Manifolds, Manolos, and Manure It's Our Starting Line. Our Arena. And How Well we Play is up to Me.
Nearly five years ago, a ball of mane and tail bounced his way into our lives. Our veterinarian referred to him as “old-fashioned”. He is on the shorter side. Stocky. Thick. And fluffy.
Pizzazz Me Only “Makoa” is technically a registered American Paint Horse. He’s the grandson of By Invitation Only, the American Quarter Horse Association’s all-time leading sire of point earners. And a great-grandson of Zippo Pine Bar, one of the most prolific pleasure horse sires in history. Most paint horses are flashy. Eye-catching. And colorful. Makoa is solid. A light chestnut complete with a white splotch on his side.
This ball of mane and tail is the younger brother no one asked for. He lives in a cloud of mischief. He opens gates. Almost cleanly soars over fences. Runs from falling leaves. And tears through the pasture until coming to a sliding stop just in time to avoid touching the electric fence. A space cadet.
Less than a year ago, our space cadet returned to the barrel arena. His time reflected a nearly two-year hiatus from racing. It also reflected the rustiness of his jockey.
Like his jockey, his eyes were not looking ahead to the next barrel. His rate point was a little off, sending him a little wide. And his lines between barrels definitely needed a little caffeine. But he went into the arena without a fuss and went to work. We hunted for barrels.
Since returning after the hiatus, he’s run nine races. And as I sit writing this column, he’s scheduled to run three more later in June. Of those nine races, seven were in his home arena. An arena he’s trained in for nearly a year. An arena he’s very comfortable in. Also the very same arena, he won his first series buckle in.
Those races in unfamiliar arenas have been mixed. In early June, he laid down a smokin’ solid time and landed a couple of spots out of the money. His May race was rough. Nerves. Lack of confidence. And inexperience were all on display as he refused to go to the third barrel. As we came out of the arena, a fellow rider looked at me and said, “Well. At least you lived.”
Um. We did more than just live. More than just survive. We took nearly two years off from the sport and returned. We not only returned but we’re consistently beating our old times and creating new “personal bests.” We’re consistently running clean patterns. And perhaps most importantly we’re happy.
Instead of viewing that race as a “Well, at least you lived” moment. It's our starting line. Our arena. And how well we play is up to my favorite space cadet and me.
Two weeks after that race, we went back. He went into the arena without fuss. He had a great line between barrels two and three. And nearly took the paint off of barrel three. Is there still work to be done? Absolutely. Is there progress being made every step of the way? Absolutely.
For our space cadet, each race will be a great time to take a moment to be proud of just how far he’s come.