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Let me clarify my ambivalence |
Or how about "My Horse Is A Doofus." Or “The Near Explosion of My Head & Subsequent Murder of My Horse (
But I Love Him, I Swear!)” Yeah, that one’s a bit too long.
[Warning, if the following was on television, there would be a lot of bleeping.]
For some idiotic reason, I decide to enter Solo in a dressage show in mid-April of '09. Two tests,
Beginner Novice A & B. We'd been doing great at home, lots of work on suppling & transitions, he's going much softer & listening well. For like a whole 30 days! No problem, right?
Bloody #$#%@!
horse rider.
Arrival & Omens
Our ride time is 8:42 am, so I get on about 8:20 & proceed to warmup. Little Steward Girl (LSG) informs me that I ride next. My head explodes & I stare at her with the bloody stump that remains.
Huh?! She says "
oh, but you don't HAVE to go, we just started early. Ummm, then I'll warm up first thanks, ok? LSG says sure.
Speed Warmup & Execution
Things seem to be fine: Solo's looking around, but moving ok, so we head into the 'on-deck' spot at A. He immediately goes all tense, ignoring all my aids. I do my best to use circles to get him bending again. The judge whistles us in.
As we begin our test, all semblance of order vanishes & Solo reverts to gaping-mouthed, iron-necked giraffe. My hypothesis is that he believed the little tiny white dressage arena fence was some kind of horrifying little jump & he had no idea what to do with it.
Oh, & the photographer at M was also apparently bent on evil.
The Test In My Mind:
"You bloody @#$#!! horse, slow down and relax, #%&*! Bend, dammit, bend!! I really really hate you right now."
[
I interject at this point to share, by the way, clamping down & mumbling curses at your horse STILL does not cause them to either slow down OR relax. You know, just in case we don't have enough data on that one.]
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Can't you just see the devil lying in wait? |
The Test In Solo's Mind
"OMG, TINY WHITE FENCES! OMG, TROLLS IN A BOX ON THE END OF THE RING! OMG, CREEPY LADY WITH A BOX ON A STICK! OMG, TINY WHITE FENCES! Oh, there appears to be some insect on my back telling me to turn rather than run right into OMG, TINY WHITE FENCES! AHHH, I WILL THROW MY BODY TO THE RIGHT AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!"
Yes, it was, I'm sure, poetry in motion. *
rolling eyes*
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It seemed easier in 1990 |
No Worries, We Get To Do It Again!
Back to warmup. I put Solo in trot figure 8's hoping to soften him & get him to relax more before test B.
DEAR COD, PLEASE LET THERE BE MERCY! Did I mention I don't so much enjoy dressage these days? I was praying for a jump course, praying.
I love the discipline, but dang, why was it so easy when I was 12? Oh yeah, I rode trained horses...and 12-year-olds haven't learned to overthink breathing. Who knew it could be so hard to teach a horse to trot & canter in a circle...calmly. Even with terrifying tiny white fences.
Test B
We enter the ring. Much more acceptably. Yet in a Moment of Universal Horror, as we made the turn off centreline, I become that person at shows I always pity but generally never am:
She Who Goes Off-Course. AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Well, what I actually said to the judge, with my typical grace & forethought, was, "
OH SH!T! I mean, uh, sorry, uh, can we have a Do-Over?" There was mercy: the judge had a sense of humour. Her laughter was kind while she replied, "
Sure!"
It wasn't great, but Solo was mostly listening, though still fussing with his head & insisting on a counterbent method of travel in which his nose is sideways. Apparently he must keep an eye on that Tiny White Fence. We complete. I am happier. BUT OUR SCORE IS WORSE.
We Did "Win" Ribbons...In A Manner Of Speaking
We ended up 2nd for test A -- by default the organizer helpfully tells me (
ouch!). I don't know what happened, everyone else must either have not shown up or had their horses leap out of the ring & galloped away. They were pretty ribbons....the kind judge gave us a 41 & was even nice enough not to laugh or gasp in horror (
audibly).
4th for test B with a 49. Out of four! *
insert 'We Are The Champions' chorus* Most of the judges' comments were as expected for Stiff Crooked Bad
Horse Rider. One collective mark read "must sit the canter." Hmmm, I felt certain that by age 30, I might have mastered that one? Alas...
The Adult Solution
I decided to go eat brownies & sulk. Perhaps I should take up competitive trail riding -- you don't have to bend OR go in circles for that!