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.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
July 5, 2006: Lightbulb Revisited
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...
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...
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.”
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.
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!)
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 15, 2006: Oh, My! What a Week!!!
It began with a 4 AM wake-up call on Monday from Candice: “You have a foal.” Yes, of course. I know I have a foal. She is 6 weeks old and adorable. “Promise had her foal.” The grogginess is starting to recede now. But what? What is that she’s saying??? Promise isn’t due for another 2 1/2 weeks. 313 days is too early to have a foal. “It’s a filly.”
I tell Candice that I’m on my way. Not really. I stumble from bed, try to remember how to get dressed in my mostly-still-asleep state, decide that pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt will do, put my hair in a ponytail, and drive the route to the barn that, thankfully, my car can find with little assistance from me. There is very little traffic on the road at that time in the morning. I think I saw, maybe, one other car. Sure enough, Candice was not playing a practical joke. Promise had presented me with a beautiful filly, fully-developed, strong and ready for this world. In the predawn light, she looks dark bay--though later in the day, Susan calls me to crow that she is really a grey and that her coat is littered with white hairs. Oh well, I think--I am a pro at grooming grey horses.
I have named her “Bella Vittoria”--Beautiful Victory.
Later on Monday, we learn that Susan has qualified for the USEF FEI Junior Dressage Team Championships with Kalibre, and the North American Junior Championships representing USDF Region 7, and that she is First Alternate for the North American Young Riders Championships representing USDF Region 7 on Endor.
That means Susan is faced with a choice, since FEI/USEF rules state that a rider may not compete in both Junior and YR Championships in the same calendar year: go to Pebble Beach with Kalibre and eliminate any chance of going to YR with Endor, or wait and see what happens with YR. If any of the girls on the team are unable to go for any reason, Susan could go to Lexington, VA with Endor (instead of Kalibre) as part of the team--it would simply mean swapping the horse she’s been making travel plans for all along. And there’s the very strong possibility (far more likely than not) that she would be giving up the Pebble Beach competition for nothing. The only real advantage that we could see is that Young Riders receive some financial assistance towards their trip, while the Juniors receive none--hardly a valid reason. We talked it over and decided that the money alone was a stupid reason to give up Pebble Beach--especially since Kalibre is for sale.
So, Susan will stay a Junior and gracefully decline the opportunity to be First Alternate for the Young Riders, and instead will look forward to these last two important competitions with a horse that has been very important to her over the years. I love this guy, Kalibre. He has taken her from First Level to the equivalent of Prix St. Georges (she rode the Young Rider Team Test with him successfully before deciding that she really wanted to campaign him at the Junior Level to “cover her bases”, since she was eligible at both), with National Titles every step of the way. He has a enough personality and self-confidence for 3 horses, and he loves her so much--and gets so jealous--when she spends time with her other horses. I hope we can find just the right home for him, where he will have a rider that he can love (and that will love him back) just as he deserves. I also love to watch him at shows. He loves to be in the limelight.
Since Monday, there have been non-stop phone calls, pricing flights (mostly for the horse--as nearly as I can tell, we may be walking :grin:) and ground transportation, figuring out schedules, and making all sorts of plans regarding the trip to Lexington, VA. I have to say (with admiration) that the girls (with major input from their trainers), are doing most of the work--but I’m getting regular progress reports after just about every phone call. It’s been a crazy week. And Susan is working on a new musical freestyle for the show, too. Too much excitement for me!!!
I tell Candice that I’m on my way. Not really. I stumble from bed, try to remember how to get dressed in my mostly-still-asleep state, decide that pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt will do, put my hair in a ponytail, and drive the route to the barn that, thankfully, my car can find with little assistance from me. There is very little traffic on the road at that time in the morning. I think I saw, maybe, one other car. Sure enough, Candice was not playing a practical joke. Promise had presented me with a beautiful filly, fully-developed, strong and ready for this world. In the predawn light, she looks dark bay--though later in the day, Susan calls me to crow that she is really a grey and that her coat is littered with white hairs. Oh well, I think--I am a pro at grooming grey horses.
I have named her “Bella Vittoria”--Beautiful Victory.
Later on Monday, we learn that Susan has qualified for the USEF FEI Junior Dressage Team Championships with Kalibre, and the North American Junior Championships representing USDF Region 7, and that she is First Alternate for the North American Young Riders Championships representing USDF Region 7 on Endor.
That means Susan is faced with a choice, since FEI/USEF rules state that a rider may not compete in both Junior and YR Championships in the same calendar year: go to Pebble Beach with Kalibre and eliminate any chance of going to YR with Endor, or wait and see what happens with YR. If any of the girls on the team are unable to go for any reason, Susan could go to Lexington, VA with Endor (instead of Kalibre) as part of the team--it would simply mean swapping the horse she’s been making travel plans for all along. And there’s the very strong possibility (far more likely than not) that she would be giving up the Pebble Beach competition for nothing. The only real advantage that we could see is that Young Riders receive some financial assistance towards their trip, while the Juniors receive none--hardly a valid reason. We talked it over and decided that the money alone was a stupid reason to give up Pebble Beach--especially since Kalibre is for sale.
So, Susan will stay a Junior and gracefully decline the opportunity to be First Alternate for the Young Riders, and instead will look forward to these last two important competitions with a horse that has been very important to her over the years. I love this guy, Kalibre. He has taken her from First Level to the equivalent of Prix St. Georges (she rode the Young Rider Team Test with him successfully before deciding that she really wanted to campaign him at the Junior Level to “cover her bases”, since she was eligible at both), with National Titles every step of the way. He has a enough personality and self-confidence for 3 horses, and he loves her so much--and gets so jealous--when she spends time with her other horses. I hope we can find just the right home for him, where he will have a rider that he can love (and that will love him back) just as he deserves. I also love to watch him at shows. He loves to be in the limelight.
Since Monday, there have been non-stop phone calls, pricing flights (mostly for the horse--as nearly as I can tell, we may be walking :grin:) and ground transportation, figuring out schedules, and making all sorts of plans regarding the trip to Lexington, VA. I have to say (with admiration) that the girls (with major input from their trainers), are doing most of the work--but I’m getting regular progress reports after just about every phone call. It’s been a crazy week. And Susan is working on a new musical freestyle for the show, too. Too much excitement for me!!!
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.
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.
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