In Which The Universe Turns In On Itself

Fall 2009. Version II of the HT we did this spring. It started as a cold drizzly day. And to share the punishment, I give thee no pictures because we couldn't con any friends into accompanying us that day.

Dressage time was around 9:30-ish. I'm on my horse and head up to the ring in the drizzle and my black coat at 9:00. As hooves hit footing, some woman on a horse in the warmup ring informs me, "Oh, you're next!" That popping sound you heard was my eyeballs rolling in and striking each other.

WTF? As politely as possible, I said, "But my time is not for like 30 minutes?"

"Oh," she says, "I think you might be mistaken about your time." Yeah right, random lady, your dressage time is like the one piece of information you make SURE you know before you even leave the house for a horse trial. I screw up a lot, but I'm pretty damn sure I got one number right.

However, leaping off your horse to pummel random riders at horse trials does not generally endear oneself to management, so I ask if we can at least trot around first? She says sure and I assume body language to assure her that I am not a happy camper. I then proceed to trot off (did I mention it was about 45 degrees and drizzly so poor Solo was quite cold and stiff).


A random Solo pic for your viewing pleasure...several years old, as I am noticing the distinct lack of neck muscle.

After a couple minutes, in which I trot around in fury, trying to relax enough to get Solo approaching the edge of suppleness, a guy approaches me who looks much more like an official steward and says there are four riders before me to go. THANK YOU! I am much relieved, thank him profusely, and return to my warmup. However, my dressage zen is blown (hey, let me pretend it existed, ok?). I do my test, but it is tense, feels counterbent, and I leave the ring furious.

I stomp (at least mentally, I do try to keep childish outburst internal) back to my trailer to sulk for a while before stadium. At least it has stopped raining.

In a moment of show-day-kindness, a friend pulls her rig up next to mine -- she is showing her new horse that day in the Maiden division. Yay, now I have someone to talk to!!!

In an even larger moment, I go check the leaderboard and discover that for our stiff dressage test, the judge has bestowed upon us a 37.4! Now, please step back as I jump up and down with a hearty YEEHAW! We have finally broken the 40 barrier, which had previously seemed impenetrable to all our efforts! Now the world is a much brighter place.

Grin firmly planted on face, I head back to the trailer to share the news and Solo and I are sitting in fourth place.

Stadium Jumping
I am a bit nervous going into stadium. I had just moved Solo to a new (improved!) farm and our schooling that week had pretty much resulted in a battlefield strewn with poles and jump standards. Ouch. So I wrapped my legs around that horse, sat down, and WENT.

Tension got the better of me -- there was a tight turn to fence 3, I overshot, got all floppy and useless in a panic and Solo jumped through the MIDDLE of the oxer. I heard the poles scatter behind us, but the big red boy kept going, so I set my jaw, looked ahead and we finished the rest of the course with no further difficulties. It was my mistake, so I took my 4 penalties, decided I was satisfied (it was a tough course that took down many with stops and crashes) and went to look up our XC time.

Cross Country
The course was walked, every conceivable form of protective boot applied to Solo, my vest zipped up, and both of entered the start box with bright eyes. The thing I love most about this facility's courses is that she wheels the beginner novice course at about 425 mpm -- so you get to RUN. And run we did. And were one of only two to go double clear XC in our division.

Then it was time for a giant wormhole to open, time to turn upside down, the universe to implode and the unthinkable happen.

Wait for it....

WE WON OUR DIVISION. I actually read the score sheet about 5 times because I was SURE there had been a typo. But typos there were not and first we indeed were. We got a shiny blue ribbon AND a blue bucket full of goodies. And I pranced. I pranced all the way back to the trailer to track down friend and share much giggling and exclamations and glee. I snapped a quick shot of my tired boy wearing his hard earned decoration and loaded up the truck.

Maybe there was hope for us after all...

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Painful Plodding Progress

Dressage and I have a love/hate relationship.

I love it.

It hates me.

I grew up riding dressage, right down to the German guy making me sit the trot with the crop in my tiny kid-elbows and many a day on a longe with no stirrups. Of course, your body has no issues at age 10 and all was easy.

At age 30, I am lopsided and my lower back is a mess. I clench my jaw, my left arm goes rigid, my knees are tense and my neck always resembles a rock. Not really conducive to stellar dressage performance. *sigh* And Solo, of course, with supreme generosity, constantly reminds me of this fact.

But we keep trying.

Our lessons were pushing us forward into new territory though. Instead of a mostly inverted ride with a few strides here and there on the bit, we slowly pushed the proportion towards the opposite end of the continuum. We started to be able to stay soft and on the bridle, say, across the diagonal, oh praise the gods and goddesses!

Practice consisted of endless transitions, but Solo began to "get it." He now stepped forward into trot over his back and stayed light in the hand. We could halt by simply keeping the contact and closing the thigh (well, most of the time). This stuff, small as it was, was HUGE for us.

We also needed more mileage in the arena. We dragged ourselves to a dressage show. With Dressage People (who quite enjoy white polo wraps and quoting Podhajsky). They are quite different from Eventing People (who quite enjoy laughing and beer). I was showing Training Level Tests 2 and 3.

To me, Training Level is just a beginning platform. The horse doesn't need to be perfect, just moving into contact and staying mostly balanced and supple throughout the test. Many Dressage People think the Training Level horse should go around in a perfect frame and generally move like a Fourth Level horse. I guess winning that saddle pad for Training Level Test 2 on your FEI horse is really gratifying for some people...

My point (if there is one) is that I fully expect to score lower at a Dressage People Show than I do at a Combined Training or Horse Trials simply because there is a slightly different perspective and focus both from competitors and judges. (Don't take offense, my dressage-y friends, I love you! But you know how some of those DQ's are!)

But I digress! We were there for mileage and mileage we got. I was overall very happy with Solo; aside from some initial jumpiness no doubt caused by me generally having all the relaxation of a boulder, he warmed up really well. Upon entering at A for our first test, I resumed boulder-status, so the test was just a weeee bit tense.



I did however, resume the ability to breathe for the second test and it felt much better.



Ironically, we scored one point higher on our first test. Judges...who can ever understand them? But we had some nice moments and even took home a sixth place ribbon for Test 2, so I was content with the day.


Next stop: 2009 Fall Horse Trials. In which Bad Things happen, Good Things happen, and generally, the Winds of Change keep on a-blowin'.

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Funding!

We needed a dressage Obi-Wan to help us channel the force.

We were completeing HT's without getting eliminated. We were staying in the dressage arena, doing the test in order, and not getting any jumping penalties. But we were coming in anywhere from second to last (I WON'T be last, dammit!) to a record high of fourth or fifth. I stomped my little (big) feet and said, "I wanna do better!" But it wasn't going to happen without some serious dressage improvement.

I could do an ACCURATE test all day long and that was enough to get about half the points we needed. But apparently, greedy greedy judges actually want to see roundness, bending, softness, and impulsion. Sheesh, so demanding!

Further lessons were in order. I had already found my Obi-Wan in the form of our dressage trainer, P. She was great -- but for some reason she wanted to get paid for her time, sigh. As luck would have it though, I wrote a little essay and Solo and I were awarded an educational scholarship from the Area II (our geographical region) USEA Adult Riders group, of which we are proud members.

IT WAS ON! I promptly handed over our check to P, who generously agreed to give us a seven lesson package in exchange. So we settled in to get serious about this flexibility business.

Yeah............teaching a horse dressage requires massive amounts of patience, lots of fiddling, the ability to force one's body to both relax and be strong at the same time, and did I mention patience (which I can be notoriously short on)? I began to see that there were a lot of holes to fill in, strength to build for both of us, and tricks to learn.

Our first test of our new learning adventure came quickly -- a little local schooling CT. We ended up in third or fourth BUT much more importantly, my horse was beginning to look a little more like a dressage horse and less like a 2x4 with a giraffe neck and a clenched jaw.

Both of us were bowing our heads in relief...

Along with this came more adjustability and roundness over fences as well.

I still looked like a hunter rider perched in a dressage saddle, but one or two steps at a time, Solo was starting to reach for the bit and work over his back, rather than clomp around on his forehand leaning through corners.

The focus of our work sessions changed too. I began to focus on new things:

• walk/trot transitions with no bit-snatching
• staying round through both up and downward transitions
• letting my legs wrap loosely around the horse
• no pinching at the knee (still failing daily at this one)
• leg-yields three steps at a time into and out of circles at walk and trot
• shoulder fore coming out of corners to strengthen my horse.

Most of all, we had a new rule: DO EVERYTHING RIGHT EVERY TIME. In other words, P commanded me to be insistent about my requests. If asking for a downward transition, Solo was required to stay on the bridle and moving forward without snatching or throwing his head up or me falling on his forehand. If he (or I) attempted to do so, I was to immediately push him forward back into the trot and not allow completion of the transition until it was done correctly. If it took 10 tries to get it right, than it took 10 tries. The focus and thought that went into our rides suddenly went up by several orders of magnitude. Solo had to learn that doing it right was the ONLY option he had or else I was going to just annoy the shit out of him until he gave in.

This was going to take a lot of deep breaths.

But it was working.

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Did You Know Caves Kill Horses?

It's true. So Solo tells me.

The second horse trial we did this summer was down at the legendary Denny Emerson's farm so I knew his courses would be up to par with what we could expect at a recognized event. We'd been working really hard and I felt as prepared as possible.

Hiccup #1: I don't really care who I compete against, but I like to read down the list in my group just for fun. Now who should show up in our division but Teddy O'Connor's little brother. Awesome. Well, we weren't going to be winning that one unless he wigged out and leaped out of the dressage arena.

Rare horse-shaped moment in test

Hiccup #2 (which was not suspected as a hiccup until actual commencement of test): our half of the Beginner Novice division was to do our dressage test in the indoor arena. We had a covered arena at home, so I thought...no biggie. Hah.

We warmed up, things seemed to be going ok. We entered the indoor, things seemed to be going ok. I showed Solo the mirrors in the ring before the test began, things seemed to be going ok. We went down centerline, Solo's brain exploded.

For the rest of my test, I was riding a heroin-laced giraffe with rolling eyes and a gaping mouth while desperately calling, "Whoaaaaaa, boy, whoaaaaaaa..." Let's just say it didn't score that well.

I was pretty much used to being in last place after dressage. My only mortification came from the fact that David was there that day and I was horrified that he might look at the leaderboard and see our score. I chose to hide behind the trailer except when we had to go jump.

Fortunately, from the bottom, there is nowhere to go but up. While we performed the stadium course at terminal velocity (I figured better to not give Solo a chance to think about the colours), we left all the rails up.

Stadium warmup

And Denny's cross country course was, as expected, big and Totally Freaking Awesome.

Ready in the start box

Clearing Jump 1 with enthusiasm

As a friend put it, "you know you've had a good day when it ends in a shit-eating grin."
We didn't win. We didn't even place. But we finished double clear in both jumping phases and we had a blast. I really couldn't ask for more.

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Keeping Memory Lane Rolling

Whew, got back from Waredaca, my mind is overflowing...will have to sort it all out at some later date.

Back to our previously scheduled programming...

We had finished the dressage show from hell.  We returned home & went back to work (attempt #3,006).

What the what?  Up & butt power??  It CAN be done!

In the meantime, we had also started jumping lessons with David O'Brien.  Who is incredibly awesome, positive, supportive, talented, & did I mention awesome?  He can bring out the best in your horse & you don't even realize how he is doing it.

Instead of simply allowing Solo to bury his forehand at the base of the jump & then hurl himself over, David had me lifting his poll & asking Solo to jump up into my hand. 

So simple, so subtle, yet it changed the whole feel of the ride and suddenly my horse was jumping rounder & smoother & more adjustably than ever before!

We did a couple horse trials.  The first was a spring event & I believe it may have been the debut of the Chestnut Mohawk.  I hate braiding.   I REALLY REALLY REALLY HATE HATE HATE braiding.  Not so much the act of braiding, but the fact that you have get up early & spend all this time fussing with it, it seemed such a fiddly & unnecessary step. 

I learned that through a simple turnout rule that braids are not required-EVER-so I whipped those clippers out & solved that little problem!   So now, we have an instant show-ring ready mane with no maintenance other than occasionally trimming the ends. I love it.


The all-important salute.  Which took me a while to adjust to, due to the fact in eventing, you only salute at the END of the test.




This was a great little log with a sloping drop behind it, very fun to ride.


In motion.


Splashy!


I love my sport because THIS is the expression you always end up with after your run!

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The Big D

And I STILL don't mean Dallas...

I had decided, amongst all this, that screw poverty, would I really know the difference between poor and really poor? Meh, probably not, so I was going to start taking a lesson or two. I just felt that I was missing something, we just couldn't make the bridge to consistent steady progress and it was bugging the hell out of me.

We tracked down a friend of a friend who had in the past been quite competitive in both dressage and eventing. I took one or two lessons on Solo and she threw me up on her 17.2 ex-PSG Trakhener, Reitz, whose neck was also 17.2 miles long. Notice how small I look on this horse!


At that point, I figured, hell, we took some dressage lessons, let's go to a proper dressage show! Since I don't think I can write it up better than I did off the bat, I am going to shamelessly plagiarize myself and just repost the account for the entertainment of those who missed out on it the first time around.

One Month Of Bending Does Not A Dressage Horse Make

Or how about "My Horse Is A Doofus." Or “The Near Explosion of My Head and Subsequent Murder of My Horse (But I Love Him, I Swear!)” Yeah, that one’s a bit too long.

Warning, if the following post was on television, there would be a lot of bleeping.

So, yes, for some idiotic reason, I decide to enter Solo in a dressage show today. Two tests, both eventing tests, A and B. We've been doing great at home, lots of work on suppling and transitions, he's going much softer and listening well. No problem, right?

Bloody #$#%@! horse.

We get there, our ride time is supposed to be 8:42 so I get on about 8:20 and proceed to warmup. Little Steward Girl informs me that I ride next. My head explodes and 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." Ok, then I'll warm up first thanks, ok? LSG says sure.

So we do a quick warmup, things seem to be fine, Solo's looking around, but moving ok, so we head into the ready spot at A. He immediately goes all tense and stupid, ignoring basically all my aids. I do my best to get him bending again on circles, judge whistles us in. As we begin our test, all semblance of order vanishes and Solo reverts to gaping-mouthed, iron-necked giraffe. My hypothesis is that he thought the little tiny white dressage arena fence was some kind of horrifying little jump and he had no idea what to do with it. Oh, and 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 and 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.]

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. I can't wait until the photographer posts the material from that *rolling eyes*

Back to warmup we went and I put Solo in trot figure 8's hoping to soften him and get him to relax more before test B. DEAR GOD, 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 damn, why was it so easy when I was 12? Oh yeah, I had trained horses... Who knew it could be so hard to teach a horse to trot and canter in a circle...calmly. Despite terrifying tiny white fences.

Test B. We enter the ring. Much more acceptably. Yet in a Moment of Universal Horror, I become that person at shows I always pity but generally never am: She Who Goes Off-Course. AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Stupid, stupid stupid. In despair, I ask judge for Do-Over and we resume where I screwed up. Rest of test goes ok. It's not great, but Solo is mostly listening, although still fussing with his head and insisting on method of travel in which his body is counterbent and 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. Apparently the universe has no mercy after all.

At the end of this, we did end up with 2nd for test A -- by default the organizer 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 and gallop away. They did have pretty ribbons....sadly, our test was crap, even though the kind judge gave us a 41 and was even nice enough not to laugh or gasp in horror the whole time.

4th for test B. Out of four, so really, not so exciting. That one was a 49, ugh. Most of judges comments on both tests were as expected for Idiot Stiff Crooked Bad Horse. On one collective mark, she did write "must sit the canter." Eh??? I assumed I WAS sitting the canter -- here is where video would be helpful. I have no idea what she is referring to, so can't do much about that one.

I am off to eat brownies and sulk. Perhaps I should take up competitive trail riding -- you don't have to bend OR go in circles for that!

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Success And Failure

Yes, you caught me, I am back! Momentarily refreshed by a beautiful trip to the Outer Banks. Got Solo moved to a new farm yesterday, which is heaven...but that's a story for another day.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, we crashed and burned. Solo had lost his confidence and I mine. We went home and undertook tarp training.

It wasn't hard -- a little grain bribery and patience soon had him standing in the center of the blue tarp without much fuss. Then we gradually added it to jumps in scarier and scarier setups and jumped over it.

Sweet, problem solved!

So we went back to the next show in the series.


It took us two tries to get over the first jump. The second jump was a huge white picket fence oxer. To which Solo responded by bugging out his eyeballs and running sideways out of the (unfenced) arena at warp speed at which point we were whistled off course for ungentlemanly behaviour (Solo doing his best to gallop sidepass and me hanging on begging him to turn).

Problem NOT solved. Obviously, Solo remembered the Scene of the Crime. And there was no way I was going to get him around that course that day.

I went and talked to the farm owner and asked if they would be leaving the course up that night and if I could return the next day to school these obviously Horse-Destroying Obstacles. She of Infinite Kindness said sure.

The next day, we returned, alone this time (with a friend for ground support) to face our demons.

Solo was nervous and refused the first jump. We got over it the second time with a little kicking, but it didn't feel good. We had the Blue Tarp of Doom set up too. Farm owner showed up, she was schooling her horse XC that day, to see how we were doing. She offered to give us a lead over the Doom Tarp and after a moment, I accepted. Lead given. Solo jumped it like a champ.

It was like a switch flipped. We continued around and all of a sudden, we were back in business. We jumped everything twice and called it a day.

I was happy, but cautious. I knew I needed to keep him set up for success. His newfound confidence was fragile and keeping goals small and achievable would be paramount for recovery.

It was time to go back home and start rebuilding the framework for our future jump by careful jump. We started at 2' courses. We worked on the exercises that the Woff had given me, insisting on a calm NORMAL canter on course before proceeding to the next jump, keeping in mind his instruction to BE FIRM and not accept doing it wrong.

I was thinking. Solo was responding. And things were beginning to change.

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And We All Fall Down

We seemed to be going along ok. I tried hard to practice what Jim had shown me, especially one exercise in which you take one jump, then put your horse on a circle until he has a nice canter rhythm and THEN go to the next jump. Do not pass Go until rhythm accomplished. In typical fashion, I think I did it about 8 or 10 times and then went "Ok, fixed!" *snort*

We had a canter, sort of. It still got rushy and unbalanced easily, especially on a jump course. Solo resembled a giraffe while executing leaning, on-the-forehand turns, but there was no bucking or bolting so I considered that problem solved too!

*brushes off hands*  There, my horse is finished! (snorts even louder)

So we entered the first in a local jumper show series. No problem, right? We can jump, Solo always jumps clean, I hang on and point with gritted teeth, we'll be champions!

It began ok. The plan was to warm up in 2'6" and go to 2'9".


Then we got to jump #5. It was an option: (a) a skinny skinny with blue wavy planks or (b) a vertical over a liverpool. Solo had pretty much never refused anything so I went for the liverpool -- it's just a vertical right? And it had more room for error!

Right??!

It went like this:

Approach, approach, me staring at liverpool like an idiot.
Solo begins to stare at liverpool, informing me that there may indeed be hoof-feeding sharks in there.
I tell myself, Look up, you idiot!, while at that same time staring down at Solo staring in horror at that Blue Tarp of Doom.

End result -- at the last possible second, as I kick, Solo plants his front feet. I'm thrown off balance, but no big deal...oh wait, then he drops a shoulder and spins away. Depositing me neatly on the top rail while he gallops back towards the trailer wailing, "No freaking way!" over his shoulder.

I wish I had a picture!

A kind ring steward caught my horse and returned him to me. Solo's eye rolled at me, going, "OMG, you are supposed to stay on me! WTF are you doing down there??! What just happened??"

I glared at him silently as I climbed back on and in one of my (not) finer moments, growled under my breath, I don't like you very much right now, horse.

Hosting trainer kindly lowered the jump so we could school it. I tried again. Solo planted his feet again and jumped sideways again. I stayed on this time, but caught him in the face as he jumped and his front feet popped up a little in surprise. There nothing like hearing onlookers gasp while you are riding. It pretty much makes you want to slink under your trailer like a dog that just got whacked in the butt with a newspaper.

Judge suggested maybe we just jump something else to end on a positive note. Solo suggested that maybe I go f@ck myself instead. There was nothing left to do but retire gracefully.

We went and schooled the XC course there instead, I couldn't stand the thought of going home without SOMETHING positive. Of course, as soon as he saw THOSE obstacles, Solo was quite happy to gallop and leap over anything I pointed him at.

We loaded up and went home, my head hung in shame. Both of us with shattered confidence. I had never fallen off Solo before and it made his world fall apart.

My plan: stare blankly out the windshield wondering, Now what the hell do I do?

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One Month Of Bending Does Not A Dressage Horse Make

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.  

Probably a little like this lovely moment in '08...

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.]

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*

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.   

I'd have preferred THIS Solo to show up!

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!

Perfect illustration of dressage by blog.theblakewright.com

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Winter Wonderful

Oh crap! No one TOLD me there was dressage involved!!

It was winter of 2007 and time to hit the show circuit! We weren't ready for a full-on Horse Trial yet, so I decided to start small. I only do unrecognized shows because I don't happen to crap money every time I sit down and just refuse to pay $500 to go to a freaking horse show!

A local place does a very nice Combined Training series every year -- this is where you do both dressage and stadium jumping, but no XC. We arrived at some ridiculous hour before the sun even came up because OF course I drew like the third ride time and rode Beginner Novice. It is important to note that this was the first time Solo had EVER been in a dressage arena and the first time he had EVER ridden an entire dressage test (given my awesome skills of little to no actual preparation). We ended up in a phenomenal last place, but since my goals were (a) stay in dressage arena, (b) do test in correct order, (c) clear all the jumps, it was a WIN!

Doesn't he look nice and round? Don't be fooled -- we didn't have a clue how to be round or ANYTHING at that point, but hey, give us credit for showing up!

Our requisite George Morris pose -- with the blue bell boots thrown in just to piss him off!

We also found a fun little winter jumper series and had much better success there, ending up with a 2nd place (we just couldn't outrun that scrappy little pony in the jump off!) in the 2'9" round!

We were on a roll! We were set! We were making strides! Little did we know, that evil little troll called Bad Horse Luck (or The Complete Certainty That Good Luck Will Never Last Around Horses, but that's so much longer...) was snickering whilst planning his attack from just around the corner...

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Showtime, Pt. II

Show number two in our home farm hunter series approached rapidly. There could be no more excuses. We were going to be hunter champions, dammit! I was going to ride come hell or high water.

The day came. I put on my black wool coat that hot morning, shined my boots and swallowed my fear as I saddled my (once more immaculately clean) horse. And ride I did, soaring over the massive fences in the finest style.

Well, ok they looked bigger at the time... You can see my intense focus. Ok, you're right, it was just my jaw clenching in trepidation.

No sweat, mom, I GOT this.

And my boy DID IT! On course, on time, on cue. And we got ribbons!

Yes, that is me about to bust with pride because my horse just won ribbons over 18" fences. I never win ANYTHING!
Not only that, he ended up grand champion in the Training Hunter division. I couldn't have been prouder of him that day, he took it all in stride like a pro and never flinched. Our previous day of exposure had indeed paid off in spades.




There was never a more well-deserved shower...
Oh yeah, we were headed to the BIG TIME now. Any day now, George Morris himself was going to come knocking on our door...

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Lights, Camera, SHOWTIME! Pt I

Well, I had no manageable canter but that did not deter me: our farm had a schooling hunter show coming up and danged if I wasn't going to enter! Surely I could canter in a circle, even if Solo WAS falling all over himself I could at least control him by staying in tighter circles at all times.

So another dream was about to come true, to show my very own glowing steed and gallop a victory lap, blue ribbons streaming from our bridle as the crowd roared.....or at least a couple show moms clapped halfheartedly?

About three days before the show, you could feel the atmosphere as the farm change. The ring was dragged, jumps were moved and decorated, lessons intensified as we all prepped. Tack was cleaned and horses bathed. Solo felt it too. By Friday night, his barely controlled canter had disintegrated into a half-bucking bolt of a transition that became a haul at Mach 7. Brakes? What brakes? My quiet, mostly obedient horse had been overtaken by his TB half and become a hot, snorting, running ball of fire. Basically, he was unrideable.

I scoff in the general direction of your show-related aspirations!

My heart crumpled Friday night as I was forced to admit to myself that there was NO WAY I could navigate him safely around a hunter course the next day. Here I was, with a perfectly good, immaculately clean horse that I couldn't even freaking ride. I sat in front of his stall with my chin in my hands in utter dejection with doubt and depression battling it out in my head.

You should just sell him, you can't even ride him properly, you've completely messed him up, just give up." (Doubt can be cruel and quite persuasive.)

Now wait just a minute! I said.This is Solo's farm -- all he knows is that tension is in the air, trailers are coming in, I can't really blame him for being nervous. After all, he's never been to show before as far as I know.

And then it hit me. He'd never been to a show as far as I knew. Well, duh, of COURSE he was spooky and nervous and crazy, he had no idea what was going on. I had a new plan.

Saturday morning, instead of putting on my breeches and saddling up, I took my (immaculately clean!) horse out of his stall, put on his halter, and proceeded to spend the day leading him around the warm up area and arena, just taking in the sights.

Yes, he was spooky. Yes, he was jumpy. But I just let him stand and stare and blow and examine it all. I had learned by that point that he was the kind of horse who needed to look at things and think about them. Once allowed to do that, he would be fine. And by the end of the day, he was relaxed, grazing near the arena, nostrils returned to normal size and whites of eyes put away for another, more worthy occasion.

That day, I learned the value of mileage. I learned that we cannot expect our horses to fearlessly forge right into everything like a seasoned pro. A seasoned pro gets that way by seasoning and not just with paprika (oh, I crack myself up!). What at first seemed like a lost day, on examination afterwards turned out to be a priceless training opportunity. Solo had just learned that all the hustle and bustle and noise and dust and speakers and trailers and pennants were harmless. Now we could take that positive experience and use it as a stepping stone to the next one. And that, my friends is mileage!

Next goal: to actually RIDE my horse in the show!

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