Cob Jockey

When I felt the headache coming on yesterday, I should've turned around, but I didn't.  80 minutes later, after I'd driven the 40 minutes to the barn and spent another 40 trying to walk down my uncatchable pony with ever-increasing nausea, coupled with a PMS-driven panic attack that I might be pregnant (I'm not, thank goodness!), I was ready to curl up in a ball and cry.  Instead I kept walking with tears streaming down my face until I regained my composure enough to walk through the barn without my barn mates thinking I was a basket case.  It was only then that Jen the Assistant Trainer told me most of them had spent the last two days outside and all of them had been impossible to catch.  Great.  That's some major regression for my feral animal.

So, it hurt really badly to let him win, but I had to.  How much did it set us back?  I'm not sure, but luckily I have the next three days off in which to find out.  I ended up driving the 40 minutes home crying and hunched over with nausea so bad I kept a Walmart bag in front of me the whole time, so I feel like letting him win yesterday was somewhat justified.

Tomorrow, though...tomorrow he'd better be ready.