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl on your return? I have had a few of those, but had never received such an ovation from a horse until Lola.

In the course of Lola’s rehab, we spent a lot of time together, wrapping, unwrapping, cold hosing, hand walking, laser treatments… and after each time I returned after disappearing from her view for a few moments, she would nicker furiously, loudly and continuously. Then her eyes delivered what her voice had promised.  I have seen many emotions conveyed through the eyes of a horse: contentment, annoyance, intensity, submission. I have seen eyes that were agitated, tired and pleading. Lola’s eyes showed none of that. Her eyes reached out through the stall door and connected my being with hers.  It was the look of acceptance.

This look of total connectedness and the vocal assertions of gratitude every time she laid eyes on me were exactly the attitude adjustment that I needed. It was so simple, and so obvious: I thought that the bad fortune of Lola’s condition was my cross to reluctantly bear, when in fact it was Lola whose life had been turned upside down, who had gone from an athlete to an invalid, who went from having a regimented, organized life to having everyone and everything she knew ripped from under her… and yet she seemed to be the happiest horse alive.

This horse had much to teach me, and it wasn’t about riding or competing… although she was to later educate me in those venues as well.  Lola went from being a disappointment (though it pains

The author's wife Mary with Lola at her first
show, Good Shepherd 2012. It was
a long road to get there, smoothed out
by Lola's fantastic attitude.

me to say that now) to an inspiration, because her attitude was infectious, contagious and an absolute joy to be around.  How did I find the time to do all of the things that needed to be done for Lola?  Someone once said, if you want to see what someone’s priorities are, watch what they spend their time doing.  With her attitude alone, Lola made herself my priority.

I thought I had gotten a bad deal for my $500 at the auction that day. What I got was, I got to be a better horseman, a better student, a better rider and hopefully a better person. If that were to be true, I can only guess that maybe some of Lola’s attitude rubbed off on me while in her stall.

REAL FREEDOM

REAL FREEDOM                                                                                                                 Originally published in Horse Directory, September, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Bella is affectionate, but on her terms.
She taught us about boundaries to keep our
space safe to be ourselves.

Horses represent freedom to many of us, myself included.  But what my perception of what that freedom actually was has changed significantly over the years.  At first I confused freedom with the exhilaration of a long gallop. After some years, I find that it is quite different now, and it has to do more with communication than anything else. 

 I was once asked a question which had me describe some characteristics of a type of communication that yielded the fewest misunderstandings with a person.  I can’t really remember if I answered it honestly, but I remember thinking “does it have to be a person?” With no disrespect to my fellows humans, that thought came to mind because the communication I have with my horses is remarkably free of many of the pitfalls of verbal communication that we humans frequently rely on.

Lola creates a space where we can feel safe,
loved, and trusted.

Of course it hasn’t always been so. It took many hours, days and years in the saddle and around the stable to learn the language of the horse, and I am definitely still a student.  There were many misunderstandings along the way, some of which ended up damaging ego or bones.  My horses were never at fault; they didn’t have to learn about communicating with me, but if I were to thrive in their world I would have to make the effort to learn their language. It is not a complicated language, yet nothing can substitute for the time and patience required to learn it.  It is a language learned by doing rather than studying. It is the language of truth; the language of what is; the language of intention, not the language of coercion, manipulation, agendas or flattery so common in verbal languages.

As I learned through guidance, trial and error of such things as balance and pressures and

Our horses work to keep their spaces safe for
each other as well as for us. Bella comforts Lola after a
minor injury.

perceptions and feel, a point came where I was to become less concerned about becoming unseated and so was then able to focus more on how my actions were effectively communicating my desires and acknowledging and rewarding compliance.  At its best, it is a language so incredibly pure that a thought becomes a request by an almost unconscious change in pressure of hand, arm, leg or seat, and expressing gratitude for effort and compliance becomes similarly automatic.  At this level, words can sometimes only get in the way of communication, with the natural exception of a “good girl/ boy” which serves to reinforce communication by its inflection, intonation and intention. Horses are pretty good about figuring out what our intentions are.

Our history has seen many great and notorious orators who used words to bridge a gap between what was, and what was perceived. In some cases, the speakers’ goal was to have the listener believe something other than what actually was.  Are great orators great communicators?  Perhaps not always. Not as good as horses, surely. They are surely not automatically great riders!  In the words on Ben Jonson, “They say princes learn no art truly but the art of horsemanship.  The reason for this is because the noble beast is no flatterer.  He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.”

DannyBoy, a physical giant if not a spiritual one,
provides needed comic relief lest things get too serious.

When people use words to manipulate facts about the past and perceptions about the future, it can exhaust us and make us very skeptical of navigating society.  Our horses exist only in the “now” and communicate only in truth.  They know no other way.  That’s why so many of us see them as a reprieve from the sometimes confusing, sometimes harsh world.  When we become free of the need to act in constant defense of being manipulated, we can begin to be free to be ourselves.

And that’s the real freedom we get from horses, and why I do things that people sometimes don’t understand in order to preserve my relationship with them.

EQUINE GUIDED MEDITATION: When Your Horse Whispers to You...

EQUINE GUIDED MEDITATION:

When Your Horse Whispers To You..     

    

Originally published in Horse Directory, August 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Bella is affectionate, but on her terms. She
teaches us to create and respect boundaries
to keep our space safe to be ourselves

I have been known to elicit an uneasy, forced smile or two when describing my horses as meditation facilitators.  I understand, as meditation was once, to me, part of a hocus-pocus world of learned men with a hyper-developed spirituality that I didn’t see myself fitting into.  I have since revised that opinion.

It is often said to fledgling students of spirituality that where prayer is asking a question of, or petitioning a higher power, meditation is listening for the answer.  The rub, many of us find, is creating the space in which our minds can become quiet enough to hear those answers when they are proffered.

I have been fortunate to have had my eyes opened wide enough to discover that environment, forty steps from the back door of our home.  In the barn, often after the evening feeding, I will

Lola helps to create a space where we feel safe, loved
and trusted.

unfold a chair and sit under the ceiling fan and perhaps read a paragraph or two from a book of daily readings that always help to stimulate reflection.  The soft summer sounds of stall fans, crickets, and the methodical munching of hay waft through the gentle breeze and pull me into a simpler time and a comfort that I knew more intimately in my youth.

With my horses surrounding me, I feel needed, trusted, loved and appreciated.  We never have misunderstandings because we don’t use words to communicate.  It is the safest place I know, and it always seems that my mind can open up there because it not busy defending itself from anything.

It has made itself ready to accept direction from the universe and no matter the size of the perplexing problem of the day, the answers, it seems, always come.

Have I slipped over the edge and now taken to deifying my horses?  I don’t think so, but I do believe that a force in the universe, by whatever name we individually like to call such a power, provided me with horses as a way to open a path of communication with that force.  This is just another of the many unexpected gifts I have received since making a commitment fifteen years ago to take three riding lessons which I thought at the time was a reasonable investment to become a horse riding expert!

My ignorance at the time was a gift, because had I been even minutely aware of the degree to which horses would ultimately take over my life, I would have been afraid to pursue it. I would not

Our horses work to keep their space safe for each
other as well as for us. Bella comforts Lola after a  mild injury.

have been able to commit to something that I had known would ultimately change the whole fiber of my being, even though it was for the better.  What I could commit to was three riding lessons.

Lessons went from frustrating to rewarding, which led to more lessons, which led to discovering different disciplines and even more lessons.  Rather than “graduating” from riding lessons, I found that the more knowledge and experience I acquired, it served more to highlight the scope of what I still didn’t know.  My own experiences mirrored what I was to later read in this popular quote:

“Riding horses is not a gentle hobby to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire.  It is a grand passion.  It seizes a person whole, and once it has done so he/she will have to accept that his life will be radically changed.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

It took time to accept of the role of my horses in developing my spiritual self as even more important than their role in transportation, recreation or competition.  The time was well spent.  In my barn, I have a peaceful mind.  I believe that what is meant for me, I will find. My horses have created the environment where that is possible.

 

DannyBoy, a physical giant if not a spiritual one, provides needed comic relief lest things get too serious...

PHASES

PHASES     

Originally published in Horse Directory  July, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

I paused to reflect today, Father's Day, after sharing a short ride with the child I've shared all of my horsey accomplishments with. She has her own child now, so we are entering a new phase of life around Dreamcatcher Farm. It occurred to me that just like the rest of my life, my horse life has had many phases. They seem distinct when viewed separately but mostly they have been woven by time into a fabric that provides the backdrop of my horse life.

Lola greets Daniel to her world, with new mom Sam..

The beginning phase was really just being exposed to horses, in my case as a middle-aged adult, and feeling that unmistakable pull that I perhaps didn't really understand but can now spot instantly when I see it happening in others.

For me, you might say that the next phase was obsession. The pull of horses was at it's peak, and all attempts to maintain the illusion of self-control were fruitless. Every spare moment, it seemed, was spent learning about or experiencing things horsey. Friends were starting to wonder...

A couple of years later I guess I dove in head first and took my family with me. We sold our house in a small beach community that we had made just how we wanted, and started over in a much older home with some land in a horse friendly area not far away. We built a barn, a ring and paddocks and adopted our first horse, followed by another soon after. Non-horse people that we knew were polite, but quietly concerned now.

The author assumes a new duty at the farm.

The years leading up to being horse- and barn-owners were filled with lessons designed so that we could find our niche, which for Samantha and I ended up being jumpers and eventing. After getting our first horses and building the barn, I took a little break from lessons, focusing mainly on fun stuff like trail rides, group events, costume rides... things that answered the call of any excuse to get on a horse and go. I don't really remember if I thought that I was done with lessons or not, at the time. But this phase was really just another lesson.  "Time in the saddle is what you need now," my first instructor had told me.  By the time I owned a barn and some horses, I thought that I was past that phase, but really I was smack in the middle of it.

As Sam's riding progressed and she became engaged in competition on her own horse, my focus shifted to supporting her riding, while riding  enough to keep my own legs and horses in shape, more or less.  During that time we also did some equine trekking both here and abroad. But mostly that phase was characterized by trekking to lessons several times a week, and weekend horse shows with the alarm screaming its demand for a 4:00 am wakeup. That era ended with her leaving for college, with my duties then diminished to transporting her horse halfway across the country twice a year, and attempts at encouragement via text message.

During this time I entered a phase that I would have skipped if given the choice, but that would have been an unfortunate series of lessons to miss out on. My own horse became severely ill, and I learned that the road to wellness for a sick horse is very much a partnership between owner and the veterinary team. It was a sometimes frightening, sometime crushing and other times rewarding emotional roller coaster that I was learning to ride in my reluctant pursuit of horsemanship, as opposed to merely riding. These were skills and a temperament that I would need desperately in the future that was yet to unfold.

As my sick horse, Buddy, got better, it became evident that he would be serving a purpose other than riding, going forward. We acquired a younger horse and began training once again. Buddy took on the role of teaching an arrogant young gelding some manners, and he was well suited to his new role. Meanwhile, I found that I had missed those early morning wakeups and the excitement of competition that I had been backstage for up until now. The time seemed right to take the stage myself, and so I did. We enjoyed a couple of years of moderate success at the lower levels of eventing and jumpers, and moreover discovered an array of tools to combat things like stage fright and frustration and learned the value of goal setting to accomplish more that we would have thought ourselves capable of. I carried these tools out of the arena with me, and they made a positive difference in my personal and professional life.

All of the things, physical and mental, that I had learned to that point were called upon when my next challenge was to be faced: the rehabilitation and subsequent retraining of a racehorse who we had adopted and who ended up having been injured just two weeks prior to our taking her home under circumstances where her history and condition had been masked and not accurately communicated. Although frustrated, we had all of the tools available, including the somewhat newly honed ability to know when to ask for help.  In doing so, we found our real niche in the horse world which enabled us to experience the rewards of teaching a horse to do something completely different from what she had been trained to do, made possible by finding the right mentor from whom to learn those skills.  I found that my most cherished ribbon was the one we had earned in a class that I had trained her for myself.  

We wind up now, back at the point where we had started: with the reason for this little mental exercise and trot down memory lane, a little one-month old boy named Daniel. The child of the child we hauled to all of those horse shows. I can't wait to tell him everything that I have learned about horses. Will he be interested? Maybe he will, and maybe he won't. 

But maybe he will...

BREAKING FREE

BREAKING FREE:

How a Horse Delivered Me From the Bondage of Self

By Tom Gumbrecht                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Originally published in Horse Directory,  June, 2014

There is a quotation penned on the whiteboard of our barn, or more accurately, a derivation of one written by someone named Lao Tzu that reads. “He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty.” I had read this before, but it took a long time for me to begin to understand it and I’m certain I still don’t, fully. When I began to understand it is when I put it up on the board, because of its importance to my training (and my life) and how my horses helped me to understand it.

The author with DannyBoy at Equus Valley Horse Trials

I first thought that conquering self was about only self-control, about discipline, about will power. For me, the idea developed further into being about the deconstruction of the image of self that I had created. That image existed in my mind and it was a handsome one, but not terribly accurate. It consisted mainly of who I thought I was, or who thought I could have been if not for the endless obstacles placed in my path by others. I worked on maintaining the image, and it could have possibly existed forever if I had never been exposed to a horse.

I was gifted not especially with talent, but with an almost insatiable appetite for learning when it came to my middle-aged introduction to horses.  I had two trainers at the same time (perhaps would not do that again), rode at literally every opportunity and bought and read every book from every horse trainer, rider, clinician, and horsey philosopher I could find. And still, excellence eluded me. What I became was confused.

In other areas of life, I had become a master of the concept of “fake it ‘til you make it.” In some pursuits, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Acquire some concepts, some jargon and some contacts, let that open a few doors, gain some exposure and acceptance and pick up knowledge through osmosis.  Not so with horses, I was to find out. You can’t fake it with a horse (unless, of course, the horse is in on it) and thereby lay the source of my frequent frustration.  I can present the best façade imaginable, one that may work wonders with some humans and yet the horse would see right past them. The horse, I was to find, responds only to the true self, the true me.  My hope for anything modestly resembling success on horseback required that I first acknowledge, accept, and become familiar with my true self.

I had to turn my gaze inward. Much of what I had yet to learn did not exist in books and found that I didn’t

The author with DannyBoy, leaning to let
go and let the horse do his job.

need to study and master the intellectual concepts of my lessons.  Rather I needed feel them in my fingertips, my calves, my heel, my seat.  My legs would remember what my brain could not comprehend.  It was a new way to learn, and at times frightening.  I had sought to master the horse, and now the horse was my teacher.  My ego, which I assumed had bolstered the little bit of professional recognition I had managed to acquire, was no longer an attribute.  In fact it was a liability, because the horse did not acknowledge or respond to it. The horse knew the real me, and was waiting for me to honestly present it. Perhaps that was the frightening part..

A point came where I found myself struggling with lessons from a teacher who challenged me as no other had. This teacher was a mare who had known nothing but the racetrack and the paddock in my backyard; I began to think that I would never have the level of expertise needed to be successful riding her. But expertise was not what she wanted. She wanted honesty. As she became more fit, I became more overwhelmed and fearful, and rode defensively.  The toughest thing was to admit that, but admitting it was the key.  My trainer had created an environment where it was safe to be 100% honest, and I felt no need to hide my fear. Once I did, we restructured and went back to the point where we had been successful and built from there yet again. Soon we were past the point at which we were once stuck, because someone was able to help me interpret what my horse needed of me.

This I know:  the process of knowing myself has been an incredible adventure, made possible by the many horses I have had the privilege of working with. They have all been my teachers; yet as valuable as it has been to have learned to know myself, I have been especially fortunate to have experienced glimpses of the next dimension:  overcoming myself.

It would not be honest to claim consistency in this concept, but I have tasted it and my appetite to pursue it has been whetted: to enter an arena and for a moment in time, totally and completely give myself over to my horse, to leave my ego at the gate, to trust completely. I have experienced that level of synergy if for a moment, and it has shown me what it is possible to achieve by a magnificent animal’s uncanny ability to remove me from the self which at a point only selves to inhibit and not propel.

Lola- learning partnership from a beautiful soul..

What lofty goals will I achieve, having learned these concepts? Well… the concepts are still for me somewhat elusive but in a way I may have already achieved my goals. I have learned that there are bigger things than the self, and the biggest rewards in life as in riding, come when the self is in the background rather than the foreground.  This is not a remarkable concept for many; it was for me, and it took a horse to teach it in a way that I could accept it.

BACK ON TRACK

BACK ON TRACK                         
Originally published in Horse Directory                                                      April, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Lola allowed the author to hitch his
cart to her star..

The tedium of the blue funk that befell us and called itself the winter of 2014 was interrupted for a day last month when a crew of young filmmakers from Savannah took over our barn for a few hours, turning the frozen tundra of paddocks into a backdrop for a small segment of an independent film about ex-racehorses. They had come to see my Lola, and learn about her story.

After several hours of shooting in sub-freezing temperatures, we adjourned to a local restaurant with the crew to thaw out and share a meal and some insight into the background of director Kara Colvin, her hopes for the film, and the challenges she has faced in creating the feature length documentary called Back On Track that has become her mission.

Tom Gumbrecht: Where do you live now, and have you always lived there?

Kara Colvin: I currently live in Savannah, GA but I grew up in Tallahassee, FL.

TG: How long have you been interested in horses? When did you get your first horse?

KC: For as long as I can remember, I have always loved horses. They are the most incredible animals to me. I always watched Black Beauty and The Black Stallion, I drew horses at every chance I could get and, of course, my room was filled to the capacity with Breyer horses and stuffed animal horses. I was just one of those little girls who was struck with the horse-addict bug and it has been a part of me ever since.

On my 13^th birthday my parents bought me my first and only horse: Jake, an off the track thoroughbred.

TG: How did you get interested in OTTBs? Can you tell me something special about your OTTB?

KC: My first real trainer always had OTTBs at her barn. That’s how I met Jake. I began riding on all sorts...of horses when I first started off. You know, those ancient fat quarter horses that will maybe take two steps if you use every inch of your being to make them move. I really didn’t mind, it made my education as a rider very diverse. I rode all sorts of horses: Tennessee walkers, Arabians, warmbloods, a dinky fat pony named Ashes, but I truly loved the thoroughbreds. I loved the power and grace they had, also their never-ending courage and will to please.

Jake is the smartest horse I have ever met. In all my years and experience with a variety of breeds, I have never met a horse as intelligent as him. Because of this, he has always been a challenge and the perfect horse to learn and grow with. He also loves salty snacks!

Director Kara Colvin, Dir. of Photography Colt Morton,
the author and Lola.
Photo by assistant Jasmine Hughes.

TG: Where do you go to school, and how did you choose film making as a potential career?

KC: I go to Savannah College of Art and Design. I graduated in 2013 with a 4.0 GPA and a BFA in Film & Television with a minor in Cinema Studies. I am now completing my Cinema Studies masters in a fast-paced yearlong program at SCAD and plan to graduate in summer 2014…

…Film was not my immediate interest at SCAD. I started off in painting, then illustration, interior design, and then production design for a moment and then to film. I’m very happy with my end decision and I wouldn’t trade what I’m doing now for anything in the world. Cinema had always been a portion of my life; I just had not accepted that it was the perfect outlet for my creative and ambitious aspirations.

TG: How did you decide to do a documentary about OTTBs? One you decided, what was your first step?

KC: Well, SCAD is not focused on documentaries. They are definitely a narrative-based school. There is one required documentary class. I was always interested in directing but I think that since the school was filled with “prodigies” in directing, I was certainly intimidated to make an effort towards my aspirations. I was very shy when I arrived at SCAD and stuck with production design.

I wanted to do something about retired racehorses but I wasn’t sure what I could accomplish…. Back on Track was born and the class fully supported my idea. I created the short over the span of a year and a half….  then started thinking about making Back on Track into a feature after the short was accepted and won the Silver Award at National Geographic’s Grey’s Reef Film Festival.

When creating the short the first step was contacting everyone I knew from my past that I rode with/knew about OTTBs, research and creating a story/script….. ..I also took on a new level of confidence, courage and determination that I needed to accomplish growing as a director. The first steps were not easy, but necessary for the position I am at now.

TG: What has been your biggest challenge in shooting Back On Track? What was your biggest disappointment? What about the process has been most rewarding?

KC: ….. There is not a part of Back on Track that is not challenging or a learning experience.

DannyBoy, not to be upstaged, tries to charm director
Kara Colvin

This is a large feature-length film that incorporates countless organizations/professionals from FL, VA, PA, MD, DC, CA, NY, SC, NC, KY and OH. It is difficult, and not many people realize how much time, money, effort and determination it takes to create this project. I have to thank my crew endlessly for their dedication and energy they put forth towards the project. They are not being paid; it is exhausting to be on a set for 12 plus hour days with minimal breaks and intense labor. They do it because they love the film and the message we are sending out. I could not do this without them.

Biggest disappointment: Well, there have been a lot. Like with any set, things don’t always go to plan –documentaries in particular. You can’t always plan for what will happen. One of my biggest disappointments was when we were not able to make a trip to see a 2-day show that we were looking forward to. Issues came up and I could not plan a trip around some of the complications. We were disappointed but the biggest setback was the negativity and insults we received from that group for not making the journey.

The most rewarding part: Is having the opportunity to create this film! I have never seen so much passion and love before. Everyone that I have met has such devotion towards thoroughbreds. The people who dedicate their lives to OTTBs deserve a chance to be recognized. It has been truly amazing and a humbling experience.

I also was fortunate enough to have the chance to create Albie. Albie is one of the stories from our trips. It revolves around a woman, Lori, who has had multiple brain surgeries and an off the track thoroughbred, Albie. Together they have helped heal each other’s emotional, mental and physical ailments and create an unbreakable bond.

TG: What is something that would surprise the average person about what goes into making a documentary? What is the most important quality for the director of a documentary to possess?

KC: It is a lot of work, stressful, very expensive and life-consuming but completely worth it. Documentary filmmaking is art, entertainment and information all in the form of a picture. There is a lot of responsibility that comes with being a documentary filmmaker. It is your choice to create an accurate story and/or depiction of your subject matter.

As a young director, I still have an endless education and learning experiences ahead of me that will probably sculpt this answer better than what I am about to say now. I believe the most important quality for a director of a documentary to possess is passion. You cannot create a work of love without a true passion for the subject matter as well as filmmaking as a whole.

Lori White on Albie, with Suzanne Liscouski
on location at Briar Creek Farm in Virginia.

TG: What is the ultimate result that you would like to see accomplished as result of making this film?

KC: Our goal is to promote aftercare for off the track thoroughbreds once their racing careers are over, promote responsible horse ownership and breeding, secure a unified racing government that has universal regulations for all racing states, support regulations on drugs in racing, showcase off the track thoroughbreds as versatile horses for any and all disciplines after their track days are over and support the organizations who care for off the track thoroughbreds and give them second careers and/or homes.

Thoroughbreds are wonderful, athletic, intelligent, caring, brave, powerful and beautiful creatures. I am dedicating my life to this film in the hopes of creating a difference for them. I owe Jake everything, for his love and support as my best friend and riding partner for half my life. This film was started because of him and every time I get discouraged, I think about him and how much he means to me. All off the track thoroughbreds deserve a second chance and a second life beyond the track. There are so many organizations and professionals who deserve to be recognized for their dedication to the sport and to thoroughbred aftercare.

I support thoroughbreds on and off the track and I hope this film makes a difference in the future of the sport of kings. It is time to get thoroughbred racing and off the track thoroughbreds back on track.

Our day on and off the set of Back On Track left us totally impressed with the

Lola. Original drawing by Casey Brister.

competence, integrity, focus and passion of the young filmmakers who had graced our backyard farm gates. As we parted company, we were left with a feeling of warmth and confidence that the future of Off-Track Thoroughbreds has been gifted with some very talented and concerned advocates.

It is said that people are opinions and horses are the truth. Back On Track, ultimately, is about the horses.

Learn more about Back On Track:
backontrackdocumentary.com