My Thing

What's your Thing? Everyone has a thing that they love to do, a hobby or sport. Some people, apparently me, like to be Champion of our Thing.  Some people simply enjoy the process of doing/being. That's probably wiser. I wish I was the winner...even now when I'm halfway to a hundred. If I am going to play, I sure would like to win! There's a lot in my mind about winning, being the best, doing better than the rest, still being humble and hoping. It is not easy, especially as we get older and realize other people have 10,000 hours in their Thing already.

When I was a kid and teenager in Oregon, my Thing was riding horses. I loved show jumping and I was really good at it. I won a lot of ribbons and silver platters. I even found a few old bags and boxes full of ribbons up in the attic to prove it. But back then my parents were paying for that expensive sport and when I went off to college, my horse was sold. 

At University of Redlands, I got on the volleyball team. Which felt like quite a complimentary Thing to play on a college level sport. But try as I might, we were losers. I was the "setter," which means I had the second shot at every play, on our side of the net. I loved the workout and it was fun, but in a team sport you cannot control the efforts of the other players. So after a year of repeated losses, I let it go and joined the "sloshball" team at SDSU instead, with red solo cups and a keg on home base.

Then I got married. In my twenties, I became a teacher, and worked my ass off. After our honeymoon in Tahiti, my new husband decided to try outrigger paddling and joined a team called Hanohano on Mission Bay. He loved it and was winning at the weekly races. He had so many medals, they were hanging from the doorknobs of our condo and jingling his success. I was his groupie and biggest fan, until one day I had a major meltdown. I cried, "I want a medal!" He laughed and said, "Well get on the ocean!" So my Thing was paddling outriggers for 10-15 years and I earned a bunch of my own doorknob jingling medals. I paddled to Catalina five times, jumped in/out of the ocean for 27 miles with escort boats alongside. My favorite part was steering the canoe and feeling the camaraderie of the 5 other strong positive women working together to win. At some point you realize that to be in the "top boat" you need to be bigger, or stronger, or definitely better. When my chance came to take a seat in the best boat for a race in Ventura, I saw a sunfish that was my doom. We were paddling around a giant oil rig, far far out, and "Whoa, there's a supercool sunfish!"...not 10 minutes later "Hey there's a giant jellyfish! Is that a man-o-war?" Oops, did I say that out load? Yes because the response I heard from those determined ladies, was "HOPPER! FOCUS IN the BOAT!" Needless to say, I didn't get asked to paddle in the top boat again. Relegated to the lesser crews, my chances of winning again declined. Dang it!

Then I have a baby, the cutest lil peanut ever. I'm thirty-something still teaching, working, but now our Thing is paddling Dragonboats and traveling the world! Winning races in China, Taiwan, Canada, Europe, South Africa...Les was the coach and I was the steersman. With our team of 22 paddlers from all the California outrigger teams coming together, we won a bunch of medals for Team USA. That was a really fun 15 years of competing. I had to miss the last week of teaching for the Dragonboat World Championships in Hong Kong and the HR lawyer for my school district actually says, "you need to decide between your career or your sport." I could have both, he was an idiot. So in the future, instead of asking permission to travel to races, I just called in sick and kept quiet, common ailments were food poisoning, ear aches, feminine issues, or the flu. We paddled the Yangtze River for 22 miles down from the Three Gorges damn. The adventures and races were incredible! My baby boy came along for all of it, he learned that our Team USA tent was home base and he had many aunties watching over him.

It was the kid's turn to chase his champion thing, so as a Mom in my forties, I settled in to support, watch, feed and cheer on my boy. He played waterpolo, paddled kayaks, surfed, anything water related. We tried soccer and little league baseball, but he finally said to me, "I don't really like land sports; I like the ocean stuff better." So to keep fit and de-stress, my Thing became jogging...then running, because I heard you could win a medal for it. Ha! A 5k here, 10k there, whatif I ran a marathon? Do I have to train, or can I just do it? Yep to both. I wanted those big ass medals. I see the triathletes wearing them around San Diego. We lived in the best place to be a runner. I trained around the bay, around Fiesta Island, around Sea World. And then I ran the Carlsbad Marathon, the Rock 'n Roll Marathon, La Jolla Marathon, America's Finest City Marathon and Kona 1/2 Marathon. And you know what? You get an extra medal for doing the Triple Crown in one year! Woohoo! And you know what else? You don't even have to win these things, just finish and get a medal! Except you know what else? Running 26.2 miles repeatedly really hurts your legs and hips. It was not a long term sport for me, but I am glad I got out there and ran for more medals to hang on the doorknobs.

Which brings me to now, in my fifties halfway to a hundred, with an empty-nest. I need a new Thing. I love love my husband who says to me, "Why don't you get a horse, ride again like when you were a kid?" Oh I love love my husband. That's my new-old Thing! Back to my passion of riding and show jumping. This may take awhile to tell, because I am still in it, and trying to win it, right now. I buy in big, which means I pay to import a beautiful, 17hand warmblood gelding from Czech Republic for $24k named Lancelot. He costs alot, but I do love him alot, Lancelot. I join the show barn at Osuna in RSF and pay for training with Hap Hansen, the legend. It is a neat community. We show for a year, he rips a tendon for a year, then...now we are showing again. I went to the A-rated show Thermal in the desert, The Oaks in San Clemente, and recently Temecula. We get ribbons in almost every class. This is my Thing. I'm good, we are good, but there is another facet to be great and win this Thing. I see it now, like I didn't see it when I was a teenager. There are fancy horses, expensive horses worth a hundreds of thousands of dollars. Like the cost of condos with four legs! There are riders with so much money they go to all the shows and rack up all the division points, amateurs in my division. I see the politics of competing against a horse for sale, when the judge has been paid to win so it's worth more money for the trainer. It doesn't matter. I memorize my courses and walk the distances between every jump. I'm doing my Thing to the best of my ability. But there is always one fence that isn't quite as smooth. It is so hard to be perfect, every jump, every time. Is that what this Thing is all about? Perfection? My leg slips back over the fences; it's a minor fault, but against this caliber of competition, it is noticeable to the judge. So even with a perfect round, I get third instead of first. My trainer used to say "just have fun" comments before going into the ring, but now he sees I really am trying to win, so he says "gallop your horse, add more outside leg, right heel down, left thumb up, head straight over the fence, a bending line is precise, shorten your reins, get off your fat ass!" Ha! I nod and breathe, but I am so stressed! What's the course again? 12 jumps; left, right, in & out? But after...oh the sweet adrenalin and accomplishment is divine. I did it. Many times I did it. I won first place three times! I qualified for the PCHA and the USEF Medal finals. So I am happy, but wow the anxiety of competition is real. It is healthy to feel and focus on this Thing. The question lingers, do I love just horses and riding, or do I love the competing and showing? In the back of my mind, I am adding up the expense of horse show jumping. $1000 to the trainer for the week, $1000 to the show grounds for the week, $1000 for the stall and hay, $1000 for the trailer ride and braiding for the week. $1000 to the grooms and gear. It's a lot of money for this Thing. Maybe running and paddling was more affordable? I am glad I got to do this and remember my passions of youth, but I think it's not a sustainable sport unless you are elite uber rich. And now, just this weekend, my horse Lancelot has ripped the tendon in his other leg. It's only because I mentioned I might sell him. He instead wants to be my forever horse in Montana. Which fate has decreed is our next Thing.