It's not quite 10 a.m. when she slows Brack to a walk and relaxes, pushing her riding helmet back to dry her sweaty forehead. They take another few laps to cool down before Druckman stops and slides from the saddle to the packed dirt floor, giving her horse a "well done" pat on the neck before leading him from the riding arena. She has an hour before her first class meets.
In her nine years at Cornell--four as an undergraduate, two as a grad student and the remainder as a lecturer in the Communication Department--Druckman has become somewhat of a time management expert. She has ridden throughout her extended Cornell career, and finally bought her own horse just before starting graduate school. It's not so hard when it's something you love, she says. Her sentiments reflect those of a small, but dedicated, group of Cornellians who refuse to let a little thing like an Ivy League education get in the way of something they love.
There's a whole other world out there inhabited by members of the horsey set, encompassing riders with a wide range of talents and ambitions. Some are satisfied with a ribbon from the occasional horse show, while a persistent few lead a gypsy-like existence traveling to a different competition every weekend, eyes firmly set on the Olympic team. The ranks are swollen at the bottom of this extended family tree, filled with legions of newly horse-crazy kids. Eventually, interest and numbers dwindle. leaving only the truly dedicated. For most of these young athletes, high school graduation marks the crossroads. To follow one path is to commit oneself to a career in horses, as an instructor or professional trainer perhaps; the other leads back to a normal existence, most likely without a horse. The prevalence of "For Sale--owner off to college" posters at August horse shows indicates which road is more traveled.
Some rugged individualists, however, choose a route off the beaten path. Attribute it to determination, stubbornness, or even naivete, but a few equestrians decide that riding is simply something too good to give up, even temporarily. They just buy a college sticker for the horse trailer and bring their buddy, hobby and teammate along.
It's no surprise that there are collegiate equestrians at Cornell, where students pride themselves on doing it their own way. Those who undertake the task of bringing their own horses have the luxury of choosing among several boarding stables in Ithaca, including the University's own Equestrian Center. Just off campus, the complex boasts two barns, a heated indoor riding ring, two outdoor rings, pastures, trails and jumps. Ring time is shared between the Polo and Equestrian Teams, physical education riding program, and a dozen or so boarders.
Most stables provide basic care for boarders' horses: feeding, watering, cleaning stalls, changing blankets and providing some outside turn-out, in addition to keeping a watchful eye in the owner's absence. However, the horse's exercise, grooming, shoeing, veterinary care, overall health and well-being are up to the owner. It's these needs that often test a student's time, responsibility and checkbook.
Like all sports, riding requires an almost daily commitment. On a college campus, where time is the most valuable commodity, that commitment is especially difficult. "I made a conscious effort not to spend too much time at the barn because I wanted to take advantage of the whole college experience," Druckman said of her first years at Cornell. "But every year I did a little more." After working at the barn, trying the Equestrian Team, teaching lessons and training horses, Druckman finally bought her own horse. She and Brack are still together four years later, although Druckman part-leases the horse to a student who rides him two days a week. "The first couple years I spent a lot of time with him. Now I'm back to a kind of balance," she said. "It goes back to what my mom told me: "Don't become one of those crazy horse people; don't miss out on other things.'"
Emily Kennedy '97 exercised Druckman's horse during her freshman year, then brought her own horse to Cornell as a sophomore. Benjamin is stabled at Asbury Hill Farm in Freeville, a twenty-minute drive from campus. "I'd be a nut job without my horse. But you've got to be sort of insane" to keep a horse at college, she said candidly. "Especially at Cornell where everyone works so hard. You end up doing two things really intensely. It's hard to figure out what your priorities should be." Putting riding on the back burner in order to do well academically is often frustrating, especially for students who have previously managed to have their cake and eat it too. When surviving at Cornell demands so much time and energy, riders wonder, how much will be left for a horse?
"Not enough," sighed Susan Cordes '95, who keeps her horse, Vienna, at If Only Farm in Freeville. "Especially since students' schedules are so crazy. In the past, I spent the majority of my time at the stable. Now it's more of a hobby. But I try to go out at least four days a week, at least two hours each day," she said. Unlike other sports, riding involves a commitment to another living creature who also suffers when papers and prelims make it impossible for riders to squeeze in a trip to the barn. "If you play soccer the ball can just sit there for a week," Cordes explained. "But a horse has to go out and exercise."
"Riding your own horse involves the same dedication as playing a varsity sport," according to Erica Chapman '95, who sold her horse before coming to Cornell and now plays varsity polo instead. "But you're a self-motivator. Just because there's no coach or practice doesn't mean [riders aren't] living up to the standards they set for themselves. If I added up all the hours I spend at practice and at games and compared them to the time that dedicated riders spend with their own horses, they'd probably be exactly the same," Chapman said. Polo players don't have the same responsibility for their mounts that student horseowners do, however. "Having your own horse is like being a doctor--you're constantly on call. Polo is more like a steady job. You know what your time commitment is," according to Chapman.
Spending time with a horse isn't a student rider's only concern; spending money is a considerable worry as well. "It's financial hell," Druckman said emphatically. "Leasing and teaching lessons helps a little, and my parents help a little bit." Collegiate horseowners start with the typical student budget and add board, shoeing, vet bills, entry fees for competitions, plus the cost of purchasing a saddle, bridle, winter blankets and other one-time expenses. "Most days it's worth it," Druckman added. "But there are no guarantees. It's not like a car that you have insurance for. With a horse, the minute you buy him, he could twist something and you're out of luck."
Druckman speaks from experience. It wasn't until Brack developed a severe lameness that she realized how quickly luck can change. "I spent a day at the vet school with him while they tried to figure out what was wrong, and I realized how attached I am to him," she said. "I felt like it was my kid and he was in the hospital."
That added responsibility is felt keenly by student riders, who can suddenly feel like single parents. "It's a cross between a pet, a child and a project," Druckman said. Taking on such an obligation when classmates are reveling in their last years of freedom is quite a sacrifice. But the benefits are worth it, according to Druckman. Riding is a wonderful outlet that offers a chance to escape into a different world, she said. When something goes wrong, however, "what was once a stress reliever becomes a much bigger stress than you could ever imagine."
Even as Druckman hurries to finish up at the barn and get to class on time, it's obvious that the scale is tipped towards "stress reliever" today. Brack waits patiently as Druckman brushes away dull, dried sweat to reveal the shiny mahogany coat beneath. She works quickly and quietly, her long swooshing brush strokes the only sound in the barn besides the contented chewing of hay. Once Brack has been brushed from head to tail, Druckman stands back and surveys her work with a teacher's critical eye. Satisfied, she gives Brack's gleaming shoulder a pat of approval and leads him down the long stable aisle to his outside paddock. After sliding the halter over his ears and sending him trotting through the gate with a slap on the rump, Druckman lingers to watch with a smile as Brack lowers himself into the nearest mud puddle for a good roll. She stays for a just a moment, then trudges back through the mud towards the barn. She has half an hour before her class starts.