Old Model

 It never rains but it pours and itʼs pouring cats and dogs. I feel like such an old man in this weather, eternally talking about the change of seasons. And with all this cold, I feel like Methuselah as I flounder out of the bed in the morning. I console myself by the fact that Iʼm struggling out of bed because Iʼm going to hit the gym at six am. After one barely chewable bowl of oats and a decaf coffee (thereʼs no way Iʼm leaving the building coherently without at least the fantasy of caffeine), Iʼm out in the cold and rain on the way to some weightlifting. Now, these last few mornings itʼs all about being wrapped up in fleecy layers again, pretending the winter isnʼt nearly here. My gym routine is a bit all over the place lately, but the six am sessions make sure I donʼt have
an excuse to skip it later in the day when my brain has dissolved and all I want to do is sit and vegetate on the couch.

  I did do a couple of promotional photo shoots for The Isle of Man Top Model competition last month with the wonderful photographer Marianne McCourt, which means I mustnʼt be too far over the hill. Itʼs great to be back in front of the camera again, and for once without a horse.

Isle of Man Top Model Promo Shoot

  

The horses themselves have all been busy elsewhere. The big horse is having some time to work over poles to help him engage in the flying changes and give him more expression. After a few days kicking poles around the arena like he was a football player, he pulled it together and we were soon pinging about the indoor. Now it just seems too easy for him, so heʼs decided to try to make it more entertaining and pretend to be a puissance showjumper. Anyone who knows me from times past will know leaving the ground, even intentionally, is not my forte. Luckily, this upcoming week my trainer is coming back. Iʼll leave it to him to sort us out. The rest of the horses thankfully are all behaving like they should — huddling around the gates in the evening, thankful to be coming in to warm stables and even warmer rugs. With the cooler nights theyʼre all into thicker blankets, and itʼs reassuring to see them munching away contentedly in their boxes. Itʼs also a reminder to pull out the winter socks, and that each pair of boots I own has a hole in them. On rereading this, I realize that each pair of wooly socks has a hole too. My old-man complex isnʼt helped by the fact that Iʼm hobbling about stiffly on one leg. I had an abrupt, airborne discussion with a bucking horse recently. I won that argument, yet somehow Iʼm the one tottering about.

 

 Don Rosario in his moist recent Training Clinic

Moving by in a Blur

  

I did, however, have the fantastic Claire Townsend of Equilibrium Therapy on hand to sort it out. There arenʼt many women I let get their hands on me, but Clare has managed to ease every ache that Iʼve gotten as I ponce about on my dressage horses, as well as untwist all the knots I get from lifting in the gym everyday. Clare also works on some of the horses, making sure that whatever knots and twists I do get donʼt influence them too much. Clare has oodles of talent as a practitioner, and enough frankness to overrule any justifications I invent for doing something I shouldnʼt. Thankfully she doesnʼt see me so often so Iʼm able get away with a few things.

Clare Townsend Neuromuscular Therapist

Clare Townsend Neuromuscular Therapist