This week I’m out of town, missing Bee, stalking training videos from Sarah Salter like an emotionally unstable sports parent, and apparently being forced by God and weather alike to take a break.

I did try to find a barn where I could practice while away. I really did. But it has rained basically nonstop all week. At some point I decided maybe this was divine intervention. God’s way of saying, “Ma’am. Sit down. Reflect on your life choices.”

Fair enough.

Meanwhile, Bee has been in training with Sarah, and I’ve been getting updates, videos, and the occasional reminder that my horse remains both athletic and mildly unhinged.

One text from Sarah this week especially tickled me:

“I definitely had to get onto her [another name for a donkey] a little bit because she still tests boundaries and tries to exhibit some psychotic behavior… but we pretty much walked the whole time in the field and when we got back to the house she was not sweaty. The last time I said ‘I’m just going to walk her in the field,’ we came back an hour later and she was lathered because there was so much anxiety. This time she wasn’t even sweaty.”

— Sarah Salter, Equine Trainer

First of all, bless trainers. Their ability to casually use phrases like “psychotic behavior” while remaining completely calm is honestly impressive.

Second, that update was huge.

Not because Bee didn’t spook. Not because she suddenly transformed into a western pleasure horse dragging her nose through the dirt looking spiritually disconnected from the world.

But because she was thinking more than reacting.

That’s the entire game with hot horses.

Bee & Sarah’s very good ride in the field.

And for my non-horse readers, let’s define “hot horse,” because we are not talking about attractiveness here, although Bee does happen to be stunning in this mom’s opinion.

A hot horse is a horse with a very sensitive, reactive nervous system. They are alert, athletic, quick-thinking, quick-moving, and often highly emotional. They react first and process second. Great for performance. Occasionally less great for middle-aged women trying to peacefully trail ride without becoming airborne.

Horses are prey animals. Their brains are wired for survival. If something feels dangerous, they do not stop and thoughtfully evaluate the situation like: “Hmm yes, that plastic grocery bag has been here for three days and statistically poses little threat.”

No.

Their brains say: “DEATH HAS ARRIVED. WE MUST FLEE IMMEDIATELY.”

And honestly, sometimes the “danger” is invisible to humans.

A sound.
A shadow.
A bird.
A leaf moving aggressively. (Eye roll, the idea of a leaf moving aggressively.)

The truly amazing part of horses is not that they spook.

It’s that they let humans teach them not to.

Training is really just helping the horse access the thinking side of their brain before the reactive side takes over. Sarah says Bee likes to access the reactive side first. Honestly, same sometimes.

That’s why the sweating mattered.

Bee wasn’t physically working hard. She was mentally working hard. Horses sweat from anxiety and adrenaline too, not just exertion. The previous ride left her drenched because her nervous system was lit up the entire time. This ride? Calm walk. Minimal sweat. Better regulation.

Progress.

Not perfection.
Not “fixed.”
Not magically cured.

Just progress.

And if I’m being honest, I think this applies to humans too.

I am very easily startled. This may stem from the imaginary basement monster from my childhood that my siblings and I would sprint from when turning off lights that were far away from the actual staircase we had to ascend. It may stem from my brother getting endless entertainment out of making me scream by jumping out from behind things repeatedly over the years. My niece unexpectedly yelled while I was driving this week and I nearly drove us into another zip code. My nephew has done the same thing to me (queue the giggles at that memory Drew!). I have literally peed myself after being startled by a bunny.

A bunny.

So honestly?

I get it, Bee. I totally get it. At least you hold your urine when you are startled!

Some nervous systems just fire faster than others, so do some bladders.

The goal isn’t to never react.

The goal is learning to recover faster. To think before fleeing. To breathe before exploding.

For horses and humans alike.

Bee is learning that. And frankly, I’ve been trying not to be so easily startled for YEARS. If you ask my husband he would say I have regressed, not progressed.

This pause has been good for both of us. I got to surprise one of my best friends by showing up at her house unannounced. I spent time with some of my favorite cousins over a long catch-up dinner and delicious homemade Lebanese food they made just because I was in town. I had good time with my nieces and nephew, got to see my nephew’s workplace and meet some of the people he works with, played games with my youngest nieces, and helped them learn how to climb a tree.

I also spent an impressive amount of time chasing down a chocolate lab named Bonnie who apparently believes neighboring properties are public space. After retrieving her twice, I spent time reminding her where her yard ends and where she is very much not allowed to go. Honestly, the timing felt oddly familiar considering Bee is also currently working on respecting boundaries and making better life choices.

When the sun finally showed itself for a few hours, I mowed the grass. My dad was always particular about mowing. He loved straight lines and took great pride in how the yard looked, so doing that felt strangely comforting. I also started cleaning algae out of the pool in preparation for the imminent Ohio summer that eventually arrives… usually sometime around July.

I spent time with my sister getting pedicures, ate at some of my favorite restaurants, and even slipped back into old high-school mom routines with morning drop-offs, sick-kid pick-ups, and doctor visits.

I truly love my time with my Ohio family.