I didn't always want a buckle.
In fact, there was a time when I didn't even know what a belt buckle was. And there was a time when I knew what one was, but didn't have any desire to win one.
Everything has changed.
I started riding in the 4M Ranch rodeos last fall. I heard about them in Off 68 and talked to Mark Mackenzie, owner of the ranch, on the phone. I told him all about my riding history--the twenty plus years spent riding English, and how my recent switch to western landed me in the reined cowhorse discipline for a few years. Mark's rodeos would have barrels, poles, keyhole, and other speedwork which I had never competed in before, much less even tried before.
I went to Mark's practice night the Wednesday before the first rodeo. This was Fall of 2009. I met his daughter, Peaches, a totally sweet and down-to-earth cowgirl in her twenties. She gave me some pointers but I was super hesitant. I barely cantered the obstacles, and even forfeited several chances to practice, shying away in the shadows of the arena. "You go ahead, my horse doesn't like this saddle," I would say, making sure I didn't have to embarrass myself in front of the crowd of ten fellow competitors. I don't know why I sequestered myself so; the group was friendly, and they were all pretty much beginners, too. I suppose it was painful to be doing something new in front of so many watching eyes.
The four rodeos that fall went quite well. My mare, Ally, proved to be quite the master at speed barrels, a pattern which involved three barrels in a straight line, creating a weave pattern for the horse to gallop through, then turn around and weave back through to home. We entered the intermediate class each rodeo, always placing top three in each event. However, I missed one rodeo, can't remember why, so my overall points for the buckle weren't as high as they could have been. Overall for the series, we took Reserve Champion at speed barrels, an accomplishment which left me with an ear-to-ear grin.
I told myself, if we did that well attending three out of four rodeos, maybe we could win the buckle next year. Just maybe...
And so here we are. Fall 2010. I have attended two of the four rodeos at 4M Ranch. And so far, so good.
At the first rodeo, I decided to enter the advanced category. All day I placed second or third behind some barrel-racing bitch (okay, that wasn't nice, but she really smoked us all-- I think she's practically a pro or something). And Cam Watkins was also a speed demon and really good at the cattle sorting. I placed third all-around at the end of the day. There were a few others in the advanced group, too, but we were always faster than them.
At the second rodeo, the barrel racing girl didn't show up (yay!) and Cam brought her young horse to school him (double yay!). And to increase my chances of winning, I brought Tyler that day, my gelding who is infamous for his lightning-speed gallop. The only other competitor in the advanced category was a gal on her mule. I thought for sure I had it in the bag.
But that damn mule can run.
Tyler and I flew around the barrels, flew around the poles, snatching first place ribbons in both events. Piece of cake, I thought. At keyhole, that damn mule ran it in 6.99 seconds. What!?! I couldn't believe my ears. Nobody had broken seven seconds. It was my turn with Tyler. We hauled ass down to the keyhole, slammed on the brakes, spun the haunches, and whipped back around to the gate. "7.25 seconds" Peaches announced over the loudspeaker. Damn.
That's okay, that's okay. You can let one point get away. You can afford to take second here and there.
The next race was birangle. The mule was quick, nimble, fleeting. But I felt confident we could beat her. We took our run, flying around the first pole. Tyler was taking it wide. Why is he going so wide? I thought. He seemed to be crow-hopping. Oh no, we're wasting precious seconds way out here. Get closer to the pole! Move it! He finally gained his footing and fled to the next pole, then finished the pattern at top speed. As we headed out the gate, a familiar unevenness quavered beneath my saddle. He was lame. Like hopping on three feet sort of lame. There were two more events I would have to forfeit.
I sauntered up to tell Peaches the bad news. She gave me her condolences, then suddenly exclaimed, "Wait! You can ride my horse!" I jumped at the offer, honored that she would offer her new horse for me to ride.
Karma was his name. Fitting, given the circumstances I was under. I could have brought my mare, Ally, the one that has been by my side for the past seven years, through thick and thin, the one I hauled all the way to Colorado for the bonding experience of a lifetime at the all-acclaimed Parelli center. But that morning, at the last minute, I chose Tyler because I thought he would be faster. Greedy me. And now, Karma was mine, in more ways than one.
And to boot, Karma the horse was incredibly lazy.
Goat tying was next, my absolute worst event. I hate trying goats. I hate catching them and flinging them on the ground. I hate their horns in my leg and their pitiful little "baa" as I wrap three feet of rope around their protesting legs.
I cantered Karma down there and took my sweet time, not on purpose, but because I wanted the damn rope to stay put so I wouldn't D.Q. We finished just under 50 seconds. The mule lady: 20-something seconds. The tortoise meets the hare. Ugh..... (and Cam did it in like 30 seconds, so I took third).
Finally, cattle sorting. I scored first, mostly because I spurred the hell out of poor Karma and ripped her cheeks off so she'd stay with the cow. The mule lady took second and Cam and her horse took third.
I thanked Karma and Peaches and slumped into the truck, grabbing my iphone to use the calculator. I tallied up my points. 58. That had to be enough to take daily high point, right?. I knew the mule lady's points, and so, competitive little me went at it, plugging her points into the calculator only to be overcome with dread. 59.
I learned a lot of lessons that day: 1. I am more competitive than I thought, 2. My horse Ally is by far the better choice for me, 3. Belt buckles can be really hard to win, 4. Now I have even more belt buckle envy and 5. I need to practice, practice, practice!
And so, the next rodeo is October 23rd. Game on, mule lady!
