I wanted very much to make it clear to a friend today the difference between how I had been approaching my dressage tests and how I would be approaching them in the future, since they (my friend) seemed no clearer on the concept than I had been until the light bulb went on.
In struggling to make sense of it for them, I realized that I’d been a lot like the driver who waits until they are skidding out of control on black ice and then uses tremendous driving skill to save the car. I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for having those skills (and often feeling like I deserve to be congratulated and perhaps offered sympathy that I’ve had to ride such a “difficult” horse), but really I should have been kicking myself in the seat of the pants for having needed them in the first place. If I was SMART, I would have seen the “black ice” coming, braked well ahead of it in preparation, and not needed to do anything while I was passing through that would have made my car skid out of control. No one would have needed to see what wonderful driving skills I had... and my drive would have been far less gut-wrenching and far more harmonious.
I think I’ll start looking ahead and preparing for those rough spots...
Showing posts with label Lightbulb Moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lightbulb Moments. Show all posts
Sunday, February 25, 2007
July 4, 2006: Oh! I Get It Now!
Today (yes, on the Fourth of July--he’s German and so is my horse) I had a lesson with Fabian. He asked me to ride across the diagonal in canter, change lead through the trot over X, and continue on my way. Simple enough, except that we were a bit past X before I got the down-transition.
“I said change lead OVER X,” said Fabian in his German accent (read loud, and not-too-patient). “That means you must trot a stride or two BEFORE X, and canter again a stride or two AFTER X. You must be accurate.”
I know, I know. I nod. Quila had been exuberant, shall we say, in canter on the diagonal, and hadn’t listened to my first (or even my second) request. And I knew I’d REALLY be yelled at if I pulled. It was embarrassing, but the fact of the matter was that I hadn’t been able to control my horse.
“You must prepare you horse. Pick up the canter on the circle, and ride canter-trot transitions, please.”
I do. I ride half a dozen--they are easy. She is extremely light to the aids.
“Ride the diagonal again.”
We fail miserably again.
“Why is it that you can ride the transition on the circle, but not the diagonal?”
Well, she gets excited on the diagonal. She does not on the circle.
“Do you not know this, Gay? Do you not know your horse? Then why do you not prepare for the diagonal better? Why do you not think on collecting her on the short side and in the corner, and half halt her--think as if you will ride the canter for a simple change, even? Why do you wait UNTIL she gets excited to react to try to correct her? Then it is too late. You must prepare yourself for how you KNOW she will behave, and then she has no chance to do the wrong thing.”
My lightbulb moment.
Oh, Jürgen... How do you put up with me? How many tests have I come out, disappointed with my performance, only to have you tell me, “Well, of course it didn’t go as well as it could have--you were a passenger up there.” And I would stare at you, stupefied, because I knew that I had just worked my you-know-what off, trying to make something of the test with the horse I had to ride, using my corners the best I could (or so I thought), and trying to hold Quila together. You would then proceed to tell me what I could have done better, and I would listen but I never really understand (fully) what you meant. I see now that you were trying to tell me that the problem was that I was working at trying to fix the problems AFTER they occurred, rather than preparing myself for what was coming up ahead. If I’m reacting, instead of anticipating, then I’m always going to be late with my aids and the test will look poorly prepared and sloppy (like my tests did a week ago).
I’ve started to get some glimpses of what you meant with the extensions--knowing that I need to bring her back earlier and harder, so that I have collection before I hit the long side. And I’m also starting to understand a few other places in the test better. But WOW, this brings my understanding to a whole new level... Like, I KNOW she’ll be excited coming up centerline, so I need to take control of the pace and set it with my seat long BEFORE we make that turn. And I KNOW she’ll want to hurry in the leg yield, so again, I need to make sure I control the rhythm/tempo with my seat, and that my half halts maintain control--not wait until she HAS hurried, but say from the very first stride “This IS the pace we’re going, this IS the pace we’re going, this IS the pace we’re going.”
“I said change lead OVER X,” said Fabian in his German accent (read loud, and not-too-patient). “That means you must trot a stride or two BEFORE X, and canter again a stride or two AFTER X. You must be accurate.”
I know, I know. I nod. Quila had been exuberant, shall we say, in canter on the diagonal, and hadn’t listened to my first (or even my second) request. And I knew I’d REALLY be yelled at if I pulled. It was embarrassing, but the fact of the matter was that I hadn’t been able to control my horse.
“You must prepare you horse. Pick up the canter on the circle, and ride canter-trot transitions, please.”
I do. I ride half a dozen--they are easy. She is extremely light to the aids.
“Ride the diagonal again.”
We fail miserably again.
“Why is it that you can ride the transition on the circle, but not the diagonal?”
Well, she gets excited on the diagonal. She does not on the circle.
“Do you not know this, Gay? Do you not know your horse? Then why do you not prepare for the diagonal better? Why do you not think on collecting her on the short side and in the corner, and half halt her--think as if you will ride the canter for a simple change, even? Why do you wait UNTIL she gets excited to react to try to correct her? Then it is too late. You must prepare yourself for how you KNOW she will behave, and then she has no chance to do the wrong thing.”
My lightbulb moment.
Oh, Jürgen... How do you put up with me? How many tests have I come out, disappointed with my performance, only to have you tell me, “Well, of course it didn’t go as well as it could have--you were a passenger up there.” And I would stare at you, stupefied, because I knew that I had just worked my you-know-what off, trying to make something of the test with the horse I had to ride, using my corners the best I could (or so I thought), and trying to hold Quila together. You would then proceed to tell me what I could have done better, and I would listen but I never really understand (fully) what you meant. I see now that you were trying to tell me that the problem was that I was working at trying to fix the problems AFTER they occurred, rather than preparing myself for what was coming up ahead. If I’m reacting, instead of anticipating, then I’m always going to be late with my aids and the test will look poorly prepared and sloppy (like my tests did a week ago).
I’ve started to get some glimpses of what you meant with the extensions--knowing that I need to bring her back earlier and harder, so that I have collection before I hit the long side. And I’m also starting to understand a few other places in the test better. But WOW, this brings my understanding to a whole new level... Like, I KNOW she’ll be excited coming up centerline, so I need to take control of the pace and set it with my seat long BEFORE we make that turn. And I KNOW she’ll want to hurry in the leg yield, so again, I need to make sure I control the rhythm/tempo with my seat, and that my half halts maintain control--not wait until she HAS hurried, but say from the very first stride “This IS the pace we’re going, this IS the pace we’re going, this IS the pace we’re going.”
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