Say A Prayer...

As if creaky hocks weren't enough, yesterday, when I went to ride Quila, I found a new problem. She had swelling and heat in the suspensory/deep digital flexor tendon area of the right hind--all new. She's never had a problem there before, and she has no reason to have one there now, especially after the last week of work, which is less than 40% of the usual intensity. We've only done basic walk/trot/canter, no circles smaller than 15 meters, no forward/back within the gaits, no lengthenings.

She is the Queen of casting herself, but she's also smart about carefully pushing herself clear of the wall--and I keep her wrapped all the way around for just that reason. Her bandages were undisturbed. I hope it will turn out to be nothing. I iced it twice yesterday, then put her away for the night with it slathered in poultice. The vet is due out today for the hocks... I'll guess he'll be looking at it as well.

I didn't jog her, so I didn't get a sense of lameness. She didn't seem too bad at the walk (but I can never tell a darn thing at the walk, not unless she's so darn lame I can't bear to look).

The photo is from the Dressage Affaire Show, taken by Amy McCool. She said I could post it with attribution. It's our first photo in lateral work--the first one worth claiming, anyway.

The Big Test

I look pretty happy, don't I? That's me, picking up my 2006 Circuit Champion ribbon and jacket, hard-earned (more by Jürgen than me, I think, with grey hairs where he still has hair remaining* to prove it!) by years spent correcting problems in both Tequila's and my foundation. *I'm afraid I may be the cause of his baldness, too.

The Dressage Affaire is this coming week, March 15 - 18, and with any luck, we'll get the go ahead to test the waters at Second Level on Saturday March 17. I say "with any luck" because the test requires collection, and as of the last show, we had not demonstrated the ability to collect consistently in the canter (my injured hamstring largely to blame). Jürgen has been riding Quila more this past week (every few days), and I've been conscientious about using heat and stretching the hamstring, so while it's not back to 100%, I'm able to perform pretty much up to snuff in lessons--Quila isn't able to get away with anything. I think I'll be able to hold up through 4 days of showing, especially since I'll have access to heat throughout the show this time (and because Jürgen knows what he's up against, and can plan our warm-ups accordingly).

Our rides at home have gone well. We (Quila and I) did have a bit of an argument over what was to be done in Second Level Test 1 coming out of the corner at M in the canter and going across the short diagonal towards E. In First Level Test 4, the movement calls for a down transition to trot as you cross the center-line, but at Second/1 it is a simple change at the quarter-line. Quila was ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED that Mom was STUPID and so she decided she would take care of it for me, giving me an unrequested down transition. I got after her for it, put more leg on, and tried to tell her "No, stay in canter." She decided I'd lost my mind and that I really meant, "No, come under yourself more in the down transition to trot," so she gave me a spectacular canter-trot transition. IF she gives me that when we ride First Level Test 4, we should get at least a 9--but if she insists on the same in Second Level Test 1, all is lost. I had to smack her with the whip and scold her to get her to listen and wait for the aids. Finaly I saw her ears prick up-- a sign that the wheels were turning: "Oh, you really MEANT simple change, and not at the center-line. I get it." Good girl. After that, life was fine.

I just hope now she won't think we're doing simple changes in the First Level Test 4 tests... Sometimes it's a royal PITA riding a mare that THINKS, but I haven't quite figured out how to avoid it. I tell her and tell her and tell her what it is that I REALLY mean, but she still seems to think that she has to help, and she tries anyway. She's too damn smart. Grrrrr.

At least the shoulder-in went really well yesterday, both directions. So, in general, I'm feeling really good about the show. But then again, this is still horses. You just never know.

February 25, 2007: UP TO DATE!

I just migrated this blog from my iWeb-managed site http://web.mac.com/gmwalkersd/iWeb/RidingHorsesLife/Welcome.html because it was getting too unwieldy to publish the site there every time I wanted to make changes--the software insisted on re-creating ALL of the individual blog pages, and just couldn't leave well enough alone with the archived pages. Whew! What a task. This will be much easier, though, now that the job is done.

One of the benefits of having gone to the trouble, though, is that it forced me to at least skim through my old posts... and to realize how far Quila and I have come. There are times, when I look at how far there is yet to go, that I feel like I've been spinning my wheels and that we haven't accomplished anything at all, especially since we're starting the year out showing First Level. Again. But that isn't true at all.

I rode through First Level Test 4 with Quila at home today. It was the first time we've ridden a test since September. And while our ride was not perfect (she could have been a bit rounder in the frame, and her leg yield to the right could have been a bit more prompt), I was still VERY pleased. Why? Because we went MY pace for the entire ride, and she was listening to me. Not once did she start to think, jump ahead, anticipate or second guess. She stayed on the aids, waited, and agreed that I could be the boss. Now, I know that was NOT because she's forgotten the test. I saw her ears flicker when I didn't do a stretch circle between the trot and the walk, I felt the surge of energy, ready for my command... but she waited, ready, UNTIL I asked for what I wanted. That has NEVER happened before. Not once. Ever. At home or at a show. We've had shows where she has been relaxed, quiet and well-behaved, but she's always had those wheels spinning--they were just spinning at a speed that was somewhere close to the one I wanted.

I think a large reason for this is that I've finally LEARNED and TRULY UNDERSTAND what it means to ride her. I know how to demand that she pay attention if she tries to work off her own agenda, so I no longer have the sense that things could spiral out of control. There will be no more prayers as we go down center line of "Please, God, let me ride the same horse I had in the warm-up." Other prayers, perhaps... because prayer isn't a bad thing, but I can at least dispense with the need to say that particular prayer of desperation. In fact, I've come to enjoy the extra energy that I use to despise, because I know how to channel it into improved, more expressive performance.

A few weeks ago, Quila was reacting to a pocket of spectators watching one of our boarders try saddles. The extra saddles perched on the rail, combined with the railbirds had her upset (though I can't exactly say why), and she was all huffed up and blowing steam out her ears. I had one of the best rides of the week, once I got her through--and getting her through took no longer than it normally would. And I was able to ride her from my seat and legs, without using an inordinate amount of hand. BIG change in my skill set. BIGGER change in our partnership and performance.

This will, I think, be an entirely different year. And we're signed up to show Second Level on March 17. BIG GRIN.

January 10, 2007: Please Deposit Another 25¢

Quila’s work ethic has been superb lately, and the quality of her work is the best it has ever been--but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t get tired and have an opinion as to when it is time to quit!

The smart mare (and she is a smart and thinking mare), dropped a not-so-subtle hint on me yesterday. We were doing a nice working trot across the diagonal (it was late in the lesson, so it would have been cruel for me to ask for a medium), and as we approached X, she suddenly veered, faced C squarely, and gave me a perfect halt. It happened so suddenly that it was done before my synapses registered it--I mean, who expects a horse to halt in the middle of a medium trot??? We NEVER approach a halt at X from the diagonal. She’d clearly planned it, though, and she snuck it in there very carefully, without any slowing until the last second (which is the way she usually does her halt/salute).

I have to say that she was VERY good natured when I laughed and said, “Nice try, but we’re not done working yet.” She was quick to my aids, no argument, and did all that I asked for the remainder of the ride. She apparently just felt the need to express an opinion, and having done so, was content to follow to my lead.

January 5, 2007: Basics Succeed Again

I have had two of the best rides I’ve ever had on Tequila over the last two days, despite having had very few lessons in the last two months due to Jürgen’s travels in Europe. (He was gone most of November and December, and Quila was laid up with an arthritis flare a good part of while he was home in November, and I was laid up with the “bug from hell,” a souvenir from Kansas City, while he was home in December).

Jürgen has taught me well, however, regarding The Training Scale, so in his absence, I focussed on the scale and on the areas where Quila tends to block: locking in the poll, so that her contact isn’t correct and she’s leaning on the bit, and avoiding taking weight as evenly as she should by assuming the correct bend on circles or traveling straight on a straight line. Her impulsion is generally good (she LIKES forward), so all I really worked on was that she stay loose in the poll with the correct contact, and that she accept weight evenly in the hindquarters IN ALL GAITS, and not evade by popping a shoulder or leaning against my leg. We did lots and lots of transitions, changes of bend, and changes of rein. We did spiralling in and spiralling out. We did endless circles, first one way and then the other. We did figure eights, sometimes in one gait for half, and another gait for the other half. We would intersperse extended gaits. All I truly cared about was that she was a) maintaining appropriate contact with the bit, b) listening to my aids, and c) straight.

The end result has been that it is now quite easy to get her through, and the quality of her canter has improved to a degree we never thought possible for her. She is sitting beautifully and now possesses a lovely jump and collection. Simple changes are effortless for her, even though I didn’t school a single one the entire time Jürgen was gone! And the quality of her trot has improved dramatically, too. It has some swing to it now, particularly BEFORE we canter, and I have the feeling that she is actually lengthening her stride rather than running when I ask for her to extend, which is a change... After I canter, she still wants to run, and it is difficult to get her to return to the same degree of roundness and collection, but she is getting better. I thought it was because she was excited, but Jürgen says no. He says that after sitting for the canter, it is difficult for her to sit in the trot to that degree, and that she is still building up muscle. He is right, I think, because I cantered for shorter periods today, with breaks, and she was able to return to the “good” trot for brief periods of time without a struggle. We just need to build her up for that, too. She is trying SO hard, and I can tell that she is feeling quite pleased with herself. Pleased is hardly the word for how I’m feeling about her!

I just wish that we’d come to this point several years ago, and not as we’re embarking on what I expect to be my last competition season with her. I wish I hadn’t promised myself (and her) that I would retire her after this year. I’m having more fun with her now than every before, but I don’t think it would be fair to try to stretch her career out any longer. She’s a trooper, and she gives herself heart and soul to the work, but I know there are days when it can’t be easy for her.

P.S. I do also owe a debt of gratitude to Facet, Birthe and Susan, who taught me a lot about my body position and the effective use of my legs. Without their lessons, I would neither have realized that I wasn’t doing all that I could to insist that Tequila was travelling correctly nor have had the tools to accomplish my goals.

December 17, 2006: Bridle Woes Redux

The bridle issue continues...

The crescent dropped noseband bridle worked, but the Kavalkade quality was horrid--the metal started flaking after the third day of use, even though I had only cleaned it with clear water after each use. It was obvious that it would soon start wearing against Quila’s cheeks, causing irritation and/or injury, and that it was not going to hold-up. I returned it.

I was using it with a Passier Gemini bridle (sans the crank noseband and flash), so I simply put the missing pieces back together in the bridle. That’s working now, and actually, she behaves so well and is so comfortable with them, that they are both quite loose with a good bit of daylight visible around each. No tongue. I did find that the Myler bit didn’t work well with this set-up, though, so we’re back to her old Dewsbury double-broken snaffle. She’s got a nasty rub on her cheek right now that worries me a bit--but I’m not sure whether it’s from the Myler and if it heals, she’ll be good with her old Dewsbury again, or whether I’ll have to figure out something different bit-wise (maybe an Eggbutt?) She has chubby cheeks, and it looks like perhaps she’s getting pinched by the bit ring.

The mouth problems do appear to be solved, however, and that is a good thing. NOW, if only I can remember that I have legs and a seat and use them 100% of the time when I ride. Yesterday, she was a bit stiff and cranky--it was cold and windy--and I was so focussed on working on that that I forgot to to push her through to the bridle, so when she decided she could be the boss, she was having a great time for a good long while until I realized what the problem was and actually closed my legs. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was an epiphany of sorts, though, because I realized that it is also what I do sometimes while riding a test. I get so involved in the test that I give her the aids, but I don’t use the same “you-will-do-this” power that I used in the warm-up or while riding at home. If she’s good, that’s fine. If not, well, she wins and we ride her test. I asked Jürgen to remind me to flip the power switch to the “ON” position before every test--I think it will help.

October 25, 2006: Lesson Learned, To My Chagrin

Several lessons, actually. One is that when Quila shows a sudden and/or unexpected change in behavior, rather than getting upset with her and/or our partnership, I really should know by now to give her the benefit of the doubt. Yes, she has been whacko in the past, and a year-and-a-half ago, behavior such as she’d exhibited at the show might have been par for the course, but we’d worked our way past that. She knows what’s expected of her now, trusts me, and tries hard--the rushing isn’t an attempt to get it over with quickly, before she gets into trouble (it used to feel like she went into a panic and just couldn’t think straight so was just trying to rush through it, throwing out whatever she could think of as quickly as she could without taking the time to listen to my aids). Since the show, after her masseuse returned, she got much better to ride though--really, quite a dramatic improvement--and her issues localized to her poll. I had the vet look at her last week, and we had what in medicine I would call a “positive chandelier sign”--she reared when she was touched there. Oh, my! Inflammation of the atlanto-occipital joint. She’s since been injected, and is better, but the surrounding soft-tissue soreness lingers (from holding/protecting herself). Yesterday’s ride was rough, buted her last night... today was better, but still not great. We’ll just have to work through this. She’s trying, though. And she had extra massages last week, and will again this week, and possibly next. They help A LOT... Barbara, her masseuse, has a wonderfully healing touch.

Professor Facet had more to teach me today, too. First, he said, “Thank you for riding Quila first...” since I wasn’t so stiff. It was FAR easier to ride him into the bridle and get his lovely, powerful trot, and to package that energy into something I could put to use... practicing transitions. And in working on the canter/trot/canter transitions, I discovered that my outside leg does matter to a classically trained horse. Once I ask for the canter (or even before, really), Quila doesn’t really care what the heck the outside leg is doing. I realized that she cues off the inside leg and the seatbone, and I could be an amputee, have two outside legs, or be dancing a jig with the outside leg for all it mattered to her... Facet cares, though, and he cares deeply. If the outside leg stays back, firmly back, he will canter (he doesn’t cue off it, but he needs it in addition to the cue). If I put it back to ask, but don’t hold it there (which I have a tendency to do when asking for the right lead canter), he decides that I must be a fickle female and have changed my mind about cantering, and the energy that was about to lift me into canter fizzles into nothingness. Jürgen yelled at me today for letting my outside leg come forward in the canter depart once, so I began to pay attention... and sure enough, now that I’ve fixed:
a) my errant right seat bone that sometimes floated in space
b) my errant left shoulder that wanted to lag behind, I now need to pay attention to
c) my errant left leg that wants to do its own thing in the right lead canter.

It would seem that if I can keep those body parts under control, however, I can get the right lead canter depart at will now, from either walk or trot, and that I can continue in canter for as long as I like. Yippee! Another lesson or two of packaging Facet’s powerful trot like I did today, and proving that I’ve managed his canter, and I’ll be on to working on things he WANTS to do... like shoulder-in, travers and the other stuff I’ve been itching to do. He’s been itching to do it, too... Today, I turned up center-line and angled back towards B to change rein, and he was SURE we were going to do half pass. He stayed bent for me, and was all set to do it, then I felt him sigh... “Oh, darn... those aren’t half pass aids are they? Fine. We’ll do more regular trot then.” The only reason I’d ridden that line is that all the other “change rein” patterns were getting old, and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to add a change in the routine. I hadn’t meant to get his hopes up.

October 18, 2006: Losing my Surfboard

Tequila Sunrise, or Quila as I more often call her, has been an ever changing challenge and exercise in patience... Solve one problem, and a new one crops up to take its place. Having “refreshed her memory” on the meaning of half-halts, and gotten her so that’s she’s responding nicely (once again) to seat and leg (more Jürgen’s doing than mine), I returned from cheering Susan on at the USDF Regional Championships only to find that she’d decided to morph into a surboard in my absence.

I cannot blame our poor Bereiter who was left minding the farm in our absence, because she is both an extremely difficult horse to ride that doesn’t follow the usual rules (it’s taken Jürgen and me quite some time to learn how to ride her to keep her supple and responsive to the aids, and she takes a bag of tricks that are all her own), but there also seems to be a physical component--as if she’s slept wrong, or has an irritation in the atlanto-occiptal joint: her neck will be straight until you get right to the poll, and then there’s a subtle twist to the left. It’s a LOT of work to get to her to let you see that right eyeball, even when travelling on a straight line, and so she’s been holding herself, and achieving a correct bend (and subsequently getting her through), has been a major effort for the better part of the last week.

I am SO grateful that she’s at least not pulling on me and hanging on the bit. If she were, I’d be back at square one with my shoulder injury, since crooked/stiff with an inability to go to the right, while at the same time running through the bridle and leaning heavily on the forehand is how I injured the muscle in the first place. Without the heaviness in front, though, I seem to be able to cope.

I’ve spent my last 3 rides flexing her first to one side and then the other, for 5 or 6 strides at a time, but more to the right than the left, softly and gently, until she gives and will come round. It was a bear the first day, somewhat easier the second, and finally (thank goodness), by yesterday she was starting to get much softer for me and after the initial working in period, we had one of the nicest rides we’ve ever had...

When she is neither leaning on the bridle, nor stiff in the poll, she is a joy to ride again, and I can do pretty much whatever I want to do... We rode simple changes yesterday and nailed every one, and when we returned to the trot after canter, I had merely to apply my leg to lift her back underneath me and get a nice trot and have her carry me along. It’s far short of what I can accomplish with Facet, but it is something nonetheless.

If we can continue this progression, there may be hope for Second Level (in a limited fashion anyway--we’ll still have our difficulties with the lengthenings) and a chance to move up for next way, as long as I can steel myself for her unpredictability. If not, I can continue to learn from Facet and apply those lessons to Quila... and see where that takes us at home, at least. And I think I’ll probably breed her in the Spring. That will give me another good year and a half or more of riding her, and then she’ll be due for a vacation, if not retirement. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. (And I should be pretty solidly on her daughter Promise by then).

September 25, 2006: At a Crossroads...

Yesterday was worse than the day before. Not all of it perhaps, but certainly the canter tour. The warm-up was falsely reassuring: Tequila remembered what half-halts were and agreed to bend correctly in response to my aids... but things changed when we entered the arena. I felt her pump up beneath me a bit, but stay “with me” at first, and the trot work went reasonably well... we even managed a ‘6’ on the second trot lengthening (a recent “high” for us), but then she became tense in the walk (only a “6” where we are capable of an “8”), and after an obedient canter depart, she crossed her jaw, took the bit in her teeth, and away we went...

We stayed on course. We completed the test. But I had no control. All I can say is that Tequila now knows the test, and didn’t need my help to finish (except to remind her where the canter-trot transitions went). To a casual observer, perhaps, the test looked better, since the pace was smoother--but that was only because there weren’t the moments when I had her come back to me to contrast with the moments where I lost her again.

I’m experiencing a whole mish-mash of emotions, from incompetence (WHY can’t I feel this coming before it’s too late and put a stop to it?), to anger (WHY does she do this to me?) to lack of motivation (WHY do I persist in trying at a sport that it seems I have no talent for--all this time, and still stuck at First Level and unable to do consistently acceptable work) to I-don’t-know-what, with a good dose of the poor-pitiful-me’s thrown in.

At home, if Tequila starts to take over, I KNOW what to do: I will give a half halt and if I don’t get a response, I will give her a full halt and a thwack-thwack with the whip +/- sharp spurs in her ribs (for Quila, these aren’t driving aids--she doesn’t need those--they are, “I’m not happy with you, because you aren’t listening. You are NOT the boss. Now, will you PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ME?!?!?!” aids). It usually only takes once or twice a ride one or two rides a week to make my point, and the rest of the time, I can ride her from my seat and calves alone. The thing is, though, she’s a smart mare--a VERY smart mare--and she’s figured out that once we’ve gone down center-line, she can pretty much do whatever she wants... there isn’t going to be any punishment coming. The only tools I have left are those 1/4 voltés known as corners, and they can be as much as 60 meters away--she can have worked up quite a head of steam by the time we get there. Jürgen says, “Well, close your legs, sit in, and half halt her!” That’s easy for him to say--he outweighs me substantially, and probably has 3 times the muscle strength that I do in his upper back (and isn’t fighting a torn muscle there, either). I would LOVE to be able to do that, but I simply can’t... at least not effectively. Or, let’s just say that in my incompetence, I haven’t yet figured out how.

So, she wins if she times her “run” correctly (and she’s getting that down to a science), and the test falls to hell, and I’m not feeling good about her, about my riding, or about myself... What the heck am I doing? I think it is definitely time to give it up (showing, that is)... stop the agony until I have another horse to show. And a few days’ break from riding is sounding pretty good right now, too.

She’s old. She didn’t get a proper foundation, and the fact that she recovered from the start she DID have to bring me this far is nothing short of a miracle. She’s reached her ceiling ability-wise, too. Time we had fun at home, where I can continue to learn from her without the associated stress and misery for either of us (because I’ll bet she’s not much happier than I am right now), and I won’t end up angry at my horse, when the rational part of me knows that I really shouldn’t hold it against her. She doesn’t leave her stall saying, “I’m going to put the screws to my Mom today.” She only knows that for whatever reason, she wants to get through the test, and doing it the way she’s doing it seems like the best approach...

July 28, 2006: Blueprint for Success

Quila was a new horse today when I rode her with Jürgen (thank goodness), and it gave me the confidence I needed going into the show tomorrow. A large part of it was that he rode her yesterday, so she was much more “through” and the residual stiffness from her lay-up was gone, but he also helped me understand the secret to collecting her (and keeping the collection) in the canter, particularly after lengthenings: I need to make sure I get the lateral flexion I need (particularly at the jaw), and I need to sit back and not let her pull me forward. If I keep my focus on keeping her supple in the jaw (which is much easier to do after his ride on her yesterday), and keep my weight properly distributed in the saddle, then I have her--she can’t take the bit and run through my half halts. That’s all it takes.

I rode transitions forward and back within the canter today that were lovely--exuberant forward, but nicely back--WITHOUT her pulling against me or getting heavy in the hand, and her gaits were expressive. I was also quite pleased with the trot work, and my ability to keep her sitting behind, and paying attention enough that I could (from leg/seat alone) collect her over X if I wanted to without losing suppleness through the back or roundness in her topline. Of course, she was very relaxed and working at home today. I think, however, I’ll be able to keep that going tomorrow.

Because of the heat, we’ve decided on no more than 20 minutes of warm-up, focussed on transitions alone: no movements. I’m also going to ride the lengthenings vigorously, but allow myself an extra stride or two for bringing her back. I don’t think the judge will notice, and since collecting her after will be key to all the work that follows, I want to be sure that I have the time I need to do it correctly. We decided that this would be the wisest approach--just a single stride (or at most 2) early.

I am actually hopeful that we could get BOTH qualifying scores this weekend. I am certainly going to ride heart and soul towards that goal!

July 14, 2006: Avoiding Heatstroke

I might have chosen a cool drink, but Quila went for the sure thing... avoid the heat of Ramona altogether! We were to have shown at Creek Hollow this weekend, but our plans had to be cancelled because Tequila cast herself in her stall. Nothing too serious, I think, but after discussing it with Jürgen, we’ve decided that the intelligent thing to do is to give her the weekend off and just tack walk until he can look at her on Tuesday because she has some swelling in the left hind. The amazing (frustrating) thing is that she managed to do this WHILE she was wearing standing wraps and to an area COVERED by the wraps! What the @(*&#? Now that’s one determined mare. (The temperatures on the COAST this weekend are projected to be 95 to 100º; I can only imagine what it will be like in Ramona). Of course, if she’d asked, I could have told her that they were using their indoor arena with misters going as the warm-up this show, and that the outdoor arena was for the rides,which were scheduled to be completed by 10:30 am. But she didn’t ask.

This enforced time off puts the kibosh (I think I spelled that right) on any hopes I had (I don’t think Quila particularly cared) for qualifying for the CDS Championships. There simply aren’t enough judges to ride for between now and the qualifying deadline, what with traveling to Lexington, VA to do the “Mom thing” for Susan and going to WEG. Oh, well. We should still be able to qualify for USDF, unless we screw up or this is worse than I think.

She actually injured herself on Wednesday. I hand-walked and iced her then, and rode her lightly (equal to our warm-up) yesterday. She was stiff when we started but then felt good yesterday, and the leg looked OK after the ride. We did a bit more (just a tiny bit)—I rode no more than 20 minutes, and only did easy transitions from walk/trot, trot/canter and canter/trot—today. No simple changes, no trot/halt, no collection, no extension. I kept things easy, and just asked for her to be loose in the poll and to give through the ribs (but kept my circles large, 15 meters or greater).

It was a really helpful ride, in that I learned a lot in 2 minutes. I was having trouble at the canter: she was traveling haunches in on the right lead, and coming against my right leg, stiff in the poll and I was having a tough time getting her to do a transition to trot without pulling. I was getting frustrated, since my new mantra is “Thou shalt not pull.” And I didn’t want to bring her up hard onto her you-know-what because of the hind leg... Fabian was riding another horse at the time, though, and had seen the problem. “Look,” he said. “You have to get her into your outside rein.” What? But she’s looking to the outside already? Increase the contact, and won’t we be facing the other direction in the arena? That’s what my instincts wanted to shout... “Let go of your inside rein NOW and half halt on the outside rein, and use your inside leg.” My instincts screamed NO. Boy, are they STUPID!

I did what he said, and PLOP, she softened in the poll, straightened, and the problem was solved. Then I heard Jürgen’s voice in my head. “She’s haunches in. Put your inside leg on and push her into your outside rein.” OK, Jürgen, now I get it. You meant I should stop trying to pull her to the inside and twist her into a pretzel with my inside rein, and do something that works instead. Thank goodness you’re German. An American trainer would be billing me extra for having to repeat themselves and for pain and suffering, because I’m so slow on the uptake... I’m sure Susan has said the same thing, too. I just wasn’t hearing it. I had to get to the “I’ll never pull again” place first, I think.

I also realized that it (today’s problem) STARTED because I hadn’t gotten her there (on my outside rein, in correct contact) from the FIRST canter stride. I waited (again) until there was a problem, and THEN tried to fix it. I DO HAVE TO GET BETTER ABOUT THAT.

Of course, now I won’t get to practice what I just figured out, at least for a few days, because the swelling increased from just the small amount of work we did. I’m hoping it was just the heat and nothing more, but as Jürgen said on the phone (he and the rest of the gang are at the CDI*** Woodside), a few days walking never hurt anybody. So, it’s ice, ice, ice and walking until he’s back and can take a look on Monday or Tuesday. It doesn’t look scary bad, but I don’t want to take risks with a horse as precious as she is to me.

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.”

June 30, 2006: Why I Love My Trainer

There are a group of us Adult Amateur ladies that ride at my barn. We are all good friends and ride at close to the same level (First/Second, give or take). We are supportive of each other and we cheer each other on. We often compete against one another at shows and sure, we’d each rather that WE were the one that took home the blue ribbon, but “losing” doesn’t hurt so bad if your stablemate (and show buddy) wins instead.

Today, two out of the three of us present were watching our trainers school our horses--and our horses were not being particularly, er, ahem, well-behaved. Mine, especially. She has forgotten that she knows how to bend, despite the fact that I have done my best to remind her, which she demonstrates by locking herself up in the poll and setting her jaw against my hand. No amount of flexion, leg, you-name-it that I am able to manage has changed anything, so we decided it was time for a day with Uncle Jürgen. (We try to have those weekly, but June has been a crazy month, and we weren’t able to stick with the program).

My girlfriends and I were watching, with awe and admiration, as he patiently suppled her and got her to work through her back and poll until she was putty to his aids. We had, immediately prior, watched him “repair” the changes that had become sticky on another horse, and before that, fix the “throughness” on yet another horse that tended to become heavy and easily strung out.

That’s when we remarked on what amazing skill Jürgen has, and how sorry we felt for him. The most common phrase he hears? “Here, Jürgen, fix my horse...” and then “Thanks. He/She is perfect now, I’ll take ‘em back.” When the horse is fabulous to ride again, Jürgen (who is worth a million dollars, as far as I’m concerned, both as a coach and rider), gets them yanked from under him. No “Here, why don’t you ride and show my horse--you deserve it,” but rather, “Hey, this feels so wonderful, I think I’ll never get out of the saddle again!”

Sure, we could all fix our own horses. Eventually. What makes Jürgen so unique, however, is that in addition to his incredible strength, he has incredible lightness and quickness in applying the aids--AND (and this is the key), an ability to release so awesomely quickly and clearly that the horse has absolutely no doubt in his/her mind that they have done the right thing. Jürgen can communicate to the horse like no other being I know. He may not look pretty or elegant riding a horse, but I dare anyone to find a more effective rider. Or a more fair one. He is firm, but consistent. The horses get away with nothing, but they adore him for it--even my poor Quila, who used to be scared of everybody and everything when I got her. She has always loved Jürgen.

I’m looking forward to my ride on her tomorrow--I know it will be one of the best. And I’m hoping I can manage to get him to ride her again before he leaves for Pebble Beach to coach Susan at the USEF Junior Team Championships.

June 26, 2006: We're Out of Our Box

Tequila and I took on First Level Test 4 for the first time this past weekend; it was only the third time we’d even ventured past Test 1 (and the other two were, quite honestly, disasters).

Our rides were not perfect--far from it--but they were not disasters, either--and I can safely say we’ll not be returning to Test 1 again, EVER. On Saturday, Quila’s listening skills were, shall we say, a bit lacking? When my first set of aids did not come through, I repeated myself, but the second didn’t either. By the third, it would finally dawn on me that she was a bit “deef”, and I’d speak-up. Of course, that meant our movements were a bit late, and appeared to lack preparation and the judge was astute enough to notice. Quila and I share equally in the blame, I think. Since working with Fabian, I’ve been riding her differently, and I was so focussed on not reverting to old habits that I wasn’t paying the attention I should have been to the response I was getting to my aids. I should have been more aware and by the second (or certainly the third) time she “slept” through them turned up the “gain” so to speak. Our warm-up was fine, and so was trotting around the outside of the ring, but she gave me a clue when we headed up centerline and I felt her “motor” into high gear. She wasn’t being naughty--just eager--saying, “Oh, boy, Mom. A test. We can do this, I know we can. Let me show you what I can do!” Unfortunately, her idea of a “great test” differs greatly from mine and that of the judges...

Yesterday, after having reviewed the video of Saturday’s ride, I resolved that I would be the boss no matter what. I achieved that goal, and I did it without pulling (Yay!) although it wasn’t as pretty as I would have liked. I was quite pleased with our trot work (except for 5’s on the lengthenings, which thank goodness are NOT double coefficients on this test), it was all 6’s and 7’s--I could have asked for more on the trot lengthenings and wish that I had, but at least she didn’t fall on her forehand and run. Our walk was good, too...

But then the canter. Suddenly, her neck felt like it was encased in a cement cervical collar, and she refused to give me her back. It felt like nothing I did would solve the problem. At home, I would have done canter/walk and canter/trot transitions, and ridden the canter 2 strides counter-flexed then 2 strides normal-flexed, alternating, until she gave through her neck and poll. Lots of transitions, lots of changes in bend (and a little prayer thrown in), because when she locks up like this, it’s usually a combination of tight muscles (and brain spasm :wink:), and it’s heck to get her loose and through... In the test, however, none of those tools are available. Bend was pretty much impossible in our circle, so it felt labored, she was flat for the lengthening and couldn’t come under herself to push, wouldn’t collect for the corner--but we still rode that single loop (good thing, since we got a few points back on the double coefficient). We managed 6’s and 7’s except for the lengthening and the walk-trot-canter sequence (but we got an 8 for the final trot-canter transition to make up), and nothing below a 5... so it could have been worse. Far worse. The truly sad part is that we ended up with a 61.944%. I needed a 62% for a qualifying score for the Championships. One more point ANYWHERE on the test would have done it for me. Damn, damn, damn.

But at least we’re done with Test 1, and we’ve shown we can do Test 4. We do it much better at home (of course), but this was just our first outing. Our next show is July 15 - 16, and we’ll knock their socks off then! (I’ll also have Jürgen ride her a few times in the meantime--usually he rides her once a week to keep her loose and supple, but with all the travelling he’s been doing coaching Jennifer Schrader for Gladstone, and getting Susan qualified for the Juniors, it didn’t happen for the last 3 weeks or more. She was fine for a long time, but the stiffness started to creep back in this past week, and by the weekend: YUK!)

June 4, 2006: Riding Collection

I had another lesson with Fabian yesterday. We started to work on our extensions, but the collection just wasn’t there... To paraphrase Jürgen, we didn’t have the tension in the coiled spring to generate the energy for the extensions, so our lesson plan changed almost from the outset.

Collection in the trot has become easy for us, but we’re still working harder to achieve it in the canter because that’s the gait where Quila is most adept at suckering me into a pulling war. We’ve made tremendous progress in that regard--I only need occasional reminders about my contact in the bridle, and for the most part, I’m able to both keep her from leaning against my hands, and to resist the urge to pull--but coordinating my seat, leg and hands to keep her frame shortened and collected requires maximum concentration on my part, still. Riding simple changes has been a great exercise for both of us to help Quila sit and use her hind end, and to help me practice coordinating my skills, since I’ll fail miserably if I’m not using my aids properly.

I have a tendency to get my upper body forward in the canter, and that’s one of my biggest enemies to collection. Combine that with a tendency to hold the rein a fraction too long in the half halt, and Quila welcomes the opportunity to pull me forward, and start “the war.” As a visual, Fabian told me that I should become a “granny in a rocking chair”, and that I should make full use of the back of the chair... Grannies NEVER lean forward in their rocking chairs, after all. They sit back, resting against the seat back. And I should think of my hand like a granny’s tremor, with very rapid, almost shake-like (but controlled) request through the rein when I’m asking for the transition to walk (my seat/legs having the larger part of the conversation). The rein should be soft and quick like a granny’s tremor... his demonstration to me made me laugh, but it also made the point. We rode much better simple changes after that.

He also said something else, “Don’t pull. Keep the contact light so you can feel and speak to her mouth.” I know that, but somehow putting it in that manner spoke to me.

Pulling is wrong. I know it. I cringe when I see other riders do it, but somehow, when I ask, and the horse resists and pulls back, it just happens. (Usually in down transitions). And I don’t realize I’m even doing it. I hate it. It doesn’t happen often, or even every ride, but when Quila feels like having things her own way, it will. And it must stop. NOW.

June 2, 2006: Simon Says

Since beginning work with Fabian last week, my lessons on Quila have been building on each other in rapid-fire sequence. Never one to allows us to rest on our laurels, even for a brief moment, Jürgen wasted no time in putting our newfound communication skills to work: if Quila and I could perform transitions between gaits without her suckering me into pulling, then it was high time that I learned to do the same within gaits.

I learned that my half halts have been TOO LONG. With Quila, they can last only a micro-second. A fraction of a second is too long--she sees that as a window of opportunity for bearing down on the bit, and beginning a pulling war. I KNOW that Jürgen has been trying to make me understand this for ages, but somehow it has not registered... until now. (Poor Jürgen--he’d have hair if I wasn’t so dense!) But now, with hips that I REFUSE to allow to tighten, and with a determination not to pull, EVER, we began to work on our contact and getting Quila light and responsive in the bridle--and LISTENING--evening when she is exuberantly performing her favorite work: lengthenings.

It took HARD half halts, rough even, to get her to listen, but after a few sharp ones, she began to realize that YES, INDEED, we CAN collect in the middle of a diagonal. By the end of Wednesday’s lesson, I was able to collect at X with a light touch (the rest from my seat) for 3 or 4 strides, and then ask her to extend again. WOW! This from the mare who was certain that once I aimed and asked, she was to shoot like a ball from a cannon, never stopping until we reached the other side, and that the only purpose I could possibly have for half halts would be to remind her to stay off her forehand.

We began work on canter, and did a few simple changes (we’d never ridden any before), and that was great--but they were on serpentines. I still could not get her to listen the way I’d like when I rode her on the long side, and after one or two lengthenings, she wanted to lengthen EVERY TIME. That was, until today.

Today, we worked harder and longer on the canter, and I wouldn’t let her lengthen for more than a few strides before bringing her back, and we did the simple changes earlier. Jürgen was out of town, so I worked with Fabian again, and we also worked on simple changes... a few strides of canter, simple change, a few strides of canter, simple change, etc., etc., once I had her on the aids, all around the ring. Then I rode lengthenings and went back to the simple change. Back and forth between lengthenings and simple changes. She got it... and I did, too. The common theme that kept repeating itself for the entire week was this: There is no control for the lengthenings if you don’t bring the horse back between them. The key is in the collection both before and afterward. Ride the collection well, and the lengthening will be good, clear and controlled.

So, collection will be my ongoing task in the coming weeks. I’m really pleased with how the work is going and with how hard Quila is trying. The new challenges are fun for both of us.

May 25, 2006: Remembering the Point

I had a lesson on Quila with Fabian, our Bereiter, today. It was the first time I’ve ridden her with anyone other than Jürgen or Jennifer in the last few years for more than a few minutes, and it was a really great lesson--a lot like going to a clinic, in that he saw us from a fresh perspective, although his approach was classically German, just like Jürgen.

It took him no time at all to recognize our greatest problem: Quila likes to run through the bridle, and sucker me into a pulling war. (Jürgen yells at me for this all the time). Before I learned to half-halt her effectively with my seat, she usually won, since I had very little else to use against her if I couldn’t bring her under control after the umpteenth half-halt. That’s no longer the case, provided I remember to use my tools--and that was exactly the point of my lesson today. Fabian pointed out to me (time and time again--he was quite honest, and made me, unfortunately, painfully aware) that the more wrapped up I become in what I’m doing and the harder I am concentrating, the less likely I am to use my new tools, and the more likely I am to revert to my old habits. So we do quite nicely working on straight lines and in painfully boring voltés, but throw in something interesting, like counter-canter, or single loop canter serpentines, a leg yield, or anything that starts to hint at moving up a test (or, heaven forbid, like moving up a level), and Quila gets excited about it. “Yippee!” she says, “we are leaving the humdrum routine behind, and life is finally getting interesting!” I would quite agree, except her yippee is often associated with running through the bridle and taking matters into her own hands. All well and good, since I recognize it, and I know how to correct her... but the danger lies in how I correct her.

With Fabian, we kept life simple today, and the lesson focussed on a single issue: that single bad habit. We didn’t worry about developing stamina and carrying power. We didn’t worry about thrust or throughness. We didn’t care about quickness to the leg, though all of that improved, secondarily.

Instead, I have to say thank to Fabian today for patiently stretching my limits of concentration, and helping me to work on new riding skills while focussing on the most important old one: riding those half-halts correctly from my seat and legs, and leaving my naughty hands in their proper proportion. In Quila’s defense, she’s not entirely to blame for wanting to blow-off my seat/legs and not always listening like she should, either: for years, I flopped around on her back like a dead fish, with no seat to speak of--it’s an entirely new thing to her to have my seat be educated and suddenly mean something.

May 24, 2006: Working on the Clock

It’s a good thing that horses haven’t thought of unionizing, or Quila would be the first to join up... She is generally a willing horse, a real trier, but there is one thing that makes her angry. Very, very angry. And that is being asked to work through a meal-time. Like the union employee that insists on his/her scheduled breaks each morning and afternoon, and insists on the full hour (not 59 minutes, mind you) for lunch, Quila expects that meals WILL be served on time, and that she WILL be in her stall to eat them. Furthermore, ride times at shows should be scheduled for her convenience so that she doesn’t miss those all-important meals, and heaven-help-me, Jürgen had better not mess with our lesson schedule so that we have to work through a meal, either...

If you’re like me, you’re thinking right about now: But she’s a horse. She stands for 22+ hours, 7 days a week. She can darn well learn to work WHEN I ask her to, and she can learn to like it. Well, periodically I get that fool thought in my head, and periodically she reminds me that she’s a mare, and I can take that fool thought right out again. Yesterday was one of those days...

My lessons are nearly always at 1:15 or 2:00 pm, conveniently scheduled after lunch and before dinner, but yesterday, events at the barn necessitated a rescheduling until 3:30. Dinner is served at 3:45, give or take, by the time it reaches her barn. I mounted at 3:15, and did a 15 minute walk warm-up, and then we did a “working-in” at trot for 5 minutes or so, followed by work at trot-halt, and trot lengthenings. I had her feeling really good in the bridle--she was soft, coming under nicely, and really quick to the aids. I was pleased.

At Jürgen’s direction, I gave her a walk break, during which Jürgen and I briefly discussed an item of of business at hand (and during which the feed cart passed the dressage arena). Then I asked for the trot again. She stiffened. I asked louder, and she begrudgingly gave me a trot. I asked for canter, and the next thing I knew, we were cantering down the long side in a canter extension the likes of which I NEVER get when I WANT a canter extension. I asked for a down transition to trot at B. I finally got working trot at A, and a down transition to trot in the corner. We managed a halt at E. “Nice transition,” said Jürgen. “Yes,” I said. “But I asked for it at B!” Oh, oh.

I asked for another canter, and this time got a beautiful canter, and found I was able to keep her in collected canter with my seat, but only with A LOT of effort on my part. “Hey, that’s great expression. Now, THAT is what you want for tests!” “Great... Do you know how hard I’m working for this? She’s having a tantrum here...” “Then use it!” says Jürgen. Great... Easy for him to talk, sitting there in his comfy chair, rather than sitting on my rocket. I can tell that she’s just waiting for me to relax so that she can give me another extension, and this time maybe we can reach Seattle before I ask for a transition... Her theory, I’m convinced, is that we’ll do X number of strides before I let her get home to her dinner, and if she can do them in extended canter, she’ll get to her dinner faster. Quila has not yet learned that dinner comes after quality work, not after quantity work. We’ve been partners for a LONG time, but this concept has not yet registered with her... We’re working on it, and in general, she learns quickly, but this critical one eludes her, despite the fact we NEVER go home until she relaxes, gives in, and behaves... She must think “WOW... Mom really had a HIGH quota for me today.”

The up side yesterday is that I have finally learned how to ride her when she is having a tantrum and in the “I want to go home and eat” mode and make it look pretty and like something other than what it is. The down side is that she is still having these “opinions,” if you want to call them that. I can’t give into them, because I don’t think our show managers would take kindly to notes on entries reading “Please do not schedule between 7:30 and 8:30, 11:30 and 12:30 and 3:30 and 4:30, to allow adequate warm-up and riding time after meals. Thank you.” Know what I mean?

May 20, 2006: Moving Up in the World (of Dressage)

I decided that I wasn’t going to show for awhile, so that Quila and I could work on moving up a few tests... we’re both bored with First Level Test 1 (well, I am anyway--she may still be feeling smug about her Blue Ribbon at DG Bar, earned with very little contribution from me). I’ve looked over our alternatives: Tests 2, 3 and 4 (since Second Level is still well beyond our reach, and one of my goals this year is to make it to the CDS/USDF Championships). Test 2: double coefficients on POSTED trot lengthenings--FORGET THAT. Test 3: now that has possibilities. Then I looked at Test 4, which to my eye is a test made for us: both trot lengthenings SEATED, the stretchy circle NOT after a lengthening, and, as an added bonus, I can put a “Q” after the class number on an entry form. I’ve been longing to do that... I initially planned to hold off on showing her again until the end of June, but now I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, we’ll set our sights earlier.

I tried riding the canter sequence today, and it was a piece of cake--far easier, actually, than Test 1. It shows off what we do well, and even gives us double coefficients for it. Cool. I get to START the canter in a circle, which lets me really get her on her hind end, and then I get a corner, to balance her even further before asking for a lengthening (and she LOVES those), then I get to take that energy, bring her back and really balance her through TWO corners before I ride the single loop serpentine. We can SO do that movement. She is a counter-cantering fool. We can do any counter canter movement in the book, and she will be a dream. She is lovely forward for it, though, after the previous lengthening, because she hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’ll let her lengthen again. She realizes I won’t, though, and she softens, so that after 2 more corners, she’s truly lovely and nice for the change in lead through trot... another movement she excels at (though why can’t she show off her flying change, dagnabbit, she says), and then I get another corner, circle, corner to get her canter absolutely gorgeous and flowing, uphill and balanced, before a lengthening (YIPPEE! she says), and we repeat the series. The test ends on a high note: a very uphill, forward trot (she’ll pretend she’s doing a mini-lengthening, and really push from behind for me), into the halt at X. It will be a SMASHING SUCCESS for us, the second half of the test. (At least that’s my prediction). We always do a nice first half, but then I often struggle with her getting a bit strong and strung out in the canter in Test 1... The placement of the corners and the circles, and the flow of Test 4 just suits us, and especially her, so much better. Were they thinking of ME when they wrote it? It will feel like I’m cheating. :wink:

May 14, 2006: DG BAR... INTERESTING

DG Bar was neither the show I had expected nor hoped that it would be, at least from the standpoint of the performances that Quila and I put in (though the DeGroot’s hospitality and Friday Night’s party did not disappoint!)...

We were unable to school on Wednesday in or near the ring we would be showing in because they were still working (and continued to work until nearly 1 AM!!!) to perfect the footing (and let me say that DG Bar has the finest footing and is the best run show of ANY that we have ever attended, no ifs, ands or buts). I was not concerned. Quila was relaxed, and confident, and had handled the 5 hour trip well. We had a great schooling session.

On Thursday morning, things continued smoothly in our warm-up. The rings on the side where I was to show were mislabeled “6”, “7” and “8”, but were really a warm-up (identical in appearance to the show rings) and rings 6 and 7. I didn’t find this out until after my class. So I warmed up in one of the other FIVE warm-ups. There is no shortage of warm-up space at DG Bar!!! (6 warm-up arenas for 7 rings is pretty amazing, isn’t it! 8 if you count the area used by the saddle fitters and the lunging area.) I then moved to our ring, and was trotting around outside when I committed THE FATAL ERROR. I saw the judge leave the stand and enter the ring, and took my attention from the job at hand to see what the heck she was doing. Quila decided that if I wasn’t going to give the test my entire attention, then she was going to be in control. After all, she KNEW she could do a much better job than I could. She’d been taking care of me for years, and she really wanted her job back. Then she saw the gremlins in the uncut alfalfa, very tall alfalfa that was able to shelter A LOT OF GREMLINS, right behind the judge’s booth, and she decided that it was a damn good thing that she was in control, because this was going to take all the mare finesse she had to get us through the test safely. She was scared to death, but she could do this... if she did it quickly enough. YIKES!

I rapidly realized my grave mistake, and recognized the reappearance of the “old Quila”, and rode a series of trot-halt transitions, and tried a “coup” to regain my position of authority. I was actually pretty proud of myself that I succeeded during the trot work... there were brief moments where she’d rush, but for the most part, I was the leader, and we did it my way. Things began to spiral out of control, though, and went more and more her way after the walk, and were under my direction for briefer and briefer periods of time thereafter. The test was marred with tension, a few spooks in the neighborhood of “C” (nothing major, just I couldn’t “quite” keep her on the track, and some jigging in the walk. It was definitely NOT one of our best. We ended with a 56% and 5th in a rather large class. Quila wasn’t the only horse that saw the gremlins...

I was VERY disappointed in myself. I couldn’t be angry with Quila. And I resolved that I would set things to right the following day--I also planned to warm-up in the adjacent arena, so I could work on facing down the gremlins BEFORE the test. Apparently the gremlins had moved on of their own accord, because she didn’t even blink when I got her over there the next morning. Our difficulties were of an entirely different type. She’d not had a good night, according to the night watch (I always get the night watch service--it allows ME to sleep better at night), and had been rather restless. I think the heat (25 degrees more than at home) was getting to her, even though I was pouring electrolytes into her and she was drinking really really well. We were also lucky to get ride times in the morning, before the heat got to its worst.. In the morning, she didn’t want to “come out and play.” She was happy to see me until I picked up her halter. Then she turned her back to me and put her head in the corner, and when it was time for her bridle, she was reluctant to take the bit. Her look said very clearly, “I am doing this, but it is not because I want to...”

Our warm-up was fine at the start, until just minutes before our ride when I gave her a walk break. Afterwards, I asked her to trot. She anticipated the canter after we went around the corner (like the movement in Test 1). I got after her for it--just halted her and scolded her--and that put her in a “mood;” it went downhill from there. When I went in the ring, she’d declared “Mare War” and we hadn’t yet had time to work through it... and for the first time in years, I felt like a complete and total passenger. I have never worked so hard in my life in a test, half-halting nearly every stride, asking for flexion in the corners, doing everything I could think of to try to get control of the situation. Nothing worked. I had the same feeling you’d get if you were driving a car down a steep hill and putting on the brakes, only to find out that they didn’t work, then reaching for the hand brake and finding it was out as well. Our test was F!O!R!W!A!R!D! but mostly balanced onto her hind end because of all the half halts, I guess, and to the external observer it didn’t look too awful. Too me, it felt absolutely HORRID! Interestingly, our geometry was nearly perfect, but that wasn’t my doing. We’ve ridden the test so many times that Quila knows it by heart (I DO NOT school it), and she did it perfectly, at least until the scary moment came at the end, though...

She turned on the after-burners for the final turn up center-line. We’ve never done a trot extension with that much thrust, EVER EVER EVER. I was half-halting for dear life every stride, and wondering if I was going to be joining the judge in the booth. We stopped (FINALLY) with Quila’s nose practically touching “C”. I heard the judge say to the scribe, “Perfectly square halt.” I have a feeling it was preceded by, “Holy shit! Is she going to stop?” and an urge to duck and cover... We scored 63.750% and won our class.

I was much happier with yesterday’s ride. Quila was still in no mood to be there, and in no mood to work. I can’t say that I blame her--the heat was miserable this year--but our ride was early in the morning, and we don’t require much warm-up (ever) for showing--a total of 30 minutes between walk and suppling/preparation work. I was clear with her from the outset that I was NOT going to tolerate her running through the bridle, and that we weren’t going to have a repeat of the previous day... we halted every other letter or so, and transitions were the name of the day from the beginning. If she wouldn’t listen, then she had a talk with “Mr. Whip.” It only took one or two talks (which insult her ego--she needs the noise more than anything to get through to her) to convince her that PERHAPS she should listen. It didn’t buy her enthusiasm, mind you, but it did get her listening to me.

Our ride didn’t go more smoothly, exactly, and we in fact got a lower score, but I was happier with it. My trainer said the previous day’s ride LOOKED better... it had more FLOW and the figures were more accurate, but I tell you, I’d rather ride yesterday’s ride any day, because it was MY ride and not QUILA’S. I’d rather have it go less well and have it be mine, and than feel like I might as well be riding a remote control robot operated by someone else... You see, on yesterday’s ride, it was pretty clear that Quila’s idea was that if she really hurried, she could get back to her stall sooner, so she was in “speed round” mode. I insisted that we do a “controlled ride.” I would half halt and rebalance, and she’d be with me for awhile, so I’d leave her alone for a bit (by that I mean, keep my leg on, but take a less active role), and as soon as I did this, she’d shoot forward, so that we had a somewhat herky-jerky pace. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have tried to trust her. And there were times where she decided the heck with me, and she tried to do her thing anyway and it would take me until the next corner or circle to insist that that was NOT going to continue. And I was working so hard on that that my circles left something to be desired--if the shape was right, then the size wasn’t, or vice versa. And we still did the speed thing down the final center line, but at least this time, I managed to get the halt in the right place. Phew!

The judge smiled and said to me, “Somebody is looking forward to getting back to her stall, isn’t she?” “Yeah” I said. “She’s 17, and has had enough of this heat, I think. Thank you.” I smiled my best smile and shook my head ruefully. What else you gonna do? We finished 2nd with just under a 62%.

She’s better, but we’re not all the way there yet...