Burnout Is Real

Yes, all work and no play makes Solo one very dull, crabby boy.  He pretty much gave me the horsey finger as I tacked him up the other day and then proceeded to stand there with his head hanging like I was going to take him out and beat him with a stick.  This, then, is the end result of working on dressage All. Winter. Long.

But there is an escape!  We have finally managed to work out how to access miles of wooded trails out the back gate.  And have been busy over the last few days trotting merrily along them.  Which Solo loves to the depths of his soul.  Now if only I could get him to translate that loose, back-swinging walk and forward, lifting trot to the arena!  But what I do get is a horse that returns to the gate at the end of our ride with bright eyes, pricked ears, and a spring in his step.

Moral:  even I, a HUGE proponent of getting horses OUT OF THE RING, can fall into the trap of working only on work, thinking it will improve one's horse in a continual, linear fashion, and forgetting that this causes one's horse to go insane with boredom.  Horses like routine, but they also like things that are fun, low pressure, and relaxing.  So give those ponies a break and head out to soak up some birdsong and spring sunshine.  Just don't forget the tick check afterwards...

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Ooooor Maybe Not

I should have known it seemed too easy!  My great and infallible plan to use Jeff as a fill-in for Solo's rest days has gone awry already!  Turns out the fellow who is supposed to start leasing Jeff in August (which is a good thing, as those two looove each other and go well together) is going to start riding him more this summer.  Dangit for my grand scheme though!  Although no one is riding Jeff right now, as he is lame yet again, having tweaked something during one of him many episodes of gallopingaboutpasturefornoapparentreason.

We have officially entered Solo's Season Of Enormous Sweating here, so the last few days we've just been taking it easy with lots of hosing and (EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW!) picking off of ticks, to which Solo is of course allergic and gets big, crusty, disgusting lumps from.  Which let me just mention how much I HATE ticks.  And I hate touching them.  And seeing them.  And generally co-existing on the planet with them.  I know, I know, I'm supposed to be all Biology Girl and crap, but ya know, no one's a saint.  I'll just own up to it right now:  if ticks went extinct, I would gladly throw a huge party and toast their arachnid demise.  There, it's out in the open.  So tell the next tick you see to STAY THE HELL OFF MY HORSE or else face the rather pointed wrath of my hoofpick (pointed, HAHA, get it??!).

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Reality Bites. But Only Gently.

Lifeshighway correctly observed the other day as we were talking that I "ride the bejesus" out of my horse. I believe Solo is inclined to agree. He is tired these days. And I need to be realistic -- he is 14 and he does not recover from things as fast as he did four years ago. After several mountain rides and a tough horse trial, he needs some relaxing time. The tough part is balancing that need with our need to stay fit for two more spring horse trials. Now that he is only two miles from my house, I'm also riding him almost every day. Judging from the way he planted his head firmly in the stall corner yesterday, he finds that unacceptable.

Enter Jeff, aka Title One (left). He is an 8 year old Hanoverian/TB cross and the BO's Novice level eventer. However, BO has just acquired a lovely 4 year old OTTB prospect and now has two horses to keep up. And I suspect a solution to my problem is right in front of me. I can ride Jeff a couple times a week and give Solo time to chill out. I also get the opportunity to learn from another horse, who is so absolutely opposite from my red QH that I wonder how they even do the same sport.

Jeff is a lovely-moving horse, with a silky smooth canter that he can click along in for hours. He will jump 3'6" without even appearing to work. But Jeff is quirky. With a capital Q. And probably capital-all-the-other-letters too.

He was started by a cowboy who riled him up then cranked him into a super tight frame and forced him through his paces. Result: irreversible damage to his body and mind. BO acquired him as a 3 or 4 year old and has worked hard ever since to try and soothe his fried nerves. Jeff is sweet as the day is long, but once out of the pasture, I rarely see the underlying worry leave his eye. To say he is sensitive is an understatement -- he will sometimes jump just because you touch him.

I sat on him for the first time the other day. From watching BO ride him, I knew he was a tough and unconventional ride. He doesn't like contact and has a hard time, due to conformation, really packaging himself; he prefers the longer, looser hunter outline. But I had no idea HOW tough he was till I landed on his back.

You can't ride this horse like a normal horse; applying any pressure in his mouth just results in either being ignored or tension. If you don't have every single muscle in your body soft and relaxed, forget any roundness in your trot work. Bending appears to require some level of magic I do not yet have.

In short, Jeff is a huge challenge for me and I think he has a lot to teach me. I am excited and at the same time a bit unsure if I will surmount it. But he will allow Solo some much needed breathers and help out BO while allowing me to still see my horse every day and keep my butt in the saddle with no extra driving. It's been a long time since I have regularly worked a horse besides my own...I have some figuring out to do!

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Back To Forward

So much to think about.

The lesson was good.  Although I could just feel Solo's indignation: I already worked hard on Saturday, what the hell is this about??!

Of COURSE, David makes us ride through a gymnastic to start off, after warm up with his obligatory Circles-Of-Making-Eventer79-Pant-And-Solo-Flex-A-Lot. He has some kind of psychic power to detect what you really don't want to do and then he makes you do that. Somewhat unsurprisingly, he quickly detects the source of our problems: I am riding too defensively, staying TOO far back and as a result, I am not moving with Solo over the jumps.

David: "I understand why you are doing what you are doing, but your upper body is saying whoa when you stay that far behind the motion."

Me (in my head): Yes, because I don't want to bloody fall off again.

Me (out loud): Yes, master. (or something like that)

David: "Once he is moving forward, trust him to do it and just support with your leg, but keep your upper body in a more ready, forward position."

Which, of course, worked like a charm.  Ahhh, smooth, lovely jumps -- why do they only happen when David is watching?

So when we start out learning to jump, most of us jump ahead, anticipating the jump too much, especially when we have learned in hunterland. Then we train ourselves to wait. Then we end up behind the motion -- although one of the eventing commandments is "Thou shalt remember that it is always better to be a little bit behind than a little bit ahead." Finding the happy medium is a bit like balancing a fork on the edge of a glass: for me, freaking hard!  Now my brain is going, Ok, stay back but not too far back, you need to be forward enough to go with Solo but not too far forward or else you will jump up his neck.  Yeah, no problem doing that every time on a course of ten fences.  Maybe I will just close my eyes and flap my reins at Solo while squawking, "Jumpy jumpy!"  That might create a higher proportion of successful jumps than my current method of confusing the snot out of myself.

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The Big E Part II. And Why Exactly I AM Happy About It.

Stadium Jumping
By the time they got around to stadium (yes, they ran the event in classic format with XC second and SJ last), my horsey was exhausted. I was exhausted and had pretty much reached the point where I was just ready to go home. The course was TOUGH. Lines wound everywhere including three jumps on a wavy bending line 5 strides apart and every jump was maxed out, including three HUGE oxers. Note: keep in mind especially jump 8 A and B (9 jump course) -- a two stride combo with a max oxer to a vertical; a challenging question asking you to jump in boldly and wide and then sit back and jump up and out over the vertical.  And yes, this is another year old picture too, of a much more successful day at a BN event.

I watched the first few rounds and it was obvious that ponies were T-I-R-E-D. Rails were dropping all over that max course. When I entered, I could feel that Solo's gas tank was hovering around empty and it was probably not going to be pretty. I need you to do one more thing for me, buddy, I told him, put your heart out there for me, we gotta get around one more time and then we can go home and take a loooooong nap.

The first two jumps on the course were a four rail vertical and then a long rollback to a stone wall with blue rails. I could feel my horse reaching deep just to keep going and I didn't kick, just squeezed and supported and told him Just give me what you got, buddy, I understand you're tired and we're just going to do the best we can. He couldn't quite get his feet up for the second jump and I heard all the rails crash behind me as we pointed towards the big oxer at 3. I knew that dropped us back to at least 6th place and I didn't care about it anymore.

I interject here: one of the things I am learning to love about eventing is that you really ARE competing against yourself. I know many sports say this, but here, it's really true. There are SO many variables and things can change so quickly, that I find myself really and truly measuring our performance solely based on the relationship that Solo and I have which allows me to know what my horse is capable of and then how do we measure up to that. If that makes sense.

And what goes along with this is the question of: how do you know when to stop? I've attended lots of *** and **** events and watched riders pull their horses even mid-XC when they felt that the horse was out of steam or it just wasn't their day. I can't even express how much admiration I have for the riders who make that choice. I wondered: would I have the guts to do that, to make that tough decision and make SURE you act in the best long term interest of your horse, no matter how much you paid to get there??

Turns out, I do. We negotiated the bending line of 4-5-6 and rolled back to a large natural oxer at 7. Remember that combo at 8? Oh and the ginormously wide oxer of 8A is blue too! With Tigger flags (how random). Solo looked but I sat down and said go. He went, but jumped it without much impulsion and went straight up and over and I believe I let out a rather loud squeak. When we landed, I felt immediately that the gas tank had run dry; he just died, but he still looked to the vertical at 8B and moved towards it. I didn't feel like I had enough horse under me to jump out clean and safely though and I did NOT want to climb over it ugly or crash; it was not worth giving my horse a bad experience. So I immediately pulled him out of the line to circle.

Yes, this would count as a penalty. And technically, according to the rules, if it's a combination you have to rejump BOTH elements. But I did not want to ask Solo for that huge oxer again. I just wanted to finish the two jumps left on course safely and make sure my horse was left with the impression that he can DO this and it's not scary.

So I made the decision. I only jumped the vertical at 8B, which eliminated me as soon as I did. But we jumped it clean, rolled back to finish the course at 9 and cantered through the finish flags with a big pat. At which point Solo slammed on the brakes with his nose on the outgate. Love ya, mom, but I am DONE! I laughed, gave him a big hug, and thanked him for his try.

He never stopped, he never gave up, and he tried with everything he had to get around that extremely tough course so I can be nothing but happy with him. I hauled him home, gave him his dinner and turned him out with his buddy feeling nothing but pride for his willingness to tackle the new challenges. As much as I hated seeing the big E by my name on the leaderboard, I realized what all those other folks who had retired on course already knew: the E has no power when you have made the decision to take care of your partner and make sure HE leaves the showgrounds with nothing but successful efforts under his belt.

So, homework!

Dressage: MEGA IMPULSION NEEDED. Especially at the trot -- we need energy, energy, energy and energy!

Cross country: We won't need to school before Longleaf, but I will just need to make sure that, as we did yesterday, we start off the course riding aggressively and I keep Solo in front of my leg to the jumps. We need FITNESS. Trot sets (boooring, yuck) here we come.

Stadium: We need more FITNESS! And we also need to learn how to jump max oxers. The verticals rode fine, despite the crashing down of one, that was just hanging tired pony legs. We will meet up with David O. tomorrow night to work on this after Solo gets two days to hang out and nap in the pasture.

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