In spite of less-than-ideal preparations for my second triathlon (including a bum back, hot weather and a birthday celebration involving a staggering number of carbs), I had a really fun day. I had a less-than-stellar swim (in which I learned not to take my strong suit for granted!), but still had the fastest swim of my group. My bike felt AWESOME, which I'm so excited about because I've really been training hard for it.

Two weeks ago my friends Sheryl and Margaret asked me if I would be the test ride for Morven Park's advanced combined test division, a combination of three- and four-star riders who didn't want to run cross-country. A test ride is done at a lot of the bigger championship events to help the judges get calibrated with each other; they judge the test ride and then chat, and then they're "warmed up," as it were, for the first "real rider." I'd get all dressed up and ride the four-star test and be on my merry way.

I'm not a terribly spiritual person, but sometimes the Universe shouts so loudly it's hard to ignore. This was one of those weeks.

When Cleo sustained the injury that would end her career and, as of today, her life, my vet, Dr. Kent Allen, told me that the average time from diagnosis to euthanasia was two years. That was the summer of 2009. Cleo was never one to go down without a fight.

But I won't know whether she'll take euthanasia easily, because I won't be there. 

Here in Virginia, summer gave us one last beastly hoorah with a few days in the 90s before gifting us a beautiful weekend to head off to Morven Park for the last show before our Regional Finals in October. What was supposed to be a little outing for us turned into 12 horses, but everyone rode great, and our results spoke for themselves.