Id looked around my room at the ribbons and sashes and rosettes hanging from the walls, at the photos of my ponies clearing the highest fences with me crouched in the saddle, a look of utter determination on my face. Id made myself look hard at the pictures, at my legs swinging backwards over the fences, at my body lying low over my ponys neck, my hands grasping at the reins as I turned them in mid-air. At the way that Teddys eyes were bulging as I pulled him around a tight turn, at the way the veins popped out on Bucks lathered neck, at Springboks open mouth, dripping with foam. Id looked hard at them all, and I hadnt liked what Id seen.

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