In which we jump and do not get eaten by tigers
Friday Ro was a bit… well, another boarder called her “playful,” and that’s a nice way of putting it. I would have said a bit of a fruitcake.
The problem is the barn grain, which was changed recently, and which I absolutely hate. I have decreased her ration twice and she’s still a flipping fruitcake, so she goes off it tomorrow. I’ll figure something else out by the weekend. Given the fact that she needs to lose weight (can’t feel her ribs, getting a crease on her hind end, etc), she can do with a week or two off grain anyway.
But after Friday’s ride—which wasn’t much more than letting her burn off energy in a controlled way, and finding out that she does indeed love flying changes, even if she’s only doing them when she wants to and we don’t have a cue for them yet—I went out on Saturday expecting… I don’t know what.
I’d arranged to meet another boarder so we could go for a trail ride. The other boarder goes out on trails a lot, and has introduced inexperienced horses/riders to trails, and was happy to chaperone us arena flowers. Unfortunately we had a bit of a schedule mix up, and I ended up being there about an hour before she arrived.
I decided I might as well work Ro some, in case she was still a fruitcake. And if she wasn’t a fruitcake, a little actual work (vs burn energy fluff) would be good for both of us. Right?
She was a lot more settled than Friday, so I didn’t push for very much. But since she was being forward and obedient, I decided to trot her over a cross rail a couple times.
She never jumps them; she goes over them like they are cavalleti. Given how low they are, I can’t blame her for not jumping. As long as she goes forward and picks up her feet instead of demolishing the crossrail, I’m good with it. Right now, I just want her to figure out that poles are no big deal and to learn where to put her feet. I go in two point, stay out of her face, and let her figure it out.
We trotted in, nice and connected, I got out of her way and… she jumped. Color me surprised! Color the trainer who was in the arena surprised, too. I don’t think he’s ever seen us even go over a pole, much less a cross rail, so he sounded a little shocked when he said, “She has a cute jump!”
I’m shocked she has a jump at all!
She also cantered off and didn’t fall apart on the other side of the cross rail; it was a nice canter—not rushing off, not shutting down. I was very pleased.
We trotted it again a second time a bit later, with the same result. I was very happy that she trotted forward to it the second time—no sucking back like she was uncertain, but also no rushing forward like she was worried about getting over it. And a decent canter afterwards again.
She got a break then—I untacked her and let her graze for a bit, then she got to chill out in her stall while the other boarder had her lesson. I was back on Ro by the end of the lesson, figuring we’d practice standing in the arena while other horses did stuff (patience… neither of us has it).
Ro took being tacked up a second time stoically, after an “are you kidding me?” look, and was quite happy to just stand around. They were jumping a gymnastic and she was fairly fascinated by it—kept watching the horses go through it with her ears way forward. I think she may have figured out that jumping is fun…
And then we hit the trails.
Ro has been out on trails once—when we went last fall and she was fabulous. I told the other boarder I thought Ro would be better than me (I am the world’s biggest arena flower), and that proved to be the case. I startled more at things in the bushes than Ro did.
It took Ro a bit to figure out that she needed to pay attention to her feet, because this was not a groomed arena or clear field, but by the end of the ride she was getting better. And she went everywhere I asked with no hesitation—stepping over little logs across the trail, walking on the trail or in grass, and even through some pretty steep ditches. She walked last in the line and didn’t try to charge ahead, but she has a forward walk, so every once in a while I’d ask her to stop and let the others go ahead. She did, every time, and waited until I asked her to walk on.
I was really impressed with her. I love that she takes new things in stride, and I think she actually really likes being out on the trail.
For bonus points, there is a long, straight, wide part of the trail that has some really pretty decent footing. It would be fabulous for doing work—transitions, going forward and coming over the back, or even having a bit of a gallop. I want to take advantage of that—it would get us both out of the arena without sacrificing progress towards my general goals. Unfortunately, I don’t remember how to get there, and frankly I think we broke some laws of physics because passed something we’d passed before, but going in the completely wrong direction according to my internal (mis)compass. But what do I know? I get lost in paper bags.
So my new mission—keep tagging along with people until I know at least some of the trails pretty well, and definitely find out how to get back to that open path. We stayed at a walk just because Ro and I were green, but next time I go out with this boarder, I think we’ll step up the pace. Ro’s clearly calm and happy out on the trails, and as long as she stays responsive, there’s no reason to stay at the walk all the time. Plus, some of those little logs we walked over were very jumpable (good footing before/after). If Ro really has clicked on to the idea that jumping is fun, I bet she’ll have a blast popping over those.
You can guess where this is all going… I don’t think Green as Grass eventing is any higher than cross rails and little logs. If she’ll trot over all this stuff confidently, we may turn into baby eventers yet.
Like a pony, struttin’ for the very first time… Like a poooony….
It is with great sadness that I share this news with you. Ro is no longer a pony.
We sticked her this spring and she was 14.3ish. My heart breaks.
As if to make up for her technical horsey-ness, Ro has been spending this spring channeling her inner pony.
Unfortunately, that means she’s been giving me the proverbial short, choppy pony gaits.
But let’s be realistic. No matter how much I long for a pony, her pony gaits are not a function of her size. She only has them when any horse would have them: when she’s tense, hollow, and not coming from behind. Voila: insta-pony gaits.
All resolved naturally by really making her come from behind.
Which is the interesting catch-22 of riding, right? When you have a horse who is not quite balanced and through, if you push forward, they’re likely to rush and collapse on the front end. Instead of short, choppy strides, you get fast short, choppy strides. But if you slow them down to balance, you lose the energy and impulsion and have to build that back up somehow. Which means you have slow short, choppy strides.
Or, if not “you,” Ro and I. It’s the story of our lives. Or rides, if you like.
So, Ro and I have gone into boot camp. We’re going to go forward and straight if it kills us, and we’re going to find the trot that I know she has in her.
I can already feel a difference in her. I used to get on and it seemed like I spent most of the ride trying to get her to balance and connect, and now we have something to work with almost from the start. We’re still early in this boot camp, so strength is a major issue right now, but I’ve noticed that even when she falls out a bit, she’s still much more free in her trot than before, and it’s easier to ask her to reconnect. There’s definite progress.
And it shows on the lunge, too. She’s starting out in a trot that I would have been happy to end on last fall, and she’s really starting to figure out how to push from behind and open up in front. I actually stopped and texted a friend today, because I couldn’t believe the trot I saw—not only forward and balanced, but also really lifted at the withers for the first time and extending her shoulder up as well as out.
She has decent gaits on her, but that was a trot we could take into the ring and be very competitive with.
So - building, building, building. Forward, straight, strength. I can make peace with no longer owning a pony if this is the alternative, because this shows signs of turning into something pretty awesome.
Video: Ro, Feb 2011
These are recent videos, taken on a day when we were both a little tired and stiff, working on really staying straight between the aids, which had both of us a little tense. So—by no means the best example of anything. As always, you’re welcome to comment; you won’t hurt my feelings and the odds are, I’ll agree with what you have to say.
I could wait until we had perfect video to post an update, but I decided to go ahead with these because even though [excuses, excuses, excuses], I can still see just how far we’ve come and how much some things have improved. And that makes me super, super happy.
Moving Forward
Ro’s recheck went good. We’re going to finish the antibiotics and then monitor and see how things go. It’ll probably be a couple weeks before I take her off the property—she still gets a little snotty after exercise, and I want to make sure she is 100% cleared up and staying cleared up before we go anywhere. She’s not contagious, but I’d be mortified if I took her somewhere and she was snotty there. Some things just should not be done.
Although she’s in good spirits, her endurance in general has been poor. So has her recovery time. I’ve been working our rides around that—trying to plan things to work smarter, not harder, and using the long walk breaks she needs between trot or canter sets to work on other things. I’m actually really pleased, because all things considered, we’ve had a good week.
Her trot is much steadier, and she’s gaining the strength to maintain a longer stride more consistently, instead of falling into the quick pony trot. I’ve incorporated more pole work to help with that. She’s still not sure that a single pole on the ground is worth her time (or attention), but she respects a line of trot poles. The first time I sent her through one, I had it set for a regular horse stride without thinking about it. She made it—with a ton of suspension—but she stopped at the end and stared at me: Srsly?
Erm… yes, we’re probably not ready for that. Duly noticed and adjusted.
Her stretchy trot is really coming along. I think if we ever make it to a schooling show, that is going to be one of our strong points.
At the walk, we’ve played with leg yields. Unsurprisingly, if we are leg yielding away from the scary ditch, she’s fabulous. She thinks that’s an awesome idea. She would like to leg yield away from the ditch all the time, please. If we are leg yielding away from the turnout paddock, she’s not so convinced that’s a good idea. Her friends are over there, you know. She’s happy hanging on that rail, thank you very much.
At the walk, we’ve also been playing around with moving her haunches in or out, staying very straight between the aids (on straight lines and on circles), and turns on the forehand. Her free walk is not as nice as her stretchy circle at the trot; she stretches down if I throw the reins away, but she doesn’t take the contact down and out the way she does at the trot. I have a couple ideas for that, so we’ll see how that goes in the next couple weeks.
We’ve done very little canter work, just due to her general condition. As she keeps feeling better, we’ll build more of that in. What we have done is promising; I think a lot of the improvements I’ve been seeing in the trot will also be in the canter as her condition comes back.
And she’s happy. She’s happy, I’m happy.
Sometimes, I think I can ride
I get strange ideas sometimes, and they have unintended consequences.
Once, someone commented on how bad my dad’s signature was. I looked at it and thought I could do worse. Now I do. My signature is so bad, I would be better off making an X. At least an X would be legible.
And, once, I heard that people who stand with their toes pointed out have dominant personalities. Since I am… less than dominant… I thought I should try that. I will walk like a duck, I thought, And all shall admire my forceful personality.
Well, it’s true: now my toes tend to point out. I haven’t noticed any magical confidence increase from this, or any difference in the way people treat me, but I have noticed that now I walk and ride like a duck.
So, that worked out well, wouldn’t you say?
With Ro at 50-75% capability right now, I’ve decided to work on my position. No leaning forward like a hunter rider. No tightening of the thighs. No raising the calf; my weight is going down, down, down to my stirrup. Toes to point forward, not out. (These last are things my hunter trainer would have crucified me for; I am not sure where these habits came from.)
It works. For two or three strides. If we’re going straight and I’m not applying any aids.
But today, with Ro at closer to 80%, we added in some canter. And as we went, I reverted back a little more to my hunter days than usual—past “half seat” and into “equitate.”
As a teen… no, I’ll spare you the teen envy, politics, and drama. Suffice it to say that I wanted to succeed in the equitation division more than anything, and that I worked my pants off to become competitive. I know some people equate equitation divisions with posing but for me, at least, it was the opposite: the more I thought about my equitation, the more effective I was as a rider.
Today, as I was cantering Ro around, something of that feeling came back to me. I realized what I’ve been missing with my position: I’ve been thinking position, in all its bits and pieces. I need to think “equitate.” I need to rediscover that confidence and security in my overall position/riding, and adjust it to dressage.
It’s not about trying to keep everything aligned just right; it’s about knowing everything is aligned just right and being confident that we can deal with anything that might come up: a single skinny oxer on the short side, a bending triple… um… a leg yield, a free walk, whatever.
I need to pursue dressage equitation with the same stubbornness I pursued hunter equitation. And while Ro is getting better every day, she’s still not 100%, so this is a very good time to focus on me. No more parts: time to go back to the whole.
And perhaps to start walking with my feet pointing straight ahead. No more duck feet. They aren’t helping.
The signature stays, though. I’m kind of proud of its total illegibility.