My friend Cathy just got a high powered job, and found herself insanely busy at about the same time I found myself horseless, and she offered me some saddle time on her fancy mare, Atlanta. I was thrilled and readily accepted. Atlanta has more training than any horse I’ve ridden. She’s a beautiful Hanoverian, and I’ve spent the last year admiring her from afar.
Cathy and Atlanta at their first dressage show last summer.
I’ve not been in the saddle much lately, between my travel schedule for work, and getting sick. Between my fast-deteriorating riding muscles, and Cathy’s leather saddle (I’m used to my grippy suede Isabell) I had my work cut out for me. We walked and I worked on getting Atlanta to stretch into contact.
Starting to figure things out
After we warmed up, we started to trot. Christy warned me ahead of time that Atlanta’s gaits are different than the Thoroughbreds I’m used to riding. She has more suspension and is a bigger mover. The difference was immediately evident, even though I wasn’t asking her to really move. I had to post much bigger to stay with her, and her motion pitched me forward.
I felt totally discombobulated trotting. I have a lot of work to do.
I hopped up into a two point to try to get my legs under me, and work on stretching down into my stirrups. It didn’t feel great, but Atlanta motored on. She’s a forgiving girl.
Working on our connection
We didn’t do much – I’m still getting over a sinus infection am not 100% – but it was a good ride, and a fun one. Two of my last three rides have been pretty high drama (a spill, and a bolt) so it was really nice to get on a horse I feel safe on. I’m taking another lesson on Atlanta this weekend and hope to have something more interesting to report. In the meantime, thanks again, Cathy, for letting me ride your wonderful mare!
Chatting with my new buddy Chester, after our dramatic ride tonight
Today was an interesting day, to say the least, and it ended with the unscheduled completion of one of my greatest riding accomplishments to date.
Since I’m currently horseless, I’m hustling for rides, and was offered the chance to try a cute TB gelding named Chester. He’s a big boy – he has to be every bit of 17H – and is a gentle puppy dog. Despite the stormy weather, I saddled up, and joined Christy in the arena, where she was riding her green bean, Remy.
The ride started out uneventfully but that changed in a heartbeat when a loud clap of thunder scared both geldings out of their wits. Chester bolted, and I was able to ride it, saying whoa, and pulling and releasing the reins. However, I realized that he wasn’t whoa-ing. It was time for plan B.
It’s interesting how your mental processes kick into overdrive in times of stress. It feels like you’re living in a slow motion film. I for one am a huge fan of this aspect of the human brain. The ability to think in a fast moving crisis has saved my butt more than once, tonight included.
And, I’ll tell you, a bolting OTTB with a fast approaching wall in one direction and an oncoming (also bolting) horse in the other fits my definition of a fast moving crisis situation.
So, saying “whoa” and asking him to slow down wasn’t working. I grabbed some mane and thought about bailing. Then I caught sight of Remy heading in our direction. Yep, it was time to bail. At that moment, the horse I was riding swerved, just as I started to lean forward and kick my feet out of the stirrups. At this point, my hands were on the horse’s shoulders, and I pushed up …. and off … swinging my right leg over …. and ….
…landed – not in a heap or spattered on the wall, but squarely on my two feet, with the reins in my hand!
I’m pretty sure I shouted “YES!” and fist pumped, before realizing that as relieved as I was, my mount was still freaking out.
Wasting no more time but beaming like a lunatic, I quickly took my skittery steed to to an open stall, cooing to him while I unbuckled the bridle. He settled down, exhaled, then started nosing around for bits of hay. Christy had also made it safely back into the aisle after safely getting off her big red whirlwind, who was now standing in his stall, shaking.
“That was a legitimate spook,” she said. “Any horse – Liam, Frankie, Atlanta – would have spooked at that thunder,” she added, unnecessarily. I told her that I felt great, I was thrilled to bits that I had executed my first emergency bail. (Read her account of riding during the storm.)
As she soothed Remy, Christy told me that she was proud of both horses. “They took us with them,” she said, noting that while both had taken off, neither had gone bronco on us – no bucking, rearing, twisting. They didn’t dump us. Both of us were able to dismount safely. Christy has talked about this before – a horse that takes you along when it spooks – and now I understand what she means. And I agree, it’s a good thing.
I’m a firm believer in the adages, “When one door shuts, another opens,” and “Things happen for a reason.”
When my travel schedule ramped up in February, disrupting my riding routine with Maddie, she didn’t take it well. She became a challenge to for me handle, on the ground and – uncharacteristically – under saddle. Christy wondered aloud whether or not Mads was the good fit we had thought she was for the last few months.
A couple weeks ago, things came to a head when Maddie was flat out naughty, and dumped me during a lesson. Unhurt but enraged, I got back on, and (I’m told) had the best ride of my life. However, it wasn’t fun, and afterward, Christy and I had a talk, ultimately agreeing that a horse that was better able to handle disruptions to the routine would be a better (and safer) option for me.
Shortly thereafter, Christy was chatting with Maddie’s former owner, Cassie, and told her that Mads would soon be for sale. She forwarded some of the pictures and video you saw in the “Fancy Filly” post. Fortuitously, Cassie knew of a talented eventer looking for a good horse. She thought the two might click. A call was made, and Heather came to see Mads and give her a try.
I was out of town and didn’t the two together, but I’m told that Heather rode Maddie absolutely beautifully. Some emails and phone calls between Christy and Heather ensued, and on Sunday, Maddie went home with Heather for good.
Christy mentioned afterward that the two looked so good together that we’re probably going to regret selling Maddie. Fact is, I already do. I regret not being the confident and assertive rider that can get the most out of a horse like Maddie. That said, I don’t regret making the decision that I was overfaced, and admitting that I need a more sedate partner. The reactivity that makes Maddie potentially brilliant is just too much for me, and I don’t mind admitting it. I’ve seen people riding too much horse, and I’ve know women who suffered horrific injuries because they simply couldn’t safely ride the horses they owned. I’m grateful to Christy for watching out for me, and selflessly suggesting that it was time to sell the horse (I was the only one riding her.) It had to have been tempting to try to keep the mare – she’s wicked fancy and could have been a great addition to the show team – and to keep trying on us. In the short term, this might not look like a good business decision for Christy. However, she’s cemented my loyalty, and I’m hoping that a new pony that I can lease and ride arrives soon.
Best of all Mads has a fantastic home. I think she’s going to love learning to jump, and I can’t wait to go see Heather and Maddie at a show. I’ll miss the big girl, to be sure, but I’m happy for Mads, and for Heather, who I suspect is thrilled to bits with her new mare.
Things happen for a reason. This was one of the easiest horse sales ever – the planets were aligned. So, it leaves me looking at a few closed doors. I’m not sure what’s behind them, but we’ll find out soon enough!
I owe a debt of gratitude to my friend Kim, who allowed me to climb aboard her gelding Frankie last night. My confidence has been wavering of late, and doubts have been creeping in which is never a good situation for a rider. Horses are telepathic creatures and mirror their riders’ mental states. A confidence building ride was needed. Frank was just what the doctor ordered.
I’ve ridden him numerous times, and he’s a good, steady character who I trust. As a second level horse, he has lots of training. However, he’s also a former school horse. He’s crafty and has all sorts of tricks in his bag for evading something he doesn’t want to do.
One thing I know Christy has in mind for our lessons is teaching me to be more assertive. We both know that I can “bring it,” really sitting up, taking control and riding assertively when I’m goaded into it by a horse that’s feeling hot, fresh or spooky. Some of my best riding has been when I’ve been seriously annoyed by my mount’s behavior, and I decide that I’m just not taking b.s. from a lower-order mammal any more. Switching into survival mode when things get too scary for my tastes will also bring out my inner ass-kicker. Which is good. These are healthy responses to equine goofiness.
But that’s not the way I usually roll. My default mode is much less demanding. Horses can steal rein length on me easily. I tend not to absolutely require them to be on the bit and round at all times. I allow them to ignore my aids, instead of responding promptly. These are but a few of my milquetoast habits. The challenge that Christy has outlined for me is to elevate my riding on an ongoing basis.
So, last night, on the relative safety of Frankie, Christy started to demand more of me, which started with requiring me to actually get (not just demand) more from the horse.
After Frank stretched and we started to go to work, the commentary from the middle of the ring was rapid-fire. “Stretch him, make him round,” Christy told me. “I’m trying!” I said, while Frank mentally tallied my number.
“DO IT NOW.” Christy commanded.
For some reason, at that moment, “balancing rein” popped into my head. I closed my fingers on the outside rein and took hold, softening the inside rein while asking for some bend unequivocally with my leg. Frank rounded, stretching into the bit.
“There it is! Nice!” Christy purred. Well, not exactly purred, but you know what I mean.
“Keep him there!”
My subconscious must have been playing Trivial Pursuit with my long term memory files, because at that moment, a favorite quote bubbled up into my thoughts: “Do, or do not. There is no try.”
That’s what Jedi-master Yoda told a young Luke Skywalker in the original Star Wars movie, as he attempted to harness the Force and I watched, goggle-eyed, from the back of a station wagon at the drive in. She’s a lot prettier than Yoda, and she doesn’t wriggle her ears when speaking to you, but I suspect Christy has a more than a modicum of wise old Yoda in her. I internalized ‘do’ rather than “try” at that moment. It’s an important difference in mindset, and it produces a different outcome.
It turns out that Jane Savoie agrees with Yoda (and Christy) on the subject of trying versus doing. In her book That Winning Feeling! Jane tells readers to eliminate “try” from their vocabularies, saying that “try” sounds like a half-hearted effort. Don’t try to do your best, she says. Do your best.
So, resolving to do rather than to merely try, we moved into a trot, and Frank popped through his shoulder, flopping his ears at me and saying “gotcha.” Christy noted that he wasn’t expending much effort and was behind my leg. “Use the whip!” she said.
It never takes too much with a Thoroughbred, and Christy isn’t advocating a beating. But using artificial aids like a whip or spurs effectively trains the horse to respond crisply when asked nicely and quietly. Those Grand Prix horses you see executing complex movements to the barely discernable aids of their riders are uuber responsive. At the higher levels, you don’t see riders kicking their horses into a gait. And the time to start thinking about developing and reinforcing responsiveness is now.
I didn’t reach back and give Frank a crack. Instead, I more or less tapped his flank, but that’s all it took. He decided that I was serious, and stepped out into a nicer trot. From there I was able to get him rounder. More purring came from the middle of the arena.
A few minutes later, I needed to grab a quick walk break. Before I could even half-halt him, Frank stopped as I was mid-post, butt out of the saddle. Why? Had he read my mind? No. I had taken my legs off when I mentally decided to take a break, and that was all Frank needed.
It didn’t feel good and I was told that particular transition was, in fact, all kinds of ugly. Christy reminded me that a good transition needs to be ridden forward into the bridle. I asked for an upward transition, kicking and clucking, and got it three or four strides after I started asking. Groaning came from the middle of the arena. I performed a crappy transition down, and earned myself a lecture on ye olde half halt.
“You know how to do this,” Christy said. “And get him in front of your leg! Get the upward transition!”
I collected my thoughts and asked Frank to round, and then walk more energetically. As I asked for the upward transition, I tapped him with the whip and got a good response.
“That’s better,” was the assessment from the middle of the ring.
We did a few more transitions. I was keeping the trot quality decent and the upward transitions became very prompt, but wasn’t getting the half halts, and my downward transitions were pretty sloppy. I knew I needed to mentally and physically ride forward into the halt. I resolved to ride forward, even with the halt in mind. We did another walk/trot upward transition, and Frank was Johnny on the spot, earning us a compliment from Christy. I posted a few strides, sat softly while keeping leg on, then half halted from my core and he walked, finally garnering Christy’s approval.
“Okay, now I want to see a canter transition,” Christy said. “Errr,” I thought, and then told myself to shut up. “Yes, Boss,” I replied out loud, mentally saluting and snapping my heels together.
We did a nice upward transition and I asked Frank for some energy at the trot. I had to get him in front of my leg. Things felt pretty good, so I held my outside rein, sat gently and asked for the canter by raising my inside seat bone, which (I’m told) invites the canter by making space for a larger stride. Frank stepped neatly into his gorgeous, uphill canter. Within a few seconds I could feel myself grinning as Frank rolled along. I was somewhat aware of Christy saying something about swinging my hips and following the motion. I did, and I felt great – balanced, soft and secure leg, responsive and willing horse. In short, I felt like a million bucks. Lots of horsemen say there’s little that a good canter can’t cure, and they’re right.
We transitioned down to the trot on my terms, and I was still grinning, and Christy was too. “That was my goal for you tonight,” she said. “Good job.”
We wound up the lesson, talking about getting me on to some different horses, in order to hone my ability to think, feel and respond to various things different mounts throw at me. Christy also thinks that this will help me realize that I’m a better rider than I think I am. Maybe she’s right – and I like her holistic approach of dealing with the bats in my belfry as well as the tactical ride I give the horse I’m riding. I’m going to make a point of pursuing rides on a variety of mounts – a few of my friends at the barn have offered me a ride on their horses, and I’m going to take them up on their generous offers for which I’m very grateful.
I was tired last night and not feeling great, so I stayed on the ground once again. I had some time to kill, because the arena was busy, so we had a marathon grooming session. I curried a pony’s worth of hair off Maddie, who dozed almost the entire time. I trimmed her tail and fetlocks, and pulled her mane. Weirdly, she loves having her mane pulled. In fact, if she needs reassurance, I will step to her side, ruffle her mane and gently pull at it. To Maddie, mane pulling is soothing. She was pleased with the results:
The arena cleared, so I put on her boots and out we went. Christy and Steph were there, and I handed them my cameras, which I carry most evenings. I was hoping to get some video of Maddie being extravagant – when she’s at liberty, she’s shown us some lovely, lovely gaits that I have yet to produce when in the saddle. Maddie willingly complied.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt real suspension when riding her – but my riding has been spotty lately due to my work schedule and extended periods of feeling crappy. I will never forget the first time I started to get suspension with Maddie under saddle – all of a sudden, the trot started to feel really funny to me.
“What’s happening?” I wailed to Christy.
“You’re getting suspension!” she told me.
“Errr, I don’t like it!” I replied as we buzzed by, and I fought, eyes popping, to stay with all the new motion below me.
“YES, YOU DO!!!” Christy said, unequivocally.
Anyway, Maddie was full of fancy last night. It’s fun watching her go at liberty, because more often than not, she rounds herself, stretches, and shows gorgeous gaits I wonder if I’ll ever be able to ride. Here’s one example – this weird picture is a still from a video – but look at how she uses herself. No wonder that floating trot felt so different to me the first time I encountered it!
Here’s a little video snippet just as she was getting going.
Just for fun, we decided to set up a little tiny cross rail to see how she jumped. We’ve not jumped Maddie, and don’t know if she’s jumped much, if at all. At first, she was hesitant, but didn’t run out. She got lots of praise for her effort.
Within a few minutes, it was evident that this was a fun new game to Mads. She trotted and cantered easily over the X with little encouragement.
And and even more quickly, the X became a raised cavelletti. Mads went back and forth over the rails without breaking stride. Watching this video, I can understand why cavelletti are favorite tools for developing gaits and strengthening stifles – you can really see her using her back end.
It was a fun night, and a good session. In between all the new things, I focused on my groundwork skills, and got longing pointers from Christy. And Maddie seemed to enjoy the variety too – she was alert and attentive, and willing to follow direction. Interludes like this make the indoor arena less boring for all of us during these long Midwest winters.
I went out to the barn today, looking forward to my first ride on Maddie in almost a week. It was a horrible rainy day the horses were inside, so I had allotted plenty of time for a nice long ride. However, there was one problem. I was the only one there – and I don’t ride alone (just not safe in my opinion.) No problem, I thought. I have some time to kill, and Maddie was pretty muddy. I decided that a marathon grooming session would be a good way to pass the time until someone else arrived.
I curried (twice), brushed (thrice), picked her feet, picked clumps of mud out of her mane, but decided to bypass the dirty tail entirely. And I was still alone.
So I shelved riding, and decided that a groundwork session was in order. Picking up a longe whip, I took a sparkling Maddie into the arena and turned her loose. My plan was to work on my ability to read her and influence her movements while at liberty. In past lessons when we’ve worked on longing Christy has had me work on keeping the mare’s attention and controlling her movements from the ground.
Maddie was feeling frisky, and started trotting back and forth between the two barn doors that lead back to the barn. She is always drawn to this end of the arena when she’s turned loose. Standing between them (and at a safe distance of course) I started the session by preventing her from doubling back in front of the doors. As she trotted by me going left, I extended my left arm (a cue I’ve been using with her when longing, to indicate the direction I want her to go), and flicked the whip with my right hand just as I could see her start to think about wheeling and turning back to the right.
It worked, and she kept moving left, circling around me. I switched the whip into my left hand, extended my right hand, and stepped toward the place she was headed. A ha! Maddie changed direction neatly and went back around to my right.
We did this a few times until Mads decided that she was done trotting nicely, and took off bucking down one of the long sides, ignoring my cue to change direction. She dropped into a canter, and I kept her going, cracking the whip and stepping quickly toward her hindquarters when she went to wheel and go the other way. When her canter became more relaxed, she actually stretched low, bringing her back up and maintaining a really nice, balanced canter. I asked her to switch directions, and moved her into a canter again. There was some more bucking, and I sent her forward, making her do a complete circuit around me and not allowing her to change directions. On her next pass, as she looped toward the middle of the arena cantering to the right, I decided to see if I could get her to change direction, quickly switching the whip to my right hand, and stepping quickly in the direction she was heading. She tried to barrel by me, so I gave the whip a sharp crack and extended my left arm. Mads wasn’t too happy but she executed a neat rollback, and a flying change of lead, and went the other direction. Her inside ear was on me, and I had her attention, so I asked her to change directions again as she approached the other side of the arena. We managed two more of these cantering changes of direction, working a serpentine down the length of the arena! Best of all, she was licking and chewing the whole time, which is horse language for “Yes, Boss. Anything you want, Boss.”
She had been working pretty hard so I said “easy” and she dropped into a fancy, fancy trot – uphill and extended. I gently kept her going in a big circle, and Maddie treated me to show of the entire range of her trot. She rounded, she stretched, she extended, and even collected, keeping her back up and staying round of her own volition. It was thrilling to watch and I really regretted leaving my iPhone back in the barn, otherwise I would have grabbed some video.
As she trotted I kept moving her around, changing directions and moving the arc of her circle. She listened well, and stayed attuned to me. I brought her to a walk, then a halt. I called her to me, and gave her a much deserved head scratching. Even though we didn’t ride, I was really happy with how well we worked. Good mare!
A step of leg yield! Notice how Maddie's inside hind is stepping inside the track of her inside fore.
For tonight’s lesson, I asked Christy to pick up where we left off yesterday – I wanted to focus on continuing to hone the mare’s responsiveness. But first, we had to work through a pronounced reappearance of my bad habit of giving away one rein while hanging onto another. So first, we went back to steering with the outside rein, while giving with the inside rein – but giving by moving my arm forward, rather than letting the rein slip through my fingers. Christy had me imagine that I was holding a crop with my thumbs, and keeping my hands even, rather than letting one creep back near my hips. That trick worked well.
So we moved onto lateral work. I’m happy to report that last night wasn’t a fluke! I put the mare to work, keeping off the rail and making deliberate turns, keeping her connected to the outside rein, and then yielding out on a circle. Once again, we had some nice moments, and the mare was pretty (though not perfectly) responsive. However, she was responsive enough, and I was a little jelly-legged after a mid-lesson bolting spook that I was able to somehow ride.
This isn’t a pretty picture, but you can see that her back has come way up, and that she’s stepping inside with her right hind.
We worked in both directions, and got some particularly nice work going left. Again, we started on a circle, and spiraled in and out, taking a step or two of leg yield as we spiraled away from the center.
I decided to see if I could keep it together down the quarter line:
Mission to leg yield accomplished!
I still need to work on her responsiveness – but I feel like we’re headed in the right direction after these rides. Progress is motivating!
I’m happy to report that I made good progress with respect to re-installing the forward gears in the mare. Her motto tonight was “Ask and ye shall receive.”
Christy was in between lessons and gave me a few minutes’ coaching, and with her encouragement, we got there – in both directions. And once I got the mare connected and over her back, following Christy’s instructions to leg yield out on the circle was surprisingly easy.
Getting to the good gait still a process for me. Mads (and frankly, any horse) requires me to ask and ride correctly, but when I get my act together and my ducks in a row, and actually manage to ride the mare effectively, back to front – well, wow. She gives me the most amazing gait, pushing powerfully from her hind end. It feels entirely different from her trot when she’s less engaged. When Mads is over her back and pushing with those hind quarters, the it feels like we have rocket boosters – you can really feel the oomph and thrust coming from those big muscles in her hiney. It’s the same feeling you get when you’re on a plane that’s barreling down the runway for take-off, when you feel those engines pushing the plane forward – you can feel that power behind you very specifically. This is the trot that Christy calls “the trot that has a canter – or a walk – in it.” That’s a good analogy, because in order to produce this gait, a few things need to be happening:
I’m pushing her into the outside rein – and holding that contact – with an active inside leg.
I’m driving her from behind, asking for more step.
I am softening the inside rein.
My posture is straight, my leg is long and draping, my shoulders are back – in other words, I’m sitting up and riding.
I’m inviting the bigger gait from my seat by posting further out of the saddle.
I’m using half-halts actively to encourage roundness and engagement of the hind end.
The contact is elastic – I’m holding it, but am also inviting the mare to go forward and maintain flexion. However, I also have to “catch” the power coming over her back in the contact, creating a loop of power, balance and contact in which the rider supports the horse and encourages an even better gait.
What I’m beginning to understand is that this powerful, forward gait needs to be a constant state for us, not a fleeting occurance. I’m sure that the well-ridden dressage horse is always in this forward state of mind, encouraged by a rider able to generate the power and maintain necessary balance. This was a light bulb moment for me . This is what it means to truly ride forward.
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More blogging! And riding!
Over the next week or so I’ll be riding my friend Stephanie’s horse while she’s on vacation. She blogs over at Dressage Adventures, and I’m recording my rides on Oliver there.
Today was chilly, but the temps climbed throughout the day, and by the time I headed to the barn, it was a balmy 10 degrees. That’s 22 degrees warmer than last night, and it felt pretty good.
After my impromptu ride with Liz last night, I wanted to ride again. I was expecting the footing to be frozen, so I decided to set up a little obstacle course to give the horse something different to look at. I pinged Liz and Christy, and we made a riding date.
Happily the footing had actually improved over the course of the day. I set up the obstacles anyway – variety is always a good thing. I put out a couple raised poles, laid a pole between two jump standards that looked like gates, and arranged four cones in a zigzag pattern.
We cranked the tunes, and Maddie and I joined Liz and Christy in the arena, admiring the boys’ matching sheets. Aren’t they handsome?
We took our time warming up. I moved the mare around, marveling at how mellow she was, despite being cooped up for a few days. Liam and Cloud were also model citizens, and we joked about our hot and crazy TBs as we rode around on the buckle.
My plan for the ride was evolving – the footing was decent, and I was wearing more appropriate attire (my Mountain Horse full seat insulated riding pants – they’re extremely warm.) We started out curving around the cones, walking through the gate, and high-stepping over the raised poles.
We moved off into a trot, and I made an effort to get the mare moving. I wasn’t asking for a big, forward trot, but I did want her to round and track up. She fussed a bit and was bracing. I sat up an rode, giving her a whack with the whip that I’m sure she barely felt thanks to the thick quarter sheet draped over her hindquarters. However, that got her attention, and she started to come into my hand and quit the fussing.
As I was gaining Maddie’s cooperation, I kept an eye on Christy. I don’t get to watch her ride as much as I’d like to, and I’m always curious to see what she’ll do. Tonight, she was really just letting Liam stretch, and he appreciated it, trotting enthusiastically around the arena, doing laps of stretchy trot.
Starting to stretch
As I developed better contact and a rounder horse, I started to stretch her down. I’ve not ridden a lot of stretchy trot – it makes me feel a bit vulnerable and I’m not fully comfortable with it. It’s something I need to practice. Mads started to stretch, while also staying on the bit.
I concentrated on holding the outside rein, and playing gently on the inside rein to keep myself from holding it to heavily (a bad habit I have) and to encourage the mare to continue to stretch.
I really wanted to keep her on the bit, near vertical, and keep driving her forward as we stretched. As we went around, I heard something beautiful, and it wasn’t the radio. It was Christy, saying that we looked good. That was music to my ears, because Christy doesn’t offer empty compliments.
Unbeknownst to me, she had taken out her phone and started recording some video. I’m glad she did – it was nice to see our work.
Getting a better stride ...
I continued to encourage her with my inside leg while feeding her rein. I’m going to have to bite the bullet and get warmblood length reins – I hit the buckle before she was as low as I wanted her to go. I had to stretch my arms to give her more room. We didn’t get all the way there, it wasn’t a stretch that would get a good score in the ring, but I was happy. The trot quality was good, and she was over her back and nicely on the bit. I’ll take it, on a 10 degree night.
Our best work of the night. Mads is round, on the bit stretching and tracking up. Yay!
And the video clip of the stretching (thanks again, Christy.)
The fun didn’t end there. Liz was riding Cloud bareback, and they looked fantastic. Christy pulled Liam’s saddle off, and joined her. They both have such nice, balanced seats, and they stay in tune with their horses as they trotted and cantered. They tried some peer pressure, trying to get me to try going bareback on Maddie. I wasn’t quite ready for that tonight – I still need to master trotting and cantering without stirrups. I did promise to pull the saddle in a lesson sometime soon. I’ll let you know how that goes!
The thermometer was hoovering near zero late this afternoon when I shut my laptop down, pushed back from the desk, and started to consider my trip to the barn. The second day of extremely frigid temperatures in a row, I knew that the horses stayed in today, and I suspected that the footing in the arena would be frozen. So I dug out my warmest long-johns – the thick, waffle-weave kind – and over them put a pair of too-big jeans so I’d be comfy. I added more layers – a turtleneck and a thick fleece jacket. I stuck toe-warmers in my boots, swaddled my head in a fleece headband, wool stocking cap and a long scarf, and dove into my coat. Grunting, I struggled to put on my boots, as all the layers were rendering me close to immobile. I grabbed my keys and waddled out to my car.
Upon arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see the barn lights glowing – normally, I’m the only lunatic that goes out on sub-zero nights. However, I was in good company tonight – Liz, a fellow Packer fan and OTTB owner, was visiting Cloud. Turns out the arena footing wasn’t too bad, and she was riding.
Hmm. What the heck, I decided, pulling a sleepy Maddie out of her stall. Hanging out inside makes her mellow, if you can believe that. She dozed while I scurried around, picking her hooves, surveying the filthy, frozen mess she made of her tail (I still don’t know what she got into, and, frankly, I don’t want to know) and tacking her up. I tucked her quarter sheet around her fanny, and plopped my freezing cold helmet on my head. Happily, I had warmed up sufficiently and removed my coat – one less layer was a good thing at this point.
Mounting was interesting. In addition to feeling like a mummy, my too-big jeans kept slipping down around my hips, resulting in a poor (and monstrously unflattering) imitation of the urban-youth-pants-down-around-the-knees look. I hiked up my pants, clambered up the mounting block, and finally when the mare (and the pants) stayed put, I got on.
The arena footing was definitely iffy in areas, so as I let the mare snort and stretch, I went through my options. I still wanted a to have a productive ride. But, given the footing, the freezing air and my woeful attire, it wasn’t a good night to work hard, and focus on moving the mare forward. Still contemplating my options, I thought about a recent blog post Christy did, telling about a ride on Liam during which she worked exclusively at the walk.
I decided that responsiveness would be the rule of the day. As we warmed up, I started asking for bend from my seat, and threw in a lot of random halt transitions. We practiced (semi-successfully) staying round in the halt, and the upward and downward transitions. As we walked, I also tried to keep Maddie really busy. She has the unfortunate habit of sticking her tongue out when we walk. I’ve found that the best remedy is to keep her focused and working. I also worked on left bend, being sure to give my left rein. This went pretty well, though there were some incidents of bracing and mare foolishness. However, we got through it, and even got some nice circles and shoulder in – we had some moments of good contact and stretch, which were encouraging.
I trotted Mads a bit, not asking for much from her but insisting on responsive, right now transitions, and also asking her to stay round and stretching. We moved around as much as we could, but there were some patches in the middle of the ring that were pretty solid, and after one pass, Mads (who is barefoot) made it clear that those patches didn’t feel good, so I tried to avoid them for the rest of the ride.
To mix things up a bit, and to keep working on responsiveness, we practiced a variety of transitions – trot/halt, halt/walk/halt, halt/trot/halt etc. Mads was fairly well attuned to me and again, we had some nice moments, but she was also distracted by some barking dogs and a horse kicking the walls in the back aisle, adjacent to the arena. I got after her but not to the degree I would have had we really been working, and I was less happy with how I handled that part of the ride.
All in all, riding tonight was a pleasant surprise. I’m glad I did, because even though it was a pretty gentle ride, it was more exercise for the cooped-up mare. And tomorrow, well, let’s just say the prospects are grim. It’s going to be crazy cold tonight, and I’m certain that footing is going to freeze.
The mare is waiting, and watching.
Back in the barn, I groomed Mads, put her heavyweight back on, and stuck her in her stall. She hovered near the door, ignoring her hay and telegraphing what can only be described as pathos with her tragic expression. What was her problem? Ah, well, you see, upon arrival at the barn, I had whipped up a batch of her nightly mare mush, a glorious concoction of beet pulp shreds and alfalfa cubes, soaked in hot water until soft, fluffy and steamy, and then laced with molasses. Mads needs to gain a little more weight, and in extremely cold weather like this, getting some extra hydration into the horse’s system is a bonus. That’s all well and good, but then I went and set the steaming bowl of mush on my trunk to cool. Right outside Maddie’s stall.
So close, and yet, so far away.
She stared disconsolately at the mush, inhaling the delicious fumes. I finally relented and (after testing the temperature) gave the poor starving mare her mush.
It is soooo good. At least she seems to think so.
Satisfied, I headed home. I was feeling pretty good until my car told me it was -12 degrees outside. Yikes!
Collecting Thoroughbreds 