Put your head down and keep moving...

That's been my philosophy since Stupidhead lost his mind and decided that his calling was making my life hell. Sometimes, like today, I feel like I just can't keep moving forward anymore. Not because of any huge dramatic THING but just because.

But, of course, I can't. Because I'm a mom - and a single one at that - and Moms just don't get to stop.

And then I hear about these people... the Raramuri, or Tarahumara - the running people. Apparently, this smallish population of native mexican people make running a way of life. They practice persistence hunting... running for up to 160km (100 miles to you n me) without stopping. That's right. They will RUN FOR 100 MILES without stopping to kvetch about their sore footsies.

And why on earth would they do this insane thing? Because eventually their prey gets tired and they can get close enough to kill it with their rudimentary weapons - sticks and stones.

There's inspiration to be found there somewhere... now I just wonder if I'm the Indian or the deer... ;)

Freak accidents

This is a sad blog, so feel free to skip it.

As some of you already know, I had to have Orca put down on Tuesday night. She was playing in the pasture with another horse and took a kick that was at just the right angle... just the right amount of force... just the right amount of torsion as she turned away... and her leg was broken. Just like that. A blink. A kick. A horse just being a horse, and she's gone.

I got there right after the vet, and he didn't even need to show me the x-rays. Her leg wasn't right and anyone familiar with how the leg between the stifle joint and hock should be shaped would have known that the bone was broken.

She was in the prime of her life. An athlete like no horse I've ever known. That stupid horse would do laps of the pasture... just running. Not kicking up her heels, not playing, just ... running for the sheer pleasure of the wind in her mane. I loved to watch her almost more than I loved to ride her.

It's unfair and I'm going to rail against god a bit until I'm done being angry about it, but I have to be thankful for a couple of things too...

Orca was my dream horse. She was the horse that I dreamt of as a girl when I was riding all those scrubby ponies and the horses no one else could ride and begging for riding time from friends with horses and cleaning stalls for the opportunity to try not to get killed on some unbroke psychopath. All that time, I had this Thoroughbred that lived in my head. She was going to be 16 hands tall, and LOVE to jump. I wouldn't have to teach her how, because she'd just know how to pick spots and sail over fences. She'd have a star on her forehead and one sock - a small one, not too flashy. And she'd love me and no one else. No one else would even want to ride her - but she would come to me when I called her and nuzzle me and do anything I asked.

And she came true. Not everyone gets that lucky, yanno?

And I have to be thankful that my prayers weren't answered this time. The whole time I was driving up to the farm, I was making promises to god. Promising that I wasn't going to be greedy. That I would accept lame for life as long as I didn't have to choose death. I promised that if all she was ever suitable for was a pasture ornament, I'd accept that.

And that was selfish. Because you can't take a thoroughbred - or even a Paint who's only 90% thoroughbred - and punish them like that. You can't take a marathon runner and tell them to be happy that they can no longer walk. You just can't.

So I'm thankful that god knew that none of us really wanted to do that to Orca and took the decision out of my hands by making it a break that couldn't be fixed.

I'll miss her more than I can fathom. I will never replace her. She was my first love.