Blogger Lauren Sprieser

Anyone who knows me or who's been following this blog for a while knows that pretty much whenever I'm scheduled to go down a centerline, some sort of cataclysmic weather event is sure to occur. And the Derby was no different. Sorry, everyone—my bad.

Dark clouds and gale force winds were the name of the morning, flags whipping around, trees practically sideways. I couldn't hear a thing Michael was saying to me in the warm-up, but fortunately it didn't matter, because Midge was amazing. Focused, calm and cool. Didn't even flinch at the weather. Who is this guy?

12:20 a.m. I'm wide awake, in spite of my usual pre-show ritual of two Tylenol PM. I'm not a nervous competitor, but I do get a little excited before shows, and since I'm not a good sleeper on my best day, I believe in better living through modern chemistry. But it's not working tonight. That's probably because I'm not only riding Midge in what is basically the biggest show he's ever done in about 12 hours, but also because I then have to bolt from the show to be on Fender for his USEF Young Horse Training Session, and I have no idea how I'll have the time. DQ problems, guys.

This weekend is the Palm Beach Dressage Derby, one of my absolute favorite shows. I love it for a few reasons, First, it is BIG, like 40 in the CDI Grand Prix and oodles more in the national division big. Second, it is an airy and beautiful facility. And last but not least, it is a mile down the road.

In December, only weeks after the last shows of the calendar year in Virginia, I'm already thinking about the next year. This is not so easy, considering the regional omnibuses don't come out until much later, sometimes not until just a few weeks before the first shows.

Midge is easy-peasy for me to ride, always has been. He just makes sense to me. Ella has never made sense to me, but I've spent a disproportionate chunk of my lesson budget on her, and it's getting better every day. They're making wonderful progress, and I see the path before them.

And then there's Fender.

The competition breathing down the back of your neck can be one heckofa motivator.

Midge and I were all set to leave Wednesday for the Global Dressage Festival, the new dressage showgrounds in Wellington, for their second show. Then we got an email Tuesday night saying that the grounds would not be open Wednesday; instead, they'd open Thursday at 6 am. That would be about four and a half hours before I was scheduled to go down centerline.

The reason? More drama from those fighting against the facility. 

Yes, Florida is sunny and warm and pleasant, a veritable Mecca for equestrians—everyone who's anyone is here, with the big shows and the big hullaballoo. But what the literature on Wellington fails to mention is that Florida is also a holy land for all sorts of skin-eating nastiness. My seasons here have given me a few lotions and potions in my arsenal to both try to prevent crud and to combat it once it's reared its ugly head.

I can't really be self-righteous, since my first feelings towards Midge were not so magnanimous. But the list of people who told me that Midge would never amount to anything is long. A "project horse," one said. "He'll top out at first level. Get rid of him," said another.

Even Michael was skeptical in the beginning: "He's so cart-y. I don't know if the judges will buy it," he said.

But Midge did his first Grand Prix level test yesterday, on a 73.25 percent, with a 10 on gaits. How 'bout them apples?

Greetings from a Jet Blue Airbus 320, from Dulles to Fort Lauderdale. I am returning to the Sunshine State from my first weekend home to teach, and I am seated next to a child with no volume control. I am blogging so I don't throttle the little beast.

It's official! Midge is incredible. (That's been official for years, actually.) But what's really official is that he's going to be a Big Tour horse—we've entered his first I2 in mid-February, and he'll do the Developing Horse Grand Prix test at a schooling show two weekends before. Wahoo!!