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Jumping into the new year
As you know, I’ve been dealing with a crippling—can’t-ride-over-poles-on-the-ground crippling—fear of jumping. I kept trying to tell myself I was resigned to it, but as everyone but me realized (I’m sure), I really wasn’t.
The thing is, I liked jumping. A lot. And I don’t like giving in to fear.
A few weeks ago, I was watching a rider school over a vertical and I realized something very important: when the horse jumps, they go higher over the pole than when you ride over it on the ground. More air space = less chance of the trolls that live under the poles eating you. I thought about it for a while, then emailed the trainers at my barn at home. I’m coming home for Christmas and I want to jump, I said.
After they got over their shock, they asked me if I’d prefer a kick-quiet mare or a gelding who could be quick but had a flatter jump. I decided that, in the event that I froze in front of the jump and stopped riding, I’d prefer a horse with his own momentum. That he wouldn’t jump me out of the tack was just a bonus.
The gelding was a super cute little Morgan cross. We did a few trot cross rails and then my trainer set up a 5/6 trot in / canter out line. The gelding had a stellar sense of humor, because the first time we cantered the 2’ vertical, I did indeed freeze and stop riding. He jumped anyway.
By the end of the lesson, I was getting through the line calmly and even adjusting the ride to get both the 5 and the 6. And that—the ability to make a decision in the middle of the line—was a huge boost to my confidence. I was as excited about making it through that line as I was going over my first 3’3” eq course as a teenager. You have to get the job done first, and then you can start making it pretty. We got the job done.
I had fun doing it.
The second lesson my trainer wanted to do grid work so we could focus on my position. I agreed, as long as the grid didn’t have a one stride in it. I fell off at a one stride in a combination. She grinned and said, “Good, we’ll do that then.” I stared at her in dismay, reminded myself that the reason I was jumping for the first time at home is that she knows me and my riding very, very well, and told her I’d do it, but she better not kill me.
We started out with a four stride. No problem. That was like the last lesson. As we went along, she kept adjusting the line—moving it to a three, moving it out to a four and putting poles in the middle, etc. The last time through, we did the one to a one. The jumps were all of 18”, and cross rails at that. I honestly think the horse just cantered over them. That’s not important. The important point here is that I cantered over them with the horse.
And was alive on the other end. Breathing. Grinning.
It was fun.
I’ve really missed jumping. I think I’m finally ready to get back into it. Here’s to a new year and new beginnings for all of us.
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Comments
Congratulations! You’ve overcome a big hurdle. I miss jumping too since I lost my horse two years ago. Right now Dusty is not ready for anything other than a cross rail occasionally. I think you’re in for a big year of fun.
Happy New Year!
You go girl! I have never been brave enough to jump so I am very proud of you! c
You had a rational fear of jumping (you got hurt) and realized you missed it and found a way to work with it to get back to the joy part. That takes a ton of courage and fortitude, not to mention being willing to stay grounded. (while airborne - oh the irony of it all.) Very very impressive!
So impressive in fact, I’m going to use it to get motivated. I have an irrational fear of jumping (never done it) and the opportunity to ride, on the flat, an incredible hunter. I’m going to schedule a hunt seat lesson (um never done that either) and see where we go. Who knows, a year from now, I might report back that I jumped a ground pole without coming near the white light!
Congratulations and congratulations to your trainer too. The best ones help you face your fears when you are ready, not the other way around.
The only broken bone in my life was a rein-break - from a frisky-bucking, spooking horse - in my ring finger. The break was in 4 pieces, the shape of an X. Two pins and 8 weeks later, I was terrified to ride, or think of riding.
But love, habit, (maybe addiction), and determination, I found a way. I jogged 2 miles before I headed to the barn and on the way, I played loud ‘power chick’ music and yelled the lyrics so I could relax before I parked, said a cool ‘hello’ to the barn gang and my own horse.
It took a year, and no one believes me, but if you’ve been there, you know…..Good for you!!!
On Jan 1, 2010, liz goldsmith said:
After I broke my hand (my horse slid into a jump standard in the mud), I stopped jumping for almost a year. The thought of getting hurt again terrified me. But I kept thinking about how much I enjoyed jumping. I also watched someone else jump my horse and realized that the jumps I was freaking out over he could basically step over! I still don’t have the glorious obliviousness to danger that I had as a teen (no more 4’ fences for me!) but I do really enjoy jumping and am glad that I screwed up my courage and tried it again.