That month, Carol suggested that I submit an application for one of the Young Rider clinics, with Conrad Schumacher, a renowned German trainer.
“Are you sure I’m good enough to apply?” I asked her.
“I know you’re good enough—you and Moonshine,” she replied.
“No, I mean advanced enough?” I clarified.
“The selection criteria aren’t only based on show scores, Victoria. They’re also based on recommendations of each rider’s ability, potential, commitment, and experience,” Carol said.
“Yeah, but the primary factors are show scores, right?” I asked.
“I suppose,” she replied.
I knew that would diminish my chances.
“Just send in the application. Stop being such a pessimist, you never know how something will work out unless you try,” she said, slightly frustrated.
“OK,” I said, not believing I had a chance to take a lesson from one of the most well-known Olympic trainers in the world.
I nonetheless took the application from her, filled it out that night, and dropped it in the mail the next morning.
The next day, Carol told me that since Moonshine and I were progressing so smoothly and would soon be competing at the higher levels of dressage, that I would need new equipment.
“First, you need a double bridle. They’re pretty expensive, so until you can put together enough cash to buy one, you can borrow my old one,” she generously offered.
“Thanks, Carol!” I was relieved.
“The only problem will be finding the right bit,” she cautioned. “Since Moony is smaller than most warmbloods, finding a Weymouth bit small enough to fit his mouth might be tricky. I don’t think they sell pony-sized dressage bits, but you should look into it.”
Finding a bit small enough for Moonshine’s mouth was tricky. None of the tack stores around the farm sold pony sized dressage bits. I also called some of the catalogs and none of them had pony sized dressage bits. So, I bought the smallest horse size dressage bit and crossed my fingers while I waited for it in the mail.
Meanwhile, the mailman brought me an unexpected package from the United States Dressage Federation.
“We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of the eight young rider participants in the spring Conrad Schumacher Young Rider Clinic series.”
My mouth dropped open. I looked up at my mother, watching me with hopeful eyes.
“I got into the clinic,” I said softly.
“Oh my God!” my mother burst as she hugged me tightly.
When she finished hugging me, she called Ava to share the good news.
When she was done gushing to my godmother, she suggested calling Carol and letting her know.
“Mom, she’s probably riding or teaching, we can tell her on the weekend,” I tried to calm her.
But she had already dialed the number and was waiting for an answer on the other line.
Jane, the secretary, answered.
“Jane, hello, this is Victoria’s mother,” she started.
I was amused by the fact that not only did everyone else at the farm identify my mother as “Victoria’s mom,” rather than by her first name, but that is how she now identified herself as well to people at the farm.
“Is Carol around?” she continued.
There was a pause.
“OK, well then, please tell her that Victoria got into the clinic!” she gushed.
“Thank you!” she said as she hung up the phone.
That weekend, Carol congratulated me as soon as I saw her.
“See? You never know until you try!” she said as she winked at me.
“I still can’t believe they picked us.”
“You’ll do great. Just give it your all in those lessons and don’t take everything he says to heart,” she warned.
“They might ask you to ride in a double bridle. Have you found one yet?” she asked.
“I ordered the smallest horse size Weymouth bit I could find. I couldn’t find pony-size Weymouth bits,” I informed her.
“Well, hopefully it arrives before the clinic, you need some time getting used to riding Moony in a double bridle before you go to this clinic,” she said.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I get it,” I said.
Two weeks later, my bit arrived. I brought it to Carol for her to examine before I latched it into the double bridle she had given me. She walked with me to Moony’s stall so that she would be the first one to put it on him and be able to adjust the straps.
“Hmmm,” she said frowning, as she looked at it from both sides of my horse’s mouth.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
“Well, you see how I can fit in two fingers between his mouth and the end of the bit on each side of his head?” she asked as she demonstrated.
“Yes,” I said.
“That means it’s too big,” Carol said.
My heart sank. This was the smallest bit available and it was still too big. Moonshine had the typical Quarter horse nose—small and delicate.
“Do you think I can ride with it anyway?” I asked hopefully.
“You can definitely try. Just try not to hold the curb rein—try to hold onto the snaffle rein instead. Maybe if he doesn’t feel the curb, the fact that it doesn’t really fit won’t bother him too much,” she said optimistically.
“Worth a shot,” I said.
Moonshine did not need much time to adjust to the double bridle; most other horses required at least a month to get used to such new equipment. I was thrilled that Moonshine was still improving, despite the fact that I was asking him to work at his best in ill-fitting equipment.
Then it was time to go to the clinic, which would be held at the United States Equestrian Team headquarters in Gladstone, New Jersey. I was familiar with the headquarters, having already been there last year, to watch the US Olympic trials. Moonshine would be stabled in the same historic barn as my idols when they competed here last year. I was also excited because the Young Rider participants were going to stay in the grooms’ quarters above the barn, for the duration of the three-day event. I was thrilled that I would be so close to Moonshine, instead of always being an hour away. I could be with him whenever I wanted, all hours of the day, with no other obligations or time limitations to take me away. Nora had a two-horse trailer, so she drove Moonshine down, with my mother and I following behind her. My mother did not trust the Jeep, so we took her station wagon. She also would not stay; she had to stay home with my sister, sick grandfather, and dogs.
__________
Since my grandmother had passed away, my grandfather had deteriorated. He had been overweight for as long as I had known him, but now he looked gaunt, with hollow cheeks, and his big belly had vanished. He was quiet most of the time now, which was a drastic difference from how loud he often was in the frequent arguments he had with my grandmother. I was always intrigued by the fact that they had been married for most of their lives, but seemed to be able to communicate only in explosive argument. And yet, for all the years I had known them, they were always near each other; if they weren’t in the same room, they would be soon. I realized after my grandmother passed away, and my grandfather seemed to cease existing, that they had not intensely hated each other at all; they had instead been bonded by so many degrees of intensity—love, passion, hatred, friendship, and partnership.