This is a picture of me circa my freshman year in college. That is my late horse, Awesome, back in the day when we were still running and jumping around together. Besides this being a sentimental photo of me and one of my sweet horses, it is a shocking example of how I let the Pony Club ethic slide drastically in the days when I wasn't actively competing. Note the "non-approved" hunt cap I'm wearing for jumping. Not only is it practically ornamental (certainly not protective), but it has slipped down over my eyes, so who knows what happened after we landed from this jump. Also note that I'm not using a breastplate with my saddle, I'm not wearing gloves while jumping, and I'm riding in a baggy sweatshirt, jeans, chaps, and -- most horrifying of all -- tennis socks and Sebago slip-on moccasins. Were it tennis socks and tennis shoes, it would be bad enough. But, Sebago's? It's like I just walked in off the street, got on my horse, and pointed him towards a jump (which, I may well have done just like that). Shame, shame!
With that being said, I do have to say I did a sweet job of wrapping those white polos, though. Bandaging is the one thing that I have always taken very seriously. So, pony club wasn't totally lost on me, after all!