Seeking professional help.

June 7, 2011 5 Comments

I continued to mess with my saddles, pads and shims in an effort to cobble something together that would work for Derby until Kate Lamacki, a Master Saddler (one of four in the US) and Qualified Saddle Fitter can work us into her schedule.   When I tried the Wintec with a medium narrow gullet, the saddle was pommel high.  On Sunday, I switched to a medium gullet, which looked a hair wide, and added ultra ThinLine shims to my Mattes pad.  The balance looked OK, the wither clearance was fine, it didn’t feel like it was pinching.

I rode Derby for about 20 minutes, when he started to feel resistant – he was unwilling to go forward, and was starting to toss his head.    I promptly dismounted.

Despite the short ride, the clean white saddle pad didn’t reveal anything in the sweatmarks – it was hot, and Derby was pretty dirty.  The pad was one big smear of sweat, fly spray and dust.   I didn’t see any dry spots on his back, and I poked and prodded for soreness, but didn’t find anything.

However, on Monday night, Christy palpated Derby’s back, and found a couple spots that were a bit sore, which was no surprise, given what transpired under saddle the night before.  There was no way I was going to compound the situation by riding,  so we spent the evening exploring the farm, and grazing with Liz and Cloud.

So we’re grounded until we meet with Kate, and (hopefully) find a new saddle that fits us perfectly.

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Adjustments

June 5, 2011 2 Comments

A very good boy.

I’ve had Derby for just a few days, but the more time I spend with him, the more I like him.   He’s proving to be sweet, gentle, willing and sensible – just what I was seeking.

He’s also a quick study.  His first walk through the back aisle of the barn when it was empty elicited some snorty looking around.  The same trip today?  Nothin’ but a thang.

He was trepidatious about the wash rack, but after giving him a minute to check it out, he followed me in – and I have to give him some credit – the water was draining slowly, and there was a really big puddle on the floor.  His attitude was “Well, if you say it’s OK, it must be OK.”

He’s an easy horse to be around and work with – and I’m really enjoying him.

Yesterday was really hot, and I was pressed for time, so I didn’t ride, principally because I needed to try a couple different saddles, which would take a little extra time.  So instead of riding, I decided to do a short session on the longe line.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time longing different horses, and have had some real a-ha moments.  There was one break through session free-longing  Jag in which we were so in synch that I was able to guide him around the arena – over poles (something he always avoided if he could), changing directions and gaits.   What made that night so cool was Jag’s unwavering focus on me.  He read and responded to my every move and cue.

Maddie and I had some interesting moments too.  She was not as tuned-in to humans, was more easily distracted, and I had to work hard to gain and keep her attention.  She also would constantly test me – which at its heart is a respect issue, since longing is more about using your position to influence the horse and get the outcome you  seek.   She and I did have some good moments – I used longing to gain her attention when she was wound up and uncooperative more than once.  And shortly before she went to her new home, I was able to work her at liberty, getting her to canter serpentines all down the arena.

Longing is interesting to me, because I think it lets you evaluate how responsive and attentive the horse is.   Derby turned out to be a star. The barn was almost empty, and most of the other horses were outside.   I put Derby on the longe line, and went into the arena.    Initially he was a bit tense, and immediately stepped off into a trot.  I stepped toward his shoulder and said “walk,” and he did.  We did some transitions in all three gaits, and worked a bit on standing still, in both directions.   Derby was attentive, responding to a quiet verbal command or shift in my stance.

We cooled out, and I led him into the indoor wash stall, to continue introducing him to all areas of the barn.  After a quick rinse off, we hung out and grazed for a while.

Today I had more time, and went out with my newly-adjusted Wintec Isabell and a cool old Stubben Romanus. I tried the Stubben first but hopped off almost immediately because my stirrups were too short.  I ride with extra long leathers, and past experience with this saddle has suggested that standard leathers would work.  The last time I rode in it, I ended up having to wrap my leathers, because the shortest hole wasn’t short enough.  Every saddle is different, and they ride differently on different horses.  However, today, the wrapped leathers were too short, probably because Derby has such a deep girth.  I had to get off to unwrap the leathers.    I hopped back on.

I love the Romanus but unfortunately, in about 1 minute I determined  it doesn’t leave enough wither clearance on Derby.  Rats.  I hopped back off and we went back into the barn to try the Isabell.  I put in a wider gullet, and am using my Mattes pad with a Thinline shim in the front.  It was better than the medium-narrow, and we had a good (and uneventful) ride but I don’t think it’s a perfect fit.   I’m scheduling a saddle fitter for next week.  I think the new pony will need a new saddle, too.   This isn’t entirely unexpected.  There’s always a period of adjustment with new horse.  We’ll get there.

A shiny Derby chills after today's multiple saddle changes and subsequent ride.

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Actually, they can talk. You just have to listen.

May 19, 2011 1 Comment

This week I got a two poignant refreshers in how important it is to listen to the horse.  Even though they can’t speak, horses are pretty good communicators.

On Monday, I saddled up my old buddy Frank for a lesson.  As usual, before outfitting him in boots, I picked his hooves carefully, checked his shoes, and felt up and down each leg.  All looked good.  I put the saddle on, and tightened the girth a couple holes, and then led him out into the arena.  Frank is good at puffing up his belly when it comes time to tighten the girth, so I take a hole-by-hole, more gradual approach with him, in order to catch him when he exhales.   We walked a minute, and I dropped one of the stirrups – and boy, did I get an objection.  Frank pinned his ears and swished his tail, and then stood, with a very sour expression on his face.  This was not normal for Frank.

Christy asked if I had checked his back – and admittedly, I hadn’t – Frank’s back is the one part of him which hasn’t posed a problem in the past.  I went back into the aisle, and untacked him. Yep, he was tender along his top line.  Christy did some additional checking, and found that his hindquarters were tender, too.  We later learned that he had worked pretty hard the day before – and that was the likely culprit.

Last night was a variation on a similar theme.  We recently discovered that Oliver’s saddle is bridging and causing discomfort.  Christy made the discovery after Oliver became very resistant toward the end of a ride.   He’s a nice boy and is honest and uncomplicated.   Like Frank’s sourness, Oliver’s resistance was unusual.  After I untacked, Christy looked at the sweat marks on his back, and noticed that some spots under the saddle were quite a bit warmer than others, indicating that the saddle was putting pressure on a couple points on Oliver’s back, rather than evenly distributing the weight across the surface of the panels.   In this case, the first sign that something was amiss came under saddle in the form of unusual resistance.   Last night, Oliver was still sore, so I was unable to experiment with a different saddle to see if that gave him relief.

I don’t think that horses are brats.  Sure, some have behavioral issues and test boundaries, or have training gaps and can be rude on the ground, but I’m not ever willing to say that a horse is exhibiting a behavior simply because it’s ‘bratty.’   There’s always a reason for the behavior, and it’s up to us to be aware of changes, and to look for an underlying cause.  Failure to do so is not only unfair to the horse, but dangerous for the rider.

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After all, we *are* training war horses here …

May 9, 2011 3 Comments

Oliver's first ride outside

I can’t claim the hilarious line that I used for this post’s title.  It appeared to great guffaws on one of the dressage discussion boards I frequent.  But when it appeared months ago while I was still riding Maddie it got me thinking about dealing with a distracted horse.

The historical roots of dressage are in fact based in the military training.  And it’s not difficult to imagine the utility of a highly responsive mount that is forward and willing when riding into battle.   A leg yield may very well evolved as a means to get a better angle for wielding one’s broadsword.

Christy and I talked about this one night when Mads was being a handful.  I had discovered – either by serendipity or accident – that riding a cloverleaf pattern of small (12m or so) loops was a great way to refocus the mare’s attention on me.   This was an important lesson for me – I learned that I had a lot more control over spooky situations than I thought I did.  I learned that if I just sat up and really rode, I could get through the mare’s moments.

There are a few reasons why this works, Christy explained.  First and foremost, horses look for leaders.  When you take charge unequivocally, you assert yourself as the leader, and the horse is very likely be happy to be relieved of the decision-making, and to follow willingly along.   Conversely, when you abdicate the leadership role to the horse, you also abdicate the decision-making to a lower-order animal who thinks that flight is a great solution to most problems.

Secondly, Christy noted that when I sat up and rode, I went from being more passive to being a  very active rider, truly riding every stride.  When I watch Christy, I can see that she’s riding every moment, every stride, constantly testing her connection, bending, softening, giving, taking, half-halting, driving — she’s never just cruising along. Riding every stride is something that I don’t yet do with consistency.  And it’s  a key differentiator between a good rider and one that’s less effective.  When I have had these moments, Christy has told me that I’ve never looked better – that the mare’s back was up, she was rounded and engaged end-to-end.  And I remember how good that felt – how that big mare transformed into a Ferrari, nimble and responsive.

These experiences and conversations gave me tools that I use frequently when dealing with a looky horse, and they came in handy yesterday when I took Oliver for his first ride outside in the outdoor arena.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, breezy enough to keep bugs away.  Oliver was really good as I mounted and we walked around. However, I wasn’t letting him just dink aroud on a loose rein.  We started with stretching and bending, and walked in serpentines and circles to warm up, and get familiar with the surroundings.   For a while we were alone in the ring (though there is a turn-out right next to the ring, so we weren’t truly alone) and Oliver was a champ.  We kept working on stretching (and I focused on giving giving giving at the right moment) and Oliver really did well.

Bending, and staying on the bit. Good boy!

Some others came back outside just as we picked up a trot.  Oliver decided to do a tiny spook at the mounting block, which was ridiculous, and earned himself a smack on the butt with the crop, and trotting in the deeper sand.  Off we went, circling and working our way around the ring.  Determined to not let him get away with that monkey business, I really rode him – doing lots of bending and flexing, and keeping as on the bit and round as I could.  He tried to look at the mounting block again, but complied when I applied my inside spur and kept the outside rein firm.  He was more worried about the poles in far corner of the ring, so we spent some time working down there, halting near them, and eventually eating some dandelions from Christy’s boyfriend’s hand as we stood in that corner.

My assertive riding  was done with keeping looking and spooking to a minimum in mind – I really wanted Oliver to have a nice, confident, pleasant ride outside – but it came with another benefit.  I got better quality work from Oliver than I ever have.  Hopefully we’ll get some pictures – Peaches was out with her girls and they had a camera.  I’m eager to see what we looked like because it really felt good!

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Green horse, grey horse.

April 17, 2011 4 Comments

I got a real lesson in contrasts today, riding Oliver and Frank.  Both are total loves, and both are Thoroughbred geldings, but the similarities end there. Oliver is a green bean, but Frank knows more about dressage than me, having been trained to Second Level.

I rode Oliver first, and was hoping that I’d have a better ride than I did yesterday.  Oliver was hell-bent on testing me on Saturday, acting spooky and distracted, possibly because he had a little extra energy since the horses were stuck inside due to some awful weather.  I spent a lot of time growling at him, and it took a while for him to settle so we could really work.  Because he was being silly, I elected to get and keep his attention by doing lots of transitions and changes of direction.   In addition to being silly, Oliver also tried to convince me that he had forgotten everything he knew about transitions downward from my seat. Instead of responding to my half-halts by starting to bring his back up and stepping under himself – as he had been doing sooo nicely last weekend – yesterday he was ignoring the half halt – and the fact that my butt was planted in the saddle – and barreling on.

That would not do.

We did walk/halts (while spiraling in and out) until I got the crisp response I’d been seeking.  Then we moved back into trotting.  I started out just going down the rail, but wasn’t getting a satisfactory response.  Oliver had what Steph calls “OMG ears” and was actively looking for reasons to spook .   So I started riding figure 8’s – little ones at one end of the arena, and then larger ones, and then long flat ones, bisecting the arena down the centerline.

Things got better immediately, because I was keeping Oliver focused on me.  We worked on walk/trot/walk/trot transitions and he did pretty well.

Today was a different story.  Oliver was a total star.  We had our best trot work to date – I got him to move out, and we successfully completed laps of the arena trotting nicely both ways.  He was relaxed and just rolled along.  I also asked him more insistently to reach down, and while I wouldn’t say that he was round, he wasn’t wildly inverted.  I was proud of Oliver, and told him so!

We also had some very nice transitions from my seat, from trot to walk, and from walk to halt.  We worked on those while we also worked on steering – around the mounting block, figure-8s all over the place, you name it – and Oliver was a champ.  I was so pleased with him today!  I rewarded him with a hand grazing session (on top of lots of cookies) before I turned him back out to lounge in the sun.

After gulping some water, I went and fetched Frank.  My old buddy was feeling really good today, and surprised me by starting out at a smart pace when I picked up the trot after we warmed up.  I let him roll, hopping into two-point and getting a feel for this different feeling gait.  It has a lot more motion than the jog Frank offers when he’s feeling creaky.  He was getting a little strung out, so I decided it was time to help him out.  I started posting, took a feel on his mouth … and discovered that he wasn’t going to give it to me.  If I wanted Frank to round, he was going to make me work for it.

I was posting out of a half-seat, to stay off his back, and I increased my post, to make more “room” for a bigger stride.  I also got busy with my inside leg, engaging my core and making a point of holding my outside rein and asking Frank to soften with the inside rein.  Within a few strides, I got results.  Frank took the contact, stretched, and the trot started to feel a lot better. I tested my contact by seeing if Frank would follow my contact downward – if he didn’t, that would tell me that he was just going around with a fake headset. I invited a stretch, and got it.  I had true contact. Yay!  I could feel myself holding him between the inside leg and my outside rein. It’s been a looong time since I felt that!

This was the first ride in a log time I that I had generated proper contact.  As we went around the short side, I decided to throw in a circle to give another rider some room to maneuver.  And at that point, I got busted by the former school horse, who didn’t feel I was using my inside leg sufficiently, and ignored my inadequate request to do a 20 meter circle.  Crap!

I gathered myself and asked for another circle as we approached A.  it was ugly, because I forgot to close my fingers around the outside rein as I applied my inside leg (with more vigor this time.) Frank waggled his ears at me (I swear he did!) as he popped his outside shoulder out. Crap!

I sat myself up, made sure my feet were indeed where they belonged (at the girth, not curled back to Frank’s flanks) , held that damn outside rein, turned my left toe outward and deliberately applied my spur while also giving Frank a tap tap with my whip.   I got the “yes ma’am” response I sought, and we circled nicely, with decent contact and a quality trot.

We went down the long side, and as we headed into the short side, I gave Frank a little half-halt, to bring him more into hand.  We kept the little trot long the short side, then took a diagonal, which went quite well, since I 1) half-halted again down the short side and 2) looked where I wanted to go and 3) actually balanced the horse between my inside leg and outside rein, for a change.

We did another nice circle at C, with no shoulder popping or ear-waggling.  And then another down the long side for good measure.

I was panting and sweating – partially because I was dressed a bit too heavily, and partly because I’m in horrific shape after having been sick on and off for months.  But it felt great to really ride, even if Frank was channeling Christy and busting me when I got sloppy.  We cooled out, and then went to graze.

Two totally different horses, two totally different rides, and a completely satisfying day!

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Two rides, two results.

April 11, 2011 3 Comments

I had two rides on Oliver recently – one on Saturday, and one tonight.  On Saturday he was unfocused and a bit tense, but I did very cruelly ride him right as the other horses were being brought in and fed, and Oliver registered his discontent by doing his best to ignore me, calling to other horses, and keeping his ears forward, pointedly not listening to me.  He was a little squirrely at the beginning of the ride, but I put him straight to work, and we ended up having a decent ride, but  he never truly relaxed for me.  Despite his total unhappiness with my delaying his dinner, we did book one important accomplishment –  I got him to spiral in and out, at the walk, in both directions.  He’s beginning to understand leg aids, and best of all, I was able to get him to move alway from my right leg when circling right.  So that was a definite win.

Tonight I showed up after dinner, and Oliver was back to his mellow self.  We had a very nice ride, and worked on a number of things.  First, as we warmed up, I worked on steering correctly – from inside leg and outside rein.  He’s not perfect, but he improves with each ride.  I rode shallow serpentines and figure-8’s and at the end of the warm up, he was turning nicely for me.  I went back to this exercise mid-ride during a walk break, and also got  good responses.  This is good progress.

We also did quite a bit of work trotting.  I had my spurs on tonight, and warmed up carefully, working on keeping my leg in position with my toes forward, and my foot at the girth, not curled back.  I did the balancing exercises that Christy has me working on, and was pleased to find that Oliver held a pretty steady rhythm for a change, and he is also accepting more contact from me, and stays relaxed.  This is also some nice progress.  He used to bear down and speed up whenever his rider touched his mouth.

However, I noticed that as we worked, he started to speed up randomly, often at a moment when I was giving him little or no real input.  Ha!  Busted! I think he uses speeding up as an evasion, so whenever he did that, I sent him forward and kept him there.  We just got a couple loads of sand in the arena, and the footing is deeper – and takes more work.  He started to tire and wanted to slow down, but I kept him moving forward to make the point that the human – not the horse – sets the tempo.  We did more serpentines and figure-8s while trotting, and lo and behold, the evasions stopped once he was convinced that I was paying attention.

We finished up the ride working on transitions.  His downward transition in particular isn’t as crisp as I’d like to see – he really needs to transition from the seat.  I started by saying “whoa” while giving him a big half halt with my seat, and closing my fingers on the reins, which increased the contact.  Gradually, as he got the hang of it, I dropped the “whoa,” and for the last few, I was *almost* able to abandon the reins. Almost but not quite.  However, he made good progress, and I could feel him stepping nicely under himself when I half-halted him, which is exactly the correct response to this important aid.  Good boy, Oliver!

We finished up working on relaxing and stretching. He is hard (for me at least) to stretch, and he’s still not working over his back enough to speak of – getting him to stretch into the bit is the next thing on my mental to-do list for Oliver, behind relaxing, building the strength to move rhythmically and steering correctly. At this point, I’m happy if I can get him to stretch into a decent working walk – on my terms and at my invitation. He likes stretching, but does it on his own, almost rooting (and makes  me wonder at times if he’s using this unbidden behavior to evade.)  He relaxed, and stretched a bit, and then halted promptly from my seat.  He earned his cookies tonight!

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Love it, hate it

April 7, 2011 Leave a comment

A key component of rebuilding my seat (and my confidence) involves balance. Christy is focusing on this in our lessons, and I’m spending a lot of time out of the saddle – standing, hovering in a half seat, and working in two-point.   And I have a lot more to go. Christy reminded me of an article in last month’s Dressage Connections about the repetitions required to establish new habits and muscle memory. The number is in the tens of thousands.

Argh. My leg is curling back, and my upper body is tipped forward. I must fix this.

I had a fun ride last night on an adorable little Quarter Horse named Tucker. He’s an exceptionally fancy QH, with nice gaits and lots of training. Tucker is mirror, reflecting his rider’s aids, and because he’s got so much training, he notices every message his rider sends – intentionally or otherwise. I can feel how off my timing is when I’m late on softening, or when I respond to slowly to one of his lightning quick little evasions – popping a shoulder out here, a hip inward there.

Tucker is a fancy little fellow.

I was sorely, sorely tempted to push all the buttons and ride this fun little horse to the best of my ability.  But the ride wasn’t pretty, and Christy pointed out that my aids probably weren’t as clear or well timed as they could be.  Oh, and by the way, my leg was curling back again.  So instead of pushing the fun buttons, I went back to cultivating a balanced seat.

Christy has me doing three exercises that are brutal, and brutally effective.  All tax the squishy muscles I need to develop, none are terribly fun, and all take direct aim at improving my lower leg position and stability.

Post – Stand – Post

The first exercise Christy has me use (and return to immediately if things go south) is posting two beats, and then standing two beats, post two, stand two, rinse and repeat.   It’s not terribly fun for me because when I stand for two beats, balance is a real challenge.  However, building the feel for balance is one of the key outputs of this exercise.  And the fact that as I stand, my leg invariably is in (and remains in) the correct positi0n is also helpful.   This is an exercise I’m going to be doing a lot, on every horse I ride.

Hover Post

The next exercise Christy has me do has much the same effect as the first, in that it tests my balance while building a steadier lower leg.  She has me ride a posting trot, but doesn’t allow my butt to touch the saddle.  I drop into a half-seat instead of sitting all the way down.  For extra fun, Christy will have me mix the two exercises.  I’m grunting and swearing by the time I complete one lap.

The lower-leg-curling habit is most evident when I want to use my leg.  I need to get it through my head that using my leg does not mean trying to reach back and poke the horse in the flank – it means applying pressure (or the spur) with my leg at or near “home” position – at the girth.  Using my leg correctly and building muscle memory is something else I need to practice, practice and practice some more.

Stand & Steer

To work on getting the feel of using my leg while keeping it in the correct position, Christy has me stand, and steer the horse from my leg.  I can’t curl my legs back when standing – this is a genius little exercise that I can’t evade.  As I stand, I experiment with using my inside and outside aids.  There’s absolutely no question in my mind that my leg aids are much more clear and distinct when I do this, because I get crisp responses from all the horses I ride – even Oliver, who has no dressage training to speak of.  As a bonus, this exercise requires balance, as well.

Riding Tucker was fun, and will only be more so when I recapture my ability to ride with a modicum of balance and precision.  In the meantime, I’m practicing, and recalling what George Morris said about building new habits: first it’s hard, then it gets easy, then it becomes habit, and, finally, it’s beautiful.  For what it’s worth, I’m firmly in the “hard” stage!

Close your fingers, for the love of God!

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Break it down

April 4, 2011 Leave a comment

A few posts ago, as I bade Mads farewell, I mused out loud about how doors open when others close.  At that moment, my time with Maddie was ending, and I wasn’t seeing very many other doors to walk through. Happily, a new and unexpected door has swung open.  With no horse, and no real agenda at the moment, we’re using this time to make me a more well rounded rider, adding new skills to my toolbox and instilling confidence as I build competence.

Through the kindness of friends (and their busy schedules at work) I’ve been given the golden opportunity to ride a variety of horses.  I’ve handed myself over to Christy, and we’re rebuilding my seat, borrowing some theory and practice from the hunter barns in Christy’s past, where riders rode all manner of horses – fresh off the track OTTBs, sour and crafty schoolies, hotrods and dead heads.  This is common practice – and it’s good practice.  You ride what you have, and you ride over poles, grids and courses.    The riders are all adept at riding in a balanced half seats, and rely on their balance – not the tack – to stay aboard when things get hairy.

Christy and I talked about this in the aisle a few days ago.   She had me stand with my legs apart and knees bent, with my back flat, hips behind me and shoulders forward – in “two point”.   Then, from there, she had me move my upper body around, to see how far I really had to move before I started to throw myself off balance.  It turns out I have quite a large range of motion when crouching in two-point in the aisle.

Then, she had me straighten up, adopting the posture of a dressage rider – knees slightly bent, standing erect.  She challenged me again to move my top half around, to the point were I started to become unbalanced.  My range of comfortable motion was much less.  When you’re upright, your body acts as a lever.  The only way you can hope to save yourself and rebalance is maximally engage your core muscles, and they better be super strong if this is going to save you from going ker-splat.

This was an illuminating little exercise.  We moved it to the saddle over the weekend, as I described yesterday.  Tonight, I took a lesson on Oliver, and we went another couple steps. I rode with my stirrups shorter, which really does feel like hell, and in an illuminating exercise, Christy had me work on bending and steering him with my legs, while standing.

It worked surprisingly well!  First and foremost, standing forces you to keep you leg under you.  I need to build muscle memory and break my bad habit of tucking my leg back and curling my heel up when I want to put leg on the horse.  I have to keep that leg at. the. girth. while I apply leg.  And Oliver really responded to what had to be a much clearer and more distinct aid.  He surprised me by neatly stepping under himself and giving nicely as I asked him to bend.    We were starting out going to the right, the direction in which I find Oliver to be resistant to correct bending – he wants to lean inward and I usually have to work hard to move him out when going that direction.  But during this exercise, I got the nicest bend and response from Oliver I’ve had to date.  I was thrilled!

We picked up the trot, and here’s where things always get interesting with Oliver.  He’s a newbie to dressage and hasn’t established a nice rhythm yet.  He goes fast, he goes slow, he strides out, he almost drops to a walk, he hops forward again.  His speed setting is locked on “wildly variable.”  I posted, but kept out of the saddle, going no further than a half-seat on the downward beat.  The variable speeds of Oliver’s trot were are a real challenge to stay with, but it’s great practice for me.  I hopped up into two point, trying to keep my weight out of the stirrups.  Oliver sped up. Oliver slowed down.  I adjusted and didn’t fall off.

When I had about had it, I sat on a down beat, sat up straight, and asked Oliver to walk, principally from my seat.  He’s getting better at listening to this, and the response came quickly.

Christy pointed out that because I had my legs correctly under me when I posted, when I sat, I was able to sit deep and be effective.  She made the link for me between that balanced seat I had at that moment, and the balanced seat that saw me safely through spooks and equine naughtiness.  The foundation of this important tool is correct leg position.  This was a great illustration of this principle.

We worked in the trot in both directions.  In addition to staying with the uneven rhythm, I also worked on gently bending Oliver and steering correctly from my outside rein.  I swear, if there’s one thing I hope I can help contribute to Oliver’s education, it’s better steering!  But he actually did really well tonight, and he’s a quick study. I got a couple little leg-yield steps here and there – he was stepping out from my leg correctly and giving me some nice bending.  We then did some figure 8’s and by the end, I was able to ask nicely and receive a reasonable response from the horse.   I was very proud of Oliver – he’s a smart one and learns quickly.

This was an illuminating lesson, because I was able to practice what Christy and I discussed in the aisle this weekend, as we crouched in a semblance of two-point and discussed balance, velocity and physics.  Set’s face it.  The tackiest leather, the stickiest full seats, the biggest blocks – all are of little use when hell really breaks loose.  Your ability to stay balanced is what will save your bacon.

Case in point: Seconds before I rode that crazy thunder-induced bolting spook a few weeks ago, I quite literally said to myself “green horse, weight your heels,” and had just stretched down into my stirrups when he spooked.  It must have been Divine intervention, because know the fact that I started from a balanced seat contributed mightily to my success in riding that spook long enough to dictate my dismount.

So the next month or two will be interesting.  It’s going to be a real challenge for me but I’m excited about becoming more well-rounded and an overall better rider.   There is one problem, though.  And it’s Christy. I don’t like the way she looks at me when she’s thinking – it’s how a lion sizes up a baby gazelle – and I can see her wheels turning.  Like tonight, when I was watching Atlanta’s owner Cathy finishing a fun ride by cooling out bareback.   Atlanta, a nice round Hano, doesn’t have razor withers or a protruding spine.  One could imagine riding her bareback with a degree of comfort.  I said as much out loud, within Christy’s ear shot.  Her eyes narrowed as she thought.  She looked at me.  She looked at Cathy and Atlanta.  She looked back at me.

I am so dead.

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Unblocked

April 3, 2011 2 Comments

I have a few rides under my belt since my meltdown / anxiety attack last Saturday.  I’m happy to report that after today’s rides on Atlanta and Frank, I feel like I’ve got most of my mojo back, and haven’t lost my damn mind – which I originally feared was the case.

Last Sunday, I got on Atlanta, and had a decent ride (that mare is a champ) but still wasn’t happy about it.  I didn’t want to go out to the barn that day, and I didn’t want to ride.  (In case you’re wondering, these reactions are profoundly atypical for me.)   I then went out of town for the week, and came back with a better attitude.  I wanted to get back in the saddle.

Steph loaned me Oliver yesterday, and I meant to ride both him and Atlanta.  However, two horses with some interesting lameness issues were seeing a new farrier yesterday, and I ended up spending a couple hours studying advanced hoofcare instead of riding both horses.  I ended up just riding Oliver, who, at the outset, was decidedly unenthusiastic.  He was enjoying a nap in the sun when I went out to his paddock to fetch him.

Oliver snoozing in the sun.

And when I clipped the lead shank to his halter, I was treated to the most aggrieved display of equine pathos I’ve ever seen.

Drama king.

He eventually gave up, clambered to his feet, and with no further drama we went inside and I tacked up.

However, Christy has been busy thinking about some of her students’ confidence issues (yes, I’m among that group), and how we’re riding.  I’m leaving a lot of detail out, but in my case, after looking at lots of old pictures and video, she believes that some of my issues might be from my current saddle (a Wintec Isabell on which I have large blocks) and the posture that I using when I was riding Maddie regularly last fall (longer stirrup, sitting upright and vertical) and the challenges that posture presents me when I lose fitness (such as I did early this year between being sick and traveling) or ride a horse that isn’t working at the same level Mads and I were at last fall.

She explained that the vertical posture you see at the upper levels takes a lot of strength for both horse and rider to maintain.  And lately, I’ve not been maintaining it, and have been leaning forward a few degrees – which Christy says is appropriate.  But this has been causing another problem -well, several actually.

Tipping forward, with no base of support.

In this picture, I’m trying to sit up straight.  However, a few things are conspiring against me, and really, they all start with the fact that I’ve got big thigh blocks on that saddle.  I’m curling my leg up, and my knee is hitting the block, creating a fulcrum around which you can see my whole self pivots.  And in my effort to sit up straight, I’m arching my back.  This is not a solid base of support.

Now, in this picture from last fall, when I was stronger and fitter, my leg is where it belongs – I stayed secure during this spook and it was no big deal.

Why having your leg under is so important.

However, when I ate dirt recently, it’s probably because I didn’t have a good base of support, and, as a result, I didn’t stick the spook.

Here’s a picture of me riding Jag from a couple years ago. You can see that I’m leaning slightly forward, but as Christy noted, I’m well balanced, and this is appropriate for the level I’m at. In this photo, I’m riding in an old Keiffer Lech saddle, which was slick leather and had miniscule blocks.  My lower leg is nicely hanging at the girth.

The long leg and knee blocks work when I’m working at a higher level.  At the moment, given the variety of horses I’m riding, we’re going to concentrate on redeveloping my seat.  I know I’ll emerge a better rider, so for now, what Christy says, goes.

So, on Oliver yesterday and Atlanta and Frank today, I rode sans blocks. I’m also ditching my jointed stirrups – turns out they worsen my stability rather than enhancing it. I’m focusing on supporting myself with my legs, and keeping my lower leg under me.

Christy has a new form of torture – posting, but not returning to a half-seat, not sitting.   Apparently my leg is dead quiet when I do this.  I personally think that is because all the blood in my body was racing to help relieve my screaming glutes during this exercise, leaving my lower extremities lifeless and unable to move.  Either way, the boss in the middle of the ring seems to be happy with it so we’ll continue.

This weekend’s rides were focused on putting these pieces back together.  No fancy riding was to be seen, but I was smiling when I dismounted each time, and at the moment, that’s the best outcome!

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Inexplicable

March 27, 2011 5 Comments

A few days ago, after my successful execution of my first emergency dismount, I was feeling pretty happy with myself, and added that skill to my little toolbox.   But I guess my spill off Mads a couple weeks ago, coupled with Chester’s bolt, left me more shaken in the confidence department than I originally guessed.

I scampered out to the barn on Saturday, eager to ride Stephanie’s horse, Oliver, and for a make up lesson with Christy on Atlanta.  And I actually had my best ride to date on Oliver, getting more relaxation, stretching and bending from him than I’ve achieved in previous rides.   Mentally, I was OK while riding Oliver – maybe a little nervous but really, nothing too bad.

After putting Oliver away, I fetched Atlanta, tacked up, and joined Christy in the arena.  I got on Atlanta, who is a consummate pro — and started to melt down.

I don’t know why, I let things get to me on Saturday.  I heard the wind, I was tense because someone had let some dogs into the barn and they were making a racket — all little, routine things that frankly would have set Maddie off, but didn’t phase the extremely experienced and well-educated mare underneath me.

The fact that Atlanta was ignoring all of these little nuisances was of precious little comfort to me.  As I walked Atlanta on a long rein, with Christy along side me on Liam, I stopped chit-chatting as I felt my chest tightening and my heart rate increasing.

What was going on?

I tried to breathe, but could feel myself getting more and more upset.  Now I was feeling sick, now I wasn’t really breathing, now there were tears in my eyes.   Christy asked me what was wrong, and when I didn’t respond verbally she knew something was up.

Meanwhile, Atlanta plodded along, pretty much on the buckle and totally unconcerned.

Just to add fuel to the fire, I started getting upset with myself for getting upset.  My nerves were jangling, I was on red alert, noticing every little distraction and noise.  I felt like I had finely tuned, extra-sensory perception because I was hearing every little sound – and, inexplicably, everything was getting to me in a way I have never experienced.  As we continued plodding around the arena, I became totally consumed with fear. I had a huge lump in my throat, my chest was constricted and I was taking choking breaths and sobbing.

Atlanta and Liam continued to plod along, being good sports despite probably being bored out of their skulls.

I have no idea what happened to me on Saturday afternoon, or why.  Was it an anxiety attack, or panic? I have no clue.   I’ve never had anything like this happen to me – this came out of left field.   I was completely unprepared for this bout of fear, and I was stunned by my physical response – both the sheer scale of it, and the way it crept up involuntarily, and then seemed to snowball.

After walking around for God only knows how long, I started to regain my composure and asked Atlanta to trot.  I hovered in two point, doing my damnedest to keep panic at bay.  I posted a bit, I practiced standing to change my diagonals – it wasn’t brilliant riding by any stretch, but at least I was still on the horse.  After a few minutes of jogging around, Atlanta started moving bigger,  and I became very unsettled.  Things got ugly as I decided to abandon my carefully honed dressage posture and tried instead to curl into the fetal position.    With nonstop coaching from Christy, I was able to uncurl myself for a few short moments.  Shortly thereafter,  I called it a day.

Back in the aisle, as I untacked, I was angry and frustrated.  I freaked out while walking on one of the steadiest horses I’ll ever ride.  In addition to being very well trained, Atlanta also speaks English.  If I forget how to half-halt, sit my butt in the saddle or use the reins, I just need to peep “Whoa” in the direction of her ears and she stops.  I can’t emphasize enough how incongruous my fear was with respect to the ride I had on Saturday.

Sunday

I was determined to ride today, but wasn’t enthusiastic about it.  Even at home, munching cereal and reading my new issue of Dressage Today, I was feeling trepidatious.   Once I arrived at the barn  I proceeded to procrastinate but eventually mind won out over stupidity and I brought Atlanta in.  I tacked up, and, for good measure, stuck my thigh blocks on Cathy’s saddle (she has a Bates Isabell, and my Wintec Isabell blocks work fine on her saddle) to give me some additional security, and hopped aboard.

I was feeling nervous and squirrelly, once again hearing every little crack, clank and rattle in the barn.  Once again, Atlanta was unconcerned.  Happily, I didn’t experience another mental and physiological freak out today, and I had a nice – albeit totally unchallenging – ride today.  We walked and trotted, did a little shoulder-fore, trotted some figure-8s and some 20m circles, spiraling in and out a little bit.  I didn’t ride the mare really forward, but it was more than her warm up jog.  I made a point of maintaining good posture, with my shoulders back, and posting hips-to-hands to accommodate Atlanta’s bigger gaits.

I still felt out of sorts – and frankly, I still do, even as I write this.  I’m headed out of town for a few days for work.  I hope I can return mentally refreshed, and ready to finally sit up and ride.

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