By ARIEL UNIVER
As a trainer who doesn’t own her own facility, I’m no stranger to having to relocate my business. Over the span of my 20 years in the industry, I’ve packed up and moved more times than I’d like to admit. Barns close, they sell, they out price clients, or you outgrow them in some way. Whatever the reason may be, you head off to greener pastures with the hopes of finding growth.
Through the years, and I’m sure other trainers can attest to this, you amass a huge amount of “stuff”. Tack, brushes, coolers, lunge lines… you name it. It all came into my possession so gradually that I can’t remember a time I didn’t have all of these things at my disposal. Need some 12 cc syringes? I have a box of about 500. Hoping to find some draw reins? I’ve never once used them but for some odd reason, I have two pairs. Some things I have distinct memories of buying, while others just tend to materialize into my collection seemingly out of thin air. Were they donated? Did someone just leave them behind when they moved their horse? Maybe. Either way, they’re mine now. Maybe I’ve used it 100 times, like my leather hole punch that has 2 broken cogs (but still works if you angle it right). Or maybe I was holding on to it “just in case” like the western cinch hanging amidst all the English girths. The odd comfort that comes with knowing you have lots of equipment is uniquely a horse persons trait.
Recently, I moved my training business to a facility that has basically zero storage space for my out of control collection. But because I no longer have school horses and all of my clients own their own, I truly don’t need it all anymore. The layers of dust covering everything would speak to the fact that I haven’t used most of it in ages. I didn’t mind the thought of getting rid of it at this point. I needed the cash more than I needed the stuff. And I liked the new facility more than I liked having a shed to store old tack. So I packed it all up in boxes, rented a U-haul truck, and drove it to my garage to sort and sell. In this mission however, I found myself in a surprising whirlwind of emotions.
Initially the idea was to take it all out, dust it off, and sort it into piles to itemize, photograph, and list for sale. Martingales over here. Lead ropes here. This table for medical supplies. Old saddles lined up on the back of my husbands leather sofa. Wiping off dust and grime with a towel as I went. So many of these things had been sitting in the dark of a shed or in the tack room for ages, not having felt the warmth of a horses body for years. But as I touched each thing, held them in my hands, something happened. Memories flooded back.
My school horses through the years were immediately at the forefront, and they played like a movie in my head as I picked up each thing. The whole collection centered around them. Each one ingrained into my mind like old friends. Steve was a swayback. I had bought so many different riser pads, gel pads, keyhole pads, Bevels. All in the name of keeping him comfortable in saddles that never were made for a build like his. A pony size martingale for Felix, who was a petite spicy chestnut Arabian that always had this happy go lucky expression. A cob bridle for Brooke, because although she was an Oldenburg, her head was unusually and adorably petite. Jeff was a saintly TB who hated all bits and refused to stop after a course if you made him work in one, but loved his hackamore from the moment I tried him in it. So many more things attached to horses who have long since passed, retired, or sold. Ivan, Greg, Cannoli, Ace. Halters with their names. Bridles with their bits still attached and crusted with old hay. It wasn’t until this moment standing in my garage surrounded by these items like ghosts from the past, did I realize what this collection represented.
It was a heavy feeling all of a sudden, putting price tags on these things. $10 here, $25 there. Reasonable for their condition. I posted all the photos on Facebook with the caption “motivated to sell”. And within minutes my inbox was flooded. After all, horse trainers and horse people in general love a great deal! Just like me they see value in these kinds of things. Buying them for a specific purpose or holding on to them “just in case” like I had. One by one, cars showed up in my driveway, and all the stuff walked out in bags and boxes, being hoisted into SUVs and hatchbacks by their new owners. As cash exchanged hands, I heard from one rider about her 17.3h TB who will fit perfectly into the oversized breast plate and cooler. After all, these things are so expensive to purchase new. The 4H barn owner who was excited to supply her students with so many bridles, saddles, and equipment to clean and repurpose. I loved knowing they’d be in the hands of kids again, who were excited to scrub and polish them until they shined. My own students did that countless times.
The knowledge that all of the old things are now on their way to become new things to someone else broke the melancholy I’d experienced wading through all of it. I didn’t need Ivan’s old race track halter to remember that his name was “Rafale” to many who’d known him before me. Long after his halter is gone, and he is gone, I still get to keep the memories.
