Joy

January 4, 2011 1 Comment

These winter nights, when it’s dark and cold, are sometimes hard to face.  After a long day of work, the prospect of carousing around in the freezing dark sometimes doesn’t appeal.   I was feeling tired and sluggish this afternoon – and while I’m truly happy to be back in my riding routine, as the sun sank the prospect of the barn became daunting.

I pulled on breeches, wool socks, turtleneck and fleece, and ran out the door before my darkening mood could sink my plans.

Arriving at the barn, I hot-footed it across the cold parking lot, and into the not-much-warmer barn, teeth chattering.  I realized too late that I really should have added some long underwear to my evening’s attire.  As I hustled around, greeting the mare, setting her beet pulp and alfalfa cubes to soak and fetching my tack, I started to warm up.  Mads was standing by her door, ears pricked.  I pulled her out. scratched her jaw for a minute, and put her in the cross ties.

As I groomed and tacked up, I got warmer, and happier.  I slipped Mads a few extra mints – she seemed pretty happy with the proceedings too.   We went into the arena, and mounted up. From the get-go I had nice contact – none of the hanging-on-the-rein nonsense from last night.  We warmed up, stretching down, flexing right and left, doing a little shoulder fore and some serpentines.  We trotted off, and Mads was simply gorgeous.  Light and responsive, responding to my softening inside rein.  I hopped up into two point and let her cruise for a minute, while I stretched out my hip flexors.  Mads trotted on, ears flopping.

Picking up my post and the reins, we started doing some slightly more interesting work – circles and serpentines in varying directions and sizes.  Mads remained nicely round and on the bit.    We worked on transitions within the gait – I half halted and reduced my post going into the short side, not quite collecting, but asking (and getting) shorter strides and a nice connection.  Turning down the long side, I gave Mads a little cluck, and elevated my post.  Bam! There was my nice trot!  We rolled down the long sides, and she came right back to to me on the short sides.  Good mare!

I was thrilled, and, I’m sure, beaming.  My dark mood and lack of motivation had melted away like the last snow in spring.  It was joy, pure and simple.

At the end of our ride, we hustled back into the barn.  I dove into my coat, and put a heavy cooler on the slightly-steaming mare.  After I cleaned her up, we hung out in the aisle, both pleased with the other and enjoying each others’ company.

Lovey-dovey

Got carrots?

There! That's the spot!

I like you too, Mads.

Finally, a special shout-out to my friend Liz, author of the Loving Cloud, blog, who is recovering from surgery.   Cloud misses you but wants you to know that he’s getting lots of attention, and things aren’t too bad.  Still, he’s like you to hurry back to the barn please.

You're not my Mom, but I see you have carrots. Let's talk.

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Grounded, but not for much longer

December 30, 2010 2 Comments

Amazing.  I took the last two weeks of the year off work … and haven’t thrown a leg over a horse during that entire time.  Pre-Christmas chaos and a post-Christmas bout of the flu conspired to wreck my plans of extra lessons and focused rides.

I finally made it out to the barn tonight – I’m still far from 100% –  and got a warm reception from Maddie, who was happy to hang out and submit to lots of ear-rubs and forehead scratches while her bucket of “mare mush” — a generous scoop of beet pulp topped off with alfalfa cubes – soaked.  I fed her, finished grooming, and poked a few more carrots down the hatch for good measure.  I’m away for the weekend, but am determined to be back in the saddle on Monday.

I swear, if I’m grounded this long anytime soon, it better be because I’m in Europe or something equally worthwhile.

Mads keeps an eye on things. Christy took this picture earlier this year.

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The Balancing Rein

December 17, 2010 3 Comments

Mads steps under herself with her left hind. Good mare!

The Rettger Dressage Interactive Dressage & Blogging Team was fully represented last night at the barn.  I got to ride with Liz, who pens the Loving Cloud blog, and Steph, who authors Dressage Adventures.  And, of course, in the center of it all was Christy, who has been writing the popular TB At X blog for a couple years.

And I finally had a good ride on Maddie last night – one in which fear and trepidation melted away.  In fact, I had to check myself – we were doing some good work in the trot including leg yields – and there were a couple times where it seemed like the most natural, logical thing to do would be to lift the mare into a canter – but I didn’t because I really wanted to keep to the task at hand.  But the fact that my heart was *there* was significant.

The start to the lesson was not ideal.   The arena was full and one of the horses – a spookier sort – was acting up, and some of the others were reacting.  I decided to delay my lesson a bit and let the rodeo come to a close.   After about 10 minutes, the arena cleared, and I walked Mads out.  Just then, however, a horse in the back barn started behaving badly – there were loud banging noises and the owner was loudly correcting the errant critter.

Mads went on red alert – whites of eyes showing.  The situation in the back barn had her full attention.  We stood for a minute, and I hoped she’d relax.  I scratched her neck and picked at her mane – something she loves – and exhaled deeply, blowing air noisily out of my mouth.  She did relax – momentarily – dipping her head toward me, softening her eye, and exhaling with a sigh in return.  But then there was more banging, and she was back on red alert.

Maddie wasn’t being bad, but she wasn’t paying attention to me, either.   I wish she’d take some lessons from Cloud, who seems to always have his attention riveted on Liz.  He followers her like a puppy, and when they ride, he always has an ear flicked back, listening to her.  Like Christy and Liam, Liz and Cloud have a true partnership that I envy, and hope to emulate.

So I put Mads back on the longe, and we worked on my longing skills, which really means we worked on my ability to read, interpret and influence the horse’s body language.   Mads was good.  She transitioned neatly up and down, promptly and with no fuss.   And soon she had an ear tuned in on me.  So I put the stirrups back on my saddle and mounted up.

And I felt great.  No trepidation, no ramen-noodle legs.  We were relaxed and got to work. Pretty soon we were in a solid working trot – the mare was over her back and tracking up.  It was time to work on leg yields, something that I thought I had some problems with.

It turns out my problems are less about the leg yield itself, and more about setting myself and Mads up for the leg yield. You can give flawless cues, but if your horse isn’t through and fully into the outside rein, you aren’t going to get a successful yield.   Now, I know this.  But I was having trouble feeling it, and, I’ll  admit, sometimes trying to cheat and asking for a yield at the wrong time – when we didn’t have good bend or a good connection.

So Christy had us do the spiral in/spiral out exercise at the trot, in which one really controls the turn and the diameter of the circle with the outside rein.  I’ve done this before, but for some reason, things clicked tonight.  Maybe it was because Christy described that inside rein as a “balancing rein” – that description really made sense to me.  I was doing a good job for once of not hanging on that rein.  Instead, I played on it, softening, squeezing, and testing my contact and trueness of bend by releasing it altogether here and there.  In the process, I produced the. loveliest. trot. as we circled right – which is a much more difficult direction for Mads.  She was round and engaged.  I asked for the yield on the circle, and felt her step smoothly out. “Good! That’s it! You’ve got it!”  Christy affirmed what I was feeling from her spot in the middle of our circle.    We changed direction, and it only got better.

What was my breakthrough tonight?  Really, it was another lesson in educating my seat, and learning to really feel throughness – that magical combination of bend, and roundness, and tracking up and on-the-bit that results in the most spectacular feeling of connected nimbleness.

Another great lesson, brought to me by Christy — with an able assist from my very good mare.

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Bogeymen

December 15, 2010 3 Comments

Ferociously cold weather has kept me out of the saddle for the last few days – when it hovers near zero, the arena footing freezes, and it’s really not healthy to work the horses in those temperatures.  I did get a ride in on Saturday, which was the first ride since the craziness of last Thursday.   Annoyingly, I was jittery and it took me a while to start breathing – despite the fact that Mads had returned to her sweet self.  It wasn’t a terribly satisfying ride, because by the time I got my head together, my legs were done – the muscles I’m re-building still don’t have a ton of stamina.  I decided to quit before I lapsed back into my old, still-more-comfortable bad habits.

So I was looking forward to tonight, but the drama llama made a return.  Invisible bogeymen were inhabiting the far side of the arena.  It was pretty windy out, and the doors were banging.  The far corner of the arena apparently hid a large population of them, because Mads was bothered by that corner, cutting the turn short. I took a deep breath, steadied my position, dropped my heels down, and rode.  We did little circles all over the arena, switching direction and changing things up.  Mads kept an eye on that corner. I kept breathing, made a point of not looking at the corner, and tried to stay relaxed, even as I bent her closer to the bogeymen.  I tried to yield her out to the rail with no avail.  Not wanting to set that precedent, we moved away a bit, and I insisted on the yield, and got it.  I’ll be frank – I’m not quite confident enough to ride aggressively (as in insisting on the yield and not compromising if the horse resists) in this sort of situation, and I don’t want to pick a fight I won’t win.

Another rider was having a lesson on her steady-Eddie gelding, who was blind to the corner full of lurking gremlins.  He trotted along the rail, totally unconcerned.  Remembering how George Morris had a dependable horse give a spooky one a lead over a scary jump, I waited for the gelding to trot by, and put Mads right behind him.  First time by the corner she was better, but not 100% great.  Second time, even better.  Third time, not a look.  Good mare!  I decided to move on from all the circles and yields, and started working a little shoulder in down the long sides, half halting and doing “little trot” on the short side, and then asking for a bigger gait on the long side.  I wanted to refresh my half-halts and work on adjustability within the gait.

On the first couple passes, I didn’t get much of a response from Mads when I asked for a bigger gait.  Going into a short side with an unenthusiastic trot, I half-halted the mare and in the same instant pushed her forward, bending into the corner.  A ha!  Her back finally came up, and I felt her step smartly underneath herself.  I gave her a cluck, closed my legs, and invited a bigger gait by increasing the “air time” of my post.  Bam! There it was! The power of that gait never fails to surprise me – it’s an altogether different gear.  When I get that gait from Mads, I feel like the world is our oyster, and we can do anything.

There was one problem.  In that strong transition up to the big trot, I partially lost a stirrup – it slipped back onto the arch of my foot.  I HATE this feeling – and it’s not safe.  Normally, I correct it immediately, which for me, means dropping to a walk, because I’m not yet adept enough to move the stirrup around on my foot while going at any sort of pace, and definitely not when Mads is in “warmblood” gear and is trying to strut it like Totilas.

Okay, I exaggerate but you get my point.

So, back to my situation.  I knew almost instinctively that I had to keep going in that gait I had sought and asked for.    I had to ride her and encourage her forward, and reward her correct response to what I asked.  I rode that lovely trot for almost a lap with my foot hung up in that stirrup.  I then half-halted and asked her for a nice downward transition on my terms, and got it.  Then I fixed my stirrup. We went back to work, and she moved out nicely for me, adjusting well within the trot.

I was glad that I rode her through the sillies and was able to get some good work.  Part of the new confidence comes from my more secure position, which gets better and better – and stronger – with each ride.

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Tact and Compromise

December 9, 2010 3 Comments

She's full of ideas. Not all are good.

I was looking forward to my lesson tonight.  My new position is getting stronger.  The temperature was 18 degrees warmer tonight than last’s meager 10 degrees.  I put on a cool black sweater and my tall Mountain Horse Fusion boots.  Yes, I’m cheesy enough to think they look cool.  As I swaggered out the door, my thoughts were of big trots and leg yieds, of forward horses and gorgeous canters.  I grabbed my Flip.  Yep, I wanted some video of tonight’s ride.

At this point, experienced horse people have fallen off their chairs laughing at this post.  They know what comes next.  Or, more specifically, they know what *doesn’t* come next.  The following account will not be a tale of a magical ride.  (Those happen when you’re wearing an orange t-shirt, trashy pink saddle pad, and haven’t knocked the mud entirely off the horse.)

No, the rest of this post will be devoted to telling a tale of plans gone awry.

I pulled Mads out of her stall, after greeting her with some neck scritches which she eagerly accepted.  But about two seconds after putting her in the cross ties, I noticed that her demeanor was different.   Her ears were up.  She was staring straight ahead down the aisle into the arena.  She was tense.   I picked, curried, brushed and tacked.  We went into the area, and Maddie’s thoughts were clearly everywhere but on me.  Her muscles were quivering, nostrils were dilated, her eyes wide.  The ears were pointed everywhere but at me.  You see, it was pretty windy outside – you could hear it gust and howl – and there were occasional banging noises on the metal arena doors.  Christy told me that a lot of horses had been acting up that day.  I guess it was our turn.

I finished the routine, tightening the girth and walked her a minute.  She was tense and jumpy, snorting and ignoring me.  I pulled the stirrups off the saddle and picked up a longe line.

I quietly led Mads to the middle of the empty arena, and asked her to walk. Her head was turned away from me, and she was blowing a bit through her nostrils.   The doors banged and she hopped into a tense, giraffe-y, nervous trot, spooking and shying.    By this time, Christy had made it into the arena, and told me to get control, which seemed at that moment to be unlikely – Maddie’s attention was everywhere but me.

We were going straight back to some of the groundwork lessons I had done with Mads earlier this summer.  I have yet to write about those adventures – but the gist of the situation was this – I was being a pushover, letting Mads get away with behaviors I shouldn’t, and she was becoming disrespectful. Simply put, I had to get my act together if I was going to continue riding her and working safely around her.  And I got the job done!  We did a lot of basic groundwork, and I quickly had a much more pleasant horse.  She really was looking for a leader, and once I established the fact that I was the boss, and gained her acknowledgment of that fact, I had an entirely different and happier horse. This process did teach me that you have to stay on top of these things, however, and not let familiarity become an excuse for unwanted behavior.  Occasionally, we  go back to Basic Groundwork 101 and tonight was one of those nights.
Christy told me to assert myself on the longe, and had me shorten the line so I could maintain some contact and bend as I worked the mare.  As I longed her, Christy also had me move forward, and move the mare around the arena.  Any movements that were not my idea – an uninvited turn, change of gait, a spook – were not to be rewarded.  The pressure had to intensify when Mads reacted in an unwelcome manner.

We longed all over the arena,  and for a long time, Mads was simply not listening to me.  The drama continued but  I kept at it, changing direction and moving her around while Christy coached me from the sidelines.    Eventually, Mads started to relax, stretching as she trotted, even as the wind howled outside.  I asked her to walk, and she exhaled deeply, stretching her neck out.  She was relaxed.  Her ears relaxed, and one was turned toward me.

Okay, so the mare had mellowed out, but I certainly hadn’t.  All the confident swagger from earlier before had long vanished.    My heart was pounding and I swear, my femurs were both missing – my legs felt far from steady.   Leading my now relaxed, floppy-eared, drooling mount back to the mounting block, I tried to get a grip on myself.  Christy suggested putting the quarter sheet on – a chilly horse is a sassy horse – and I agreed.  I needed a bit more time to compose myself.

I took a minute to convince myself to put my foot in the stirrup and swing up.  “Breathe,” came the crisp command from Christy, who started us walking in circles.  She knows me and Mads cold, and she knew that I was rattled.  We walked in figure eights and small serpentines, keeping the mare engaged and bending.   “See? You’re fine,” she said, reminding me that really, none of Maddie’s spooks were bad  – she pretty much spooks in place, and I’ve ridden them before and will ride them again.  The wind howled and we rode on, me barely breathing, and Maddie chewing the bit and stretching, probably wondering what the big deal was.

Tonight marked the first time that I had ever worked a horse down from a high energy/high stress situation into safe riding mode.  So, despite the fact that the real work happened on the ground, the win was in fact in the saddle.

George Morris, in the clinic I audited recently, said something as he was watching a talented rider give her hot and super-forward Thoroughbred a beautiful, tactful, empathetic and effective ride.  “Thoroughbreds require tact and compromise,” he said, watching the pair make child’s play of a difficult course of jumps.

It sounded good at the time, and I nodded to myself in agreement when he said it.  But after tonight, I really understand what he meant.

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A cold night at the barn

December 8, 2010 Leave a comment

You know it's cold when your horse steals your gloves.

The thermometer on my dash read 10 degrees when I pulled into the parking lot at the barn.   I was bundled up, but could still feel the wind and cold as I scurried to the door.  Inside, it was much warmer – the doors were all closed, and the horses are inside.

Mads and I had a better, but uneventful, ride tonight.  I have a lesson tomorrow, and focused mainly on my leg postion tonight.   My work is paying off – I can feel the improvement in my position, and it’s getting more comfortable.  We trotted around a lot, mixing in practice in two-point with some real work.

Mads was wearing her quarter sheet, which I think I’ll leave off tomorrow.  She was feeling a little dead to my leg – not sure if it was lack of spurs or the fact that the rug has her feeling a little to comfy.  (I do carry a whip, which is markedly less effective with the rug on.  I rarely use it, however.)  I am going to need to re-tune her responsiveness to my leg aids, though.

It felt much cooler after our ride.  I dove back into my coat, and hurried to untack Mads and get her blanket back on her (but not before rubbing it all over with a dryer sheet.  The static electricity is driving us all nuts!).
Mads was still a little chilly, though, and borrowed my gloves.  Silly mare.

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My four favorite dressage videos

December 7, 2010 Leave a comment

Perfection

Courage

– The video is on this page: http://www.nickertown.com/page/Breathe.aspx

Inspiration

A-freaking-dorable

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Victory! New, Improved Seat & Leg

December 7, 2010 Leave a comment

Victory!  Albeit a small one, but I don’t care, I’m taking it.   My week of hip-flexor torture is paying off.  In last night’s lesson, my leg and seat position was much better.  My leg was hanging correctly from the hip – toes in and making full contact with the horse – and best of all – it didn’t hurt.  I wasn’t overloading my ankles with weight while at the same time twisting them inward (that really hurts!)

Interestingly, Christy asked me if I had dropped my stirrups a hole.  Huh, I didn’t think so, and verified that no, the stirrups were on the same hole I usually ride.  My leg sure did feel different though, and I suspect it looked a bit different to her, too.

I also got to test the strength of my new position.  Mads spooked sideways and for a second I thought it was going to evolve into a bit more of a spook.  But I was solid in the saddle – rock solid in fact – and was able to ride through it nicely.  Though my heart was pounding afterward and my legs momentarily were jelly, Christy assured me that I rode it well and never looked like I was having a problem.

So, progress!

Relaxing after a ride

 

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Muscles

December 5, 2010 Leave a comment

We're both working for this nice trot

Today I’m taking a day off from riding, and I’m glad.   The muscles that I’m retraining in my legs are exhausted.  I felt this yesterday, when Christy and I met for an early afternoon ride.  We had the arena to ourselves, the air was cold and crisp, Mads was really forward (I left her quarter sheet off, to encourage a little extra spunk).  One problem.  As we were trotting around warming up, before I was even asking Mads for anything more than a little stretch here or flex there, my legs were tired.  Really tired.  At first I thought that I’d get warmed up, and I’d be okay.  But “okay” wasn’t forthcoming.

As we were warming up, before we even moved off into a trot, Christy – in her weird, mind-reader, prescient way – was talking about a book about equine physiology she’s considering adding to her library.   Among other things, she’s interested in learning the physiology of muscle development and how to build equine muscles correctly.  Any sort of muscle development requires that the muscle be overloaded.  Soreness – a result of minute tears in muscle fibers (“microtrauma”) – is part of the process, an indicator that you are in fact working – and stressing – the target muscles. If it’s not getting a bit sore, you’re not using (and developing) the muscle.  I’m no sports physiologist, but I’m pretty sure my body was telling me to give it a rest. It was a short and unfulfilling ride.

The discussion of muscles got me thinking about Friday’s ride, during which Mads read one of my aids (pushing with my inside hip flexor) as a canter cue, when I intended for her to just bend.   I’ve long been gently bending this light and responsive mare at the trot simply by pushing gently with a hip flexor, making kind of a scooping action with the seatbone on the same side. It’s a small aid (or, at least, it is when I use it as described. It can be much stronger) and when I do it on the long side of the arena, I can bend Mads gently one way, then another, and then back again, keeping contact with her mouth steady and unchanged.

So why was my subtle cue now eliciting a canter? Well, it probably has everything to do with my new, improved leg position.  If I’m riding in a correct position, more of my leg is against the horse.  In my old toes-out postition, my leg wasn’t in much contact with Maddie’s side – really, just my heel and upper thighs.  Now, however, when I ride with my hip angles open, my whole leg rolled (for me) inward, and toes pointing forward, my entire leg is in contact with the horse.  So that subtle cue I had been giving was amplified.

Just one more thing to think about as I rebuild my seat.  I have to re-define my aids, as well.

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A forward horse, and an unexpected gift

December 3, 2010 2 Comments

Maddie, giver of gifts.

As you know, I’ve been working on improving my position in the saddle.  To gear up for riding without stirrups at a pace faster than the walk, Christy’s had me working in the two point postion.  Correctly.   You see, until this week, when I hopped up into two point, I just lifted my tush out of the saddle and off I’d go.   Turns out this isn’t the right way to do it, as I discovered this week. There’s more to the two-point than simply tipping your butt up out of the saddle.

In my lesson yesterday, Christy had me working in two point.  And shortly after we started, I started complaining of nasty pain in my ankles.  The muscles in my lower legs were en fuego.   Which ain’t right.   So Christy suggested that I work on moving the stirrup around on my foot – forward, backward – while in two point.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her like she had ten heads.

Move the stirrup around on my foot, while in two point? Yes, she said, pointing out that I should be carrying most of my weight on my inner thighs, not my feet.

All righty, then.

I started walking around, trying to figure it out.  Hands braced on the pommel, I posted while Mads walked, trying to get a feel for lifting myself from my thighs.  The mare was confused but tolerant, at times stopping when things got too wriggly, and turning her head to give me a long look, as if to ask “You OK up there?”    When I started to feel it, we picked up the trot.  My inital challenge was keeping Maddie moving – anytime I got too unsteady (in her opinion) she’d drop to a walk.  What good girl she is.

Finally, by the end of the ride, I got it.  We were trotting around, with my hiney out of the saddle,  and I was able to really lighten my foot in the stirrup, carrying my weight on my upper legs, not my feet.

Tonight, I was saddling up as Christy was getting going on her new boy, Remy.  It was close to feeding time, and , my girl Mads was antsy.   We got going, limbering up at the walk, while chitchatting with Christy.  Then it was time to work.  I hopped into two point, giving Mads plenty of rein to stretch.  Round we went.  My thighs were on fire.  I was doing it right.

Panting after a few laps, I decided to relieve the stress on my legs by posting.  I picked up more contact, and started shallow serpentines, bending Mads right and left from my seat.  Clearly, my aids are a little confusing, because Mads – who was already nice and forward – stepped into a right lead canter.

Crap! I didn’t ask for that, and I’ve always been told that you don’t let horses get away with decision-making.  I started to half halt her, when from the other end of the arena came the command, “RIDE IT!” Christy was keeping an eye on us, and I know better than to argue with her. Down my butt went into the saddle, and ’round we went.   We kept going until by mutual agreement we had had enough.

Afterward, Christy reminded me that part of riding entails riding the horse you have at the moment.  When the horse is forward and sensitive, you ride that that horse.  Don’t pick fights you can’t win. Set yourself up for success.

That nice little spontaneous canter was an unexpected gift from Mads – it was a fun confidence builder, and a reminder of the “ride the horse you have” rule.

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