Holding horse shows in November is a dangerous business. We've had rain, sleet and frost, not to mention windchills in the high 20s—a sharp twist for us in Northern Virginia, for sure, but nothing like what the folks from Texas and Florida are going through. 

But you can't not love the USDF National Finals.

Michael came down to us this weekend for a last clinic before Team Barisone heads to Florida next month. He came with a special guest—his wonderful wife Vera, also a very experienced Grand Prix rider, not to mention an absolute riot. So it was not a clinic As Usual.

Moreover, all of my horses—who were all GENIUSES last week—felt like absolute crap all of this week. Fiero felt pretty good, actually, so that's not entirely true, but Johnny, Dorian and especially Danny spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday giving me complete heart failure.

I have a love-hate relationship with the USDF National Championships. It's a great show, a ton of fun, and an honor to attend. And I know why it has to be so late in the year - so that all the regions can hold their Championships, and let participants make their plans to get to the show.

But Fiero and I are stuck in Second Level purgatory, and I'd really like to be either a) giving him some down time before Florida, or b) making our cheerful way towards Prix St. Georges.

Somewhere I have my first ride on Billy in competition on video. The video is hysterical, because the camera was set up next to the judge's booth, which was a two-horse trailer. Billy, who has been on trucks and planes, all over Europe and North America, who yells at the trailer when it leaves without him—whether to a show or the vet or the fix-it shop, he doesn't care; he's clearly supposed to be Going Places—absolutely hates being near trailers. And so the video starts with Lendon Gray, two-time Olympian and Living Legend, leading us past, because I couldn't get him by it.

Wednesday, October 1: We're zipping merrily down the road to the Region 1 Finals in Williamston, N.C., three horse trailers, seven horses, and four nice 20-somethings. Well, Kristin is 13 and I'm now 30, but I added our ages together and then divided by two. It all works out.