(no subject)
Ride hard while you still have this enthusiasm, cuz it’s gonna get harder.
The way most of these guys talk you’ll have days when you’re starving so bad you want to give up. I don’t know about that personally; I was anorexic for six years (and to be completely honest I was stronger, faster, and smarter when I was starved; I was edgey and moody as fuck, but I was sharp) so the idea of hunger doesn’t phase me much, but I’ve been pretty fortunate to not have had trouble with my weight since I’ve been a rider. It really is good to be a girl. But the starving isn’t the hard part, I guarantee you.
For me the politics and saying the right things to people in order to hustle mounts is pretty difficult. I struggle with my morals a lot, too, because, as you’ll come to find out, most trainers’ horses really don’t like this much and most of them get hurt and keep hurting worse and worse until they quit or die thanks to those very trainers. But neither of those things is really the hard part either.
The riding itself is a pretty big challenge; a lot harder than the good riders who get all the good horses make it look like. But you stay the course and that, too, will come in time.
The hard part is something else. Not fear, per say, although that can be a monster in it’s own right. Getting your confidence killed is more like it. You take a few really good falls in a row and you’ll know what I mean. Get a bad case of seconditis. Or fourthitis or lastitis, as the case may be. Start to question whether it’s all the crap horses you keep getting on because they’re all you can get, or if it’s just you making them lose races. Doubt. Doubt is the hard part.
I like to think I’m just getting hit with these hard lessons early so I can get through them and go on with the knowledge I gain from them. That I won’t just keep sucking forever, although at the rate I’m going I guess one must wonder sometimes. Here’s hoping, anyway.
It’s a hard life. People looking at it from the outside must wonder what the appeal is. But once it’s got you your heart beats for it. Not for the thrill or the challenge or the glory or the love of the horses or whatever it was that drew you to it initially. Something else. Defies reason. And then you can’t imagine any other life.
No life besides running from track to track, hungry, broke, cold, lonely. Drugs, booze, sex and other temptations, usually whichever one you’re most susceptible to, lurking around every corner, waiting to distract you and throw you off track. Watching whatever personal relationships you manage to develop end with every season that passes. Watching your favorite horses get stolen by some other jock’s agent or claimed away to some far off track or worse… Letting the sport brutalize your body and soul and swearing it off for good right up until you start feeling better at which point you start to miss it and miss it badly and think “Maybe just try it one more season,” seemingly a rite of passage to a rider. Then waiting your whole life for that One Big Horse to lift you from strife and obscurity, losing time until you’re prematurely old, crippled and crazy like more than half the trackies. Like more than half the horses. And, like them, you will never realize it’s happened to you.
An addiction. An addiction as dangerous as any drug and yet healthier in spite of it’s often injurious and not infrequently fatal effects, simply because a drug is not a passion. A drug is a yoke, not a means. You are it’s slave, not it’s partner. A drug is a set of concrete sneakers in deep water; racing is a chance.
It’s a chance, and every race might be your last, so if you're gonna ride, ride hard.
***
Not that I’m the one who ought to be advising anyone, as the worst jockey at a cheap track. Made about every mistake there is in a short period of time, but maybe you won‘t repeat them if I pass along what little I do know.
Claim your damned bug when you get licensed even if you can’t make the weight at the time or you don't know that there's no bug on a quarterhorse, for one. It will save you from getting on a lot of the junk that‘ll hurt you. There is no bug on a quarterhorse, by the way.
Stay focused. Whatever you do, stay away from the opposite sex, at least until you get yourself established; love is absolutely the worst influence there is on your decision-making skills in my limited experience. I’m told that drugs are worse but I have no interest in finding this out for myself.
Good nutrition always beats starving. I know we all have to draw weight one time or another, but if you want to have anything left of your body or mind at middle-age, trust me on this.
Develop your people skills, and be loyal to those who deserve it. Be mindful of the company you keep and of the fact that there are eyes on you even when you're off the clock.
Tuck and roll. Try not to land anywhere in the vicinity of any horse, especially if you come off in traffic or if your horse goes down. Do not hesitate when it's time to bail.
Love your horses. Listen to your horses. Never forget that he's looking to you for leadership, and if you fail to give it to him he will take matters under his own control and you will probably not like it when this happens. Do not be timid or indecisive if you can help it, even when you're scared. Especially when you're scared.
Courage is not the absence of fear.
Good luck. Safe trip.