Tristan has been barefoot most of his life. His dalliance with shoes was directly connected to his coffin bone injury, and that was only about 18 months all told, many of them in glue ons.

I only have one pair of his shoes. They’re winter shoes, appropriately enough. They have borium heel studs and rubber rims to prevent snowball formation.

I’ve had them on my nightstand for the better part of two years, trying to decide what to do with them. Last night, after hanging some artwork in my office, I finally figured it out.

I’ll hang them just like that, in that spot. Right side up, because I’m not superstitious and think they look stupid upside down.

Here’s what I can’t decide: do I keep the rubber rims in them? On the one hand, the look is very meh. On the other hand, I’m a completist.

What would you do?

I’m still not okay. I’m way more okay than a lot of people. I’m white, middle class, cisgender, straight, employed, pretty mentally and physically healthy, and all sorts of other things that give me bucketloads of privilege. I am so keenly aware of that.

Like any woman, I’ve experienced my share of sexual harassment and assault, and the worst of those incidents have been running through my brain on a loop for some time now. Now on top of the video loop is a chorus of people sneering at me, telling me it was my fault, that they can’t wait to do that to other women and to hurt other people. It hurts a lot and my brain is not coping terribly well with it.

Yesterday, on my day off, I only intended to do one or two sheets of drywall to keep plugging away at a house project, and I couldn’t stop. It made sense. It was occasionally vexing, but it was not difficult or complicated. Measure, cut, hang, screw. Do it again. See clear progress. I just kept going.

So I didn’t get to the barn until 7pm. I hadn’t ridden in a week, because – clear signs of depression, ahoy – I didn’t want to.

I went just thinking that I would sit on him. I didn’t do that. I forced my hands to pick up a longe line, and after five minutes I couldn’t. So I checked all of the gates and doors in the indoor, unclipped the longe line, and we ran around together for 30 minutes.

Tristan was really happy to bomb around. We jogged next to each other, and played tag, and he took off bucking and farting and even, once, adorably, squealing. He rolled and rolled and then came up to me blinking pathetically to ask me to brush the dust off his face. We worked on body language, me directing him from place to place, and on proper free longeing as he worked in a circle around me.

Once he’d cracked his back with a few good bucks, he showed off a lovely floating trot and his walk opened up, which made me feel marginally better about my benign neglect. I mean, he still has shit for a topline, but he is not actually suffering.

It was a good way to spend some time. I smiled and even laughed once or twice. We both needed that.

Your regularly scheduled blog content is on hold while I spend the next few days knocking on doors in New Hampshire to try and prevent fascism.

(Translation: canvassing for Hillary Clinton)

see you on the the other side of the war.

OH HELL YES.

I commented on Emma’s blog last week that my Week 3 time was 3:05, and that I was going to shoot for the moon and try for 5:00 as my final time.

Well.

5:12, baby!

Yeah, I know that’s pathetic, and it probably won’t win me anything, but I don’t care. I’m actually pretty damn pleased with it.

Next up…no stirrup November!

Before I get to other blogs: 2pointober update!

Last night’s logged time was…

Some blog posts this week.

Fair Hill Part 1: Brain Dead from The $900 Facebook Pony
Really really good read & thinking about what makes a good event horse.

My mother the equestrian from Hand Gallop
This was really lovely.

Middlebury Equestrian
My undergrad team has a blog!

Sponsored Image from Equestrian at Hart
Really good thinking, especially in light of Marilyn Little’s recent bloody escapades. Do a sponsored rider’s actions influence your view of a company’s products?

Your non-horsey read for the week, about the power of history and thoughtful conversation and kindness and the strength of exposure to different points of view: The White Flight of Derek Black. [triggery for white supremacism]

I am traveling for work, which has the simultaneous effect of making me feel fat and lazy (road food!) while also making me exhausted. Also, I have worked 12+ hours every day this week, so no horse content.

Have a pretty rainy Vermont road instead.

Last year, I failed spectacularly and did not make it through the finish flags. This year, I have renewed determination and also like 15 extra pounds that I want to get rid of, so BRING IT ON.

I did my baseline last night on a particularly spunky Tristan who only needed minor beating to stay in the trot for the length of it, so, drumroll: