I love my horse

I am a lucky girl. For reals. Out of all the men in my life (and there are a few), they are all pretty good guys.

Brion got my truck starting semi-consistently this past week (yay!) so he gets a gold star and brownie points.

And, since the diesel is running again that must mean it's time for Bubba-horse to leave the house.

I had two options on Saturday. A breast cancer benefit open horse show (translation for non-horse people: no competition in the speed classes and no check when I win) 5 miles down the road and an NBHA (translation: a little more competition and a chance at a check) an hour away.

I showed up to the open show about 11. They had a great turnout and pink on everybody. Bubba and I even wore pink. I decided it would be better for both us just to lope him through at the open show and skip the NBHA. The Bubba is out of shape and hasn't been ran in almost a year and I wasn't thrilled to put more diesel in the truck. This is the part of the story where I look like a responsible horse owner.

So, while waiting for the other classes to end, I started talking (shocker) to a friend of mine. I call her Curly. She's starting to really get into barrel racing after doing open shows and pleasure for a few years and passes up no opportunity to go to the barrel races and meet people. It's all about who you know in the horse world.

Through the course of our conversation, she kept asking if I was going to Quincy. And I kept saying no.

"Bubba's out of shape."

"I don't want to put more diesel in the truck."

"I don't want to be gone from home that long."

"Call them and enter me. We'll leave after your class."

I'm a sucker. The pull, she is strong within me!

Luckily for me, the NBHA started late and we had just enough time to pay my fee, saddle and warm up before they were calling our number.

This is the part where I love my horse.

Now, Bubba and I haven't done this in a while. But, for some reason, I was not as nervous as I have been in the past. Bubba warmed up great (a little heavy on the bit but that's typical pre-run Bubba) and before you knew it, it was our turn.

We've never been to this pen before. It's deep ground, tight between the first two and a million years to the third barrel. Seriously, it was in another zip code. You had to go down a chute thing to get to the gate and as I rode Bubba over there, he just knew what that chute meant. Never been there before and he tensed and up and got just a little on the muscle, ready to go!

I love my horse. 11 months away and he remembers.

I held him to the first barrel (him switching leads every jump because I was holding him). Nice turn though he did try to fire a little soon (inside hand over the barrel kept him lined up). He spent days around 2^nd and 3^rd, grunting like a pig in that deep dirt, and flew home. Ran a 19.02. With a fast time of a 17.2, we were .2 too fast for the 4D and pretty far down the 3D ladder.

Not bad for an elephant masquerading as a horse.

I might also already be scouting the next barrel race… I gots the fever again.

The next 5 weekends are booked (out of town wedding, mud bog, NBHA World, FSU vs. North Carolina, FSU vs. Clemson) so look out November 20! I need a barrel race!

Otherwise I'll just have to go to Turkey Run the week after. O darn. ;)

I love my horse.

Week Wrap-Up: Bullet Style

Because I am feeling slovenly and lazy today, this post may or may not be in bullet form.

Since we last saw each other… which was exactly a week ago…

• The weekend was a lovely whirl of nothing (besides some excellent college football action. Go Noles!)
  
• Monday through Thursday was a blur of frustration and fatigue.
  
• If you think a certain half-Belgian, half-Alabama honky will work on the (trailer-pulling) truck that goes on the road instead of the one that goes in the mud, you are sadly mistaken. Still not sure why it took 4 days to get my truck fixed.
  
• Yesterday I felt what a 6-minute mile feels like for a quarter. I'm a speeeeed demon ya'll.
  
• Still not thrilled with my distance running ability. I did a half a mile yesterday (major conversations in my head) but it tweren't easy.
  
• And the final question: Monticello or Quincy?
  

Breaking Down Barriers a Quarter at a Time

For a complete non-runner girl (at least not running on my own two sore tired feet), mileage takes on a different cast. A quarter of a mile for a time-tested runner is nothing, the work of a minute. But, for me, every quarter is a small victory. I never thought I would be able to run one quarter without sucking wind like a jet engine.

And, today, I made it through another one.

0.75 miles at 8:11/mile!!

And I'm pretty dang stoked about it!

Prior to today, my longest nonstop run (this is embarrassing) was half a mile. I've gone a lot farther cumulatively, walking and running, but I've never been able to go farther at a run. I have an overactive brain that we are slowly burning the lazy out. It's a process that I think might kill both me and Coach. We've got 20-some-odd years of habit to break!

Today, I showed up a little apprehensive. I knew today was our "long run." Basically, Coach turns me out at the Start Tree and I run until I can't go no' mo'. I've never made it past a quarter of a mile. My brain just won't shut up! (The half was on my own just to prove that I could.)

A mile is my current "small goal." It's like a chimera in the distance taunting me. I want it so bad. So, all day I've been playing motivational speeches in my head.

You've so got this. What's another half a mile? People do it all the time! It's only two more quarters. Just shut up and run!!

And, I think to a small extent, the all-day motivational seminar worked. I got around to my previous stopping point and played the "run to the tree, now run to that tree, now run to the corner" game until I made it to the final hill. I told myself that I was going to stop at the top.

It's a big hill! Cut yourself a break!

But stubborn Jessica showed up and we kept going. On around the corner and down the hill to the Start Tree. Thank God for that stubborn streak.

I couldn't wait to hit my iPod so the Voice would tell me what I did. 8:11 people!! That's faster than my goal of 8:30 (for my race in February!)!

GO ME!!

Of course, true to form, I had an attack of the Should Haves while I was watering and resting. Should have gone a little farther, just one more quarter to that mile. The chimera continues to dance just out of reach. I could have gotten there!

But, I thought about it and you know what? I really don't care if I've could have gotten there. I don't really care if I could have done it. BIG DEAL! I'll get there! A month ago when I started this twisted little journey I never thought I would make it this far in under a 10:00 pace. Shoot, I never thought I'd make it this far period.

I'll get that mile, one step at a time.

Now I'm off to ice my left foot. Good night all.

(Did I mention I finally went ¾ of a mile??? O I did? Oops. Sorry.)

Confession is Good for the Soul

I have a confession to make. And it's a shocker. Please remove all small children from within range of this computer screen and for the love of God, sit down.

I am a lazy, lazy woman.

I know. I'm shocked too…. Wait, you already knew that from the extra 20 pounds that I tote around? Damn. Must try to hide that somehow. Isn't black supposed to be slimming? Didn't I read that somewhere?

But I digress.

Since that fateful day in August (August 16 to be precise), when I absolutely lost whatever shred of brain cells I've managed to hang onto this long and registered for the Gasparilla Distance Classic 5k in February, I have been running. Yes, running. That gait that is faster than a walk. And, in case you were wondering, under no circumstances do I jog. Ever.

And, since this is a confession post, I have another one to get off my chest.

I friggin' love it.

I do. When it's going good, when my stride is right, when my breathing is good, when the stars align and I hit the road, I am a happy girl. There is nothing on God's green Earth that is better than a good run (except riding). For me at least, it's a feeling of accomplishment. That I've pushed myself and have become an efficient, ground-covering, speed demon of a machine. It's an awesome feeling.

I started out doing the Couch to 5k thing. Intervals up and down my road. (I have since discovered that my road has hills! Who knew?!). And that was pretty cool. It is amazing how quickly the human body can adapt, especially the respiratory system. I started out with just 30 seconds of running, interspersed with 60 seconds of walking. And by the third interval, I was done. Toast. Kaput. Sucking wind and completely out of air.

But I kept at it (because I am stubborn) and, by Friday, that third interval wasn't so hard. By the second week, I had to step up my running interval because it was too easy. That has never ever happened to me before. I've never been "aired up" as the horse people say. I've always pushed too hard and quit too soon. Typical behavior for someone who isn't even patient enough to wait for sliding doors to open.

So, there I was, running along on my 3-days-a-week intervals, pretty freakin' proud of myself for even getting this far. I was on Week 4 of the Couch to 5k when this man decided he needed a new project now that he's retired and bored. And that project is me. Welcome to the world of actual training Jessica! He's got me doing stuff that I have never even heard of much less attempt! Distance runs suck (my brain won't shut up. I think I need someone to talk to.) but I have discovered my niche.

SPEEDWORK!

God, how I love running sprints. Sure, by the last one I am slow and tired and on the verge of puking, but damn I am a FAST MUTHA on the first one! POWER!!

In all actuality, I'm probably not that fast. But, when you run by yourself, you are Olympics-quick! SUCK IT SLOW PEOPLE! Berating your imaginary running competitors is fun.

So, I'm slowly progressing. Running faster is easier than running slower (take that conventional wisdom) and I'm making progress every week. Sometimes I don't see it (and am a real witch to live with. Sorry sorry to my house full of Bs.) but sometimes, like yesterday, it all comes together. Yesterday was speedwork (hallelujah) and I kicked its booty all over Coach's 25 acre spread.

The first sprint started at our Start Line (a big ol' oak tree right on the fenceline). Coach took off on his golf cart and my job was to sprint to him. Easy, right? So, Button-Dog and I are standing there at the tree watching Coach and his golf cart get farther and farther and farther away until he looked like a little speck on the horizon. He wants me to sprint HOW FAR?! He's officially lost his mind. It wouldn't be the first time I would ask him if he was suffering from dementia.

Like all sprints, I start off with a very un-girl-like grunt and off we go. And I can tell it's going to be one of "those days" when the stars align and damn this is fun! Before I know it, we've (Button and I) have passed the golf cart and are barely blowing. YEEHAW FOR ME!

This continued on for 5 more sprints (for the remaining sides of our "track" and two times up and down the top hill). The last one was sloooow (comparatively. It's probably faster than I was running on Monday.) but I made it with good form (and not too much huffing or puffing)

Then, after a decent rest period, Coach decided it was time to institute the Chase. I run, he chases me on the golf cart. While screaming. NOT my idea of fun. At all. In fact, there is a pretty strong chance that I will sull up and scream back. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to this. I don't want to scream at my Coach. He's doing this out of the goodness of his heart (because I sure can't afford him) and I know, deep down, that this will be good for me.

Coach gives me "the Look" and I'm out of here. And, maybe it was the threat of Coach catching up to me (but it was probably the fact that I just wanted to go home at that point) but I took off. Around the corner and down the hill back to the Start Tree, I ran farther and faster that I ever have before. The last 30 yards were tough (shut up brain!) but I persevered. And crossing that tree in form and quickly felt goooood.

I so got the distance run today.

Theme Song for Today

There are smiles on the faces of the people passing by
There are scars on their hearts that they hide
Faithful and fragile doubting their paths
Carry the weight of the world on their backs
I know they've got a long way to go
Yes, I know we've got a long way to go

But I know every day I'm lucky just to breathe the air I breathe
And I hope everyone can feel this love that's bustin' out of me
And sometimes I forget to forgive even me
Sometimes I stumble, that's when he carries me
Sometimes I stumble, that's when he carries me

He Carries Me by Cory Morrow

Drowning in a sea of acronyms...

I am a woman with a plan. Actually two plans. If one is good, two must be better!

Plan 1: Get Your Degree Dummy!
I've been languishing on the Masters' Degree front, drowning in a sea of apathy. I just don't care.

It's tragic really. I have a great thesis topic that really needs to be written. And, like all optimistic (and naive) grad students before me, I conveniently forgot about the oldest maxim in the book: If a topic hasn't been written, there is probably a reason why.

And the reason no one has written about Jefferson County? Because the records either don't exist or are in a complete shambles. And I mean a shambles. A SHAMBLES. (It needed caps. I just had to.)

At the school board, at my request for meeting records from 1985 I was directed to "one of those boxes in the hall might have them." And she didn't mean the acid-free boxes with folders and labels. She meant the moving boxes with random pieces of paper in them that were scattered down the hall. I looked through ten before I gave up.

At the clerk of the court, the poor clerk has pulled his hair out hunting for the county commission meeting minutes. To his credit, he is still looking. I have given up hope that they even exist.

Apparently, they are not real big on recordkeeping in Jefferson County.

So, I had to take a hard look at what I needed and what I wanted. I've spent three years on a two year degree and I have had enough. It's time to get my big ol' behind in gear and move on. This past Monday I emailed my advisor and I am officially off the thesis track. I have to take four more classes, pass comprehensive exams and I'm done.

And thankfully, I'm much much better at going to class and passing exams than I am at hunting through boxes of paper. If all goes as planned, I should be a Master's degree holder by this time next year. Two classes in the fall, two in the spring.

Plan 2: Learn new languages
As every good grad student also knows, it just ain't easy finding a history job, especially a non-academic one. And, odds are, any job that I do find will not be within Brion's 2-hour radius. It's time for a back up plan.

I've always been a techie little freak. XHTML and CSS are my other languages. Some people speak Spanish or German or French. I speak in , .classes and #ids.

But, in today's Web 2.0, those two languages are just not enough. It's all about dynamic content, databases and customer interaction. And to do that, you need more acronyms and more languages.

So I'm learning the new acronyms. SQL is first then PHP and maybe Java. I'm a little scared of Java frankly. I tried learning it years ago and got nowhere.

My mama bought me a book and I've installed an IDE (development environment) on my laptop and I'm on my way.

Damn it feels good to have some plans.

Playing true to type...

I might have a teeny crush on Rob Dyrdek...

He's definately on the list.

I have nothing to say today.

So I'm going to post things that make me laugh.

Because everybody could use a good laugh.

The requisite Twilight poke:

The importance of commas:


Apple is pointless:

Geez people, learn some grammar: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGWiTvYZR_w

Being an adult can suck it

Hello, my name is Jessica and I am financially responsible.

It sucks.

I've been saving my pennies for State Finals since I had to blow my tax return on joint injections and feed. I look forward to going every year and I love the social part of it. I get to see my friends from back home and spends lots of time with My Otha Motha. It's an adventure.

But, you see, the thing is, I never run well there.

I don't know if it's the wide angle of the first barrel or if I put so much pressure on myself to do really really really really well (ok so we all know it's the last one. Geez. Give a girl her delusions.) but, every single year, I turn in a crap run. We either blow out the first barrel like freaks or hit barrels.

I don't know if I'm just being a wuss but I've decided to save my money, take Brion on a vacation somewhere or help him buy a PS3, and just not go.

It's the smarter decision financially as well and I'll just go down in the much cheaper Hyundai and visit.

Damn it responsibility! You're cramping my style!!

Today is Monday and I am Tired

I am a good girl and I get a gold star for my Sunday activities.
Sunday, instead of lounging on my couch or going downtown to help Brion, I got in my little Hyundai and hit the road for…. Gainesville.

pause for shudder

Apologies to all my UF graduate friends but ya’ll have terrible taste in universities.

Anyway, the University of Florida has the only copy of the Monticello News on microfilm in the country. And I need it. Need it BAD. So, rather than argue with Interlibrary Loan, I just trucked on down there and spent 5 hours in front of a microfilm reader. The glamorous life of historical research.

The good news is that I actually got some really good sources down and scanned in. I still need to hit about 4 more years which probably means another research trip. I’ll have to make sure I’m up to date with my inoculations. Those Gators carry disease. ;)

On the horse front:
I haven’t really done much more than LONG TROT! Bubba is back in Weak Stifles Boot Camp and that means I’M back in Weak Stifles Boot Camp. We’re slowly but surely legging back up. And of course he’s in much better shape than I am. Stupid naturally athletic horse.

I did lope him through at Evil Twin Farms and o-my-goodness-gracious was it beautiful. And I have got the Itch. Bad.

Not the kind that requires Gold Bond powder.

Next barrel race: April 10th NBHA and BBHA. We’re pulling a double header if I can get an early enough number at the NBHA.

Taking over the world...

Photoshop just released a YouTube video of a feature that's probably going to be in CS5.

It's called Content-Aware Fill and it just blew my mind.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH0aEp1oDOI

It's getting a little scary how much SMARTER computers are than the average human. They really are going to take over the world.

Dork.

I am a dork.

I just found myself cussing at Internet Explorer because it was being its (typical) slow self.

And I laughed at this cartoon.... there is no hope...

Almost the Truth (The Lawyer's Cut)

I'd like to register a complaint: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npjOSLCR2hE

Cut, cut, cut, blood, squirt, artery, murder, Hitchcock, pyscho, blood: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xToPCaNxaow

I'm sorry, is this the five minute argument or the full half hour?: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teMlv3ripSM

Tuesday Musings

I was feeling sorry for myself when I started this post.

I was looking at old friend’s Facebook pages and how their lives have changed. Babies and men and marriage (sometimes divorce) and moves and careers and fun times had by all. And I was comparing myself to them and coming up short. The only big change in my life in the past several years has been my move up here. And that was almost 3(!!!) years ago. It hardly seems to count anymore.

But, then the Mama in me kicked in and I took a step back and a mental deep breath. Why on Earth am I comparing myself to anyone? I am awesome! (Remember what I said about my overly inflated ego?) But, irregardless of my complete awesomeness, the comparison still stands.

The only reason that the comparison matters is because I am bored. Bored with being in school, bored with thesis work, bored with being broke all the time, frustrated with being in this indefinite holding pattern.

I’m forcing myself to do something I don’t want to simply because “I’ve gone this far. Might as well keep on going.” And it’s true. And I know it. I’ve never had a whole lot of self-discipline and I’m having to acquire it the hard way.

Anybody want to write a thesis for me so I can get the heck outta grad school?

It’s time to count my blessings:
1. Brion: I don’t know what I did in this life or any past ones to deserve someone like him. He drives me crazy on a daily basis but there is no one on this planet that I would rather hang out with. He’s off working three hours away today.
2. Bubba: Athletic, gorgeous with personality plus. He’s evil and broncy but at least he’s interesting.
3. My jobs: I get paid (sometimes not enough, but paid) to do things I love.
4. Friends: I have great friends who love me and take great pleasure in harassing me.