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...

July 25, 2006: Filling it to the Brim

Quila and I have worked every day now since last Wednesday, and things are better. Not perfect, but better. We have halts again, and even half halts—most of the time, anyway. There are those times when Quila wants to help me, perhaps even do the work for me, and forgets that I might have changed the pattern of what we were doing, so I’ll ask for a zig and she’ll zag... perhaps giving me a canter-walk when I asked for a canter-trot, or even going entirely the wrong direction by giving me a trot-walk when I ask for a trot-canter (though on the later, she usually catches herself mid-stride, gives a bit of a start, shakes her head, and then overdoes it in the opposite direction). I really try not to drill her or do too many repetitions of anything, but do anything more than once, and she’ll sometimes try to find a pattern, even when none exists; she wants to be the good girl so badly. I think at one point in her life, she must have had to figure out what was wanted in advance in order to come through, because sometimes she has trouble remembering that now all that is expected of her is to pay attention—I’ll tell her what I need as we go along.

I don’t feel ready to show, yet, but we have 3 more days to prepare. I’ll make my decision about whether or not we go on Friday after our ride: if it feels like we can ride for a 62% or better (the score we need to qualify), then we’ll go. Otherwise, we’ll stay home, and continue working, since our motivation for showing this weekend is to get the qualifying score. Without one, our season is over (except for the practice, and there isn’t much sense in going out when neither of us is feeling fully prepared). But we are down to crunch time: have to get one qualifying score this weekend, or there will be no Regional Championships for 2006 in our future.

I’m encouraged by the progress we’ve made in the last 2 or 3 days, however. Showing felt like a total impossibility a week ago, and now, well, I see light at the end of the tunnel. I still don’t feel like we have half halts back enough that I could ride a test in anything besides lengthened trot and medium canter once we did those extensions (or else, I could ride the whole thing in collection, and the extensions be damned)... and there’s the rub. But otherwise, things are coming together. She’s great now when she’s not excited, but she just L.O.V.E.S those extended gaits, and while she knows HOW to come back, and that she’s SUPPOSED to come back, I don’t quite have the faith yet that she’ll REMEMBER to come back or WANT to come back, and that she’ll remember what those half halts are for in the heat of the moment... Hard to want to show if you’re not sure the brakes will work when you get to the end of the straight away. Know what I mean??? She wouldn’t run away with me, per se, but we wouldn’t exactly be going my pace (or the judge’s ideal pace) either. She’d be what you might call... er... exuberant, for lack of a better word.