I’ve been meaning to write about this all week, but life got away from me...
Last Saturday was Larry Campbell’s 65th birthday. We (and I mean this in the true collective sense, which includes all of us who ride at the barn) were STUNNED... because not one of us would have placed him anywhere beyond his early to mid-50’s. That got me thinking... and trainers aside, not one of the mostly women and handful of men that I ride with looks even close to their stated age. I think we’re on to something here: WE HAVE DISCOVERED THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH! If not the key to a long life, then at least the key to a happy, physically active life, complete with all the means necessary to deal with the stresses of everyday life.
I own my barn, so work and play have blurred edges (and the question is: do I ever really work? I’ll take the Fifth...), but I know that I provide a valuable service to my boarders beyond giving their four-legged friends a place to sleep. I provide a community where they can nurture their hopes and dreams, share their goals, and where they can go to escape from the unreal world (because please tell me: what’s so real about how non-horse people treat each other, anyway?) to be with like-minded others... and I find that most of my boarders don’t just dash in, get their horse-fix and dash out, but they dwell and linger, often for hours. I like that, encourage it even. It’s what makes the bad parts of owning a barn retreat into the distance, what makes it all worthwhile.
So, God Bless the Larry Campbells of the world, who look and feel young despite the calendar. I hope that 20 years from now (give or take), I shall be similarly blessed, and that there will always be people like him in my life to remind me exactly why I do what I do.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
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.
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).
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).
October 13, 2006: Basketball & a True Gentleman
And what, you might ask, does today’s title have to do with Facet’s photo? I’ll explain.
I’ll start with basketball. The best analogy I can think of for describing sitting the trot is playing basketball: when you are first learning to dribble the ball and have difficulty finding the rhythm, you dampen its motion and it’s likely to bounce off in any direction, or bounce your hand away from it. That’s what it’s like when you are first learning the seated trot... the rider and horse are out of sync, bouncing against each other, nothing coordinated, and the rider diminishes the beauty of the horse’s natural gait. Next comes the ability to follow the motion of the ball: then the ball bounces back, but there’s no energy added, no crispness or sense that the player is in control. The player is able to maintain the status quo, but just that; it is a step in the right direction, but it isn’t true mastery. Finally, if you watch someone who is good at the game, you’ll see the ball spring back towards their hand as if there is a magnetic attraction and that they can bounce the ball quickly or slowly and change direction in a split-second in preparation for a lay-up--the ball almost becomes a living, breathing part of them, receiving energy from them with each bounce. And even if you (like me) were a lesser player, you still probably know the difference between bouncing the ball in rhythm with the movement and being able to add energy, and being slightly off in the rhythm so that you bounce against the ball, dampening it’s bounce.
Well, today, for the first time, when I was riding Facet, I had that last feeling: I was sitting deeply, and I was able to add energy to his trot, control his speed, and feel like it was entirely contained between my seat, legs and hands--I closed the circuit. And his trot was entirely different than what I’ve experienced from him before: no wonder Susan would look at me dumbfounded when I described his trot as “girly” with a lot of “swinging in the hips.” That’s only when he’s not connected... I just didn’t realize he wasn’t connected until I actually DID have him connected and had something to compare it to, and then OMIGOD, WOW, WHAT A DIFFERENCE! I didn’t know a feeling like that was possible! And suddenly riding him became effortless, too. Before, my neck was aching from the bounce, and I felt like I was working very hard to make him go, but all of a sudden, it just got so EASY, and I wanted to keep going like that all day long. Like going from a Volkswagen on a gravel road to a Maserati on a freshly paved strip of Autobahn. Mmmmmm.... I had the sense I could even have done piaffe or passage with little effort. Oh, I love this horse... he just wanted me to do it right, sitting tall and deep, leg on correctly and then I don’t even have to work to get it. He waited for me to find it, and when I did, he told me. :D
And gentleman? You betcha! A young horse got loose today in the ring and was bucking and broncing around, galloping like a maniac and came charging toward us at full tilt (another stallion, too!). Most horses, stallion or otherwise, would have been upset. Some would have run for the hills, others would have at least been shaking in their boots... and stallions? I think the usual behavior is supposed to be rear and strike. But not Facet. He raised his head in mild curiosity and just stood his ground with a look of, “What kind of an idiot are you?” on his face. I sat there on his back, whip in hand ready to use it on the offending horse if necessary, but it didn’t come to that. When the other horse saw that Facet wasn’t going to react to him, he kept running. I don’t think Facet’s heart rate even changed much.
For a stallion with such a strong interest in the girls (he’ll tell me about every one he sees, even while he’s working, but he keeps it mostly to a whisper), he is the best behaved boy I know. I never, even for a second, have to worry about him. He knows how a gentleman behaves and wouldn’t dream of taking liberties, or of putting his rider in danger. I am unbelievably fortunate to have him.
I’ll start with basketball. The best analogy I can think of for describing sitting the trot is playing basketball: when you are first learning to dribble the ball and have difficulty finding the rhythm, you dampen its motion and it’s likely to bounce off in any direction, or bounce your hand away from it. That’s what it’s like when you are first learning the seated trot... the rider and horse are out of sync, bouncing against each other, nothing coordinated, and the rider diminishes the beauty of the horse’s natural gait. Next comes the ability to follow the motion of the ball: then the ball bounces back, but there’s no energy added, no crispness or sense that the player is in control. The player is able to maintain the status quo, but just that; it is a step in the right direction, but it isn’t true mastery. Finally, if you watch someone who is good at the game, you’ll see the ball spring back towards their hand as if there is a magnetic attraction and that they can bounce the ball quickly or slowly and change direction in a split-second in preparation for a lay-up--the ball almost becomes a living, breathing part of them, receiving energy from them with each bounce. And even if you (like me) were a lesser player, you still probably know the difference between bouncing the ball in rhythm with the movement and being able to add energy, and being slightly off in the rhythm so that you bounce against the ball, dampening it’s bounce.
Well, today, for the first time, when I was riding Facet, I had that last feeling: I was sitting deeply, and I was able to add energy to his trot, control his speed, and feel like it was entirely contained between my seat, legs and hands--I closed the circuit. And his trot was entirely different than what I’ve experienced from him before: no wonder Susan would look at me dumbfounded when I described his trot as “girly” with a lot of “swinging in the hips.” That’s only when he’s not connected... I just didn’t realize he wasn’t connected until I actually DID have him connected and had something to compare it to, and then OMIGOD, WOW, WHAT A DIFFERENCE! I didn’t know a feeling like that was possible! And suddenly riding him became effortless, too. Before, my neck was aching from the bounce, and I felt like I was working very hard to make him go, but all of a sudden, it just got so EASY, and I wanted to keep going like that all day long. Like going from a Volkswagen on a gravel road to a Maserati on a freshly paved strip of Autobahn. Mmmmmm.... I had the sense I could even have done piaffe or passage with little effort. Oh, I love this horse... he just wanted me to do it right, sitting tall and deep, leg on correctly and then I don’t even have to work to get it. He waited for me to find it, and when I did, he told me. :D
And gentleman? You betcha! A young horse got loose today in the ring and was bucking and broncing around, galloping like a maniac and came charging toward us at full tilt (another stallion, too!). Most horses, stallion or otherwise, would have been upset. Some would have run for the hills, others would have at least been shaking in their boots... and stallions? I think the usual behavior is supposed to be rear and strike. But not Facet. He raised his head in mild curiosity and just stood his ground with a look of, “What kind of an idiot are you?” on his face. I sat there on his back, whip in hand ready to use it on the offending horse if necessary, but it didn’t come to that. When the other horse saw that Facet wasn’t going to react to him, he kept running. I don’t think Facet’s heart rate even changed much.
For a stallion with such a strong interest in the girls (he’ll tell me about every one he sees, even while he’s working, but he keeps it mostly to a whisper), he is the best behaved boy I know. I never, even for a second, have to worry about him. He knows how a gentleman behaves and wouldn’t dream of taking liberties, or of putting his rider in danger. I am unbelievably fortunate to have him.
September 30, 2006: The Beauty of a Schoolmaster
Alternatively, this could be titled “A lesson in humility...”
I know how to canter. Sure I do. I’ve been riding First Level for 2 1/2 years now, and getting decent scores at it a good deal of the time (and when I don’t, well, it’s because we do Tequila’s test and not mine... NOT because I don’t know how to ride the canter). So, when I wanted a canter depart today, why couldn’t I get one? Was the horse lazy? Sore? Was there something else?
I asked for the depart. I tapped him smartly with the whip to say, “Listen here, buster, I said CANTER.” I asked again. Still no canter. I asked, tapped with the whip and jabbed with the spur on the inside leg. Still no canter. I was still getting a trot--a faster trot, mind you--but a trot, nonetheless. From this schoolmaster, a former Grand Prix horse, well-trained by Ellen Bontje no less. Jürgen was smirking. I looked at him in helpless desperation.
“What gives?” I asked. “He knows damn well that I want the right lead canter. He cantered for me to the left... but he won’t give it to me, even when I use my whip and spur.”
“It’s your seatbone.” Jürgen answered. “Try turning your shoulder to the inside and not just your head. You have your shoulder back so you are inadvertently weighting your outside seatbone and not the inside one, and Facet is telling you that you have it all wrong.”
I did as I was told, and this time when I lightly touched Facet with my inside leg to ask for the canter depart, he lifted into it with ease... I hardly had to do more than think canter. So very simple, reminiscent of my mother waiting for the “magic word” when I was a child, and I only knew that I wanted my ice cream.
He will teach me my “manners” and fix my bad habits, enduring whatever it takes to do it... I can see that. And I will have to remember that he is smart enough to know what I want, and he is honest enough to give it to me (unlike Tequila), so that if I don’t get it, I need to be quick to ask what am I doing wrong?
It’s been nearly 3 years since I’ve ridden him--first Susan had her time on him, and then he was injured and took nearly a year and a half to rehab and recover--but he is back now, and such a treasure. Every ride I have is a blessing on this incredible horse. I’m so thankful for him, and for the legacy of his two daughters, Flashdance and Bella Vittoria... I just know they are going to follow in their father’s footsteps.
I know how to canter. Sure I do. I’ve been riding First Level for 2 1/2 years now, and getting decent scores at it a good deal of the time (and when I don’t, well, it’s because we do Tequila’s test and not mine... NOT because I don’t know how to ride the canter). So, when I wanted a canter depart today, why couldn’t I get one? Was the horse lazy? Sore? Was there something else?
I asked for the depart. I tapped him smartly with the whip to say, “Listen here, buster, I said CANTER.” I asked again. Still no canter. I asked, tapped with the whip and jabbed with the spur on the inside leg. Still no canter. I was still getting a trot--a faster trot, mind you--but a trot, nonetheless. From this schoolmaster, a former Grand Prix horse, well-trained by Ellen Bontje no less. Jürgen was smirking. I looked at him in helpless desperation.
“What gives?” I asked. “He knows damn well that I want the right lead canter. He cantered for me to the left... but he won’t give it to me, even when I use my whip and spur.”
“It’s your seatbone.” Jürgen answered. “Try turning your shoulder to the inside and not just your head. You have your shoulder back so you are inadvertently weighting your outside seatbone and not the inside one, and Facet is telling you that you have it all wrong.”
I did as I was told, and this time when I lightly touched Facet with my inside leg to ask for the canter depart, he lifted into it with ease... I hardly had to do more than think canter. So very simple, reminiscent of my mother waiting for the “magic word” when I was a child, and I only knew that I wanted my ice cream.
He will teach me my “manners” and fix my bad habits, enduring whatever it takes to do it... I can see that. And I will have to remember that he is smart enough to know what I want, and he is honest enough to give it to me (unlike Tequila), so that if I don’t get it, I need to be quick to ask what am I doing wrong?
It’s been nearly 3 years since I’ve ridden him--first Susan had her time on him, and then he was injured and took nearly a year and a half to rehab and recover--but he is back now, and such a treasure. Every ride I have is a blessing on this incredible horse. I’m so thankful for him, and for the legacy of his two daughters, Flashdance and Bella Vittoria... I just know they are going to follow in their father’s footsteps.
September 30, 2006: The Beauty of a Schoolmaster
Alternatively, this could be titled “A lesson in humility...”
I know how to canter. Sure I do. I’ve been riding First Level for 2 1/2 years now, and getting decent scores at it a good deal of the time (and when I don’t, well, it’s because we do Tequila’s test and not mine... NOT because I don’t know how to ride the canter). So, when I wanted a canter depart today, why couldn’t I get one? Was the horse lazy? Sore? Was there something else?
I asked for the depart. I tapped him smartly with the whip to say, “Listen here, buster, I said CANTER.” I asked again. Still no canter. I asked, tapped with the whip and jabbed with the spur on the inside leg. Still no canter. I was still getting a trot--a faster trot, mind you--but a trot, nonetheless. From this schoolmaster, a former Grand Prix horse, well-trained by Ellen Bontje no less. Jürgen was smirking. I looked at him in helpless desperation.
“What gives?” I asked. “He knows damn well that I want the right lead canter. He cantered for me to the left... but he won’t give it to me, even when I use my whip and spur.”
“It’s your seatbone.” Jürgen answered. “Try turning your shoulder to the inside and not just your head. You have your shoulder back so you are inadvertently weighting your outside seatbone and not the inside one, and Facet is telling you that you have it all wrong.”
I did as I was told, and this time when I lightly touched Facet with my inside leg to ask for the canter depart, he lifted into it with ease... I hardly had to do more than think canter. So very simple, reminiscent of my mother waiting for the “magic word” when I was a child, and I only knew that I wanted my ice cream.
He will teach me my “manners” and fix my bad habits, enduring whatever it takes to do it... I can see that. And I will have to remember that he is smart enough to know what I want, and he is honest enough to give it to me (unlike Tequila), so that if I don’t get it, I need to be quick to ask what am I doing wrong?
It’s been nearly 3 years since I’ve ridden him--first Susan had her time on him, and then he was injured and took nearly a year and a half to rehab and recover--but he is back now, and such a treasure. Every ride I have is a blessing on this incredible horse. I’m so thankful for him, and for the legacy of his two daughters, Flashdance and Bella Vittoria... I just know they are going to follow in their father’s footsteps.
I know how to canter. Sure I do. I’ve been riding First Level for 2 1/2 years now, and getting decent scores at it a good deal of the time (and when I don’t, well, it’s because we do Tequila’s test and not mine... NOT because I don’t know how to ride the canter). So, when I wanted a canter depart today, why couldn’t I get one? Was the horse lazy? Sore? Was there something else?
I asked for the depart. I tapped him smartly with the whip to say, “Listen here, buster, I said CANTER.” I asked again. Still no canter. I asked, tapped with the whip and jabbed with the spur on the inside leg. Still no canter. I was still getting a trot--a faster trot, mind you--but a trot, nonetheless. From this schoolmaster, a former Grand Prix horse, well-trained by Ellen Bontje no less. Jürgen was smirking. I looked at him in helpless desperation.
“What gives?” I asked. “He knows damn well that I want the right lead canter. He cantered for me to the left... but he won’t give it to me, even when I use my whip and spur.”
“It’s your seatbone.” Jürgen answered. “Try turning your shoulder to the inside and not just your head. You have your shoulder back so you are inadvertently weighting your outside seatbone and not the inside one, and Facet is telling you that you have it all wrong.”
I did as I was told, and this time when I lightly touched Facet with my inside leg to ask for the canter depart, he lifted into it with ease... I hardly had to do more than think canter. So very simple, reminiscent of my mother waiting for the “magic word” when I was a child, and I only knew that I wanted my ice cream.
He will teach me my “manners” and fix my bad habits, enduring whatever it takes to do it... I can see that. And I will have to remember that he is smart enough to know what I want, and he is honest enough to give it to me (unlike Tequila), so that if I don’t get it, I need to be quick to ask what am I doing wrong?
It’s been nearly 3 years since I’ve ridden him--first Susan had her time on him, and then he was injured and took nearly a year and a half to rehab and recover--but he is back now, and such a treasure. Every ride I have is a blessing on this incredible horse. I’m so thankful for him, and for the legacy of his two daughters, Flashdance and Bella Vittoria... I just know they are going to follow in their father’s footsteps.
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...
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...
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