August 13, 2006: Broken Dreams

Well, Quila and I won’t be going to Championships... but it certainly isn’t for lack of preparation.

I returned from Virginia to find a horse that felt WONDERFULLY tuned and sensitive to the aids, very light in the half halts, and a joy to ride. She has never felt better. Then Jürgen rode her on Friday, and made her even softer and improved her lateral flexibility. When I got on her yesterday, I had a huge smile on my face: we were communicating beautifully, and things felt fabulous.

We were showing in San Juan Capistrano, in search of that last qualifying score, but it wasn’t to be. We had a good warm-up, perhaps 10 minutes too long (my miscalculation), in footing that was too hard (I do mean HARD), and Quila became uncomfortable and anxious. It wasn’t a long warm-up, mind you—only 25 minutes after walking—but she only needed 15 minutes of transitions and she felt like butter. I wished I could have gone in then. We stopped to take her boots off and let me put my jacket on, and I could tell she wasn’t happy at all with the delay. I got her “through” again with a few more transitions, and all seemed right with the world when it was my turn. At this show, you weren’t allowed to ride around outside the ring, so the announcer instructed me to ride inside until the whistle blew, then exit and enter again. So, I did. In retrospect, I realize the error of my ways. Quila doesn’t spook. She doesn’t need to “see” a ring. We should have stayed in the warm-up until they were ready, and then trotted on in. When I exited, she thought we were done, so when I turned her back towards “A”, she halted and planted her feet squarely, refusing to budge. “No, Ma’am,” she said. “I ain’t gonna. We warmed up, TWICE, in that damn warm-up with the awful footing. And we went in that ring ONCE. I am done. If you want to ride in the ring, YOU may. By yourself. I ain’t going!” “Quite the contrary, Quila my dear,” says I, giving her a VERY sharp jab with my spurs. “You will go in, and you will go in NOW!” “Oooph. Well, OK. But I won’t like it, and I don’t think YOU will, either,” Quila promised.

She went in, and we received a 7 on our entry, but she didn’t like it, and she grumbled her way through the first movement or two (for which she received a spur in the side), and she fussed a bit in the bridle off and on in the trot. But much of the trot work was nice... and I was pleased with it as I rode it. Particularly the voltés, and the leg yield left. And our geometry was on the letter, as were our transitions. Our extended walk was free/loose, and she was good when I took up the reins, and I was pleased with trot/canter transition, because she was quiet and obedient. And the more we cantered, the better we got. For the first time, both canter circles were 15 meters, all of our canter corners had proper flexion, and I felt really good about our canter single loop serpentines. I rode MY test. Her grumbling had gradually petered out in the trot, disappeared in the walk, and she was being very good in the canter. We finished with a very nice centerline. I felt particularly victorious because in the past, what started out poorly has always finished worse. I have never, ever—not once—managed to make her BETTER over the course of a test, but this time, I did. I half-halted, correctly from my seat, and really rode. I remembered. :D

But then I got my score: 57%. The judge HATED us. Our only 7’s were on the halts at each end. Basically, she wasn’t willing to give us higher than a 6 on anything, and she punished us like crazy for anything that was less than perfect. From the score sheet, it was apparent that even with a perfect (for us) ride, we couldn’t beat a 60 with her, since we don’t have trot lengthenings for better than a 5. We just don’t. (If we don’t do much, we get “5—little difference” and if we give them our best shot, we get “5—running and on forehand”, and we pretty much get a 5 for everything in between...). The comments weren’t helpful, didn’t hold out any hope. She just didn’t see gaits in Quila that she could reward, and there’s not much I can do about that with a 17 year-old horse... So, there you have it. It was to be the same judge today. Given the footing (which had me in fear for Quila’s soundness--she was limping after the ride and a bit tender-footed), and no hope at all for a score (and I can’t say that I would have risked her even if I thought I could have gotten one—she’s too precious to me for that), there was just no point to going back.

I don’t think I’m sour grapes. I’ve shown Quila a lot. We’ve certainly gotten our share of low scores. But we’ve also gotten plenty of high ones, too, and I know at this point when we deserve what... That was NOT a 57% ride. I’ve looked at my video, looked at my score sheet, and I just can’t see it. Susan can’t either, nor can one of the Young Riders who was watching. (I don’t know about the Young Rider, but Susan has never been one to mince words—she’ll be brutally honest with me if she thinks there’s criticism that I need to hear). Not every judge likes every horse... as simple as that... and this particular one HATES mine. It’s just unfortunate for me that it happened to be the one judge I needed a qualifying score from, my very last chance of the season.

So, my hopes are dashed, and my dreams crushed. Pom pom girl again. I am so tired of pom poms. And we came so close. We had one score, and we had another ride where we missed the score by a single point (a 61.944%). And now this. Sigh...