Here we are. We are here. There's a sky, and there might be clouds, and there's grass. I think there's grass. I keep my mighty steed's nose pointed towards that little white blurry box in the distance as I totally and utterly fake calmness. Wave to a few people coming off the course, make small talk about how the course is riding, look up at the box, and it still seems far away... and blurry. 

Pick up a (calm, we are sssoooo calm. Calm Calm Calm) trot (but kinda brisk, because the starter just called out our 1:30 takeoff countdown). The box is still blurry. Maybe my contacts are dry. Wait, I don't wear contacts. Do I need glasses? Will I be able to see distances around the course? Or avoid trees? Or will I end up as some funny meme on Facebook because my horse went one way and I went the other. Damn that's a funny meme. Mentally add "make eye appointment" to list of things to do. 

But wait, I could see fine in warm-up.  I did warm up, didn't I? 

"Number 187, you have 1 minute"

When we think of visualization techniques, immediately our riding comes to mind - how each step of the dressage test will feel as we execute it perfectly to plan, how getting to the right distance at every fence will flow, and how  completing will let us ride high for a few days. 

But let's be honest, the competition starts well before we first put our foot in the stirrup. 

Back at the barn, before the competition even starts, there are two types of people. First have you have the seasoned pros who roll in confidently, have a system of unpacking and setting up their stall or haul-in trailer area, and their horses are unloaded into a stress-free zone of zen. 

Because we all need a little comic relief... I present you, The Meatball Adventures....

AND SO IT BEGAN... 
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It was late fall 2013 and my mom's voice was hesitantly excited about a group of weanlings that were going to the sale barn from the Southern Illinois University breeding program. They were well-bred.  They were handled. They were warmbloods. Therefore I wanted an the ugliest, gangliest one. I wanted a Meatball. 

While on the phone with her, I flipped through the pics on their Facebook page, and knew immediately that "Song of the South" would be my Meatball. He was potbellied, ass high, a little disheveled, and instead of the 'look of eagles', he had the 'look of slight confusion'. 

Sounds about right.