Hoofprint Journals

Volume

2012-02-28T11:56:00.000-08:00

I went straight from riding Tobin with 7 other horses in the arena (and only about 3 of us were capable of steering) last night to handwalking Donnie.

It was going from a constant shout ("On your outside!", "On your right!", "Crossrail, coming through!", "TOBIN MOVE YOUR BUTT!!!!") to the quietest of whispers, and I was relishing the change as Donnie and I headed out into the night, away from the lights and bustle of the indoor arena.

He was alert, but his eye was soft, and he kept nuzzling me for cookies every few steps. All was still and quiet this time of night along the back lane. A car came up behind us, the crunching gravel worrying Donnie a bit. We stopped and had a few pets and a cookie while we waited for the car to pass. I whispered good boys in his ear and told him how wonderful he was. He exhaled.

We kept meandering, I focused on keeping my energy and communications at a whisper, to keep him steady and mellow. The clip clops of his hooves were rhythmic and soft in the night. He was always light on his feet...

We passed a horse coming the other way, this one was feisty and approached us with his hand-walker at a brisk gait somewhere between a walk and a trot. Donnie pricked his ears, quivers in his halter, tenses up. I stop him and quietly tell him easy, boy. We wait for the horse to hurry past us, his feet clattering down the lane. Donnie quietly chews as the hoofbeats move off into the distance, he relaxes. We continue.

I look up at the cold, night sky. A breeze ruffles Donnie's mane. I tell him thank you for these quiet moments together. He puts his nose on my shoulder and blows a quiet, gentle warm breath.

But, it's Spring!

2012-02-23T22:02:00.001-08:00

It is warm, and I smile as I sneak out of work for a quick lunch time walk with Donnie. It is windy as I approach the barn; I can see the various horse blankets flapping in the breeze as they hang on blanket rails down the barn aisle.

"Hi boy!"

We head down by the pastures, my special treat for the precious daylight hours I get to spend with my horse. It is windy, and the horses in the pasture are enjoying the warm sunshine and brisk wind.

It's springtime! they say, as they kick up their heels in pasture play.

Donnie pricks his ears, quivers, but walks quietly on.

"Good boy."

We pass a lone palm tree, its giant leaves rustling fiercely in the wind.

Tree? Donnie asks. He stops, looks, ears pricked.

"You're all right boy."

His ears still pricked at sharp attention, he quivers, but walks quietly on.

"Good boy."

We find friends. A couple of riders going our way. I smile and fall in stride, chatting quietly with Jay about Donnie's schedule and recovery. He sympathizes with the long lay up. Donnie appears content in the group.

They pass us, Jay's black horse going at a quick jig.

They're leaving! Donnie kicks up his heels, attempting to run, to play.

I stop, let him run into my hands on the lead rope. Tension, stop, immediately let the lead rope go slack as he swings around and stops, obeying the pressure.

They're leaving!! Donnie insists. It's spring! Let me run and play!! He arches his neck and attempts to trot off after the pair.

"Not with that right front leg, you don't." I remind him, quietly, as he runs into my hands again. Tension, stop, immediately let the lead rope go slack as he obeys.

I don't care! He turns in and rears up, front hooves too close for comfort.

"HEY." Sharp, quick yank on the lead rope. Step in, let the rope go slack, and send him away from my space. He returns to all fours, turns perpendicular to me, moves away, puts his head down and lets out a good, fat buck.

We both come to a halt. The lead rope is slack. I cross my arms, he flinches. I say nothing, but stand quietly. I count to 50, slowly, calming my heartbeats. He flicks his ears backwards and forwards a million miles a minute. The wind gusts. The pair of horses disappear from view. He turns his head towards me.

But I want to play. Why won't you let me?

"I'm sorry, darling. I know this sucks." His eye is soft enough again, although he still quivers with every gust of wind and every rustling leaf.

We head back to the barn. He wants to rush, run me over. I keep my right hand on his neck, half pushing against him. He leans against my hand slightly, enjoying the pressure. It seems to calm him, gives him something to think about, maybe reassures him.

We return to his stall in one piece. I exhale, as another gust of wind sends all of the blankets rippling down the aisle again. And I resolve to explore the option of handwalking inside the arena, next time.

Best Compliment Ever

2012-02-22T10:17:00.000-08:00

Last night I got a note from Tobin's mom. A fabulous rider going third level in her own right, hearing this from her made me feel pretty good indeed!

"Hey, with Tobin back to work and Allie not riding Wednesday nights and Saturdays are open if you wanted to pick up some more ride time before Donnie gets back to work. I am seriously going to miss having you on him he always feels SO good after you ride..."

We are all motivated by different things for horses--- some to achieve that oh-so-elegant look while on horseback, others for companionship and snuggle time--- for me, more than anything else, I am motivated to become a better rider so that I can improve the way a horse goes every time I ride.

Staying In The Moment

2012-02-16T16:29:00.000-08:00

"You look like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop," Ali said last Monday as I was walking Tobin around the arena for our warm-up.

And, well, I was. Tobin had taken a funny look at a wheel barrow and tossed his head a little at it a moment ago. So, I was naturally waiting for him to do something silly at the horse tied over there, or the car being unloaded over there, or the pony inside the arena with us jumping, or the other horse inside the arena with us whose steering appears to have gone haywire.

"Stop it," Ali said.

So I tried to think about something else. Sit my butt down, wiggle my hips around, wiggle my toes, weight my foot... Follow follow follow with my seat. Ok that's a bit better.

After a while, we moved up to canter. And I poured all of my focus into my seat. Sit. Follow. In the rhythm of the stride, I focused on putting my weight in my outside seat bone while lightening up my inside one, then shift the weight to the middle, then into my inside foot. Do not let my outside seat bone leave the saddle during any part of that. Rinse and repeat.

Between focusing on that, focusing on keeping the rhythm, and steering, my brain was full. And when my brain is full, I get out of my own way which lets me ride a zillion times better. We cantered around the whole arena, I didn't even think twice about putting him all the way against the rail on the far end where it was dark, open to the night, and right by a car with people unloading a bunch of stuff. And we were focused on what we were doing, so none of it bothered either Tobin or me. Amazing.

I lost myself in the exercise of rhythm and following, taking care to keep my brain full. We practiced it for several minutes to either side, and it was the closest I'd come to finding "the zone" riding dressage. I'd found "the zone" previously riding, but only ever either going cross-country or jumping, when the rhythm of the canter and the fences in a course can lull my brain into just going with it. (Of course, only on the days where I didn't pee my pants or get bucked off, which is why I stopped jumping anyway. That and the hospital bills...)

At the end of the lesson, Ali pretty much summed up my riding life in a nutshell:

"There is something mental going on with you, isn't there," she said. "Here you have this horse going beautifully, and then something happens, and you freeze, which breaks the whole picture. Your challenge is going to be getting into this state where your seat is melty and everything is lovely, faster. You know how to do it and you do it beautifully, but you have to work on getting there and being there and staying there right away, not after 10 minutes of fussing around."

"It's a funny thing with you. The horses know you know what you're doing. They respect you. They want to listen to you. They're asking you what you want, but you're turning around and asking them if they're going to spook at stuff outside the arena. Usually that worry is something that beginning riders are worried about, because they can't command the horse's attention. You command their attention completely, but it's like you don't believe it."

Mental Toughness

2012-02-16T15:24:00.000-08:00

I've been wrestling with this topic for the past few weeks. It snuck up on me quiet-like, and I didn't even realize I had a problem until I found myself in a don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning state of mind for weeks at a time these past few months.

I'd always thought that I was pretty okay in the mental department. I did well in school and had good jobs. I had friends and a loving family and horses. At one point, I was out of school a couple of years, I was getting praise and raises at work, I was having a ball out of the office with my friends, I was at the top of the world and thought I was pretty bad ass.

And then it happened. I got promoted to a position where I have very little support, and yet a lot of responsibility to design and ship good product. There isn't any "boss" for me to make happy, and a whole team of people I have to make miserable every single day to get my job done. It plain sucks. And after almost two years of tackling complaints from this team on a daily basis, I'm thinking by now I'm pretty crap at my job.

The same problems plague my riding. I have no faith in my abilities. The horse bucks or spooks or bolts, or is lazy, or looks around for something more interesting to focus on, and the world comes crumbling down around me. Of course the horse is going to buck / spook / bolt / be lazy / be distracted! Why should he listen to me? I am crap at this, just like I'm crap at everything else.

And this, I think, gets at the root of my fear issues that I've been tackling for years as well. I'm afraid because I feel out of control because not only do I not feel like the horse is listening to me, I don't even feel like he *should* be listening to me!

The answer I've come up with? Mental toughness. There is a point in life where you no longer get gold stars, or carrots, or a well-deserved pat on the head for doing a good job. In fact, there are points in your life when many of the people in your life are telling you the exact opposite, even if you are doing the right thing. And when you get there, you need every shred of mental toughness you can muster to keep going, figure out what you want, and enjoy your life.

According to some reading I've found, mental toughness has 6 components:

1. Confidence: believe in yourself and your abilities
2. Focus: on the task at hand
3. Motivation: find something that you believe is worth getting out of bed for
4. Courage: to go after what you believe, even if nobody else understands
5. Composure: keep it together!
6. Resiliency: failure is inevitable. How will you bounce back?

So, I am in operation kick-myself-in-the-ass mode, working on confidence, motivation, courage, and resiliency. It is a slow, terrifying and tiring process, but hopefully in the end worth it.

Oh, You Mean Like A Dressage Horse

2012-01-17T15:15:00.000-08:00

Me and Tobin last night, cantering around while taking a lesson with Ali.

Ali: "Quit polishing the saddle with your butt."
Me: "I can't help it!"
Ali: "Think about plugging your outside seat bone into the saddle, and move your inside seat bone forward a bit."
Me: "Uhh.."
Ali: "Maybe think about how your seat bones mimic the way his hindquarters move, so how he moves, you move."
Me: "...?"
Ali: "Well that's a bit better. See how he's rounder? What helped?"
Me: "Not sure. I'm thinking about moving my elbows."
Ali: "OK. That's a good start. So think about moving your elbows, following with your hips... Wow! That's awesome! What did you change??"
Me: "I thought about riding like a dressage rider. Like Amanda."
Ali: "Your whole picture just changed! You are taller, you're now sitting the canter properly, and look! Tobin's totally round! Look who's riding dressage! How does he feel?"
Me: "He's actually pretty light, very forward, and like, awesome dressage pony feeling."
Ali: "It's because you're finally speaking his language."
Tobin: "Oh! You mean like a dressage horse. Why didn't you just say so?"

Goal Setting for 2012

2012-01-16T23:11:00.000-08:00

1. Two things that my horse and I do well are: (1) Going to a show and having a good time and (2) Playing red light / green light in the middle of the night while he is on lay up

2. Two things that my horse and I struggle with regularly are: (1) Me sitting canter properly so we can do fancy things like counter canter without swapping leads and (2) Both of us sitting up and staying light in front

3. In 2011 my goals were: (1) Go to a couple of shows and see if I like them and (2) (unbeknownst to me at the time) find a wonderfully snuggly and talented, fabulous gentleman of a horse

4. Did I achieve these goals? Yes!

5. My Long Term Goal is: To ride Prix St George (legitimately)

6. In 2012 my goals are: (1) Get my 2nd score above 60 at 1st level at a 3 star show, and (2) Get 1 score above 60 at 2nd level at a 3 star show

7. To accomplish my goals I will: (1) Get my horse sound & back in shape per vet’s orders (2) Break down the skills needed to be successful at 2nd level and tackle them week by week (3) Stay positive and continue to work on being brave and disciplined

Second Level Purgatory

2012-01-15T21:50:00.000-08:00

So, I'm currently sitting on the sofa right now reading up on Second Level Test 1. Whether or not this is wise, given that Donnie's laid up for another 60 days with a minor suspensory injury, is another matter.

"Second Level Purgatory"--- now the joke at the barn makes a whole lot more sense. I mean, look at the difference between First Level Test 3 and Second Level Test 1. And I don't mean to belittle First Level, it is a very big accomplishment to get your horse to a show in one piece, get in that dressage court without throwing up, and clear the fuzz out of your brain to ride... But at least First Level has you and your horse doing like, normal things.

First Level Test 3:
1. Can you trot around on your horse?
2. Can you walk your horse on a long rein?
3. Can you canter your horse in a circle? How about down a long side with a little squiggle in the middle?
Sweet! Yes you can!

Second Level Test 1:
1. Do you know the difference between medium and collected trot? Can you show the difference to people? Can you even SIT that friggin ginormous runaway freight train of a medium trot that your horse pulls out at shows because he's a show-off (ahem, Donnie)?
2. Can you ride a true counter canter all the way around a middle serpentine loop? Are you sure? I mean, your horse's favorite thing to do, besides show off his medium trot, is to show off his fabulous tempis.
3. Can you ride a medium canter down into a simple change at the quarterline, to a 10m circle, back across the diagonal, to a 45 degree turn, to a medium canter, to a collected canter? Can you even canter that much without peeing your pants?
4. Think your horse will rein back obediently right in front of the judge when he's raring to go because he's at a show? (Maybe the judge will choose that moment to be distracted by a sneeze or a bee or something and we can score more than a 4)
5. And, perhaps most importantly of all, have you finished memorizing where the nine dressage markers are? Because there are actually SEVENTEEN of them. And you will now be using them all.

Honestly, to the kind folks at the USEF: Why? Can't you go a little easier on us aspiring dressage riders??

Picnic Friends

2011-08-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon one of the greatest joys in life on Saturday while at a dressage show with Donnie and the gang. We had just finished our First Level Test 2 and 3 rides, I had gotten my scores (qualifying! Thank goodness), and we were hanging out by the trailer while Tobin had his first debut in Fourth Level with Ali.

It was a hot, sunny day, already full of all of the nerves and excitement and fun that comes with a show. The rest of the gang had gone off to watch Tobin, but the way the show arena was set up I couldn’t really get in there with Donnie. So Donnie and I hung out by the trailer. It was a rare quiet moment from my normally hectic schedule. I sat in the quiet parking lot, soaking in the warm sun with my back against the trailer and my horse contentedly munching his lunch next to me. Somewhere from the arena a horse whinnied. I closed my eyes and felt the sun and relished in the quiet and the smell of baked earth and grass.

My stomach rumbled. With a smile I remembered I still had a half of a veggie sandwich Chris had brought me (did I mention BEST husband ever??). I went to the truck and pulled it out, and settled myself back on my perch by the trailer. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a wonderful bite of delicious sandwich. A veggie sandwich after a long successful day at a horse show just can’t be beat!

Until my wonderful, trusty steed poked his white nose and exhaled gently on my cheek. I kissed him on the nose absently, and took another bite of my sandwich and exhaled contentedly. His white nose poked gently at me again. And I looked up, and realized he was hoping for a taste. I laughed. I’m used to our cats begging, or dogs begging, but honestly it is a rare moment in my life that I look up to see my fancy dressage horse begging for a bite of my lunch.

He quietly and patiently stood there looking at me, his own lunch quite unforgotten. He gently exhaled on my forehead, my cheek, my hands as he investigated my lunch. I gave in (I mean, he was Super Horse today, didn’t put a single hoof wrong, who was I to argue?), and peeled off a little bite of bread to see if he was interested. He gobbled it up and perked his ears forward: Yummy!

I laughed and gave him a slice of pickle. YUMMY! (To which I said, really? Horse? Pickles??)

And then over the course of the half hour he got another bit of bread (Yummy!), a taste of peanut butter cookie (he wasn’t so sure about that one), 3 horse cookies (YUMMY), 2 carrots (YUMMY), a peppermint (YUMMY YUMMY YUMMY), and a BBQ potato chip (Yummy!).

After that, my lunch was all gone. I watched as a sparrow floated across the sky on this lovely afternoon. Donnie finished up his lunch, alternating bites of food with moving to put his nose on my arm to say hi. He exhaled contently in his own way— instead of the usual drawn out wet sounding sigh of most horses, he has a way of heaving in a giant lungful of air and exhaling it all at once immediately, just a quick in and out— and rested his head a few inches from my face, watching me softly.

“What do you think, bud?” I asked. “Like being Picnic Friends?”

He made another big exhale.

“I like it too, Big Guy.” I said with a smile.

Some Days...

2011-08-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

…are magical.

Last evening, the calm soft evening light strikes Donnie and makes him glow like a copper penny. A soft, kind eye. Big exhales of contentment as I am grooming him. Head turns quietly for snuggles. I rest my cheek on his forehead. Big warm breaths on my arms from his soft nose.

Quiet clip clopping of hooves as we head to the arena. Soft breeze rustles the leaves so gently. Swinging back beneath me, ears alert but everything in Donnie says: I am content. Today is a good day. Loose reins swing along with us as we clip clop clip clop.

Black tipped big brown ears trained back on me. Back is lifted beneath me, all marshmallows and spring. He is enjoying his work. Every shift in my seat, every nudge of my foot he responds happily and in tune. Shoulder-in, travers, renvers. Every step spot on. Canter is flowing, balanced, and light.

The sun sets, the air is calm. I give him a big pet and he stretches down to with a soft sigh.

Everything about everything that evening says I am happy, I am content. Today is a good day.

Horses = Bermuda Triangle Of Math

2011-07-28T22:06:00.000-07:00

Now, as with any other sensible horse owner, I try my best to never do math when it comes to my horse. Because it never ends well when I add up my receipts, monthly bills, and maintenance costs. It’s even uglier if I ever try to calculate how much I’m really paying per ride. It gets ugly and I feel guilty, which eventually leads to me getting depressed. So it’s usually better for me to just skip the whole math bit all together.

But, I couldn’t help myself today as I found myself once again at the feed store hauling another 150 pounds of feed pellets that I use to supplement Donnie’s daily hay. Didn’t I just do this?
I look at my calendar. I bought and hauled 150 lbs of feed exactly 28 days ago. And I am currently out of pellets. How is this possible?

By my math:
Donnie gets 2 lbs of pellets every day in addition to his 4 flakes of hay.
150 lbs of pellets / (2 lbs. of pellets / day) = 75 days.

What the heck!

Bestest Most Awesomest Pony Ever

2011-07-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

Donnie was a star at the show. Hopped right in the trailer (so eager to do the right thing he ran right in, I can to move fast to get out of his way), made out with Ali’s horse LaFitte in the spot next door, hauled quietly, hopped right out of the trailer (again so eager to do the right thing he kept backing into the butt bar before we were ready for him). And when he got there he was amped but quite manageable.

I was also surprisingly calm, trying to take the whole thing minute by minute and not let my thoughts get away from me. Butterflies finally kicked in big time when it came time to hop on, but on I went and into the warm up arena we went and I focused on one step at a time and he looked around a little but acted like a total pro.

Then the worst part was the wait.. 3 rides before us, then 2 rides before us, then 1 ride before us… and we found ourselves trotting into the big big space around the dressage court. Donnie became SUPER amped at this point, he wanted to show off and do the right thing. And he knew the right thing meant super impulsion (as he was trained to do). All of a sudden I had a freight train under me and only a little loose ring snaffle to hang on to. Gulp.

The bell rang. Nothing to do but get on with it and see how it goes!

We came prancing into the arena, Donnie totally in tune and yet totally amped to do everything bigger and better. I sat deep into him to get him to halt, at this point my reins are useless… and we stopped square and saluted, and off we went again. First, a trot extension across the diagonal. Point Donnie’s nose across a diagonal and he switches to, “I know this one!” with a ridiculously floaty trot extension. I am getting nearly bounced out of the saddle, hanging on, hoping I can bring him back to make the turn at the end.. Next comes the leg yield, I fight to get him rocked back enough to move sideways.. and then the canter depart, which he lifts into like a feather.. and then the canter extension, which I naively ask him for, we go bounding down the longside and I sit into him to try to get him to come back to me around the turn.. and he keeps going. We scramble around the short side, I haul on the reins, but he is lengthening at canter across the diagonal again. The crowd watching all echo the voice in my head, a soft, “Eeeaasy, boy, good boy, you’re all right. Eeaaasy.” I keep hauling, we blow past our trot transition until the corner, when I finally convince him to trot.. we leg yield the other way.. better. I release my inside rein and give him a pat, he stretches down for our long and low circle. Next canter lengthening I sit deep and refuse to let him run off with me again.. better success that time, but still touch and go. We hit our trot extension across the other diagonal, I haul back to try to get him to come back to me and ride a near rollback to make centerline for salute.
And tell Donnie what a rockstar he is! So much eagerness and impulsion under me. Scary but there’s nothing for learning but by doing.

Another countdown to the next test..

And the next test went about the same with Donnie on Uber Turbo Mode. He got away from me again on the left lead canter extension, we scramble around the short side at what feels like a break neck pace, I grit my teeth and tell myself, “well we are sticking to the pattern!” and ride what Ali calls the Fastest Canter Serpentine Loop In History. But we stuck it out and I I get him to come back to me for a couple of breaths enough to get in a nice lead change through trot. And got lovely canter work on the right lead, I’ve never sat into him like that before, and finally on our fourth try at canter I was figuring it out! Finishing up with a gorgeous balanced right loop. And finishing up with a lovely trot extension and another rollback to make centerline. Thank goodness for jumper training!

And applause at the end of our test. Really? I smile and tell him what a good boy he is. A woman standing by the arena asks me about his background, tells me what a lovely test we rode. I beam and say thank you. I pat him and ask him if he heard her. He stretches his neck and hustles back to the warm up area.

I hop off and am so glad we put in our two rides and I didn’t fall off (yes I had a high bar set), and we stuck to the pattern pretty okay. We cheer on another rider from our group and then exit the arena. On the way out I get handed a blue ribbon and our score sheet. Really? We had qualifying scores! And good ones at that. Really? With the running off and the rollbacks and the scrambling around the corners? Maybe it looked better than it felt.

Judge says: “Steady test. Would benefit from using your corners better.”

Ali says: “I am so proud of you. I know you are eager to move up, but I think you should get your Bronze Medal with this horse.”

I say: “Really? Is that a reasonable goal for us?” and I look at Donnie.

Donnie says: “I take care of you! I am GOOD BOY. Now, carrots please.”

Sometimes all you can do is laugh...

2011-07-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

Sunday I was still feeling pretty good about everything. We had just finished our workout with lots of canter (hooray) and were heading back to the back of the ranch. It was the first time I’d ridden him back to the barn, and I didn’t think Donnie would do anything but I was on my guard regardless.

We rounded the first corner and stepped into the parking lot. The parking lot is lined to the right with a whole bunch of stall paddocks that make up one of the barns by the arena. As we walked past, suddenly a woman came shooting out of one of the aisles waving a broom wildly in the air: up down up down, she was yelling in a very peeved voice, “Shoo! Shoo! SHOOOO!” And out shot a ground squirrel from under her feet.

The horse next to the aisle in his stall paddock started at the sudden intrusion. The horse in the stall next to that started, and the horse in the stall next to that (who we were walking past) gave a big spook and kicked his paddock fence. Donnie then did his 4-hooves-in-all-directions-spook-in-place. And all 4 horses gave one collective **SNORT**.

“Easy boy, you’re okay,” I said as I scratched Donnie’s mane.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I scare your horse?” The woman with the broom asked.
“Oh it’s all right,” I said, trying to be friendly. “He’s fine, he was just—”
“SHOO!” “SHOO!” “SHOOOOOO!” The woman screeched again, as the offending ground squirrel tried to dart back in. She started waving her broom with wild abandon again, trying to catch the little critter. “SHOOOOOO!”

All 4 horses spooked again, Donnie started again— his hooves splayed in every which direction— and let out another enormous ** SNORT **.

MOM SHE IS SO WEIRD!! He couldn’t have been any clearer. WHAT THE HECK IS SHE DOING??
And I had to laugh. There wasn’t any other way around it. “I have no idea, Big Guy,” I said as we walked past, Donnie tiptoeing past like a kid trying to sneak out of class. “Let’s just hope she’s not coming after YOU with that thing!”

Letting Go

2011-07-15T22:04:00.000-07:00

Well, after a couple glasses of wine and some energetic support from Chris, I went ahead and did it, I entered our first show. And I didn’t wimp out either, we’re doing First Level Test 2 and 3. And I didn’t give myself any time to think about it: the show is a week from Sunday.

Something very interesting happened as I slipped that show entry into the post box. I now had a goal to focus on. To do the show, I had to (1) ride my horse outside the arena, (2) ride him in a strange place, and (3) ride him forward through all of his gaits, plus lengthenings at trot and canter. I’d committed to doing this.

With the deadline looming, and knowing that I had goals set, I finally let go of all the fear and neurosis I’d been stewing in these past few weeks.

For my lesson last night, I tacked up Donnie and hopped on. I rode him outside past his barn and around by the yearlings and down through the parking lot. Then we popped into the outdoor arena, which nobody had ridden him in yet. We (Donnie) found this very exciting indeed, and after 5 days in the double bridle the horse was all too happy to lean on my pitiful snaffle as we went around. The combination of the heavy and the forward just made it feel like I was being ran off with pretty much all of the time, but from what I could tell Donnie’s brain was still in his skull and he was behaving himself darn well.

So you know what? I just went with it. My natural inclination is to have a ride in which I am totally in control and micromanaging every step. I like feeling like I can go, stop, turn whenever I want. I especially like knowing my brakes work; it’s just part of my comfort zone. And the stop part wasn’t at all happening last night. But I was getting go and turn, and I had to practice a bunch of movements for my tests, so well, I went with it.

And he was really good even if I felt out of control. Our canter departs from trot were on (hooray, they’d been broken for a couple of weeks), leg yields were nice, and every movement was fluid and very forward. My elbows were of course locked and my seat totally locked in Oh Sh*t Position, but other than that it was a very positive ride. I was again reminded that the feeling isn’t supposed to be one where I feel comfortable and am in total control (for me, anyway). I think my “right” feeing is one where I feel uncomfortable with the amount of power beneath me and all I’m doing is pushing it around, rather than trying to shut it down.

The ride was so positive I didn’t even pee my pants when a motorcycle when by and Donnie spooked and really ran off with me. It was actually pretty cute, nothing like the first time he did it when he lost his mind and panicked, he just scooted down the arena and then I circled him and we both found ourselves cantering around, and I asked him what was going on, and he shrugged and said, well we’re cantering I guess. Then we went back to whatever we were doing… I think it was a trot leg yield.

So, time for me to hang on to this feeling. All in all I found it liberating and fun! Time also to memorize my tests…

Fear

2011-07-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

Last week was a tough one for me. Somehow over the past few weeks (and probably since before then), I’d been slowly spiraling down into my own personal psychosis of fear. It got to the point where I’d panic and freeze while riding and become so afraid that I’d refuse to do the simplest exercises like picking up canter or riding down to the far end of the arena.

Where was all this coming from? I’d always been a fearful rider, and I hate it when the cycle hits its lowest lows and the fear becomes nearly debilitating. And then I start beating myself up; there is no reason to be afraid, I’m better than this, nothing out of the ordinary is happening, why am I expecting the worst? I’m afraid that if I don’t beat myself up, that the fear will just take over and at some point I won’t even be able to coax my butt into the saddle and that will be the end of my riding.

I beat myself up extra hard this time. Why am I doing this to myself when I had a fabulous ride like Donnie?.. He was a superstar at Pebble Beach and took home two blues and several other ribbons with Sarah at 3rd Level. The weakest link here was me. Here I go buying this fabulous horse and then being so scared that when I’m riding him I see spots. Why can’t I get out of my head? I’m never going to get anywhere if I can’t even think, let alone feel, anything in the saddle.

It culminated with a lesson with Ali on Monday. The agenda for the lesson? Ride Donnie outside the arena. This was a big one for me, because I had fixated on the fact that he had come with a warning label about that. WARNING: Has low confidence outside arena. Combined with my experience late one Friday, WARNING: Has a big bolt. And, another assessment from Sarah, WARNING: Is a touch barn sour, will turn to go home when near his barn.

I had, in my paranoid state, had combined all 3 of these to a massive WARNING: Will spin and bolt. I worked myself up just thinking about it to the point where earlier in the afternoon while I was at the office I already had my heart pounding out of my chest at the thought of having to ride him outside. And it took me a good minute or two at the mounting block to actually get up the courage to haul my butt into the saddle. And then another 5 minutes of riding circles around the mounting block before I started breathing.

And Donnie? Was a lamb and absolutely perfect, of course. Looking around, checking stuff out, easy steady rhythm, going whichever way I pointed his nose. We walked around the ranch with Ali in the lead. We went back behind the back lane stalls, by some tack sheds out of place, some unfamiliar paths to Donnie. All he did was get a little tense and a little blowy, especially by a big water bin he was sure was a bottomless pit, but there was no sense of misbehavior anywhere. And then the moment of truth: walking him right past all his buddies in his barn.

Again, like the neurotic fearful rider I am, I prepared (unconsciously of course) by doing all the wrong things: perching my seat, tensing my elbows and hands into a death grip, holding my breath, thinking of all the horrible things that could go wrong. We neared the barn. I aimed down the end of the lane, well past the barn, and focused on rhythm, and tried not to think about the horrible things in my head.

And Donnie? The Terrifyingly Terrifying Object Of My Fear For Weeks and Weeks? What did he do? He looked at the barn. That was it. He looked at the barn as he went past. Ok, he might’ve looked at it maybe 3 times as we walked past. All I had to do was ride him forward and straight. And that’s all.

Boy, do I feel stupid..

Bootcamp of Life

2011-07-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

Holy cow it’s been a month already! It’s been a crazy one, with work kicking into full gear and Donnie and I going through bootcamp with Ali.

The horsie results have been incredible. I’m now sitting a ton more solidly into the saddle, and I’m starting to get that consistent good feeling in my hands from a very strong and yet following connection with him. We have the beginnings of great working sitting trot (not extended yet, my hips don’t follow like that yet!), I learned about my elbows in the following motion at the sitting trot, and we have been doing lovely leg yields, shoulder ins, and even travers!

The life results have been a little overwhelming. My days last roughly 13 hours from when I leave the house to when I return, between work and then riding after work. I’ve been skipping dinner (great for my waistline!), but all in all it hasn’t been too sustainable and i’ve been a bit adrift in the motivation department, even with my fabulous new Donnie… To the point where everything was touch-and-go with me; one day I’d feel at the top of the world and the next I’d be near tears after an innocent spook.

Ali had been encouraging me to reconsider showing. Not for the competition aspect of it as I’m rather non-competitive by nature, but for the deadline, structure, and accomplishment part of it. I’d been putting it off, partly because it felt like a big extra load on top of an already overwhelming day-to-day schedule, and partly because Donnie had come with a big “HAS ISSUES AT NEW PLACES” tag from his previous owner. And by issues they meant having anxiety attacks, bolting, generally being Mr Scramble Brains. So, I continued to wrestle with the issue in my (ha ha) spare time. Because I did want to show, just to know what level I’m really riding, to accomplish the tests, and to achieve.

And then this morning I found myself looking at a photo from my friend Sarah. The photo showed Donnie’s butt in a trailer with the caption “Headed for the big show!” It was followed 2 hours later by a photo of Donnie happily settled in his stall at Pebble Beach. What had happened was Sarah’s horse Susi had come down with an abscess the day before. And Sarah had already entered a bunch of classes (at 3rd level), plus paid for the stall, and hotel, and taken the week off of work. I was there and she was nearly in tears and a lightbulb went off in my head.

“Hey, want to take Donnie instead?”
“Really?? You’d let me? That would be so incredible!”

It was a brilliant idea. Sarah is a fabulous rider and horsewoman. Donnie is trained up to a solid 4th level, and he was all in all a very good boy and a flashy little mover. And Sarah was confident and kind. She would be able to figure out whatever issues presented themselves and help Donnie through it.

They left this morning, and I was expecting the week to be a great one for Donnie and hopefully salvageable for Sarah (as happy as she was to take Donnie, she was hoping to qualify Susi for the year end championships), what amazed me is how much it’s already helping me. Sarah is texting me photos of their day together every couple of hours: the trip down, settling into the stall, going out for a hack, big bubbly bath, Donnie with his nose in giant pile of hay for dinner….
It is giving me a glimpse of why people show. It’s not just about winning, it’s not even just about getting through the test. It’s lovely quality time with your horse. It’s taking pride in him and how much work you’ve done together and enjoying him, regardless of the competition. Especially at a big show like Pebble Beach, it’s a wonderful excuse to spend all day hanging out with your horse and checking out new things together and having fun adventures while doing it.

“He has been a dream so far. Should I be worried?” Is the last text tonight from Sarah. Followed by an adorable photo of Donnie, snug as a bug in a rug in his green plaid light blanket, shiney as a penny, content as anything. Ready for night night!

Donnie: First Week Highlights

2011-06-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

My first week with Donnie and he finally has a name! Donnie for Donnerschweer. Yeah, I’m creative like that. It’s been a whole week and 2 days since he stepped off that trailer and I’ve loved every minute of every day I’ve spent with him. Even fighting traffic to the barn after work, I’m blissfully on honeymoon with the World’s Most Wonderful Horse Ever.

Highlights from last week:

Tuesday: After riding, on the walk back to his barn, first success with a light half halt on the lead rope! Prior to that he’d been anxious and in a hurry to get back to his safe stall. With lots of patient halts and cookies, finally trained him to slow and turn an ear and an eye (sometimes it’s his whole face when he’s looking for pets) towards me when I jiggle the lead rope

Wednesday: Learned his Pee Pee Dance. I didn’t recognize it, thought he was just in a hurry to get out of the arena barn after our ride and get home. So I smacked him and told him sternly to stand still while I finished grooming him for the night. In response he gave me a disturbed look and did the World’s Biggest Wee right at the ties. I apologized profusely and felt like the World’s Worst Mom

Thursday: Finally started to sit down in the saddle. I had been perching in what the Irish like to call the “prayer position", waiting for bad things to happen the past few days. Hey, it’s nerve wracking riding a new horse! And he may be perfect, but well, that’s my hang up in life. Put me on a new horse and my brain melts with panic with visions of being run off with, bucked off, etc. I swear it dribbles out of my ears. Anyway, Thursday was a milestone in that I was finally taking control, riding more and praying less

Friday: Became “his” human. I put him in the round pen for a bit of a turn out and a good roll. He loved lazing about, watching the horse in the pen next door, the trail riders popping in and out of the bushes, people going here and there between the barns. I left him there for about 20 minutes while I got my tack together to get ready to ride, and when I popped out, he trained his ears on me as soon as I came into view, tracked me as I crossed the parking lot and into the Port-A-Potty, the second I came out of the Port-A-Potty (I wonder if he ever looked away), and as I walked to his round pen until I came close enough for snuggles

Sunday: Put in our first good work. I felt confident and grounded for the first time on him, feeling good weight in my seat and in my stirrups. Felt good and relaxed through our long warm up, then I started torturing us with sitting trot. He made a face at first, I made a face back at him, eventually we got on the same page in a lower jog trot where he was actually using his back and I was sitting properly. Seemed like a good place to start (for me). Then lovely walk to canter to walk transitions, working on our timing of the inside hind leg and getting lovely lift into the canter
I’m currently working with Ali to put together a plan for “boot camp” for Donnie and I for the next few weeks. My hope is by the end of it my seat and basic aides will be good enough to get on the same page as him (currently he’s doing a lot of “I don’t think you’re doing it right…."), and I can maybe start riding him at the level of collection that he’s used to. Maybe we’ll even do a show or two!

Self Acceptance

2011-05-30T21:59:00.000-07:00

Today I finally got to ride my guy. Who remains nameless at the moment, because I can’t decide what to name him. His USEF registered name is Magic, and his registered name with the German Oldenberg registry is Donnerschweer.

But I digress… I’ve spent 3 days with him and this horse is all class. From the way he looks to the way he moves to the way he thinks about things. When he sees something weird, he stops and stares at it, snorts if it’s really weird, then exhales and chews, touches me with his nose (when we’re hand-walking), and he’s ready to move on. He is by far the nicest horse I’ve ever had. The first day I watched as the paint mare neighbor repeatedly kicked the wall between their stalls, angry at his intrusion. He completely ignored her until about the fifth kick, when he very primly pinned his ears as if to say, “My Dear, I am busy over here trying to crack the Cookie Dispenser. Will you please excuse us?”

And under saddle, oh my heavens… he looks even more impressive here, at home, at my barn, next to these horses I know and love. More than once, folks stopped what they were doing to watch him move. Even I was mesmerized, watching Ali start him in a light school before I hopped on. And when I hopped on, oh heaven. Big rabbit ears trained on me, that cloud of bouncy gumdrops underneath me, so much potential— gears I didn’t even know how to use yet. Lift into canter on all softness and spring. I never wanted to get off.

He inspires me to be a better rider. I felt nervous still, as he is still getting used to the arena and had worked himself into a panting state racing around on the lunge line only minutes before the school. I had mental pictures of him racing off with me, even though he had long forgotten “his moment” and was once again totally focused on his work and happy to have something to do.
Once again I kicked myself for being who I was. Why couldn’t I be those calm, assured riders who aren’t bothered when horses do silly things? Who know what it feels like to utterly trust a horse? Or who can simply bully them into obedience without a second thought?

Then I kicked myself again. Or, rather, my dear sister who had come to check out the latest addition to the family, kicked me. She said it’s like I’m a lovely alto, and somehow I keep beating on myself for not being a soprano (she’s big into singing). It’s just not who I am. And it’s not like an alto is any worse than a soprano, I just have different strong points. And I should embrace who I am to get past my mental block and get better.

So that’s my new goal to work towards. Accepting that I am a nervous rider, I’ll always have butterflies in my stomach and potential disasters racing through my brain, but, I also have a hyper-awareness of what my horse is thinking at every step, which means I ride him appropriately at every step. And I am empathetic, almost to a fault, which, with a horse like this, will hopefully be the beginning of a wonderful bond.

Now if I can only come up with a name…

He's Here! He's Here!

2011-05-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

With the EHV-1 virus and quarantines happening at both barns, I had nearly given up on ever completing the purchase of my horse. Lots of back and forth with a sales agreement, trying to find that balance between who was responsible for the horse and when I can take possession of him, all that awkward extremely unfun part of horse shopping. Finally, after waiting two weeks, and lots of nasal and blood tests later, he’s here! He’s finally here!

Wide-eyed, he backed out of the trailer like a pro, and stood and looked at all the new sights and sounds. He was excited, but very mindful of his manners, he just couldn’t stand still so he had to walk around a lot. Ali and I walked him to his new barn and stall, and he did his patent little wiggy heart attacks along the way, although again, so well behaved. At one point there was a particularly weird looking trash can and he did a wiggy and tried to crawl in my lap for assurance. Very cute, except he is a little big for that.

In the stall, I hung out while cleaning his water bucket. I took stock of him— and he looked every bit as fancy and classy just walking around his stall, mugging me for cookies, being surprised at the mare on one side trying to kill the wall between them— it was clear that he is a special boy. And he’s all mine!

I hugged him and smiled. And then taught him his first interaction with me— mug me for cookies! I am the Cookie Dispenser. I think that’s a pretty good start.

Pain Means Progress

2011-05-27T21:58:00.000-07:00

Last night I took a lesson on good old Tobin for a change of pace and some confidence building.
I prepared for pain.

Tobin brought it.

But, I have to say, at least it was a different kind of pain. The first time I rode him many months ago the pain came from keeping him going. My calves got tired from squeezing, and then my whole leg got tired from kicking. Even my feet were cramping. The last time I rode him a couple months ago, my legs got tired from kicking, my arms were sore from attempting to get him round and failing, and my butt hurt from trying to sit that jackhammer feeling of a horse that’s not moving and not round.

This time, however, he moved! Forward! With no kicking involved! The trade-off, of course, was now my core hurt. Apparently the horse moves forward off of seat and core rather than from leg. If only I had known. But I had him moving forward, engaging his inside hind leg, and using his back, which was lovely. What his face was doing was another matter— he was hanging big time so much so that I started losing feeling in my right arm.

I was doing pretty good with my core until we started doing sitting trot shoulder in. The sitting trot was my idea. I’m not a masochist, but I literally could not get the horse to use his back unless I sat on him and drove him with my seat. Every time I posted he’d suck back, invert, and trot around going “neener neener". So, all trot work last night was sitting. Lucky me. Add in a shoulder in to the right, where he is heavy, and the pain spread from my right bicep, shoulder, down to my abs, and finally settled onto my right oblique ab muscle. And my right hip joint, trying to stay open and following, started to ache.

All in all I felt great after the ride. It feels like every couple of months I get a bit better and Tobin is a great litmus test for the progress. Maybe someday I can get him all the way round AND light in front. Which I hear happens. Sometimes. If you are lucky and good.

Shmuck

2011-05-13T21:57:00.000-07:00

I was in rare form last night. It snuck up on me this time, the fear. I thought I was handling it okay, but one long week and one tired night later, I found myself dreading getting on Corona for my lesson last night. I was convinced that the next step was going to be a spook or a buck, and then there we go down the tubes again. Even though he was perfect last night, not one single bad opinion, and Ali was trying to keep my fried brain occupied by making me do exercises that required me knowing exactly where he was putting each foot, every single step. Balancing him here, counting strides there, lengthening and collecting the stride, making sure the weight was even on every foot.

I was still stiff and rigid as anything, my heart a lump in my throat. Who am I? Where is this paralyzing fear coming from? I had a placid, obedient horse under me, and yet I was jumping at every splash of the hose in the washrack, and cringing at every horse that was led past the outside of the arena. It made absolutely no sense. Even at Corona’s worst he doesn’t come close to unseating me. And he was too busy thinking about where his feet where going to put up a fuss anyway.

After my lesson I still didn’t feel any better. I felt like a first-class shmuck for being so terrified. And I knew it was all me. What happens when my new horse shows up? He passed the vet check with flying colors (Oh yeah, there should’ve been a post before this one titled, “zOMG I’m Getting a pONiEEEE") Am I going to flush myself straight down the tubes then too? When is this going to STOP??

I hung out after my lesson and watched Joanna on Romeo, and Kathy on Chai, ride. And I chatted with Sarah, who had just finished her ride on her big warmblood mare, Susie. All three of them were super nice and great riders, and funny to boot. They also appeared to be very confident and comfortable with their horses. Either they were doing a nice job holding up a brave front, or they all generally had healthy relationships with their horses and their fear. Which made me feel even more like a failure.

By the time I got home I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Chris was busy packing up for a long weekend out of town, so I sulked around the house until he sat me down for a pep talk:

It’s okay to have a bad ride. Progress is about ups and downs; it’s not linear. Every time you have a slip up or a bad ride, that’s part of the learning process. In fact, usually before you reach the next level of progress, there is usually a major downslide first. The learning here is how to shrug it off and live with it. You are going to have to live with bad rides, and being afraid, and all of it. It’s not going to magically go away with a new horse because this stuff comes from you, and you’re going to bring that with you to your new partnership. This is the challenge… And you can start by not lending the bad rides any importance. This starts in your head. Instead of thinking, “Corona spent 40 minutes last week trying to buck me off", you think instead, “Well, Corona wasn’t great last week.” Regardless of what he actually did. Your job is to figure out how to turn mountains into molehills.

That made me feel better. And it gave me a great title for a book: “Making Mountains Into Molehills: An Everyday Guide to Dealing With Fear". Of course, it’ll probably help if I can figure out how to do it first…

I Hate This Part

2011-05-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

This is the part I hate the most about this whole horse buying process. Girl meets Horse. Horse is cute and works well under saddle for Girl. Girl really likes Horse. Girl puts down deposit. Girl sets up vet check.

… and now, Girl waits.

I hate this neither here nor there state of this waiting. The Oldenberg Ali and I drove down to see on Sunday was everything I wanted— solid third level, could stretch for fourth level, well put together, solid under saddle, no drama, and cute. I was immediately charmed by his want-to-be-good attitude, and by how approachable he was. I went in expecting this refined and powerful presence based on his fancy pants breeding and being imported from Germany and all, but I just found this very pleasant bay horse with big ears and a big white nose.

Then I rode him and wanted to fall in love. He was so soft and springy under the saddle, so supple in every direction it felt like riding Gumby (in a good way). I couldn’t help but giggle as I rode him, and loved that he didn’t take himself very seriously for how talented he was. He was a sunny, happy, easygoing kind of fellow.

I wanted to fall in love with him but I cannot. Not until he passes his vet exam. And at age 13 going on 14, who knows what ailments lurk in his body.

And then the neurosis sets in, the dread of the bills for joint supplements, hock injections, all the maintenance that he needs to keep in good form and comfortable. And the bills for ongoing training and shoes and board and shows. I had had a very nice break from all this for over a year now. Now it’s back to the grind. And finding the TIME, where am I going to find the TIME?? I’m going to get very good at riding in the middle of the night… gosh, I hope he is okay with working at night…

So i wait with bated breath for the results tomorrow afternoon. I want to love him but I cannot. I dread paying the bills, and I’m terrified of stretching myself and my day to get out to the barn. But I want to love him…

The one solace I can take right now, is that my goal of riding Prix St George has not changed. It’s still what I want and makes the money and the time well worth spending. And this horse can take me damn close…

Is it tomorrow yet???

One Horse Rodeo

2011-05-06T21:55:00.000-07:00

Corona was on fire last night. I went into his stall to groom him, and he pinned his ears and made a face. I put on his boots, he irritably picked up his hind legs one at a time and shook them. I put his saddle on, he pinned his ears and bared his teeth and threatened to bite the world.

He has done this before, usually when he’s not feeling great or back when I was new and he didn’t know who I was— he was getting ridden by a few different people for lessons (all experienced and good riders, just nobody he knew regularly) and he’d get anxious and whiney. So I gave him a reassuring pat on the neck, told him his life really wasn’t so bad, and took him down to the arena. It was a warm and pleasant night, the first we’d had in a while, and I felt good as I slipped into the saddle.

Commence Corona, The One Horse Rodeo.

It started off well enough, we walked and trotted around, stretching out his neck and worked on me loosening up my hips and riding with shorter reins and a more forward and giving hand. Which is hard to do when the horse under you feels electrified and is just looking for the next thing as an excuse to spook. He was pretty bad with the sight seeing, but I urged him on and didn’t take too much offense to it, focusing on the stuff I was supposed to focus on (get him in front of leg, put hands forward, use leg and seat to get him to plop round).

Then we shifted up to canter. I did the usual— sat two beats at the trot and scooted my seat with a bit of outside leg to cue for canter. He gave an enormous buck (I think there was a stray left leg kicking high and out at the world in general) into canter. I wondered if I had accidentally jabbed him with a spur or something, and when he broke back into trot, I cued again with only my seat, being very careful to keep my outside leg off. He lifted into canter, only to give two big bucks a half a circle later as a horse was led past the arena.

I put my leg on to keep him cantering, which he did.

A circle later, someone came out of the tack room. Corona gave another few bucks. I put my leg on, kept him cantering.

Ali asked us to change directions and pick up canter the other way, but not in front of where she was sitting, she said. His legs were everywhere!

So I took a deep breath and trotted a change of directions, taking care to really push him off my inside leg into my outside rein and make him work. Then I cued for canter, which he picked up pretty nicely… four strides later he’s bucking again as Megan is in the washrack very gently using a hose to wash out Blackie’s bucket. Leg on, ride through it.

“Hey you have a pretty good seat when they’re acting up,” Ali said.

“@#$%^^ piece of @#$% horse!” I blurted, as Corona started bucking again (Megan was leading Blackie back to his stall by the arena, Corona decided to try to kick him, kicked the rail instead, which scared him and made him mad enough to start bucking again).

“I’m enjoying your toughness,” Ali encouraged me. “Let’s ask him to do harder work and see if we can get him to focus.”

So we did a complicated series of small circles to extensions to haunches in (which got him bucking again so we gave up on that) and collections. He just didn’t settle, so 5 minutes before the official lesson was up, I asked to call it quits.

There wasn’t much we could do, since both Ali and I were pretty certain the bucking was from Corona feeling sore. Even if he were just being a giant butt-face for no reason, his soundness issues preclude me from riding him into the ground, begging for mercy (my preferred method for curing Howie of bucking). I couldn’t use a tough hand on him either to tell him his behavior was unacceptable, because he rears. And we couldn’t spin him (Ali’s preferred method for horses who rear) because his back end was so wonky that he’d just step all over himself and probably lose a hind leg.

So, we did the next best thing. I worked on not taking the bucking spell personally, we called it quits, and spent the rest of the time talking about other ponies. There is a gorgeous oldenburg third level schoolmaster about a 4.5 hour drive south that Ali had seen on Wednesday that she thinks would be a super fit for me. And he’s stabled next to an adorable welsh cob / quarterhorse mutt who does PSG/I1.

We are going down there on Sunday to see if maybe one of them will be my next horse!

Oh, Hell

2011-04-26T21:53:00.000-07:00

“I’m never, ever going to buy a horse again.” - Me, a little more than a year ago

“You have the talent for the upper levels. With the right horse, we’re talking about you doing 2nd level by the end of this summer and progressing a level a year after that.” - Ali, a little more than a month ago

“I bet you, by the end of this year, you will have a horse.” - Heather, three weeks ago

“I always knew you’d get another horse. It’s your passion; it’s what you’re going to do for the rest of your life. That’s why I bought a truck that can tow a 2-horse trailer, even when you said you were done with horses.” - Chris, last weekend

And yes, I find myself eating my words and scouring the horse ads for a horse to buy. The arrangement with Ned had fallen through; and looking at dear Corona and how quickly I’m about to outgrow him, my impatience got the better of me. It’s clear that I’ll have to find a different horse to ride for Second Level, and it wasn’t clear how well Corona would do at First Level due to his soundness issues. And there weren’t any suitable horses at the ranch who were up for lease, or are likely to be any time in the foreseeable future.

The question is, what’s the right horse for me? I’m twice bitten, third time shy (does that make me persistent in a good way, or just plain stupid?) Fox was a fantastic horse, but I felt like we never connected. Howie was also a fantastic horse, but he was such a baby that he grew up to be a horse that physically didn’t suit what I wanted to do. Plus he bucked me off a lot.

The best option, of course, is an FEI schoolmaster. Those start at $50,000 and go up from there. Ha ha. Funny. Not going to happen.

So what then? In my price range, here’s what I’ve found so far:

1. 15 year old Lipizzan mare, trained to Prix St George. I looked up her USDF scores and she’s finished dead last in every single class on record, with scores in the 40s and 50s from training level through fourth level.

2. 6 year old Oldenburg cross gelding, showing 2nd level, schooling 3rd. I saw his video, and that horse is built like a Daschund (not in a good way). Plus Ali said she saw this horse going at a little hunter/jumper show last year running off and spooking at everything in sight.

3. 13 year old Hanovarian mare, showing 4th level. Her video of her 4th level test made it look like she was going underwater, she looked so heavy and… uncomfortable. No clue if it’s her, her rider, or her training?

4. 16 year old Hanovarian / TB mare cross, schooled 2nd and 3rd level (unconfirmed), unknown show history. She is GORGEOUS in her video— short coupled, open shoulder, correct behind, lovely long neck— and moves balanced and fluid like a ballet dancer. But it isn’t clear how much training she’s really had, and how much she will be able to do, since she is getting older.

The last is of course priced the best (actually in the range I should be spending, rather than the range I tell myself I can make work). But I have no idea what I want. What if I pay a ton, and I end up not liking the horse as much as I think I should? What if I pay too little for a horse and wind up outgrowing him in 6 months? What if I stretch my budget for a horse that can do the upper level stuff, just not that well? Or for a horse with some training issues, but then I have to figure out how to overcome it? … What if I fail?

There is pretty much no sound financial decision here for me, all the money for the horse, and upkeep of the horse is pretty much going to go straight down the tubes. Especially with an older horse, who will likely need to be retired by yours truly. I just have to figure out how much this is worth it to me, and try to get by as intelligently as I can I guess…

Pee Your Pants Good

2011-04-17T21:52:00.000-07:00

So, after all that worrying and a sleepless night, I turned up at the barn to find that, hey, shows aren’t so bad after all. Corona (who I had jokingly greeted with “Good morning, Coo Coo Cabana” because I thought he’d be totally nutso after 2 days off) settled in spectacularly into the show buzz. My butterflies were pretty bad as I was getting him ready, but I did note with some satisfaction as we headed over to the warm up arena that (1) I’d done a pretty darn good job with my stock tie and (2) my white breeches were still clean! It’s a small victory, but a victory none the less.

I gulped as I got on, and Ali raised an eyebrow when I confessed that he’d had the 2 days off and I didn’t even lunge him before I hopped on. But she was calm, said let’s warm him up and see how he settles. Turns out he ate up the show buzz atmosphere and was more settled, focused, and all the way here than I’ve ever ridden. He was even a bit lazy! What a pro. He’s happier with all the nerves, tents, bustling people and tables and kids and dogs everywhere than a calm evening’s lesson. What a weirdo.

He looked once at the judge’s tent as we walked past, then didn’t even blink the second time we trotted past. And the whistle blew, and we were off on our first test of the day. Trot was pretty okay, he was a bit lazy and I found myself wishing I had some spurs, but he was willing, forward, round, and attentive. We even got some pretty nice free walk, which we had previously sucked at because he would always tense up to spook and bolt when we practiced. And, thanks to Ali’s tip about imagining a big oxer right where the judge’s head is, our trot and halts down centerline were perfectly straight and forward. We exited the arena with polite applause and some very nice “great test!"s from the volunteers helping out at the show.

We rode our second test about 10 minutes after the first, and it went much the same. I still wish I had the spurs, but was grateful that he was focused, relaxed, and slow rather than… well, the alternative. And then we were done! It really wasn’t so bad after all, and I finally relaxed as we left the arena. Anxiety had kept me going, and now that I was done I felt lightheaded with relief and a bit dizzy from still being sick.

And, the best surprise came after I had put Corona back in his stall with lots of good boys and giant fistfuls of cookies. Turns out, not only did I survive the two tests, but I scored a 70 on test 1 and a 69.6 on test 2! In Ali’s words, those are “Pee your pants good scores.”

What a day! And I even hiked my butt back over to Corona’s barn to put our blue and red ribbons next to his stall, so he could get a chance to celebrate too!

Old Friend

2011-04-16T21:51:00.001-07:00

This morning, Ali and I went to see an old friend. I had thought of him when Ali and I started talking about finding a more-than-first-level horse to ride, since Corona’s soundness issues will prevent him from holding up at second level.

We drove through the gorgeous countryside through a beautiful neighborhood of fancy homes, each with at least one pool, one tennis court, and a riding arena. This was clearly horse country. We pulled into a gorgeous, large ranch style home complete with two beautiful shepherd dogs in front. And down the path a ways, past the two swimming pools, there, next to a cute little bay morgan and two donkeys, there he was… Ned!

Yes Ned, that adorable little creampuff Haflinger pony. He is fifteen now, and every bit what I remembered— self-assured, happy-go-lucky, and yet off on his own planet most of the time. We tacked him up and rode him down the street into a small pasture where we could trot and canter a bit. I giggled as I got on— one day I’m on 17.1H Corona, and the next it’s 14.1H Ned. Can’t I ever do anything the normal way?

Ned was very out of shape, but his walk and trot work with me were good. Until I tried to canter, and all of my Westwind memories came back to me. He would pick up canter for 2 strides, and break as soon as I went “oh thank goodness he’s cantering", then make me work for it again. And in my sick state, amped up on cold medicine, I started seeing spots pretty quick. Ned 1, Me 0.
Next Ali hopped on, and tried to figure out what he knew and didn’t know. She tried a walk pirouette, and waited for the cobwebs to clear from his dressage training way back in his little pea brain somewhere. Then he executed a very nice pirouette indeed. Again, nice leg yield, nice walk-canter transition, nice shoulder-in. Drew a blank at half-pass, and Ali didn’t even try flying changes on him because the footing was dubious, and the poor guy was just so out of shape. And neither of us had brought spurs.

“He’s not going to make it easy on you,” Ali said later in the car as we were driving home. “But, if he has his changes then this is definitely a great option for you to get 3rd level. He is hard to ride, so if you can learn to do all the movements on him, you can do them on any horse. But it won’t be easy.”

I nodded. Sitting on Ned for that half hour really brought back memories. Of me crying because I couldn’t get him to go, of always feeling like he had his own agenda, of feeling that he just really couldn’t care less what I thought. Contrast that with Corona— gentle Corona who always watches everything I do, hastens out of my way, soft eyes soaking everything in— and of course, those soft eyes soaking in all of the dark monsters everywhere too, driving directly into his anxiety and melting his little pea brain. I guess I can’t have it both ways, but can’t I ever do anything the normal way?

Next step is to bring him to the ranch and work with him for a week, and see if he has those changes or not. If he does, my horse problem may be solved for a while! Although I have a feeling I’m in for a battle of wills to keep my score ahead of Ned’s…

Boogie Man

2011-04-16T21:51:00.000-07:00

I’d been feeling off all week, some bug was going around the office and despite me upping my sleep quotient, I was still feeling that itchy throat, grogginess, and general tiredness. Which meant, come Thursday night, once again, I was struggling with my fear.

It’s the same old story. Fear of falling off, fear of being ran off with, fear of getting bucked off— and probably, fear for fear’s sake. I’ve spent so long being afraid that it has become habit. And it didn’t help that Kathy, who usually rides in the lesson with me, canceled this week so I found myself all alone in the big dark arena with Captain Chicken.

Luckily Corona’s mom, Madelyn, had done “conditioning work” with him earlier that day. I didn’t really know what that meant— although they are supposed to be doing some 3-days this summer, so I assumed it was for that— until I turned up at his stall, and he was lying on the ground with his nose in a pile of hay. I looked at him. He looked at me, liquid eyes pathetically begging me not to drag him out for more work. Well, sorry buddy.

We schooled the 2 training tests once more with Ali and did well. I did find that I have to think ahead a bit more— instead of feeling what the horse is doing at the moment, the test required that I feel what the horse is doing at the moment AND what I needed him to do next. It was a fun challenge, even as during the 2nd test Captain Chicken unleashed his 40 minutes of anxiety in a gigantic spook. He had been surprising good up till then, so I did my best to shrug it off.

After getting through the 2 tests in my worst nightmare of a situation— Corona, at night, me tired and scared, horses lurking in spooky shadows, people appearing suddenly in unexpected places— I felt much more confident for the show on Sunday. At least it will be in the daytime, with lots of horses around.

And it is only 6 minutes of my life. How bad could it be?

A Little Easier

2011-04-11T21:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday was one of the most glorious spring days. Crystal blue sky, perfect temperature, the air alive with the damp smell of new grass gently warmed in the sun.

The weather definitely helped my mood, and I was feeling good about continuing my “get it done” attitude. I looked at Corona’s calendar and didn’t even wince at the fact that no one has ridden him since me on Thursday night. I hummed and jostled and joked with him as I got him ready. He seemed to enjoy my rambuctious air (or maybe it was in my head?) Either way, I was enjoying myself while keeping a firm metal grip on not allowing myself to go back to my over-wary and over-sensitive self. Corona was a horse! He was here to be ridden and to be groomed and to be snuggled with. I get to do what I want, and it was his job to behave.

We walked down to the indoor with me keeping a bright outlook. I had a simple agenda— a 15-20 minute warm up, a bit of leg yield to get his right hind moving easier, and then we were going to ride through Training Level Test 1 and 2 in preparation for our show next week. I hopped on, and noted that the arena was empty. Note to self: keep his attention. Note to self: proceed as planned.

And we had a pretty decent ride, all in all. After about 10 minutes Corona started to get lonely so he started tightening up and getting nervous; I countered it with both a more determined ride (shoving his inside hind into my outside rein), and a softening and a “good boy!” every time he relaxed. By alternating the two, I managed to keep his attention pretty darn well, even when the ranch owner puttered around in her little ATV by the arena. We were doing the training tests by then, and I struggled to keep his attention in the long rein trot (he thought the ATV was the most exciting thing he’d seen all day, so he really wanted to run off to tell the world about it).
In the end, we rode for about 45 minutes in the indoor arena, by ourselves, with very little people or horses for company. And we held it together! Even through the tests— I have to say, those tests seemed really simple as I was reading through them, but they turned out to be quite demanding on both my riding and Corona’s body, especially if we focused on that forward, stepping through feeling. After the two tests poor Corona hung his head low and asked for a good long nap.

I thought it’d be fun to go for a nice walk back to his barn, and decided to exit the farther gate, which I hadn’t tried before. Turns out it was a huge gate, and it swung open to an impossible angle. I tried in vain for about 5 minutes to get Corona in the right spot to allow me to push the gate in and latch it, but we were always about 4 inches off (he is so tall that I have to practically hang off sideways to reach the latch). Corona was a game gate pony though, not only was he not frightened by the gate as it swung out and hit him repeatedly, at one point he pushed the whole thing closed with several thrusts of his nose (I don’t think he could’ve said “Do I have to do EVERYTHING myself?” any louder). It made me laugh that he was so anxious in the arena by himself, and so nonchalant about a gigantic, swinging gate hitting his behind.

Ali happened by with her horse, and rescued us from another 5 minutes of struggle. We went for a nice long walk around the barn. I put him up, and cleaned his bridle and saddle in preparation for the show. I expected to be more tired from the ride, and to be more nervous about the show, but I only felt like everything was coming to me a little easier. Not that I was riding better necessarily, but the ride in general felt less like a burden and I was able to enjoy it more without the shackles of fear and neuroticism.

Somehow knowing my goals and knowing that I wanted to be there, made it easier to enjoy my time. Maybe it will make it easier for me to achieve my goals, too. Who knows?

Get It Done

2011-04-09T21:48:00.000-07:00

To be completely honest, I spent all week dreading my lesson on Thursday night. I was afraid of a repeat Captain Spookalicious performance by Corona, who, while otherwise quite sane, just wants to fall apart into a million pieces in that indoor arena at night.

Work wasn’t making it easy for me, either. Back to back to back meetings, driving all around town, ending up back at the office late at night with a pounding headache and still hours of catch up work to do. By Thursday around noon time, as I waited for my lunch meeting (who was running 20 minutes late), I was already ready to pass out sitting in the restaurant. Desperately I tried to shake the fog out of my mind to devise a plan. How was I going to make it through the rest of the day and make the best of my lesson time? A repeat performance of that horrible night was out of the question.

As I left my lunch meeting I looked up and saw Starbucks. Before I had any time to second guess myself, I went straight in and ordered the biggest coffee ever. I have always tried to avoid mixing caffeine and horses in my past, because usually I had so much fight-or-flight adrenaline going in me that the caffeine would make my heart feel like it was pounding out of my chest. But, well, desperate times and all that.

I chugged the coffee, rushed through the rest of the day, and rushed to get to the barn on time. On the way there, in the stop-and-go traffic, I tried to clear my head. It wasn’t about whether or not I could do this or that anymore, it was about what I wanted to do. What did I want out of tonight’s lesson? Simple: I want to have an obedient horse and I want to learn something other than how to go fetal in 3 seconds flat.

Once I defined that, my direction was set and I was glad I had the extra boost from the coffee. Whatever Corona’s plans were, I now had my own agenda, and it was up to me to get it done.
That seemed to lift my spirits a bit. I joked with Corona around in his stall as I got him ready, just because I felt like it. If he made a face when I tickled him with a brush (he is a sensitive boy), I’d purposely make a face back and boss him around until he gave up making faces. In the arena, I continued that same attitude. It was my lesson time, and I was paying for this, dammit. Why let a horse ruin the hour?

And Thursday turned out to be another good step forward for me. I got on the horse and “attacked the problem” so to speak, rather than babying around it. This was probably the first time in my entire life ever that I got on a horse and immediately took control, rather than pussyfooting around for the 5-10 minute warm up until I had convinced myself that I wasn’t going to die (amazing how this can become so habitual). I marched Corona straight down to all the spooky parts of the arena, and explained to him very firmly that we were here to work, not to sightsee, spook, bolt, or buck. I did this by keeping his inside hind extremely engaged and pretty much jammed into my outside rein whenever he started to feel testy.

And the result? I got my wish. I had a relatively obedient horse (for a scaredy cat Corona at nighttime), and I made it happen, and I was learning stuff. We learned the right combination of buttons to get him to do some proper leg yielding where I was getting his right hind to track straight instead of up and under AND he was moving forward freely, I learned that we can do a free walk with no contact (his preferred method), and I learned how to keep an appropriate amount of inside bend so that he wouldn’t run off with me at the canter on the straight sides. Progress! And SO much better than last week!!

In retrospect it makes perfect sense that I have to actively work to get what I want. I’m used to doing this in every other area of my life (e.g. money does not drop out of the sky, the dishes don’t wash themselves, etc.), so why had I gone this long thinking that the horse was going to magically take charge, divine what I want, and give it to me?

Well, I was obviously 10 years slow on the uptake of this one, but at least that little piece is clicking in place…

Dawn

2011-04-04T21:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday dawned bright and warm. Ali had me ride out in the outdoor arena, and even though there were cars, motorcycles, trailers, and bikers everywhere, Corona behaved himself like a true gentleman. Even a bit of a lazy pony as I had to kick him a bit to get him to extend his trot and canter. Not a spook in sight.

I also had a chance to catch up with Ali about my recent thinkings. She was extremely encouraging, saying that it was great to have those kinds of goals. She said that the fastest way to progress is to find a schoolmaster type of horse (which are hard or extremely pricey to find) to move up the levels with. With a horse that’s done it before, she said, I could be riding second level by the end of the summer. And she was confident that I was talented enough that the upper levels were attainable so long as I kept working at it.

I felt so relieved to hear that someone else who know what she was doing also believed in me. I processed some more after our conversation, and came away with a few particular points to retrain myself on:

1. It’s not me, it’s you. As a beginner, we hear so much that we are interfering with the horse, and when the horse does something wrong it’s automatically the rider’s fault. Some times coaches at later stages still blame the rider, probably because there are so many different methods out there and nobody can quite agree on the “proper” way to do anything. But guess what? Some times the horse acts like an ass because he wants to. He doesn’t feel like working, and it sounds like more fun to mess with me. It’s not my fault.

2. Keep my eye on the prize. It is up to me to get what I want out of my riding. And this means both figuring out what that is, and working towards that goal. Nobody else is going to do this thinking for me, because I’m the only one who can define what I want. Coaches can only help me in so far as I want to help myself. Coaches can only get me to where I want to go, if I know where I want to go. And horses, well, they are going to be who they are on any particular ride. And it’s up to me to get what I want out of every ride.

3. Fear in perspective. When I asked Chris, but don’t athletes become afraid? Afraid of screwing up? Afraid of physical injury? He said absolutely. The best coaches bank on the fact that the athlete wants to win more than he is afraid of screwing up or of getting hurt. Substitute win with getting what I want to get out of my riding, and all of a sudden I’ve got my fear in perspective. It is okay to be afraid (I mean, who isn’t if you find yourself on Fiery Bucking Monster From Hell?), but compare it with getting what I want, and now it starts to make make more sense. Am I afraid? Yes. Am I afraid enough to let it get in the way of what I want? Hmm. Maybe not.
Sounds like more progress! Now, what the heck do I do about finding a been-there-done-there horse? I really don’t want to buy one….

Coming Up With A Plan

2011-04-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Ali,

So I spent some time processing the past couple of days about what I want out of my riding, always a hard question. Now that I’m 100% focused on dressage, I’ve decided that I want to aim to ride the upper levels. It isn’t required that I get there, I know it is hard and takes a very long time, but I want to focus on making progress each week towards that goal.

With this long term goal in mind, I am looking forward to getting your guidance and advice on a few things for starters. I’d like to take some time tomorrow to take stock of where I am and develop a more definite plan of advancement. There are two things in particular I’d like to talk about:

First, Corona. I like him for lots of reasons, but if you could take a fresh look at me, him, and our potential with this new goal in mind I’d love to get an honest appraisal about what horse best fits me.

Second, a structured approach to working towards this goal for the long haul. Some check in every few weeks about how well I am riding a certain movement, or a complete test— I suspect that I will become quite keen on showing when I am riding at a more advanced level (say, second or third), but at the moment I feel a bit silly trailering out every weekend to ride training level tests. So perhaps private evaluations from you every X weeks, plus a couple of shows for now?

That’s all for now. Let’s talk more tomorrow!

Cheers,
Me.

Relapse

2011-04-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

I felt wrecked before I even pulled into the barn on Thursday night. It had been a rough week, I was overworked, i was tired, and I was stressed. I kept trying to pump myself up through the bumper to bumper traffic— i can do it, I can do it, I’m excited to ride, this is going to be great— and the words felt false and empty in my warped, tired mind.

It didn’t get any better at the barn. Corona was fidgety and fussy when I tacked him up, pinning his ears and grinding his teeth. When we walked to the arena his ears were pricked and his eyes rolled wide and darted off in every which way with a snort and a shudder. I tried my best to overlook it and kept saying “I can I can I can"….

In the arena I didn’t let myself think twice and hopped on. I circled at the close end of the arena at a walk, waiting for Corona to settle down and stop throwing his head up and looking at every last thing. And the lesson just went straight to hell from there.

Ali: Ok guys, let’s pick up the trot. Corona, go large.
Corona: Ooooh what’s over there. WOW. It looks way weird. It just looks so SO weird out there.
Me: I can do this.
[At the far end of the arena] Corona: OH MY GOD. THERE IS A HORSE OUTSIDE. AIIIEEEEEEE [spooks hard to the right, bolts]
Me: Whoa, Corona, eaaaaaasy, calm down. [Bring him back to trot]
Ali: Well that was exciting. That horse did come out of nowhere.
Me: It wasn’t like Corona wasn’t looking for an excuse, but ok let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Stay positive, stay positive, stay positive [Through gritted teeth. Catch him as he tries to bolt down the longside away from the far end]
Ali: All right, let’s circle down here.
Corona: Trot sucks. [Sucks back, starts crowhopping]
Me: Oh come on, you can do this.
Corona: * crow hop * * crow hop * * crow hop *
Ali: Yeah, try to get him out of that sticky second gear here.
Me: Leg, leg, leg
Corona: Screw you! * Crow hop *
[A light in the barn aisle by the arena goes off] Corona: WTF???!!!! AAAAAAAAH [spooks hard to the left]
Me: Dammit, Corona! [reassembles horse from 18 directions]
Ali: That’s it, you’re getting there. Soften him a little to the inside. Yeah, that’s looking better.
[Horse walks into the barn]
Corona: HOLY CRAP. A HORSE WALKED INTO THE BARN. YIIIIIEEEEHOOOO [spooks hard to the right]
Me: F***. [reassembles horse]
Ali: Ok, so try to overbend him next time you think he’s going to spook at something, and really engage that inside hind.
Me: Got it.
Corona: Trot sucks. [Starts crowhopping again]
Me: HORSE CAN’T YOU JUST GO WITHOUT WHINING FOR LIKE 5 SECONDS???
Ali: Um, ok go large and see if you can unstick him.
Me: Scared. Ok, I can do this. i can do this.
Corona: Ooooh what’s over there?? There’s something weird I can spook at I bet.
[We both see another horse walking by the arena outside]
Me: [Overbend to the inside, hella inside leg on] YOU TROT RIGHT PAST THAT HORSE, MISTER.
Corona: Screw you! It’s exciting! And scary! And I’m excited to spook and run off! [Feels electrified under saddle]
Me: I DON’T %$#^ing CARE.
Corona: [Bolts]
Me: Quit it.
Corona: Ok [softens for the first time in 20 minutes]
Me: Hey! Good boy! [pat]
Corona: OMG PONY OVER THERE [spooks hard to the right]
Ali: All right, time to canter a bit
Me: I can do this, I can do this.
[Pick up canter… barn aisle light comes back on]
Corona: OMG LIGHT [spooks hard to the left]
Me: Want to cry.
[Person grooming pony]
Corona: HOLY CRAP. PERSON!!!! [Bolts]
Me: I can do this. I can do this. [Hold him back to trot, pick up canter again, take deep breath, relax and follow…]
Ali: Um, ok try going to the right.
Me: I can do this I can do this I can do this. [trot reverse through center of circle]
Corona: PERSON IN WASHRACK!!!! [Spooks hard to the left]
Me: I can do this I can canter this horse right now.
[Pick up canter]
Ali: Nice depart! Ok, now allow your hands to follow, let him move a bit, lengthen his stride… Good!
Corona: PERSON IN TACKROOM!!!! [Bolts, crowhops, starts bucking down the arena]
Me: #$%^… @#%^&$… @#%@%^
Ali: Ride through it! Yeah, great. Ok, pick up canter again, make him canter through this.
Me: I can do this…
Corona: PERSON STILL IN TACK ROOM!
Me: #@@^ you, horse, you are WORKING. [Overbend, drive inside leg under past the spot]
Corona: Screw you! [Puts on brakes as soon as I soften, breaks into trot]
Me: @#%^^&^%*%**

By the end of the lesson I had gone fetal in my mind, and I stood in the middle of the arena unmoving as Kathy, the woman I shared the lesson time with, cantered around us. I felt like I had just ridden through some sick combination of Space Mountain meets the Disneyland Tea Cup spinny ride… and I was feeling jerked every which way, whiplash through my neck, a throbbing in my lower back. And I was depressed and couldn’t wait for the lesson to end so I could get off this pain in the ass horse.

Ali was sympathetic, and suggested that she would find me another horse if I wanted, but that she also believed I could stick it out and learn to manage it better. It just depended on what I wanted to do.

What do I do?

Ode To The Scariest Thing

2011-03-29T21:44:00.000-07:00

Just as I was getting the swing of things
You, Scariest Thing, appear
I always thought you would be
Getting launched high into the air, face-plant in the dirt;
A sudden flash of white blind panic, crashing through a fence,
Trampled by hooves.
Mashed against a wall.
Broken bones.

But no, you innocently appear at my doorstep;
Loving husband unknowingly brings you in,
Into our home
Unknowing.

You, worse than being mangled a thousand times;
I’d rather be thrown again and again,
Left in the woods unconscious
Than face you, Scariest Thing.

Damn you, white breeches!

Libertad!

2011-03-29T21:42:00.000-07:00

… well, like everything else, it’s a work in progress to free oneself from these ingrained habits. For me, it’s still all about focusing on feeling and being confident about my riding. I’m guessing this is going to be an ongoing topic for me for the next few weeks and months, until I’ve retrained myself…

I was looking forward to riding on Sunday, since my lesson was canceled Thursday night so I hadn’t seen Corona all week. His tack shed was still in a million pieces, but luckily Madelyn, his mom, had left me a dry saddle pad by his stall. I gave him a kiss on his big ol’ nose (I think his nose seems particularly large because it is always in my face looking to be kissed), and quickly tacked him up, excited to get going.

The arena was empty and quiet, which was unexpected since the past couple weeks around midday it had been bumper cars in there. We warmed up, me focusing on keeping him from sticking and hopping at the trot, committing to forward movement, staying soft and following through my shoulders, elbows, and seat, and generally thinking “I can I can I can".

Corona started moving out pretty good after some canter work, and we started doing serpentines and baby extended trots across the diagonal, walk trot transitions, and trot canter transitions. I was excited about having the arena all to ourselves, but he never quite settled into the workout. I’d get him set up, settle down into doing less (or nothing at all but following), and then a couple seconds later he’d be sucking back, or sticking his ribs into my inside leg, popping his head up to sight see and sucking back, or throwing himself downhill and running face first into the dirt.

In the spirit of being confident and doing less (instead of scared, tight, and micromanaging), I practiced going with the flow. I’d let him make the mistake, fix it, and go back to following again. The result was a mixed bag— I was feeling pretty good about myself for not interfering too much, and the spots where he was going well was quite nice, but at the same time it was really annoying to correct, leave alone, correct, leave alone, correct leave alone, every few seconds. It was a lot of work!

After some figures and transition work, we rode through Training Level Test 2, which we’ll be riding at the dressage show at home in a couple of weeks. It is a very simple test, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to practice… if nothing else it’ll help me remember the pattern better. The test went more of the same (fix, relax, gah!, fix, relax, gah!, fix, relax…), with some nice trot across the diagonal and a bit of a crappy left lead canter circle. As we finished up the test, I thought we’d better practice that left lead canter again, so I trotted him off after the halt to pick up the canter at the corner.

Apparently Corona’s pony ride time was up according to Corona, but I didn’t get the memo. As we rounded the corner he spooked at something (maybe a truck on the road? I didn’t notice anything) using it as an excuse to rear and crow hop. I asked him to keep moving forward. He bucked. I asked him to move forward again, and he gave me a very tight, fussy trot.

I wasn’t sure what to do to school him— with Howie I would’ve ridden him into submission, but Andi was coming out later to ride, and I had a niggling suspicion Corona needed a softer touch. Being confident with my gut (yes, still a conscious effort), I rode him down at the near end of the arena for another 10 minutes, doing trot and canter transitions, asking him to relax. It seemed to work okay, and when he stopped fussing I gave him a pat and called it a day.

We rode out of the arena to hack home on a long rein. As soon as we walked out from the barn, Corona found something to fuss at. I still don’t know what it was, but he took off crowhopping, rearing, and bucking all at once down the driveway. At first I thought I was going to be scared, but apparently this confidence thing is residual after an hour of brainwashing myself, and I simply sat on the situation without even a raised heartbeat (how is this possible?)

In order, here were my thoughts as he bucked:
1. Oh, he’s bucking. Am I scared? Oh weird, I’m not.
2. Hmm. I can ride this out.
3. This is really ANNOYING.

At which point I let out an exasperated, “Really, Corona???”

He stopped bucking for a moment, then someone behind us did something (dunno what) and he started again. I said, “Corona stop being an idiot” as he reared up. And after a couple more bucks he stopped. I thought about riding back, but thought I’d better check if he was being neurotic about anything in particular, so I got off and marched him into the barn where people where doing stuff. He didn’t care. I marched him back out. He didn’t care.

So I shrugged and walked him home and marveled at how confident I felt. Normally my heart would be pounding, I would be shaking in my boots, and I would be scared and frustrated and angry because of it. I would doubt my abilities as a rider, as if it was MY failure somehow for not foreseeing the situation and avoiding it.

This time I felt… well, really like nothing much… I was calm, I accepted that Corona was being a dumbass, I rode it out, and that was that.

Rained Out

2011-03-24T21:41:00.000-07:00

Perfectly timed to kill momentum! Been raining all week, lessons are canceled for tonight even with the indoor arena… mudslides on the roads… and Corona’s tack shed got blown to pieces again… won’t get out again until Sunday…

Sigh.

Climbing Out Of The Pits

2011-03-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday had all of the ingredients to continue my mudslide further down into the pits.

First, I arrived at the barn on a cold, windy, sideways rain kind of day. Corona’s tack shed just outside his barn had blown to pieces in the night. The roof had blown off, and the four sides subsequently fell apart like cards, and everything inside— saddle pads, polo wraps, supplements— was strewn across the mud and sopping wet.

I kind of wanted to cry, but I had given myself a mantra for the day, come hell or high water: “I can I can I can.” And this wasn’t just a mantra to get me through whatever came my way, it was an exercise to actually believe it. Chris had added this to my list of things to work on for the week— he said that confidence is something that every athlete needs to perform well. Nobody gets it naturally, and it’s something he’s heard over and over from top coaches back when he was competing in volleyball. So, it was my job to get confident, which means believing that I can, so that I can focus and commit 100% to what I set out to accomplish.

For me, it meant quashing that niggling voice inside my head that says I’m going to get bucked off and get carted to hospital again, I’m going to get run off with and crash through the fence, I’m never going to do [fill in the blank with pretty much anything a person does with a horse] properly.

So, in the spirit of progress, I said, “I can I can I can” out loud to the tack shed. It still laid there in a million pieces, but I got to work, and what do you know! 23 minutes later it was reassembled, although the contents were still sopping wet. Still saying “I can I can I can", I picked out a slightly less sopping wet saddle pad, wiped off my saddle and Corona’s bridle, and carried them into the barn.

I tacked up gentlemanly Corona, gave him lots of kisses, all the while saying “I can I can I can", as the butterflies inevitably crowded into my stomach and the niggling voice started chirping up— it was cold, it was windy— perfect time for Corona to forget his sensibilities and chuck me a good faceplant into the dirt.

“I can I can I can… I CAN I CAN I CAN”

There were a few horses in the arena, all well behaved. I hopped on Corona and focused on feeling my shoulder and elbow joints follow the movement of his mouth through the reins as his head bobbed up and down slightly at the walk. I put a bit of leg on and felt how that affected the slight swinging in my shoulders and elbows. It felt pretty cool.

Sarah came in to lunge lovely, imported, dark bay Robin. Unfortunately Robin is also a bit ding-a-ling from the cold, so he took off like a shot squealing and bucking at the near end of the arena. Corona didn’t blink and eye, but I sure did. And I got stuck again in my head… Corona spinning and spooking and running off and bucking, rearing, mashing me into a million pieces… I got stuck and we wound up walking for a long while, me scared to pick up the trot for fear of death and maiming.

“I can I can I can. I CAN TROT A HORSE AROUND THE ARENA.” When I said it like that, well, gosh, of course I can trot a horse around the arena!

So we settled into a great work. Me pushing everything aside and putting 100% focus (screw you, niggling voice!) into feeling my elbows and shoulder joints, relaxing into the forward motion, embracing forward motion. Reins were for support, so the horse can move forward, not for holding back or stopping. And Corona seemed so much happier, he only hopped a couple of times in protest when I forgot and got a little too fixed doing serpentines. We slipped into canter and I could feel his relaxation through my seat— shorten seat, shorten stride, lengthen seat, lengthen stride— hey, cool!

“I can I can I can!”

And the funny thing is, the more I worked on believing it, the more I believed it. I all but forgot the niggling voice and stayed calm and focused on what I was trying to improve (yes, still elbows and shoulder joints, soft seat and free forward movement). This was the most commitment I’ve ever felt to an exercise on horseback.

And then Corona mega spooked on the far end of the arena as I was asking him to lift his back from a walk to a trot. I didn’t see or hear anything, but he sure did. He shied sideways and started to run off, I pulled back on the reins quickly in anticipation of the bolt, and he crow hopped in protest and started going up in the front. I had never ridden a rear before, and I sure as heck didn’t want to start now. SO I LET GO OF HIS FACE and asked him to move forward, saying, “Eaaaasy boy, you’re all right.”

A second later we were all right again, Corona was over whatever had scared him and back to his calm, sane self. More importantly, in a split second I had learned the value of letting go— a big lesson for me.

“I can I can I can!” For the first time in my life I congratulated myself on riding a mishap perfectly. It could have been disaster, and yet with the proper touch here and there, it became nothing. And I had done it! I can! I will! I can!

With a big smile on my face (and some more “I can I can I can” to get my heart rate back to a normal and to get back to work and to ride Corona over and over again by the bad spot), we wrapped up with more canter, practicing circles to straightaways and vice versa, and extended trot, and then long and low trot.

Happy horse, happy rider. At the end of it I felt so great I decided to ride him back by myself to his barn, even through the wind and rain. I can! I asked him, “Do you do gates?” as we walked up to the gate by the arena. And like the can-do gentlemanly horse he is, he parked himself perfectly by the gate on the inside, waited for me to open the latch and push the gate open, and calmly walked around the gate on the outside, helped me push the gate shut with his face, parked himself perfectly by the latch for me to reach down and latch it.

We meandered back to the barn in his slow way, on a long rein, passing a trailer with lots of rustlings in it (I can I can I can walk past a trailer!) and a creaky hot walker (I can I can I can walk by a hot walker!), a man with a pack of dogs (I can I can I can walk past dogs!). Happy horse, happy rider.

“What do you think guy?” I asked him as I kissed his fuzzy nose.

“Can you get me a cookie? And maybe some mints? Oh, and more snuggles?” he asks.

I can I can I can!!

Old Habits Die Hard

2011-03-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

Last week was a frustrating one for me. I was in a foul mood pretty much all week, and I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere— I wasn’t learning anything, I wasn’t progressing, the last 7 years of my riding life have gotten me nowhere. I sucked just as much as when I was a know-nothing kid popping horses over fences; I might as well just go back to that and give up on this whole dressage business.

At least with jumps you can tell how high you’re jumping, so you know you’re getting better.
One evening this past week, I plopped down on the sofa with an angsty sigh. Chris was reading a book (well, trying to), but he looked up patiently and asked me, “What’s up?”

I explained to him my frustrations, and he thought about it for a little while. Then he suggested that I think up some weekly goals for myself. That will get me into the details and subtlety of what I was trying to accomplish.

I thought that sounded pretty reasonable. But of course I wasn’t done whining: “But I don’t know what the appropriate goals are! Corona is round when I ride him, I can ride walk, trot, canter with transitions that are also forward and round. And Ali keeps having me do more of the same, so I must be doing something wrong!”

He shrugged and told me to keep thinking about it, or ask Ali for help.

So last night in my lesson I focused hard on coming up with things I could do better, and listened extra hard to the things that Ali corrected me on. And the extra effort paid off. Corona was still round when I rode him, meaning he was stepping through pretty good from behind into solid contact, but I noticed a few very key and very important things for me to work on:

1. My hands suck. I mean, comparatively to where they need to be. They are still and even for the most part (except some times my right hand likes to drop a couple inches when I’m going that direction), but they have a long ways to go to being those soft, following hands needed for really good, non-restrictive contact. I have a very bad habit of being too… fixed with them, so I put my hands in a certain spot, kick the horse up into the bit, and kind of leave it there. Not very sophisticated. A good rider with good hands would apply varying amounts of pressure depending on what the horse needed, from fixed pressure (to do a correction) to soft following pressure (as a reward). Being too fixed makes a sensitive horse resistent, and in this case with Corona, he does a very sad little hop, because he is trying to move forward but can’t.

2. I carry too much tension. Which also leads back to my hands sucking. And, well, makes me feel like a constipated chicken trying to ride a horse. Thankfully people have told me I am hard on myself, so hopefully it doesn’t look that way too much. I try too hard, use too many muscles, stay too rigid. The whole trick to dressage is holding my core strong, while allowing my hands, arms, hips, knees, and ankles to stay soft and follow the horse. The point is to do as little as possible. So far I’ve got the holding part, and my ankles and knees are pretty good at staying soft, along with most of my seat (otherwise Corona won’t go at all, and Howie would buck me off). But how much better would he be if I really paid attention to letting go of this tension?

3. I am a control freak. Fear is still so instilled in me. Which leads back to the tension, which leads back to my hands sucking. Every time I see Corona pin his ears on something that little voice in my head goes, “Watch out! He’s going to do something stupid! You’re going to get bucked off!” Even though I think this about 30 times a ride. And so far I’ve only been bucked off what, 9 times in the past 7 years. That’s 9 times out of something like 2000 rides. That means I THINK about getting bucked of 60,000 times and actually only get bucked off 9 times. And all of those were either jumping stupid fences or with Howie in his bucking phase. What is wrong with me???
Well the good thing is this week I’ve found my goals— I’m going to work extra hard on figuring out what an allowing rein feels like, and how to do this varied pressure contact thing with Corona. And work on being soft and following in the right places. He will probably be a very thankful horse if I can get better at this over time. The only thing is, thinking about my riding in this level of detail has had the added effect of making me feel very bad about my riding.

Ah well, hopefully this means progress is around the corner…

Yippeeekiayahooooie... oh, tired

2011-03-13T21:36:00.000-07:00

So Corona said today. Apparently he is feeling fit and fresh after his hock injections and a light week last week to recover.

The note from Andi clued me in as soon as I opened the tack box to get him ready. She had ridden him yesterday and had left a note, “Our ride was good, but Corona was rearing to go (literally) ” I thought it was quite brave of her to put a happy face next to that kind of statement!

I immediately dispelled all thoughts of dismemberment from my head (why does it always dive straight there??), and played with Corona’s lip for a while. I remembered just how kind and good he is, and I should be happy that he is feeling better! Thinking about him being pain-free made me feel better in turn, and I went about getting him ready in a much better state of mind.
We entered the arena and said hi to Ali. She asked me how he was doing, and I mentioned Andi’s note. Ali thought maybe I should lunge him for a few minutes before hopping on. I thought that was a grand suggestion.

Lunging Corona, like nearly everything else about him, was a treat. All I had to do was clip the line on, cluck, and I had a horse cantering a neat circle around me. He was lunging himself! We went to the left first, he seemed perky, happy, and totally sane. Then we went to the right and he thought that was pretty exciting so he just had to buck and fart and run for a bit. Then he was, well, done.

So I hopped on and we had a beautiful ride, me focusing on giving him an allowing yet firm contact (I know I’m being too restrictive if he does a little stiff legged hop). And us focusing on forward, and big steps from behind, and lots of changes of direction, small circles, and lengthenings. And stretching out the outside part of his neck, to keep him from sticking. All in all it really felt pretty darn good!

After the lesson was the first time I had ever experienced Corona tired. I guess the extra 15 minutes of lunging made the difference… I rode him back to the barn with Chris walking next to us (he had come out to check out the new place)…

Chris was tired from a long week at work.
Corona was tired from his workout. His head was hanging down the entire length of rein, his nose inches from the ground.
Chris slowed down.
Corona slowed down.
Chris slowed down some more.
Corona slowed to a crawl…
… and pretty soon we were ground to a halt about 20 yards from the barn.

I started giggling, but I don’t think either of them were particularly amused. I nudged the pony, the pony said, meh. I nudged him again, and he begrudgingly shlepped the rest of the way to the barn. Thoroughbred Eventer indeed! I dismounted and led him to his stall. About 10 feet from our destination the pony ran completely out of quarters. He couldn’t possibly make it the last 6 steps to his stall. He was ready to set up camp right there and have a good long nap, in the middle of the barn aisle. I had to haul on his face (you know, that stubborn pony look when the ring on the snaffle sticks out sideways from his face from you pulling so hard?) and it probably didn’t help that I kept giggling.

5 Reasons Why I Love Corona

2011-03-04T21:36:00.000-08:00

#5. He is purty. Yes, it’s shallow, but he really is my favorite look— big, dark bay, and that lovely thoroughbred look from the sweet look in his eye to the finely shaped face and the powerfully built physique. Oh so purty!

#4. Corona is kind. I’ve hung around enough horses to be able to sort out the ones who want to help you and the ones who want to give you a debilitating case of low self-esteem. Corona is one of the kindest. He is due for his routine hock injections, which means right now he is uncomfortable going about his work (he does this sticky little hop at the trot when he is trying to warm up), but he still gives it his best. He doesn’t complain, he doesn’t take off bucking with a big f*** YOU, he doesn’t look for excuses. Compare this with the last horse you saw who took off bucking and farting when someone sneezed half a mile away.

#3. He is athletic. Big boy, big mover, and forward about it. The kind of pretty mover that makes people stop and watch him go, and the kind of big mover that makes me sore all along my lats after I ride him. The kind of big, forward movement that makes it feel like I’m flying. A little scary, but it’ll push me to get better!

#2. Corona cares. Turns out I’ve been asking for canter departs backasswards through my seat all this time. I’d never realized this because Fox never learned counter canter much so he always knew which lead I wanted, and I guess I just trained Howie backwards (oops). How did I find this out? Last night I sat on Corona and asked for the canter. We were going to the right, I asked backasswards so he picked up his left lead, I kept asking him to turn right, he figured out what I wanted, and did a flying change. All in one stride! Then the next time I asked, he translated in his head and picked up the correct lead. Now that’s a caring buddy of a horse. Of course, Ali still picked up on it and had a good long giggle.

#1. Corona is snuggly. And I mean that perfect kind of snuggly where he wants to crawl in your pocket and be friends, but also gives you space without you having to ask for it when you are trying to do something (like, go into his stall). He loves hugs, he loves it when you blow on his nose, and he is otherwise just lovely and charming to be around. I have to plan an extra 10 minutes to my grooming time just because I know it’ll be spent snuggling. Time-consuming, but so worth it!

Chosen By A Horse

2011-02-25T21:35:00.000-08:00

What a beautiful quote by Susan Richards… the book had me bawling more than once.

“Now when I walked into my barn, I walked into timelessness: the coachman’s button evoking the distant past, my childhood, the present—all merged into one panorama of horses. I already owned three horses, and the time I spent with them wrapped around my day like brackets, the same beginning and ending no matter what happened in the middle.”

Familiarity Breeds... Progress?

2011-02-25T21:34:00.000-08:00

Monday evening I was once again panting and seeing spots, but at least dear Tobin was mostly round for my efforts. It had been a while since I had ridden him, and I was once again struck by how much of a kindred soul he was to Howie. In the stall he was a big puppy dog, with that sweet, slightly confused look in his eye that Howie always had. Under saddle he was such a similar size, with a similar feel to his gaits and his, er, non-going-ness. The difference was he was well trained, so hitting him with the whip actually got a response, and he was so heavy in the hand from habit.

My left hand went numb from the shoulder down, and I jabbed him with my left spur. He plopped himself round, but by then my arm was already numb, so I just kind of left it where it was and tried to ignore the numbness. I kicked him up into a canter, and with Ali urging me to “ride him from your seat to your hand", proceeded a series of jabs, whips, pony club kicks, and nudges to try to unlock a soft Tobin. Which Ali promised me existed. I got 2 steps in the canter (huzzah!) in which I felt that soft, forward energy. Then Tobin ducked out of our connection and I couldn’t feel my left arm again. Jab jab, kick, whip whip, nudge, jab.

We finished the lesson with a couple of very respectable flying changes. Which reminded me how talented this horse is. And made me feel like a lazy bum sitting on this magnificent horse and wishing that he would stop making me work for every last stride he took. Jab jab, whip, kick, nudge nudge, jab.

On my way out, Ali asked me how I felt about the progress. I said it was encouraging, and I felt like I was getting a better response from him. She agreed, saying it was the difference between night and day. At that moment Brandon rode in on Corona, and I cast a longing glance at that big bay thoroughbred. Off handedly, I said, “well I sure wasn’t getting Tobin to go like Corona.”
The words echoed in my head as I untacked and groomed Tobin and put him up for the night. I gave him a big hug and he snuffled in my hair (so much like Howie!), let him mug me for a handful of cookies. Then I found myself walking back to the arena to watch Brandon’s lesson. Corona was put together, moved magnificently, and was otherwise the picture of obedience.
What was I scared of? To ride a wonderful, forward, well-trained, gorgeous, and obedient horse?
Then I realized I was ready. It was time to push myself a little, and to have confidence that heck, I knew what I was doing. I was never going to get near my goals if I stayed in my little self-imposed bubble.

Plus I liked riding Corona.

The next day I emailed Ali and set up the lease.

Comfort Zone

2011-02-14T21:33:00.000-08:00

There is a fine line between fear and excitement, and I wasn’t sure which side I was on as I cantered Corona around the indoor arena yesterday. He had spent the first part of the lesson being alternately fussy and lazy— he’d give me a little dinky donkey trot so that Heather on little pony Pennywise who was a good foot shorter than Corona was nearly passing us— and then flipping his head and generally saying “MEH” when I put my leg on to get him to move out a bit. I was a bit paranoid that he was so behind the leg (makes it easy for him to be naughty) and he was doing a great job sightseeing instead of paying attention to his job.

Then we did a bit of warm up canter which seemed to loosen him up a bit and get him flowing forward into my hand. I felt pretty good afterwards, as we practiced lengthening the trot across the diagonal (yee haw!) and doing some leg yields. And he started paying attention with his connection solid in my hands and his ears mostly trained on me. He would flick them forwards every once in a while if someone interesting was walking by the arena or when the gray in the outdoor arena would buck and fart.

Then there were about 6 horses in the arena, so that when we did our second spurt of canter work we had to go over some poles set up just to the inside of the rail when we were going to the right. This woke Corona up pretty good, and he shifted up another gear. All of a sudden I had all of this… forward energy. The kind of forward energy where it feels like I’m riding a wave and not really controlling it— just directing it where to go. He was all business, no more ear flicking, all of his attention trained on me, and wow he was moving. Really really moving. And I got a little lump in my belly thinking that gosh, this is perfect while I have him truly connected to my hands, but wow if he got away this could really really suck.

And he was a perfect gentleman, didn’t think a single naughty thought except for moving forward as he is supposed to. All I had to do was nudge on the inside and scoot my hip and we’d launch into the canter, all roundness and upness and forwardness. At the canter he felt liquid under me, he was soft in my hand with long, powerful strides as we blew past horse after horse. Sometimes I’d lose a bit of the softness and he would run off a little, and I could fairly quickly collect him and with a bit of inside leg catch him again, but I really did feel like I was sitting right on that line of excitement and fear and teetering on one side and then the other. I had never felt this kind of forward before, I was elated by it one stride, but then I wasn’t sure I could handle it the next stride.

Chris says that a little bit of fear is good for a person. He says he has that little lump in his belly every time he flies helicopters, and that makes him a better pilot. So doesn’t that apply to horses?

The answer for me is, I don’t know. Ali was all praise for my riding yesterday, and even encouraged me to think about leasing him (whereas last week she had had her reservations about my safety on a worrier like Corona). I was handling him nicely and learning from him because I just had to go with it and adapt to ride him well, but I have had so many experiences in the past where that lump in my belly had turned into sirens to the hospital. He pushes me to the limit of my comfort zone, which makes me learn real fast for sure, but honestly I don’t know if I enjoy the fear.

Hopefully Scooby will be sound this week and I can give him a spin and evaluate how I feel. Talk about polar opposites— majestic, powerful, thoroughbred Corona vs. dippy, little, comical paint-mutt Scooby!

Dippy Funny Goofy Scooby

2011-02-11T21:31:00.000-08:00

I was unusually excited to go to the barn last night. And this is saying something, considering every time I get to go to the barn I get so excited that I can’t drink caffeine (even green tea) because combined with the adrenaline, my hands start shaking. Yes, really.

I couldn’t tell if I was excited because I was excited about riding Scooby, or because he was open for lease and this meant that I could have a horse for lease. It definitely meant that I was ready to bond again (as much as a lease would allow) with one horse rather than riding a bunch of them, which I knew I would want at some point when I had finally recovered and healed from Howie. So I guess I am getting close.

Scooby, as I thought when I saw him on Saturday, was a gangly scrawny looking weirdly colored (light chestnut and paint) horse. The big patch of white on his face made him look particularly comical, and he wore his ears cock-eyed which just added to his dippy expression. As I pulled him out of his stall and put him in the cross-ties, however, I did see that he stood nice and square, and hey! he was put together pretty darn well. I got even more excited.

I asked Ali where his grooming stuff was. She said the trash can in the corner. I went to the corner by his stall and looked around. I checked a couple of grain bins (filled with grain), a couple of rubber maids (filled with hay), and was baffled. Until I saw that I had been overlooking a ghetto, rusty, old-fashioned metal trash can with a big dented lid. And sure enough, SCOOBY was written across it. Looking inside, I found exactly one brush, one hoofpick, and one curry comb piled on top of his alfalfa pellets.

I pulled them out, and went over to Scooby, and started falling for this dippy, goofy looking horse.

He pinned his ears when I approached him with the curry comb. I said, “really?” and started lightly currying off his sweat marks on his back. He put his ears forward (crookedly) and back again on me, looked at me out of a soft eye, and fell asleep.

I started brushing off some sweat marks off his ears, he moved back. I said, “really?” and started lightly brushing his face. He tilted his head, closed his eyes, and leaned into the rub.
I came over with the saddle. He pinned his ears, flicked them forward, fidgeted a little, pinned his ears again. I said, “really?” and put the saddle on him gently. He stood a minute, staring at me, then flicked his ears forward crookedly, chewed, and fell asleep again.

We went into the arena. I led him up to the mounting block (which is high, so I stood over him by a couple of feet). He planted his feet halfway there and stared at me wild-eyed, his ears crookedly pointing at me, his head tilted in a quiet, “what the hell???". I said, “really?” and walked off the mounting block, led him in place, and got up on the block again. He fell asleep. I hopped on and off we went.

Under the saddle we had the most hilarious conversation I’ve had in a long time. I started giggling and couldn’t stop.

Me: Ok boy, walk on.
Scooby: Walk? Ok. Oh you mean slow, don’t you.
Me: Mm not really. Walk on.
Scooby: Huh? Er, ok… like this?
Me: Yes! Good boy!
Scooby: Aren’t you going to shank me?
Me: No.
Scooby: I kinda don’t believe you, but ok….
Me: Ok boy, let’s do some trot.
Scooby: Ok! * trot *
Me: Um, sweetie, this is barely a jog. I know you’re a western pony, but you can stretch out a bit, can’t you?
Scooby: You are going to shank me.
Me: I am NOT going to shank you. I don’t even have a shank. You’re on a snaffle. Trot on, boy!
Scooby: Um, ok…
Me: Hey better! Good boy. A little more….
Scooby: * Weirdo canter - trot - hoppity thing*
Me: What the hell is that??
Scooby: You couldn’t possibly have wanted me to trot that fast. You want me to lope-trot.
Me: Your OWNER likes it when you do this??
Scooby: Heck yes. I do this good, don’t I?
Me: * Giggling uncontrollably*

And then… after 5 minutes of the most gleeful ride I’ve had in a long time, Scooby pulls up lame in the left front. How do we know it’s the left front? He was a bit hitchy at the trot, so I hopped off, and we both laughed when we saw him go, “Owie” by holding his left front foot up off the ground. I was devastated he was lame, and that I couldn’t finish my ride just when I was having so much fun!

Hopefully he’ll get better soon (we think he just stepped on something funny). And I’ll have another shot soon!

My Closet

2011-02-09T21:30:00.001-08:00

Ali sent me an ominous email yesterday: “You’ll be riding Scooby on Thursday. Please bring your spurs.”

Like a good student, I go looking for my spurs (big ones, for Howie), which I haven’t seen since a year ago when I sold Howie.

I stuck my head in the closet and pulled out a fluffy white dressage saddle pad.
Under the horse blankets, I pulled out a boot pull.
Under the boot pull, I pulled out my dressage boots (the real ones, which I don’t wear very often).
Under the boots, I pulled out a leather halter. No idea where I got something so nice!
Under the halter, I pulled out a cute western saddle pad.
Under the saddle pad, I found an old sock.

No spurs. Checked the car, checked the other closets, checked my dressage habit, which I haven’t touched since the Fox days.

Sigh.

I guess I’ll have to find some way to sneak out of work and get to the tack store tomorrow…

By Golly, It's the Sun!

2011-02-09T21:30:00.000-08:00

So I felt on Saturday as Heather and Pennywise, and Blackie and I trotted circles around Ali in the outdoor arena.

It was a gorgeous day, feeling like an early summer day with the sun golden and the air mild. I was giddy with being outside during the day, in the sunshine, even though Blackie was making me work so hard that all I could hear was the pounding of my pulse in my ears, sweat dripping down my shirt, and my eyes starting to swim to spots. Ali and Heather were very complimentary, apparently I was getting him quite round, but I was so busy keeping him going and feeling my arms fall off that I wouldn’t have known it!

And it was fun having Heather out again. Pennywise was an adorable welsh cob / thoroughbred cross, shaggy and happy in his nonchalant way. Both horses were completely non-reactive and no-drama, even with trucks and horses and horse trailers and mail trucks driving past on the road by the arena. Again I thanked my lucky stars for having the chance to come out on this gorgeous sun drenched day, enjoying my horses and my friends.

The feeling continued after the lesson, when I took a little trail ride around the property. Having ridden at night so often, I haven’t had a chance to explore the ranch at all. We walked back to Pennywise’s pasture after the lesson, Blackie plunking along, me happy to let him go as slow as he wanted I was enjoying my little trail ride so much. The scenery was beautiful— the ranch was a tidy little place with well cared for horses, and up on a hill so that when we turned to walk back to the main barn where Blackie lived, we could see green hills opening off onto a sparkling blue bay in the distance.

In the cross ties, I told Blackie that this day couldn’t get any better. On the way to his stall we stopped to say hello to a little paint horse named Scooby. Ali had suggested I try him out as a possible lease horse, with the caveat that while he was quiet and well-broken in the cowboy way, he really had no clue how to go in dressage. He even cantered in front and trotted behind the last time Ali had someone on him, but she said when he figured out what all he was supposed to do, he was a neat little mover.

I put Blackie up and gave a big good boy, and went back to take another look at Scooby. He stuck his big white nose out to poke me with it, friendly guy. I couldn’t see much under his oversized blanket, but he looked a bit scrawny, like a gangly teenage kid who was all legs and no body. He poked me in the face again with his nose, and I patted his head.

“See you Thursday, guy! Let’s see how you go.”

I Love Thoroughbreds

2011-02-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

I can’t help it, thoroughbreds were my first love and they will always hold a special place in my heart. Riding a thoroughbred is effortless; they are so in tune all you have to do is think what you want and off you go.**

Last night on the 17+ hand Corona, a big bay thoroughbred, I had a warm feeling of homecoming. He was a lovely gentleman, never mashing me in his stall and minding his manners even as we walked out in the scary night to commute from his barn to the arena barn. Under saddle he was a little worried, particularly around the doorway (where obviously, gigantic horse-eating beasties were going to jump in at any moment), but he never took it as an excuse to do anything stupid or mean. He was just a little worried here and there, and after a few minutes of warm up, he ate up the encouragement I was giving him and became quite a bit braver.
Eventually he relaxed, and he was so simple to connect to through the hand once he got moving. We opened up his trot and it felt like I was flying his stride was so ground-eating. We worked on stretching the outside of his neck, getting him to really work into the connection in a forward, stretched, and relaxed way. He really ate up the compliments I was giving him, and learned so quickly what I wanted. I only had to think it, and he was there.

His canter was just that dreamy rocking horse, ground-eating canter that every rider dreams about. Our depart was awesome, all I had to do was ask him through my seat, and squeeze a little to encourage him to canter forward. Then he started cantering up and down in a confused manner, and Ali told me that I was locking my hips. Of course! I mentally smacked myself (I should know better, but hey, I’ve been riding Blackie the past few weeks and he doesn’t care). I started following with my seat and hands and Corona relaxed, rolled on forward, and we had a gorgeous canter going.

Then we started working on shoulder-in, which was super hard for him, but he really tried his best and every time I patted his neck he stretched down and exhaled in appreciation. The more I talked to him the harder he tried. I haven’t felt this in tune in a horse in a long while! I was having so much fun I would giggle when he ask, like this? oh hard. this? uh, this?? and when I told him he got it right, he would arch his neck a little with pride as I made a fuss of “GOOD BOY! Who’s a smart boy!!”

We wrapped up with a lovely stretchy trot (also hard for him, he is so used to being a scrunched up little ball of worry), and I took him back to his barn. In the stall he was a lovely pocky pony, nuzzling me for hugs and treats (I found his stash of cookies), but not invading my space either. If I moved into his space, he would back off to make room. For a 17 H horse, what a breath of fresh air, after having owned and lately been riding a few more… how to say it?… horses that just aren’t bothered.

I gave Corona a big kiss on his big nose, told him what a good boy he was, and gave him a big cookie. I thanked him for reminding me what blessings thoroughbreds are, and said good night with a big smile on my face.

** Disclaimer: This sentiment only applies to sane, trained thoroughbreds. I have also ridden mad crazy, totally untrained, and just pure rank thoroughbreds. Those are not being discussed in this post.

2011 Goal Sheet

2011-02-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

Got an email reminder from Ali today to fill this out. I’d been procrastinating since I don’t think I’ve ever thought about setting goals in a formal way for myself before. With Fox it was just “ride as much as I can and love my pony", and with Howie it was “don’t fall off as much as I can and love my pony".

Anyway, here’s what I came up with. It is a bit nerve wracking writing goals down, since once I admit it to myself the more it’ll be obvious if I don’t achieve. But, if I don’t admit it to myself I won’t come up with a plan to get there, either. And, the long term goal was something I’d never mentioned to anyone, more like a pipe dream. But I think I can do it, even though it’ll take me years and years… Ah well, here goes:

1. My Name: me

2. My Horse: none

3. I am interested in participating in the following activities:
x Dressage
Hunter/Jumper
Eventing
Cross Country Jumping
x Horse Shows
x Horse Care

4. Two things that my horse and I do well are:
(1) Focusing on whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing at that moment
(2) Keeping a strong core / riding through my seat

5. Two things that my horse and I struggle with regularly are:
(1) Keeping a consistent inside-leg-to-outside-rein connection
(2) Being brave with my corrections

6. In 2010 my goals were:
(1) Sell my horse and take a break from horse ownership
(2) Find a new place to ride that had quality horses and dressage instruction

7. Did I achieve these goals? Yes!

8. My Long Term Goal is: To ride upper level dressage (and be able to keep up with a fancy dressage horse)

9. In 2011 my goals are:
(1) To ride a good training level test at a show (not sure what good would mean?)
(2) To have a consistent inside-leg-to-outside-rein connection for more than 50% of
my riding time, say, during lessons

10. To accomplish my goals I will: Make time to lease an appropriate horse 2x a week, keep a positive attitude every time I’m at the barn, and somehow keep up with my job so I have money to pay for lessons

It's Better With Friends

2011-02-03T21:25:00.000-08:00

Last week I duly trekked out to the barn in the middle of the night for an 8:15 p.m. lesson. It was dark and lonely. I said hi to Ali and Megan, who were in the tack room getting their schedules sorted for the week. As they were busy, I went and fetched Blackie and started talking to him for company. He mostly looked at me out of a soft eye while I told him about work, how cold it was, and was he going to actually move his butt for me today? Then he flicked his ears away from me when he heard his mom (Megan) talking to Ali.

I finished up bridling Blackie and started dragging him into the arena. To my pleasant surprise a woman with a HUGE bay thoroughbred entered the arena at the same time, and Ali emerged to ask me if I’d be up for sharing the lesson as a semi-private, with the cheaper rate. I was delighted to have the company on this cold, dark night. Plus, I was happy to make friends.
The woman’s name was Cathy, and she was even taller than Ali. The horse was Corona, a 17+ hand thoroughbred that Cathy had a trial lease on. As we warmed up, I was enjoying the dynamic of a semi-private. Automatically I was paying more attention because I was watching how Cathy and Corona rode, and I was also double checking myself whenever Ali suggested a correction for Cathy in addition to her corrections for me.

There was also more energy in the arena, which I really needed. By Thursday evening, I am generally more or less totally creamed by the work week, so the best I can do is drag myself out to the barn, drag Blackie into the arena, and drag him around the arena. But with Cathy and Corona and Ali around all chatting, I actually managed to kick Blackie quite forward and into a frame. I lost feeling in my right arm he was so heavy, but hey, it’s progress!

We finished up the lesson by riding the training level test 1 in turns. I had Blackie doing pretty good working trot, stretching low trot, and left lead canter. And a beautiful free walk (his favorite). The steering was a bit iffy, my circles were more like eggs and I missed half the markers by about a foot for transitions, and his right lead canter was way slow, but all in all it was a well ridden test. For me. On Blackie.

And it was really fun for us to talk about each other’s riding and encourage each other, as it turns out we are both the hard-on-ourselves types. Cathy rode a beautiful test and was so hard on herself for “flopping around all over the place", which she didn’t. I kicked Blackie around and felt like a kindergartener, but Cathy was very positive on how hard it is to get Blackie to just, go, when you want him to, forget transitions or connection.

All in all it was a very good reminder for me how much more fun having friends at the barn makes riding. I have yet to make any new friends at the barn since I’m just there once a week in the middle of the night. I miss my friends from the old days with Fox and Howie. But I am hopeful that I can talk Heather and Albert into taking some semi-privates with me, and hopefully make some new friends at this new place!

Life's Not Fair

2011-01-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

This week for some reason I felt like I was hearing a lot of “life’s not fair". I guess it was because our little start up had just closed its first round of funding, we had just doubled in size (from 3 to 6 people), and the Silicon Valley start up scene is just pretty incestuous so there’s always gossip going around about who is worth what, who made a ton of money and didn’t deserve it, who deserves to make that money instead, etc.

I personally don’t have a lot of tolerance for that kind of thinking, but tonight when I took my lesson on a big bay thoroughbred gelding named Willy, “life’s not fair” made its way into my thoughts.

Willy was a rather handsome fellow, even though he smelled like pee (why do big thoroughbred geldings smell like pee more often than not?) I was cautious as I groomed him and tacked him in his stall, just because he was a new horse to me, but he didn’t try anything other than a half-hearted taste of my sleeve. Which I smacked him for. And he apologized for with a very cute apologetic look.

Ali off-handedly asked me if I had brought my spurs. And there went any delusions I had of Willy going forward without having me work for it.

I hopped on the big guy, and kicked him into the walk (yes, he had to be kicked into the walk). I kicked him to get him to stride out in the walk. I kicked him to keep it up. After a few minutes of walking I kicked him into the trot. Then he tripped flat on his face. And Ali told me to really ride the back end of this horse, because he wasn’t particularly talented and he was just a dopey kind of guy.

Dopey was a great way to describe Willy. He was really dopey the first half of my lesson, because I was being timid (I’m awesomely neurotic that way every time I’m on a new horse), I hadn’t gotten our act together, and Willy was just a sleepy kind of guy. We tripped our way around the arena and gave a generally dopey picture.

Then we cantered a bit, and I got sick of kicking, nagging, and hitting him every stride. So I sat up, engaged my core, and gave him a couple of good thwaps with the whip until he actually reacted, and generally changed my attitude to, hey guy let’s get serious here. So we did get serious. He started giving me more in the back end, so we were able to establish a good connection in front (and he actually was very honest about it and had a lovely feel in the hand). I asked, and he tried his best, in his dopey way.

Now, this horse is just not talented. He did not get a big piece of the physical gift pie when he was born. He is straight up behind, and straight in the shoulder, he is built pretty downhill, and he was also very stiff in the right hind. Even at his best he just couldn’t do half the things that Blackie could without even thinking twice about it.

But, Willy’s personality really made an impression on me. He was sweet, and honest, and tried his best in his charming dopey way. His circles to the right completely sucked, but when I asked him to bend properly through his rib cage he tried his best before petering out because it was just really hard for him. When I asked him to extend, he gave me his best shot even though it didn’t feel very impressive (and I’m guessing didn’t look very impressive). And all the while he kept his honest connection to my hand, saying all the while, “I’m here. I’m trying!”

By the end of the lesson his personality had totally won me over. And it made me sad to hear that he was for sale and had been for quite some time, but Ali just couldn’t find anyone to overlook his physical limitations and love him for his big dopey heart. And it was another stroke of bad luck for him that he was born a big, big thoroughbred, intimidating for the pleasure riders that his temperament would be perfect for.

I put him up after my lesson and patted him on his neck a few more times. It was cold, so I hugged his face and put my hands on his nose to get his breath to warm them. He was happy for the companionship, and stood still while I hugged his face for a minute or so. Then I turned to leave, and I told him what a good boy he was. He looked at me with his sweet dopey face.

“Life’s not fair.”

Green Horn

2011-01-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

Last weekend Blackie and I were practicing sitting trot leg yields when a man with a little bay horse on a lunge line entered the arena. I was finally getting the hang of Blackie— we had had our discussions about when to go (all the time), where to go (where my outside rein directed him), and how to go (with impulsion, forwardness, and a soft roundness through the neck and back). I was feeling pretty good about myself, actually.

Ali spoke softly into the microphone, “Watch out for that guy who just came in. He is a total greenhorn.”

I nodded, and glanced over at the pair again. The guy could definitely be a greenhorn— his lunge line was completely tangled, impossibly knotted, and had gigantic loops that dragged on the floor at that perfect length for tripping on. The little bay horse looked like a seasoned veteran, though, with calm eyes and a rather lackluster attitude. I figured I’d give them some space and we’d be fine— Blackie wasn’t exactly the kind of horse raring to go anywhere, even when I had a spur permanently lodged in his right side.

Ali had me doing more sitting trot (yes, that was extremely difficult to sit properly, although at least possible now that Blackie and I were on the same page), so I forgot about those guys for a while. I was grinning ear to ear when we nailed a leg yield from the rail to the quarter line— Blackie was bent correctly (huzzah), moving forward freely (double huzzah), and soft through the back and to the bit (triple huzzah). On top of that, or maybe because of it, he effortlessly slid away from the rail like silk. He really was such a fancy horse when he gave up on being an obstinate mule!

We stopped on that note, with me giving Blackie and big ol’ pat and a big ol’ good boy! He stretched his neck down in appreciation, and I felt bad about calling him an obstinate mule. Ali left us to do a couple of cool down laps and went about her chores.

Suddenly Blackie’s head shot straight up and he pivoted around quite quickly (for him). In reality it was an extremely gentle “spook", but in Blackie speak it was probably him having some sort of heart attack quasi-meltdown. I looked over at where his ears were pointing… back to the greenhorn.

The greenhorn was trying to lounge the little bay. I guess he wasn’t having much success getting the horse to move because the greenhorn had tied a few plastic bags together at the end of his whip and was rustling the bags while chasing the horse in random spurts. The horse would look at the bag, walk away a few strides with his back to the greenhorn, and stop. The greenhorn would run up to the horse and shake the bags at the horse’s butt. The horse would turn around to face the greenhorn, stop and stare. It was a pretty funny dance, but I sensed the man’s frustration and thought it would be mean to laugh.

The bags rustling did get to Blackie though, so I walked him around the far end of the arena and got off post haste.

2 Seconds

2010-12-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

In about 2 seconds last night, Blackie dismantled any delusions that I had this dressage thing figured out. The lesson went something like this:

Me: C’mon, let’s go.
Blackie: Meh.
Me: Oh, come ON! (spur)
Blackie: Ok fine. * trots on *
Me: Holy crap you are a big mover. * boing * * boing * * boing *
Ali: Ok super! You’ve got him going! Feel that suspension?
Me: Heck yes.
Ali: Ok, now you need to get him round. It’ll help make it a little more comfy.
Me: Hrm. (Open inside rein, LOTS of inside leg)
Blackie: Ha ha. Nice try. No thanks. * starts to put on brakes *
Me: Noooo! (smack with whip)
Ali: Ok, try again.
Me: (Open inside rein, spur inside leg)
Blackie: Oh thanks, I’ll just hang on the inside rein here, you hold up my head.
Me: Ow.
Ali: You can do more! Come on, get after him! Get his inside hind engaged!!
Me: Ow. Ok. C’mon, you. (Open inside rein a lot, spur inside leg, drive with inside seat bone)
Blackie: Ok fine. (Connects to outside rein)
Ali & Me: Yay!
Ali: Ok, now ask him to move on.
Me: C’mon guy, bigger steps. (Wiggle feet)
Blackie: Ok here’s my good trot. ** BOING ** ** BOING ** ** BOING **
Me: ABS. ABS. ABS. OOF. OW. OW. OW.
Blackie: Man, you’re bouncy. Oooh you loosened your outside rein. (Head up, blows through outside rein, tries to run into rail)
Me: Dammit.
Ali: Try again!

Blackie is the biggest mover I’d ridden to date. His walk has an 18 inch overstep! And his suspension at the trot was ridiculous… I gave it the old college try, but his big movement plus his “oh you didn’t really mean that, let’s just stop and do nothing” attitude plus his stiffness at the base of his neck really made me feel like I was learning to drive stick shift all over again.
Lurch-lurch-lurch-boing-BOING-lurch-boing-LURCH-BOING-BOING-BOING…

Oh, That Outside Rein

2010-12-09T21:21:00.000-08:00

Throughout the years, I have to admit, I never really solved this mystery that is the outside rein. When I was jumping, in hunters I left the horse’s face alone, and in cross-country and jumpers I set my hands and kicked the horse up into the bit, and off we went.

I was always befuddled with the dressage contact. Messing with a horses face really made me nervous (it still does), and every time I did that open inside rein thing the horse would turn his head, I’d kick him forward with his head bent to the inside, then I’d release the inside rein, and apparently my outside too, because we would still be going around with his nose poked out. One trainer was always frustrated with me… she constantly said, “It’s easy. Can’t you feel it’s wrong? Haul on his face!” Another trainer would be encouraging, saying, “You can do it! Kick him!!”

Neither of these got me very far. I would occasionally get contact by sheer luck, and Howie was one of those blessed athletes that always carried himself in a frame so I put this issue on the back burner for a while.

Enter Ali and Chai. On my last lesson this past weekend, it finally clicked. I got that stretchy feeling in my outside rein by focusing on the position of the rib cage (rather than the head and neck), and on the inside hind leg. Chai was a wonderful teacher, since she is so cunning with her counterbend-so-I-don’t-have-to-work trick. That, and while we were working on a circle, Ali pointed out that when I did my inside rein thing, my outside rein has to move up the horse’s withers to give her room to stretch. I can’t just leave it where it is (the horse will have nowhere to go), and I can’t move it out sideways or forget about it (the horse will escape). Also, if I timed my inside leg correctly, the extra room in my outside rein should be taken up by the horse, and we will get stretchy outside rein and true contact.

We practiced this for about 10 minutes before I started to get the hang of it. Then our lesson really took off as I felt the missing piece of the puzzle drop into place. I could feel Chai working deep into the bend, and transitions became fluid and a heck of a lot more comfortable now that I had her working consistently with contact. I felt like I was riding her in a shoulder in pretty much the entire lesson, and realized this was the whole inside-leg-to-outside-outside thing.

So, a lot of loaded terms here— “riding inside leg to outside rein", “consistent contact", “true bend", etc. This is why I think so many pieces of dressage writing read more like poetry and scavenger hunt clues than instructions… because it’s so hard to describe.

I am just thankful that I’ve finally found my missing piece of the puzzle (for now). Can’t wait to get out there tonight and practice, practice, practice!

More Like Marshmallows And Less Like... Luggage

2010-11-29T21:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I have no control of the words that come out of my mouth, it’s true.

I was cantering around on Chai, a sweet bay thoroughbred mare. She was trying her best, but she just hasn’t done a lot of dressage, so her natural tendency was to stick her rib cage to the inside, counterbend, and stick her nose out like a hunter.

I had just managed to nudge her rib cage over for a proper bend, and as a result she gave me a very beautiful, soft, balanced canter.

Ali asked me what the difference was. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was expecting, probably something like I had finally made the right correction to her bend, etc. etc. But what she got was, “Well, it’s more like marshmallows and less like… luggage.”

Free Motivation

2010-11-28T21:18:00.000-08:00

I was back on Tobin last week for my lesson, and I sighed a bit inwardly. The last time I had ridden him he had poked his nose out and gone around like a third rate nag with me pony club kicking him every stride just to keep him at a crawl. Ali had promised that he was a 3rd level dressage horse, and I can see it from how he is built, and I’ve seen pictures of him put together (and he is GORGEOUS), but boy he is going to make me work for it.

So I sat on him again this time, once again trying to figure out how to find an outside rein on a horse that was moving at maybe half a mile per hour. The answer is I can’t. I really had to get him moving. I picked up myself, picked up my reins, bumped him with my legs, and when that didn’t do any good I thwapped him one with the whip.

Now, I have to admit I have baggage. I have memories of past trauma and failures that just won’t go away. And as I thwapped Tobin I had a flashback to Howie, who on his stubborn days, you could beat until YOU were sore and he would doggedly continue at a crawl… just to be funny. So when I thwapped Tobin I have to admit I had a bit of a defeatist attitude going.

But to my surprise, Tobin scooted his hindquarters straight up into my hands and plopped himself soft and round. My jaw hit the ground, and Ali cheered. We spent the next part of the lesson trying to keep him there, which included a lot of, er, motivation from my part, and for probably the first time in my life I really felt a true outside rein. It wasn’t just helping to contain the horse or get his head down, it felt… stretchy. And I could shorten his frame, work him deeper into the stretchiness, and then push to elongate. Huzzah!

After about 30 minutes I was panting from constantly keeping him motivated with whip and leg. Although we were round for maybe half the time, rather than none of the time. Progress! Ali wasn’t done with us yet, though— she was having us do walk/canter/walk transitions in an effort to get me to get that stretchy feeling through the canter. As we were cantering around the short side, a horse on the outside of the arena started trying to buck off his rider, knocking over some standards. It was also nighttime, so it sounded and looked particularly bizarre. Tobin heard the commotion and did a cute tiny little butt scoot spook.

My memories kicked in again. How many times have I been left in the dirt now? Memories of crashing and burning, getting bucked off, that sick feeling of being launched into the air and knowing that in another half a second I was going to go SPLAT.

But, to my surprise again, when I looked around, Tobin was still scooting but that was all he was doing. And he had butt scooted himself into my hands again and plopped himself round, and was now going around in a perfect frame.

Ali cheered again. “This is super!! Use the free motivation!” she says. “Take advantage!!”

“I thought he was going to take off with me and buck me off,” I said.

Ali shrugged. “Tobin’s not going to do that,” was her simple response. And she put us back to work.

I thought about that shrug for the rest of the lesson. It was time for me to hang up my baggage and focus on the present as much as I can. I was no longer riding babies and green horses, and it was time to just… get on with it. The past did not dictate the future, and the more I cling to it, the more it was going to hold me back. So I took a deep breath and rode the horse for who he was— a very well trained and trusty steed.

Back in the Saddle

2010-11-01T21:16:00.000-07:00

Wow, it has been 8 months since I sold Howie and took a break from riding. In those months, I’ve married the Man of My Dreams, gone for a month long round-the-world honeymoon from Milford Sound to Singapore to Istanbul to Paris. We came back to new jobs and dinner parties and weekend trips.

And yet, horses… horses! always lingered in my mind. Every quiet moment I had— sometimes lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, other times driving by a particularly beautiful view, sometimes staring out of the window at work— my memories of horses and a rush of emotions would flood very corner of my thoughts.

At first these emotions were conflicted— There was a sense of sadness and loss from selling Howie, and also a sense of guilty relief. I had time now to focus on work, to spend with Chris, to take the weekend off and spend it in wine country… I didn’t have to worry about when I’m going to find the time to get out, to organize the turnout schedule and train the horse and clean the stall and oil the tack and haul the feed. For the first time in a long time, I could have a life outside the barn without feeling like I was letting my horse down.

And then, gradually, the emotions turned to feelings of longing. I simply missed horses and riding. At first I convinced myself I was just missing a hobby, any hobby. I started doing some yoga, thinking I missed exercise. It didn’t fix my longing. So I tried learning golf, thinking I missed being outside. Then I tried hiking. Then I tried doing all 3 at the same time, and came to the realization that riding was my hobby. I may not be the greatest at it, I may get frustrated with it and resent it from time to time for being obnoxiously expensive and emotionally draining, but it also brought such joy and inspiration to my life. It was my hobby, and there was no getting around it.

I did some research and booked a lesson with Ali at I**** Ranch, a nice and laid back barn in the area with some really nice horses. The morning of my lesson I was bouncing off the walls just for sheer joy. It wasn’t until then that I realized how much riding meant to me, and how alive I felt just with the thought of it! I giggled and skipped down the hallways and squealed with giddiness.

The lesson itself was uneventful except that it felt like the beginning of a new and promising chapter. Ali was very knowledgeable, professional, and positive. The horse I rode, Tobin, was a lovely 3rd level Thoroughbred-Percheron cross with surprising paint markings. He made it clear to me that I had a long way to go to learn “grown-up dressage"…! And I can’t wait.

Dream Horse

2010-03-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

I looked at Howie the other day, with his compact form and sunny disposition and realized that he was my Dream Horse. I had been dreaming of this horse since I was 5 years old, when I started to ride.

Dream Horse was big and blood bay and gleaming and beautiful. Dream Horse was sunny and loved me and watched me with liquid eyes wherever I went. Dream Horse was always happy to see me and if he was napping he’d let me snuggle with him on the stall floor. Dream Horse was rock-steady under saddle and always paid attention to me and tried his best no matter what.

I had Dream Horse… yet Dream Horse was really the horse of my childhood dreams. Twenty plus years later, I find myself looking at beautiful Howie and learning the profound lesson that dreams change, and childhood goals do not always bring happiness in Life.

I had so little time leftover between the wedding, my work, family, and friends that the days I dragged myself out there I was tired and overwhelmed. Sanity would say that my schedule really didn’t allow me to get out more than a couple of times a week, and yet I pushed it to 4-5 times a week anyway because that’s what Howie needed. And to top it off, I found myself really enjoying dressage the most and wanted to focus on it, but that discipline hardly suits a drafty draft-cross who loves to hit the trails and jump.

It was with a heavy heart that I loaded all of his stuff in Tiana’s trailer two days ago after the vet check. She had responded to Howie’s ad and was just the perfect, happy new home for him. Sophia, her client, was just getting back in the saddle and looking for a safe horse for her and her entire family to ride. They had come and tried him and both just fell absolutely in love with his charm and personality. His days would be spent up in Sonoma watching the riding arenas from his big fancy box stall, in turnout with a couple buddies in pasture, and taking care of his new family.

The thought that he was going to be able teach this woman a whole lot made me swell with pride. Howie! My baby who knew nothing when he came to me— he’s going to teach someone! The thought that he was going away to have a brave new adventure without me made me cry. But the knowledge that he was going to have so much fun and continue to love life with these wonderful people made me incredibly happy.

So, big changes for me right about now! And on to the next chapter in my horsie adventures… So much more to learn, so many more horses to ride, and who knows, maybe I’ll even find a second Dream Horse someday.

Giant Kibble In The Sky

2010-01-29T21:10:00.000-08:00

Yes this is a blog about horses, but I figured it’ll be all right to take a minute to say good-bye to my kitty Miss Daisy, who died today at the age of 14.

She was a funny looking fat brown tabby when I first met her at the local SPCA in Jamaica Plains just outside Boston. I was finishing my last year in college, was quite miserable out in the East Coast far from my friends and family. I tried to drag her out of her cage in the SPCA and she turned around and showed me her butt. I laughed. She came home with me and hid behind the toilet for the first 5 days I had her. On the sixth day, she waddled out and jumped on my lap with a big motor purr.

She was a very polite cat, always asking with her big green eyes for food or to be picked up. She never made a fuss. When we moved back cross-country she looked on with wide eyes and sweaty paws as I carried her through the airport metal detector and an airport guard with a machine gun came up to us to stroke her head and smile, “What a pretty kitty!”

She was my cat; she was there through the cold snow days of Boston, snuggling on my desk as I studied for finals. She was there every night as I vented through graduate school, wondering what I was going to do with my life. She was there when I apprehensively took my first job, and celebrated my first raise. She was there listening with her big ears the fateful night when I met Christopher and I told her all about how wonderful he was. She was there, watching underfoot, the night Christopher proposed.

Every night we would get ready for bed together, she following me as I brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas. As she got older she couldn’t jump on the bed anymore, so she got her own kitty bed on the floor by me. Every night when I turned in she would follow, curling up in her kitty bed. I would fall asleep to the sound of her rumbling purr.

She smelled good. She smelled like flowers, which is maybe where her name came from. She smelled good today when I held her in my arms for the last time and cried into her fur. She listened to my choked sobs and managed a purr even though her liver was failing and she could barely walk. She smelled good today as I said my good-bye and handed her to the vet, who gently administered the anesthetic. I stroked her as she slipped away to the giant kibble in the sky.

Here’s to you, Miss Daisy. Thank you for everything. I’ll never forget you.

Funny How They Learn

2010-01-06T21:09:00.000-08:00

~ SATURDAY ~
Carol: Ok, now do a turn on the forehand to the left
Me: Ok (get into position, nudge Howie with left foot)
Howie: …
Me: Helloooo? Howie! (kick with left foot)
Howie: Huh?
Me: Move! (spur)
Howie: Uh… walk off to the right?
Me: No. (catch him with right rein) Try again!
Howie: Uh… back up?
Me: No. (kick with both legs) Come on, you know this one!
Howie: Uh… how about I just stand here.
Me: Howie!! MOVE OVER! (spur, whip)
Howie: Oh. Like, move my butt to the left?
Me: Yes!
Howie: (one step, stops)
Me: Ok good! Another step now (nudge)
Howie: …
Me: Come on (kick with left foot)
Howie: Uh… back up?
Carol: (not impressed) I thought you said you’ve done this before with him…?

~ MONDAY ~
Me: Ok, time to practice this turn on the forehand thing. Saturday was just embarrassing. (get into position, nudge Howie with left foot)
Howie: Oh I know this one.
Me: Yay!
Howie: (moves his trailing left foot up to stand square at the halt) Ta Da! Didn’t I do that good?? We walk off now, right?
~ SOMETIME IN OCTOBER ~
Carol: Ok, now halt
Me: (exhale) halt.
Howie: (stops, with trailing left hind leg)
Carol: Ok, can you feel that?
Me: Hmm. Is his left hind leg trailing?
Carol: Yeah. So you need to fix that by nudging him with your left foot
Me: (nudge)
Howie: …
Carol: Um. Give him a little kick.
Me: (kick)
Howie: Move over?
Me: No.
Carol: Hang on, give me your whip. (Comes to stand by us). Ok, now nudge.
Me: (nudge)
Carol: (whaps Howie’s left hind leg with the whip)
Howie: Huh?
Carol: (whaps again)
Howie: Walk off?
Me & Carol: No!
Carol: (whaps again)
Howie: Uhhh, move leg?
Me & Carol: Yes good boy!!!
Carol: Ok, now walk off and try again.
Me: Ok, walk boy
Howie: (walks)
Me: Halt
Howie: (halts, with trailing left hind leg)
Me: (nudge)
Howie: Huh?
Carol: (whap)
Howie: Huh?

(rinse and repeat… for weeks…)

The Day After

2009-12-29T21:07:00.000-08:00

My neck hurts.
The back of my shoulders hurt. The left one twinges every time I move it.
My lower back hurts.
My abs really really hurt.
My hands are sore.
My biceps hurt, especially the left one.
My hips hurt.
My upper legs, the parts that rotate your legs in to keep you on a horse, hurt.
My calves hurt.

And today I find myself with Howie in a turn out pen about 6 inches deep in water. I was determined to turn him out before riding. He gave a half-hearted trot for a few steps and stopped with the slush, turned to me with placid eyes, “Can we go do something else? This sucks.”

I made him go around a few times at least, getting out 4 big bucks. Then gave up, tacked up, and hopped on. I didn’t care that he looked calm and placid. I was going to make him WORK. We were still in a fight… well, I was at least. I was going to SCHOOL him, completely obliterate that bucking episode from his pea-brain.

“Don’t look so cute, I’m mad at you,” I told him.

So we marched into the dressage court. Within 3 steps he sunk about 3 inches into the soggy ground. Looks like we will have to ride in the indoor after all. I glance over to the indoor, just in time to see a little chestnut thing rear up on a lunge line and charge towards the woman trying to lunge her. The commotion spooked a big bay horse, who took off towards the dressage court. Howie zoned his ears on the approaching horse with a snort and a start.

As much as I wanted to school Howie, I also didn’t want to die. I was going to be in a LOT more pain if he managed to unload me today! So we marched around the grounds for 10 minutes until the chestnut got off the line and the rider mounted. Then we went in with the other 7 horses…

…and I rode the crap out of him. He was a bit more wired than usual, it was a brisk day, and the slushy ground made passing horses, people, and cars sound weird (Howie is a big audio-spooker). He shied at a couple of horses, one big truck, and a trailer going past, but with an “easy” from me and we rode through it. We schooled baby extensions, lots of transitions, and practiced steering around all of the other horses.

Above all I kept him in front of my leg. His trot work was excellent, his canter work less sucky than yesterday, and while he was more jittery than usual, he was definitely back to his obedient, floppy-eared self as we rode figured with horses trotting and cantering here there, and everywhere.

I gave him a big pat and told him maybe we weren’t in a fight anymore. He rested his nose briefly on my shoulder and gave me a big warm breath on my cheek.

No, we definitely weren’t fighting anymore!

The Coo Coo Chronicles: Bad Hair Day

2009-12-28T21:04:00.000-08:00

I dragged myself out to the ranch today. I was feeling crappy after the long holiday weekend entertaining family, it was a cold and rainy and crappy outside, and when I got to the ranch everything was soggy and, well, crappy.

Howie had had a couple of days off since I was so busy with the holiday hullabaloo, and he greeted me by being a total pig and trodding on my foot. I thought it was an accident until I noticed the wicked gleam in his eye and he proceeded to bully me around, like he used to back when he was three. He swung his butt around multiple times, trying to knock me over, tried to bowl me over with his nose, invading my space with his mass. I responded by the usual disciplinary routes, reprimanding, shoving back, sharp jabs to remind him to stay out of my space. Eventually he seemed to get his brain back, and I threw on the saddle. I went into the tack room to grab the bridle and…

… couldn’t find my helmet. The hook where it usually hangs was empty. I looked around the floor, in the tack trunk, on all the walls and all the shelves. Nothing. 15 minutes later I was getting even more frustrated and annoyed and downright angry. When I only get lunch hour to spend with Howie, I want to spend it riding, not looking around for a stupid helmet! I called Perri, who had been out last, and couldn’t get a hold of her. Finally I gave up and grabbed her helmet with a huff and off we went.

I was still steaming about the helmet (it’s a GPA, and I can’t exactly afford to buy a new one right now!) when we plunked over to the indoor arena and found it swamped with critters seeking refuge from all the slushy ground. Everyone seemed pretty well behaved so we went in. As we walked around Howie was looking all around, at the horses out in pasture, at the horse hand grazing by the arena, at the horses trotting past, at the dog sitting in the corner. I left him on a long rein and asked him for a trot and he actually went (hoorah! Maybe a couple of days off was just what he needed)…

And then we were off spinning, bolting, and bucking. I kept my seat (nothing like obsessing about weight down in your foot to help this), sat back, and held my core as his front end slammed into my hands like a ton of bricks. I choked up on the reins as he bolted, scattering a couple of ponies, and as I saw his head go down again I jammed my heels down and pulled as hard as I could on the left rein. I saw the wicked gleam in his eye as his head turned, and I got mad. I mean, REALLY mad. He knew better! We were past this! I do NOT drag my ass out here day after day so he could buck around and fart and be a juvenile delinquent.

He got another good buck in, and now I was sticking on principle. I was NOT going to fall off. AND HE WAS GOING TO STOP BUCKING. I hauled again on the left rein and this time he couldn’t get another buck in. I walked him another few steps to catch my breath and immediately put him to work. “You are so going to regret that,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “You have just lost any sympathy I might have had for you, buddy.”

For the next half hour I did my best to ride him into oblivion. We schooled extended trot (which he actually did really well), canter spirals, extended canter, trot serpentines, and canter figure 8’s. I rode him until he was tired and wanted to stop, then we walked around the ranch and I made him work on shoulder-in and half-pass in both directions. By the end of it he was more or less back to his old self; he was still a bit testy heading back to the barn and could have used another half hour of work but with all the time lost from the helmet fiasco I really needed to wrap up and get back to work.

I was still seething inside when I got off and gave him a pat. “Tomorrow will be a better day… tomorrow will be a better day… tomorrow will be a better day…” I kept chanting silently as I put Howie up. At least I got a message back to Perri telling me that Carol had borrowed my helmet and accidentally left it in Cowboy’s tackroom… so I wasn’t out $500.

Tomorrow will be a better day…

Breaking out the inner... Cat!

2009-12-23T21:02:00.000-08:00

I hopped on Howie today and went into the dressage court, in hopes that maybe today we will make some progress conquering our not-so-forward-going-ness. We walked around the arena a couple of times, me stretching my legs. Then I asked him to move into trot for the rest of our long-rein warm-up.

I bumped him twice with my calves.

Nothing.

I clucked and tapped him twice with my heels.

Nothing.

I jabbed him with my spurs.

One ear flick. No trot.

I whacked him with the whip.

Meh. No trot.

So I hit him repeatedly with the whip until he trotted off. Then I brought him back to a walk, and touched him twice with my calves again. No trot. I hit him with the whip again until he trotted off. Brought him back to a walk. Touched him twice with my calves. And got trot! Ok this is a bit better. Repeated another 4 times to make sure the message sunk in.

We moved into trot, first a dinky trot then I asked him to move out a bit more. He immediately threw his shoulder out (in both directions, which is how I know he’s being funny), and sucked back. I spent a couple of long sides with him in counter-bend to no avail, my outside leg felt like it was going to fall off. So I started riding him on the quarter line. Better, but he is still wobbling around on the quarterline like a drunk driver.

This is going to be one of those days…

I heaved a sigh. We finished our long-rein warm-up with some okay canter in both directions. He was still trying to throw his shoulder out, and then trying to drift into the other horses in the arena.

We moved into serpentine— mediocre, I can’t get him to get light in front, especially on the left rein, my arm feels like it’s going to fall off. Our serpentines are lopsided, he keeps drifting out even though I’ve stuck my spur there. Frustrating! Horse needs to move! Straight! With Energy!
We drop into canter. I ask him for a couple of small circles, trying to get him to use himself and not me for balance. Pretty good… We circle in the corner, then (just for laughs) I sit up and ask him for a lengthened canter down the long side.

He bounds down the long side like a cat. He is up in front, he is reaching under, he is using his back, round from nose through back to tail, and he is moving with incredible impulsion, straightness, and concentration.

Was it a fluke? We repeat the exercise 2 more times, and 3 times on the other lead for good measure. Each time he explodes out of the corner and bounds down the longside. I was slack-jawed at that canter— a month ago he couldn’t even balance himself for a 20 meter circle.

I couldn’t hold in my delight. “Yippeeeee! Good boy!” I exclaim as we bound down one long side. The other riders glance over at the noise, but I just bring him down to trot with a big pat, he stretches his neck in response to the praise, and we go for a walk around the grounds.

The Coo Coo Chronicles, Part 2

2009-12-17T21:01:00.000-08:00

It was a sparkling clear day today, although most of the arenas are still mush. There were only 2 other horses in the covered arena, so I figured it was pretty safe to duck in there for a quick workout on some non-mushy ground.

We warm up with a very calm appy, as well as with a chestnut mare who lives in the same barn as Howie. She is a very cute little mover with an adorable big white blaze on her face. A very pretty thing… except I vaguely remembered her going a bit bonkers last week with other horses working around her, but last week there were 6 horses in the arena at the same time, so I figured it was an exception.

We started focusing our warm up to this whole forward thing that Howie and I are still having negotiations about. We moved up into a loose-rein canter, letting him get his muscles warmed up and moving forward, and me focusing on doing less and sitting properly. We came down the long side on our left lead, with the chestnut mare coming towards us on track 3 at a trot.

In a split second the mare spun and gave 2 enormous bucks and bolted. The poor woman on the horse (who was just trying her out as a potential leasor) managed to stick, and her instructor told her to continue working as if nothing had happened. Howie, bless his soul, didn’t miss a beat and just kept cantering around calmly on his loose rein (who is this horse??)

Around we go again, I’m trying to steer clear of the mare. We pass each other on opposite cirles and she spins and bucks and bolts again. The woman still hangs on (good for her), and the instructor tells her to keep trotting and ignore the bucking. She does her best.

I bring Howie down to a working trot for the mare’s sake and we start doing serpentines, staying FAR away from the mare. The third time we pass about 8 feet from each other, but the mare has decided she is the boss. She gives 4 enormous, bronco-style bucks, and starts bolting for the gate. The woman squeals a little and manages to turn the mare before she bolts straight out of the arena.

Howie still hasn’t blinked an eye, we keep doing our serpentines. I am at once floored by how good he is, and also that brat of a mare. I give him a great big pat on the neck.

The poor woman stops the mare mid-lesson, and asks her instructor, “Can I get off now? Will you get on and fix her?”

The instructor’s response was, “I don’t want to, but I will.”

So on she gets. Howie and I are working transitions by now, and I am giving this mare about a half arena’s length of space, staying as far away as I possibly can. Still, she’s looking for trouble. The instructor clings on, trying to boss the mare around, which just makes the mare mad. She threatens to rear, spins, then gives several enormous bucks just at the walk. The instructor tries to kick her into a trot— but to no avail. When she threatens to buck again the instructor gets off and all 3 leave the arena.

Howie and I finish our workout and a nice cool down walk around the ranch. We head back to the wash racks and see the woman attempting to lunge the chestnut mare. The mare was going around like she owned the place… walking when she felt like it, then trotting when she felt like it.
I thought back to the days when Howie wouldn’t have thought twice (hardly even once) to do the same to me. And I give him a great big hug and tell him, “If you ever do that to me again, I will kill your enormous, adorable butt.”

He responds by gently poking his nose into my pocket looking for a cookie… and hastily pulling his head out of my space when I put my hands on my hips. Now that’s a horse!

The Coo Coo Chronicles

2009-12-16T20:59:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this series of posts by saying that my dearest Christopher tells me to be less critical of people. They are wise words but sometimes idiots just take over the world and one must do what one must to cope, including writing about them.

The rain has finally set in for the winter, which means every human and critter across the entire ranch packs into the single covered arena and duke it out for space. The tight quarters turns good riders and horses into whackos, whackos into idiots, and idiots into land mines.

Today’s display was truly inspirational. Howie and I rode out to the arena. I peeked in and saw a chestnut horse jumping around like a kangaroo on his hind legs while a girl clung on for dear life. I said a little prayer before entering the arena.

The chestnut, a dark bay, a red mare, and Howie shared the arena for some time without too much drama. The dark bay was a solid type of fellow, and the red mare too. The only problems we had was the chestnut kept running into the middle of the arena and rearing, then bolting towards the door. The poor girl on him was trying her best to work him through his mental problems, but unfortunately every time he got quick she would turn him and stop, which led to the rearing, and then more bolting. Vicious cycle, but we managed to stay out of their way for the most part.

Enter liver brown horse. Seemed like an okay enough fat western horse when he entered the arena with his owner on the lunge. He jogged placidly for the first few minutes, until the dark bay horse cantered past. Liver Brown thought that was pretty exciting, so he snorted and kicked into a canter. Dark Bay rider didn’t seem to notice (or care) about this change as they cantered past again. Liver Brown snorts like a stallion, tail up in the air, and takes off bucking and bolting down the arena.

Now, I understand it’s cold out and horses get frisky and all that. The idiot part of all of this is the fact that Liver Brown’s owner was lunging the horse in a halter, and now had absolutely no way of stopping Liver Brown.

Dark Bay cantered on his merry way, Liver Brown charged past us (causing Howie to do a spectacular butt scoot into a pirouette; maybe we’ll patten this as a new dressage move), and basically collided with Chestnut, who was again rearing in the middle of the arena. Liver Brown’s owner manages to swing her horse back on the circle from his loss of momentum, but the horse gets away again. Rinse and repeat (including another butt scoot half pirouette from Howie).
And rinse and repeat a THIRD time.

At which I quit saying prayers and friggin left that death trap poste haste to finish our workout in the very soggy outdoor arena… with poor Howie jumping at every squirrel and bush and leaf convinced that Liver Brown was going to launch another attack on his butt.

Cabinet Wars, Finale

2009-12-03T20:58:00.000-08:00

So I dragged poor Christopher out again at lunch today to help me move the pieces of the cabinet, reassemble the cabinet, and lug the bale of hay to the new location… far, FAR away from his stall at the end of the barn.

Did I mention I have the best fiance, ever?

So we move the pieces out of his stall. First, Chris ducks under the stall guard and take some pieces down to the end of the barn. Then, I duck under the stall guard and take some pieces down to the end of the barn. Then, Howie ducks under the stall guard…

“WHAT are you doing? Get back in there!” I yell as I see him out of the corner of my eye.

With a huff, he untangles his ears from the stall guard and backs out of sight.

We put the cabinet together, Chris asks me if he’ll really be able to quit driving out to the barn every 2 weeks to move / repair / reassemble hay cabinets, I get hives from carrying the hay and can’t stop sneezing….

But at least this is the end of it! I drop a beautiful pile of hay on the ground, Howie dives in contentedly, and I can finally rest assured he’s not going to get into that cabinet again.
(Even if I kind of had to wave the white flag.)

Cabinet Wars, Part 3

2009-12-03T20:56:00.000-08:00

So, I call the hay guy on Monday, asking specifically that they deliver it Tuesday morning so I can see what Howie’s up to Tuesday at noon, when I was planning to ride.

It was a beautiful day, well worth sneaking out of work for a few hours to play with my lovely horse. I stuck my head in his stall, and see that the hay shed is, once again, in pieces.

This horse needs a rubik’s cube! Luckily, he had dismantled it before the hay guy got there, so the hay and sweet feed got jammed into my tack room instead…

Cabinet Wars, Part 2

2009-12-03T20:55:00.000-08:00

Saturday I hauled the new hay cabinet that come in the mail to the ranch. Luckily Heather was around to help me put it together.

The shed came together easily enough, looked clean and snug in the spot where the old shed used to live. We kicked it around a few times and it looked pretty solid, especially when the lid was locked down.

Howie sniffed it a couple of times, then returned to his feed.

I remain hopeful.

Cabinet Wars

2009-11-19T20:54:00.000-08:00

Sunday: I picked through the hay and put what was still good back in the cabinet and into the tack room where Howie couldn’t get at it. I figured with the lock gone the cabinet only had 2 very smooth walls that he wouldn’t be able to get into before the next day.

Monday: Cabinet still standing. I dragged poor Christopher out with me after work in the cold and dark night to install a metal latch onto the cabinet. Howie was adorable and happy to see us, he watched Chris drilling into the cabinet door so intently that I could’ve sworn he learned how to use an electric drill. I locked the cabinet with a satisfied grin on my face. Ha! Problem solved.

Thursday: Perri calls. She’s out with Howie and apparently The Booger has been dismantling the hay cabinet every 20 minutes for the past few days. He took it apart in the morning, the stall guy put it back together, and he took it apart again 20 minutes later, right in front of Perri. How does he get around a metal latch that’s locked with a heavy duty lock??? He pushes his nose against the top of the cabinet until the roof comes off, then the side walls and the doors fall out. Lookie, new trick! Perri took the doors off the cabinet and moved all the food into the tack room.

Friday: Have delusions that the cabinet can still be saved….

Saturday: Cabinet dead. Howie has torn what was left standing totally apart, and dragged half of the pieces around in his paddock for fun. One of the doors is in the far end of the paddock, dinged and bent. One shelf is half chewed and dangling from a back wall. The roof is dented and holding a giant pile of poop.

Saturday afternoon: Dragged poor Christopher out again with the truck so we could haul the broken pieces of the cabinet away. Howie watches with interest, wondering where we are taking his favorite toy.

Saturday night: Order new cabinet. Lower with a locked roof this time….

Juvenile Delinquent

2009-11-10T20:51:00.000-08:00

Howie was was curled up in his stall when I turned up on Sunday, peacefully dozing with his nose just resting on the ground, his warm breath blowing the first layer of shavings back and forth.

It was absolutely adorable for about a microsecond, until I took in the whole picture and realized this DELINQUENT had broken into the hay cabinet, and he was not simply dozing, he was sleeping off his gluttony WHILE STILL LYING ON ABOUT 10 FLAKES OF HAY. Hay and I had just ordered! A completely fragrant and fresh bale, now lying in enormous trampled piles, completely trashed.

Muttering under my breath, I went into the stall with an evil scowl on my face.

He responded by lowering his head another half of an inch.

“If you colic,” I muttered. “If you dare colic, I swear, I’m going to KILL YOU.”

He heaved a peaceful sigh and shut his eyes completely.

“All right you, get up.”

No thanks.

“No, really, get your fat ass up.”

Nah.

I fetched his halter and put it on. He continued looking comfortable and stuffed. REALLY comfortable and REALLY stuffed.

I was still pissed.

“UP.” I whacked him on the nose with the end of the lead rope.

Oh fine.

With an enormous fart, he heaved himself onto all fours. If he were a middle-aged dude he’d have belched beer breath and scratched his stomach and squinted round through bleary eyes. As his horsie self, he pushed his head into my shoulder to itch it and cocked his tail to poop an enormous steaming pile right in the middle of my beautiful, ruined hay on the ground.

I dug around the hay and found the lock, still attached to a piece of the cabinet. He had snapped it cleanly off. I tried to close the cabinet door and one side of the door fell off its hinges.
“You are such a delinquent,” I sighed as I rubbed him on the head. “C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Cookie?

Pony the Pony on the Pony

2009-11-05T20:50:00.000-08:00

“You know, I’ve never ponied a horse before,” I said to Perri on Sunday. “I wonder what it would be like.”

“Well, why don’t you find out?” Perri said. “Here.”

She was out walking with Howie and I, leading Cowboy. She handed me Cowboy’s leadrope. I took it in my left hand, moving my reins over to my right.

Me: Hello, boys.
Howie: It’s hot.
Cowboy: Oooo Howie.
Howie: I’m tired.
Cowboy: Play with me!
Me: Cowboy, don’t bite him!
Cowboy: Why not?? He’s right there.
Me: Because it’s obnoxious.
Cowboy: Fine.
Howie: What was that???
Me: Huh?
Cowboy: Huh?
Howie: Something in the bushes!
Cowboy: What bushes??!!
Me: Oh geez. Get over it.
Howie: But… but…
Me: Get over it. Now.
Howie: Ok.
Cowboy: What bushes??!!
Howie: We’re over that.
Cowboy: Oh, ok.
Howie: Ooooh people.
Me: Hey people!
(People): Hi! Oooh you’re ponying! How cute!
Me: Yeah it’s really fun!
Howie: Lookie at me! I’m such a pro.
Cowboy: People! Hi People!!!!
Me: Um, Cowboy, over here.
Cowboy: Boo.

It was really fun getting to handle both horses at once… and they were both so well-behaved… and I did feel like I was in charge of both horses. At the same time Perri and I were carrying on a conversation about making sure we stretch comfort zones every so often, so we don’t get stuck being scared of everything and watching that comfort zone shrink. This was the perfect way for me to practice!

Oh the abuse!

2009-09-24T20:48:00.000-07:00

I was out last night to cold hose, handwalk, and groom Howie (he’s got a mild sore tendon and has the next few days off until it’s recovered). We were in his stall / paddock grooming, it was pitch black, and the light only worked in his stall. I was having the worst time trying to get him to stand quietly in the stall part, the way the tying works in the stall means he can swing his butt out into the paddock, and he kept doing that time and time again…

Me: [Brush side of neck]
Howie: [Starts to move feet]
Me: ?
Howie: [Swings butt out into paddock]
Me: What are you doing? Get your butt back in the stall so I can see [push butt back]
Howie: Hrrrmph [Moves butt back into stall]
Me: [Continue brushing side of neck]
Howie: [Swings butt out again]
Me: Whoa. WHOA. [Jerk halter shank]
Howie: [Swings butt out anyway]
Me: Quit it! [push butt back]
Howie [Moves butt back into stall]
Me: You better not be messing with me. [Try brushing again]
Howie: [Starts swinging butt out]
Me: QUIT. [Move to block him from swinging out]
Howie: [Runs into me]
Me: NO. YOU. DON’T!!
Howie: Oh crap. [Moves back into stall]
Me: You better stand, I’m getting mad. [Continue brushing]
Howie: [Squidging feet]
Me: QUIT.
Howie: [Starts to step out]
Me: [Move to block him off again with a big smack on the shoulder] QUIT BEING A PILL.
Howie: [Stops for a minute]
Me: I know what you’re thinking.
Howie: [Tries to swing butt out again]
Me: YOU. STOP. NOW! [Thwack thwack thwack]
Howie: Ok fine. I give up. [Exhales]
Me: Thank you. I don’t know what your problem is, but now we can finish up!
Howie: [Lifts his tail and poops]
Me: Oh.
Howie: Yeah thanks, now I have to sleep in that.
Me: Um… cookie?

Eat My Dust

2009-09-16T20:46:00.000-07:00

“Hey, maybe you should stick your nose out more,” I said to Howie.

We were trotting around in the hunter trot poles class, our 3rd of the day at the little schooling show at W*** Ranch. I gave Howie a bit more rein and goosed him forward in hopes that he would look a bit more hunter-ish as we trotted past yet another ridiculously cute kid on a type-y pony, waiting to go after us. I also wished I had bothered to look for my green hunt coat the night before. I felt a bit sheepish in my plain white polo shirt with these kids dressed to the nines— hairnets, adorable and sparkling clean jodpurs, stockpins, the whole works.

Howie responded to me goosing him forward to lengthen his frame into a lovely, rounded trot. I had no clue if this was what hunters were supposed to do, but it was sure nice for a lengthened frame in dressage, so we went with it.

We approached the first pile of poles. Howie pricked his ears: Oooh goodie! I concentrated on keeping him at an even trot, since our schooling had (up to now) involved galloping (in my head, which means a decent canter for his slow butt in reality) up to fences, poles, whatever, and popping over.

We trotted over the first line of poles without missing a beat. Next was a turn up another diagonal line. We passed the judge on the way, and Howie pricked his ears again: Hello, Person! I grinned as I goosed him again and told him, “You can’t stop and say hi to people when you’ve got a job to do!” We tooled around the rest of the course, keeping up the forward trot.

He gave a happy flick of his tail as I told him what a hero he was for the millionth time that day as we exited the arena. For his first horse show with this many horses, he was being, well, perfect. Not a hair out of place, he did his job like a pro, while all the while making me laugh with his opinions.

The trot pole class was the biggest class ever, we had to wait and wait and wait for all the cute kids and their cute cute ponies to finish. In the end, it was time for us to line up for the ribbons. I counted 14 horses in the class. The announcer started going through the ribbons, and I had a momentary daydream of future shows for us— combined tests, horse trials— what an accomplishment that would be, completing a horse trial…!

“In fourth place, we have Tanya riding How Perfect!”

The announcement caught me by surprise mid-daydream. Everyone looked at me. I came to, and realized that Howie was just about to take a taste of the cute bay pony next to us.

“Oh my goodness horse, where are your manners?!” I exclaimed.

Howie reluctantly moved his head away from the pony: Aww man, that pony looked tastey!

Laughing, I collected our ribbon. If this neurotic rider and her fat belgian draft cross could place against these tough little kids and their typey ponies in a hunter show… well, who knows what else we can do?

Horseback Riding is Fun

2009-09-07T20:44:00.000-07:00

“Wheeeeee!!!!” Howie’s enthusiasm was infectious and I grinned as we popped over a little brush fence, turned right, and bounced through the in and out.

It occurred to me at the moment that I was having fun. My horse was behaving beautifully, totally focused on the exercise despite six other horses whizzing around the arena, two of whom were beginners pinging around pretty much out of control. It also occurred to me that Howie was having fun. Every time we picked up the canter between jump exercises he would prick his ears and look for the next fence. Once we locked on to it, all I had to do was encourage him to keep closing in on it, give him room to move, get in two-point, and over we went. Then we’d canter off and he’d look for the next fence.

I was so focused on keeping the tempo, keeping him moving forward freely, and visualizing “closing the distance” to the fence (something Carol kept encouraging me with on every approach— I’m not sure how it works but somehow whenever I visualize it to the fence, we’d come up to it with great energy and find a good spot— I think it might be magic?) Anyway, I was so focused on doing all these things that I finished every round with a smile, almost forgot about having a nervous breakdown, and put all thoughts of death and dismemberment totally out of my head.

As we walked around the bridle path for cool down, and I chatted with Carol about entering a little schooling show next weekend, I marveled at the luxury that is the Tame Horse. Tame Horse does not try to kill you. Tame Horse is happy to see you. Tame Horse loves to learn new exercises and tries to carry out what you ask to the best of his ability.

Tame Horse can be trusted. Tame Horse is fun!

What a long ways to have come from being bucked off week after week 6 months ago.

Wheeeeee!!!!!, indeed!

n00b

2009-08-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

I was a little out of it Saturday morning when I showed up to ride. It was early, I was tired, there was this whole new routine we were getting sorted out with the tacking and the grooming. I couldn’t even pick which pole to tie him to in his paddock, so I’ve been tying him up in a new spot every day…

Anyway, I was discombobulated when I showed up.

I said hi to him and hugged him (he has gotten ever snugglier since the move). We tied up to yet another new spot, he mugged me for cookies, I groomed his dusty butt, and threw the jumping tack on. I figured we’d just go for a walk around the ranch, see the sights, and say hi to people.

I led him outside the paddock and around to my tack trunk.

I climbed on the tack trunk.

He stuck his nose in the grass and wandered off.

I climbed off the tack trunk and put him back in his spot.

I climbed back on the tack trunk.

He turned around the sniff my pocket for cookies.

I whacked him in the butt with my crop for moving while I was trying to get on.

I climbed off the tack trunk to put him back in his spot.

I climbed back on the tack trunk.

He stood still, waiting for me to get on.

I put my left foot in the stirrup, and hopped on.

The saddle flopped about 90 degrees over to the left. I was left sitting on the right panel of the saddle on my horse.

Howie thought it was pretty funny, but didn’t move, just kind of turned to look at me out of one eye to say, “Wow. What a n00b!”

I laughed… it’s a whole other level to be called a newbie by a 4-year-old-horse. I thanked the heavens that I have a warmblood, thanked the heavens again that we were in a pretty secluded spot so nobody was around to see this, and tried to see if I could stick a foot in the right stirrup to fix my situation. Yeah… not so much. This is so embarrassing, after 15 years of riding I should remember to tighten the girth before getting on a horse!!!

So I climbed off again, fixed all the pads (I blame the extra fuzzy wither pad for this!), made extra sure girth was good and tight…

And hopped on, happy that the saddle actually stayed on this time… and off we went!

Howie and the Blustery Day

2009-08-06T20:38:00.000-07:00

I stared outside the barn doors last night and sighed. It was really windy, and the last time it was windy Howie had launched me 10 feet in the air. Granted, it was several months ago, but still, I didn’t relish repeating the experience.

I walked over to Howie’s stall and eyed him suspiciously. “Are you going to be a jerk today?” I asked him. He flicked his right ear towards me, but continued munching his hay.

Sighing again, I looked out the door. The wind gusted so that the trees around the arena were almost horizontal. Cross-winds kicked up the dirt and held them in miniature tornadoes. I could see the fog rushing in over the hilltops in the distance.

Giving in to the idea that riding might totally suck, I went and collected Howie and put him in the cross-ties. “Look at all that wind!” I told him as I brushed him down. “You better behave,” I added as a particularly forceful gust made the barn doors rattle. He looked at me out of one soft eye and muzzled my pocket for sugar cubes.

“Well, you seem calm enough, I suppose.” I threw his tack on, remembered to put on the emergency brakes (draw reins), and we headed into the arena.

It was even worse outside. As I put my foot in the stirrup I had a fleeting image of Carol and Perri digging me out of the arena dirt with Howie careening about totally out of control. Pushing the thought from my mind, I hopped on.

Me: Ok guy, try to hold it together.
Howie: Hi Mom! What’re we doing today?
Me: Hmm. Well, let’s warm up.
Howie: Ok!

And it turned out to be one of the best rides we’ve had. His transitions were spot on, his canter heaven, and not a single misstep with all the rushing wind. We even stayed the course when a man popped out of a port-a-potty by the arena and left the door open to flap in the wind.

Back in the cross-ties, I hugged him and told him, “You’re such a good boy! I can’t believe how good you were! You’re my hero!!!” His ears came forward and he exhaled onto my cheek, as if to say, well I told you I could do it. What’s the big deal?

The 5 Stages of Grief: Getting Kicked Out of My Barn

2009-07-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

“…Last month, the Town received several acceptable bids for the W*** Barn seismic retrofit and restoration project… the contractors will begin work in mid-August, 2009. Regrettably, the large scale construction project will result in unavoidable hazards and disruption or suspension of normal Barn operations.

THEREFORE THIS LETTER SERVES AS OFFICIAL NOTICE TO BOARDERS IN THE MAIN BARN FACILITY THAT YOUR HORSE MUST BE REMOVED FROM THE PREMISES NO LATER THAN AUGUST 15TH.

It is estimated that the construction period will last for a period of approximately six months…”

Stage 1: Shock. Total, blind-sided shock. What the hell??!

Stage 2: Panic. But…Where are we going to go?

Stage 3: More Panic. Unadulterated, mind-numbing, PANIC. I just called all 5 stables in the area I could possibly get to 5 times a week. They are all full! Even friggin S*** Red Barn, the one that charges $1200 per month (which I can’t afford, but I’m desperate) What are we doing to do??? We only have 4 weeks to find a new home!

Stage 4: Anger. Why didn’t the Barn give us more notice? Seismic retrofit isn’t exactly something that sneaks up on you without warning. Contractors don’t just pop out of the bushes with proposals. Why didn’t they tell us they were considering this project??? Did they really want to make sure they could squeeze every last dime out of us at the expense of our horses having nowhere to go?

Screw them. I am going to find the BIGGEST, BADDEST, MOST AWESOMEST stable EVER to put Howie. We won’t even MISS W*** Barn, not even one bit!

Stage 5: Sadness. But W*** Barn is our home. I’ve been riding here over 4 years, it’s the only home Howie and I ever shared. I have friends here, and I know all the trails like the back of my hand, and I remember all the wonderful times we conquered a jumping lesson, or learned baby leg yield, or stood together in a quiet moment watching the sun set (and rise). I love the old barn, the smell of hay in it, the coziness of all of the horses tucked away within its stone walls.
I watch as horse after horse is trailered away. The barn is almost all empty now, there aren’t any friends left to borrow a mane comb from (I swear mine has legs and likes to go on holiday). The feeling of kinship and friendship has deserted the building— it’s like our community was never there.

I am sad. Change is hard, but what can we do? Onward and upward…

Best Ride EVER

2009-06-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

This evening, after work… He greeted me with a whicker, a quick “Hello, Human!"… We warmed up on a loose rein at the walk, tracing figures and changes of direction, he wanted to look at quail in the bushes but focused when I told him to stop the nonsense… We walk until he is relaxed, his ears flip-flopping with every step… Then we bump up into a soft trot, his rhythm is wonderful, we go round the arena a couple of times, we trace more figures and changes of direction still on the loose rein… I ask him to step out a bit more, he responds, knowing his job… and then very calmly offers to canter, so we do…

It’s a very green-bean canter, he’s still learning to balance me while cantering, but he is putting his mind to it… powering down the straightaways, breaking to a trot sometimes around the short sides, but picking the canter up again with a chirp from me… we even get some very nice right lead canter, his hard side… Then we settle down to some work… We ride half circles into leg yields at a walk, he is keeping the rhythm, soft in the bridle, and moving over like silk… We ride the figures a few times, and we try again at the trot… It is very hard for him but he is trying…

I frame him up for some more intense trot work and really push him forward in the shorter frame. He rises to the challenge… His back is soft and springy, rhythmically swaying with every step, his ears take turns flicking back towards me… left ear, right ear, left ear, right ear… I push him for a bigger step and he gives it to me, so eager he breaks into canter a couple of times… I feel like I am sitting on an enormous springy mushroom of power and energy…

We push forward and I start letting the reins through my fingers, asking him to extend his frame and stretch long and low. He does this with ease, lengthening his stride effortlessly… We are gliding across the arena, I am delirious with the concentration and supple energy beneath me…
I am giddy and giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush… I hug him and tell him what an incredible horse he is… I can’t believe this is the same horse I couldn’t get to trot 3 months ago… I had never, in a dozen years of riding, felt anything like this before.

Three Stooges

2009-06-29T20:32:00.000-07:00

It was well over 100 degrees Saturday afternoon when I went to bring Howie and Cowboy back in from turnout. I was already soaked in sweat halfway down the hill to the paddock, so I figured I’d walk both horses up at the same time and save myself the extra trip.

Everything went okay until we got to Cowboy’s stall and I had one horse in each hand.

Me: All right boys, whoa.
Howie & Cowboy: Ok.
Me: Cowboy, in.
Cowboy: Ok. *walks in*
Howie: Ok. *walks in too*
Me & Cowboy: What are you doing in there??
Howie: What?
Me: Howie, out.
Howie: Ok fine.
Me: Ok, Cowboy, come here I got to get your halter off.
Howie: You want me to go in? Why didn’t you just say so?
Cowboy: Get OUT of my stall!
Me: Why are there 2 horses in here again?
Howie: Well, you said go in.
Me: Actually, I didn’t. Out.
Howie: Fine, be that way.
Me: Ok, Cowboy, come here.
Cowboy: Get my halter off, woman.
Me: Ok *Get hand on halter*
Howie: What, you want me to go in again?
Me & Cowboy: NO!
Howie: You two are so confusing.
Me: You, whoa. You, let me get your halter.
Howie: Whoa, check… oooh neighbor horsie.
Cowboy: Oh thank goodness.
Me: Howie! Get your butt back over here!
Howie: What? I was just making friends.
Me: Ok, YOU. Butt in stall. Pronto.

Tag Team: Meltdown & Cheating

2009-06-25T20:28:00.000-07:00

The Howie and Cowboy tag-team, I have to admit, is wearing me down as we approach the end of our second week together. The boys are still very sweet and adorable, but well, boys will be boys. Take today for instance…

First up: Cowboy, the Meltdown
All the horses in the barn were anxiously quiet, the stable guys were feeding late tonight. Cowboy greeted me with a BIG whicker (he knows me by now and is THE most whickersome horse in the barn) and watched curiously as I gathered my tack. We groomed and tacked just as the hay arrived. With a sad sideways glance, we were off.

I hopped on to ride laps around the barn. He was a little wired from the late (no) food and it was a bit windy. We stopped to stare at a pile of plywood that wasn’t there the day before. Then we stopped to listen to some folks gardening on the other side of the fence. As we rounded the corner by the manure pile, we stopped to admire the man that was standing up by the ramp. At least I was, turns out Cowboy didn’t see him… until we had walked basically under the ramp and the man moved and Cowboy, well, had a meltdown.

CB: ARRRRRRGH (spin and bolt)
Me: Holy cow! Whoa, whoa. Eaaasy, you’re all right.
CB: HUFF HUFF SNORT HUFF SNORT
Me: Let’s turn around and look at the ramp
CB: HUFF HUFF HUFF SNORT SNORT HUFF HUFF HUFF
Me: Are your eyeballs going to pop out of your head?
CB: HUFF HUFF HUFF HUFF SNOOOOOOOOORT
Me: Can you hold it together? Let’s walk.
CB: * starts shaking *
Me: Ok. Let me get off, and we’ll walk together.

So, it took me about 5 minutes to coax him past the ramp again, he was all worked up. We then proceeded to walk another 10 times back and forth and back and forth under the ramp. He got quite a bit better, I was definitely over riding around the barn (he had given me a friggin heart attack), so we went in the arena…

Where he was still not totally calm, but we just walked and walked and walked and walked until he got the ants out of his pants and quit yelling, “OMG POLE!” every time we walked by a trot pole on the ground. Then we did some trot work, and it was actually quite respectable… the first time I’d worked him and managed to keep him consistently round. Apparently I was missing leg before because he was so motivated to move forward tonight. In the end we had a tame pony so I gave him a handful of cookies put him back up in his stall.

Next up: Howie, Let’s Cheat
Howie was actually a total gentleman today. I still was feeling a bit on edge after the adrenaline rush a la Cowboy, but we did a very respectable walk, trot, and bitty bit canter work in the arena even with the Rank Mare in the arena running off with her young rider every time they went over the trot pole… apparently Cowboy was not the only horse with the “OMG POLE!” syndrome tonight…

Since he was being so good, and we had our emergency brakes on (draw reins which I keep around as a placebo… I’ve never used them but they sure make me feel better), I decided to go for a few more laps around the barn. We made it about 10 yards, where Howie wanted to stop and stare at the pile of plywood too. I gave him a few seconds, then asked him to move on, and we got another 15 yards. This brought us by the parking lot, which is his most suspicious spot…

The father of the young rider was coming out of the parking lot with a bottle of fly spray in hand. Howie pinned his ears forward on the man (warning sign #1), I wiggled my feet a little to ask for his attention and got 0 response (warning sign #2), and he started a bit when a woman and her dog walked into view on the hillside about 1/8 mile away (warning sign #3)…

I sat on my horse, wondering if I should kick him to make him move on, command his attention, make him complete the exercise… I obviously couldn’t give up, but I really didn’t feel like pushing his buttons, especially since the area around the barn is concrete, and I didn’t want to break any bones, and heck yes, I’m a chicken! So, I did the next best thing…

Me: Excuse me, sir?
Father of the young rider: Hi there
Me: Are you busy? Could you help me?
Father of the young rider: Sure thing. What’s up?
Me: Could you walk along with us for a few minutes? Howie is having a bit of a moment
Father of the young rider: Absolutely

And the nice man and Howie and I walked around the barn twice. Howie didn’t want to go at first, but once we got him moving again he distracted himself by trying to catch up so he could chew on the guy. I made him keep his distance, so the new set up worked out quite well.

Now, I know it’s cheating. I didn’t make him go around by himself, I didn’t make him respect me, I didn’t ride him into oblivion. But it was getting dark, I was tired, and I didn’t want to pick a fight!

Famous last words. I figure I can cheat once in a while if I don’t make a habit of it?

Survival Game

2009-06-23T20:27:00.000-07:00

The Cast: one adorable gray Arabian (Cowboy), one big bay Draft / Quarterhorse cross (Howie), and one very tired gal with a full time job and two horses to ride all last week and this week (me).

The Goal: get both horses out 5 times a week without dying.

The Obstacles: horse summer camp (meaning lots of untrained young children riding around uncontrolled on horses), limited time and energy, Howie still thinks about being an idiot now and again especially with said untrained young children screaming and running around.

Results:
1 cut under my chin from whipping myself in the face while trying to get Howie to friggin GO on the lunge line (he has decided lunging is way boring)
1 bruise on my right thigh from catching myself with the dressage whip while trying to get Howie to friggin GO under saddle (it was a hot day and the footing was a bit deep)
4 bug bites
1 sore left shoulder from Cowboy, who likes to hang on that rein
2 sore hip joints from riding so much

… and 2 exercised, well-behaved horses for the first week!

Street Cred

2009-06-10T20:25:00.000-07:00

“I had a Howie epidemic!”

“You… who?” It was Monday after work, I was spaced out walking down the barn aisle. I looked down and saw a 12-year-old (or something) blonde red-faced girl gleefully smiling at me.

Girl (repeats herself): I had a Howie epidemic!
Me (as I cast a nervous glance towards Howie’s stall and at her gray horse in the cross-ties): I’m sorry, what? Did he do something?
Girl (now embarrassed her statement has lost impact, mumbles): Oh, my horse was bad.

Girl then shuffles away. I’m feeling a bit bad that I bursted her enthusiasm, but I had no clue what she was talking about.

Then Carol enlightens me: The blonde girl had been walking her gray gelding in the lower arena, when, for no reason, the gelding bolted and bucked, sending the girl high into the air and she landed with a big splat, flat on her back. Apparently this gray gelding (who is new) has some major training issues and the poor girl was getting tossed at least twice a week.

I felt really bad for the girl, but I had to laugh. Howie’s reputation at the barn consisted of:

1. Random blonde girl— when her horse is totally out of control and being just plain nasty, names the behavior after Howie

2. Barn manager— when I gave her a bottle of wine for chasing my horse down after busting out of his paddock, says, “Oh goodie. Now I can drink this the next time your horse is a jerk.”

3. Farrier— called me to say my horse “Was good this time, we’ll see how he does next time, I’m not guaranteeing anything.” With the rumor of Howie needing to be totally tranquilized still fresh in his mind.

And I had to laugh because I took The Terror out of the barn and into the cross-ties, and The Terror promptly fell asleep, the cross-ties holding his head up. I took him to lunge and he behaved like a perfect gentleman. I rode him and he walked and trotted and his ears went flop-flop-flop as horses do when they are relaxed and focused on their work.

“Howie Epidemic"? Really?

Hobo Horse

2009-06-03T20:23:00.000-07:00

I’m going to start calling my horse Hobo. Because, at the rate he is going, he’s going to get us both kicked out of the barn and then he’ll be homeless.

I got an angry email from the barn manager today. Yesterday afternoon when the stable guy went to bring him from turnout back to his stall, apparently Howie gave him a run for his money. He ran and ducked and evaded the worker, and finally decided to jump his way to freedom— which is bad enough, until he didn’t quite clear the fence so he took pieces of it with him. The horse then ran off to his old pasture, giving the worker even more work to do chasing him down. The paddock fence is destroyed, the worker is disgruntled, the barn manager is really annoyed, and the horse is just fine, not a scratch on him (of course).

As I was replying to this email (apologizing profusely, hoping that age and inexperience would grant Howie some lee way with the barn manager), my friend Cynthia calls me. Apparently the barn manager had called Cynthia because she had her on speed dial, as she was running down the hill to catch my horse. Who had gotten out again. This time, Howie didn’t even bother to jump the fence. He just decided he wanted out and went through the fence instead. He then took a merry hour dodging the poor barn manager, until she was finally able to catch him. Again another paddock fence is destroyed, the barn manager is really annoyed, and the horse is just fine, not a scratch on him (how does he do that?)

“Your horse is a jerk!” she rants on the phone. She is definitely not pleased. “I am running out of paddocks! If he does this again, I am going to be REALLY mad.”

So, I am hoping that turning him out with Carol’s horse in one of the larger paddocks tomorrow will settle his pea brain from going exploring again. We’ll see how that one goes. I’m just hoping he’ll settle down before we get kicked out…

Just Hit Him Already

2009-06-01T20:21:00.000-07:00

* Let me caveat this post with the fact that I’m naturally about as bossy and violent as a baby rabbit crossed with a snow pea. And, my horse has never ever been abused, he can be a thug and thinks that humans are his chew toys. If you are like me, maybe this will help you too!

I love my horse. I just want to hug him and kiss him and play with his adorable nose. Unfortunately, this does not help me establish myself as someone to be listened to, and that is really not a good thing… And I’ve had enough spills and bites to show for it!

Carol gave me great insight yesterday during our marathon training session. When he started being naughty under saddle while we were walking around the barn yard, she said to me, “He’s being obnoxious. Hit him! Really, just hit him and make him stop doing that. You know what, hit him whenever you want, just because you feel like it.”

This was a bit of a revelation. Because, after all, Howie bites ME whenever he feels like it. Why not the other way around?

And then, as Carol was holding him, he took a mild nip at her. She smacked him. Now, this is usually the end of the exchange, from my experience and observation with how people discipline their horses. Not so with Carol. She taunted him afterwards.

Howie: *nip*
Carol: What the heck! *smack*
Howie: Hee hee.
Carol: You want to bite me? You really want to bite me?? Try again. I dare you. *Puts her arm in front of him, jiggles his bit with her hand, making it really tempting*
Howie: Really?
Carol: Oh yeah, go ahead. I dare you. You really want to bite me?
Howie: Yes. *nip*
Carol: *THWAck*
Howie: Ack!
Carol: That’s right. You want to bite me? You really want to bite me? Bite me again! *tempts him again*
Howie: Ah, yeah, about that. No thanks. *sighs*

It made me laugh, and really helped me understand how she got through to him. It’s not just about making the correction, but following through to make him really mind what’s going on, and constantly reminding him who is in charge.

So… I tried it today. I smacked him around when he was naughty, or when he looked like he was thinking about being naughty, or whenever I felt like he needed a reminder. And the result? He was a lamb! My 1200 lb. thug was minding me with care. He was a dear, a total pleasure to be around. He was relaxed and floppy-eared under saddle, and stood like a pro in the cross-ties (yes, the ones he keeps trying to bolt out of). I fed him carrots and watched him mind his mouth and quit nipping all together.

Such progress! I am so happy!!!

Epic

2009-05-31T20:18:00.000-07:00

And today… Howie was indeed full of beans, eyes bulging with pent-up energy and stress from the new routine.

Exercise 1: Tacking up (20 minutes)
Howie: OMG you are here! Finally! Lemme out lemme out lemme out. Ok cross-ties… Do I really have to stay still? I don’t want to stand still I have to move! Let me move! * Squidge squidge squidge *
Carol: Make him stand still!
Me: Dude, quit it.
Howie: I want to move I want to leave I want to get out of there. I belong down there why am I so cooped up??
Me: *THWAP*
Howie: Let me leave I want to leave get me out of here!!
Me: Oh let’s just get this over with.

Exercise 2: Free lunging in round pen (20 minutes)
Howie: Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (For about 20 laps both directions)

Exercise 3: Walking around the barn yard (30 minutes)
Carol: I want you to walk circles and laps around the barn yard until he is relaxed and focused for work.
Howie: What’s over there? Oooh what’s over there? Aaaaarrrgh that’s scarey. Oooh my old friends! I want to see them. Why won’t you let me? I don’t want to walk over there. What’s over there? And what’s over there? Anything I can spook at? Ooh maybe that thing over there, it looks weird. Hey I want to bolt. Screw you! I want to BOLT.
Me (after about 10 minutes): Uhhh, Carol?
Carol: Stay with him, just stay calm and be patient.
Howie: SCREW YOU I WANT TO BOLT.
Me (after another 5 minutes): He’s not getting any better. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
Carol: Yeah I agree. He’s not settling down. He’s just testing you and looking for an excuse to be bad now. You know what? Kick him around a little, hit him when he flips his head, push him around a little so he knows you’re boss.
Me: Walk. Now. *THWAP*
Howie: NEEAAAAH. Don’t wanna! *flip head*
Me: *THWAP*
Howie: *bit more focused for about 2 minutes*… Then, back to: GAAAAH. I WANT TO BOLT.
Me: Can we do something else?
Carol: Yeah, ok. Let’s ride him down to the arena and lunge him.

Exercise 4: In the lower arena (20 minutes)
Carol: Ok, just walk him around a little bit. Let’s see how he does.
Howie: Oooooh goodie! Where should I run off to first?
Me: Uhhhh.
Carol: Uhhhh. Let me hold him and you get off. I’ll lunge him for a bit.
Howie: Oh. I have to work now.
Carol: Can you set up a little jump for him? We’ll pop him over that a few times on the line and get him tired.

Exercise 5: Riding in the lower arena (70 minutes)
Carol: Ok he should be calm now. See how he wants to stop when I let him? That’s a good sign.
Me: Ok *get on*. Walk.
Howie: No.
Me: *THWAP*
HOwie: Ok. Walk. Got it. How’s this?
Me: Wonderful, thank you.
Carol: Ok now remember this feeling! You are the boss.
Howie: Oooh, horsies over there!
Carol: Now, whenever he’s looking around, or misbehaving, or sucking back, or anything, you push him around. Get his attention. Push him around and tell him you’re boss. He should have no opinions when you are riding him except what you want to do.
Me: Ok. *THWAP THWAP* Yo, horse, over here.
Howie: Oh? Ok.
Carol: And honestly, you can do better than that. Really be assertive. Don’t beg with your whip. He should respect it, and he should respect you! Don’t let him walk all over you, not today when he’s been naughty. When he’s been naughty you need to ride him until he has forgotten ever been naughty.

… and so we did. We did cavaletti and some small jumps, cantered, rode ’round and ’round. When I thought I was going to pass out, Carol made us walk for another 20 minutes. When she finally said we could get off, both Howie and I were glad we had survived the schooling!

Carol: Now see how good he is? How you can just tell him where to go and he listens, no questions asked? He’s lost that dippy look where he’s thinking stupid thoughts. He now has this kind sweet eye that is totally trained on you, waiting to hear what you want. This is a life-changing ride for you two. You’re going to be great!

And with that, me and Howie dragged ourselves up the hill back to the barn. I set him up in a paddock for a couple of hours, left him a big pile of hay. He was so thankful to bury his nose in there I don’t even think he noticed he was away from his pasture and buddies.
Wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow?

Jail Break

2009-05-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

“Your horse just tried to climb out of the window. He’s now pacing his stall and working himself up into a sweat. You better come take a look at this.”

I sighed and thanked the barn manager for calling me. Yesterday I had arranged for Howie to move into a new stall, and apparently a couple of hours was all he could stand. I had ridden him quite hard, hoping he would be tired enough to stay out of trouble as he got used to his new digs. Apparently that didn’t work so well.

So I drove back out to the barn, a bit annoyed, and anxious about what I was going to find… An unhappy, nervous wreck of a horse.

“Howard, what trouble have you gotten yourself into?” I scolded as I got there.

He stopped his pacing and regarded me as if to say, “Oh good. You’re here.” He stood quietly as I put his halter on, and followed me like a lamb as we walked around the barn. He looked even a little sheepish for causing all this drama.

We walked outside his stall, and I checked out the window he had tried to get through. There were little bits of black leg fur stuck to the frame. It was about a foot by a foot and a half, I can’t believe he had gotten his head, two front hooves, and his two front legs through that. He must’ve been feeling pretty silly (and stuck) when the barn manager found him and told him to get his butt back into the stall, pronto.

We walked for about 20 minutes until he looked longingly into the stall every time we passed it, then the barn manager and I taped newspaper up on the window (as in, Howie, this is NOT an exit), and I left him to his own devices again.

I repeated the walk one more time around 10 p.m., but by then he was pacing much slower and stopped being hot and sweaty.

Now, on to surviving the next couple of days…

Bunch of Hooligans

2009-05-28T20:13:00.000-07:00

Funny how often realizations come when I talk to my parents, even though they aren’t even remotely horse folks. I told them that Carol wanted me to move Howie into a stall “for training purposes". When they asked me why, I was about to admit that I didn’t really know… something about having him being handled more, getting more used to human activity around the barn, etc. But my answer surprised me:

“So he spends his time relaxing in his own space and interacting with humans, instead of spending 23 hours a day kicking and biting other horses.”

Now, this surprised me because that actually made sense as I said it. If I want my horse to learn to bond with humans, focus on his training, and mind his manners, it makes a whole lot of sense to keep him from the bunch of hooligans in the pasture so he’s not constantly practicing being a hooligan himself while fighting for food, shelter, and water. And I’ve been a huge advocate of pasture living— I like that my horse has friends and open space to amuse himself while I am away.

And then I thought more about the cast of characters in that pasture… And I’ll say, it’s time to move!

Here they are in alpha-order (most alpha on top).

Snowball AKA The Grim Reaper
Description: 14.3 H, ~800 lbs, all white pony gelding. Will whicker at people and nuzzle for treats. A favorite amongst children
Attack points: 10,000,000,000,000+
Special abilities: Death and maiming— The Grim Reaper will attack with the intent to kill or maim. Will not give up until his target is running away bleeding. He rules the pasture with an iron fist and knows how to break legs as the only horse equipped with hind shoes

Starfire AKA The Hellhound
Description: 15.0 H, ~900 lbs, blood bay thoroughbred mare with big white star. Gorgeous, was a rescue, still totally insane despite her owner’s patient efforts. Girlfriend of The Grim Reaper
Attack points: 2,000
Special abilities: Loyalty— The Hellhound accompanies The Grim Reaper on all of his attacks. Together the pair will corner and attack their target from both sides. The Hellhound is particularly adapt at cornering a target

Dublin AKA The Ninja
Description: 15.2H, ~900 lbs, dark bay thoroughbred mare. Solid citizen under saddle for her Pony Clubber
Attack points: 500
Special abilities: Stealth— The Ninja will appear out of nowhere to ambush her prey; lightning speed with kicks and bites

Miss M AKA The Cribber
Description: 15.3H, ~900 lbs, liver chestnut thoroughbred-type mare. Loner, will crib by herself for hours
Attack points: 50
Special abilities: Too cool for school— The Cribber will ignore everyone until feeding time. Then will viciously attack within a 10-meter area while she eats

Aviare AKA The New Nasty
Description: 15.2H, ~900 lbs, 3-year-old dark bay thoroughbred-type gelding. Disciple of The Grim Reaper, still picking up skills as he is still very young
Attack points: 50
Special abilities: Learning— The New Nasty is quickly picking up tips and tricks from The Grim Reaper, gaining attack strength every day

Howie AKA The Boulder
Description: 16.3 H, ~1200 lbs, blood bay warmblood with a small star. Prefers to stand or doze and snack more than anything
Attack points: 10
Special abilities: Obliviousness— The Boulder will not notice attacks until the 3rd kick or bite; sometimes the 6th if he is eating or dozing. Remains calm, will quickly resume normal activities post-attack

Ella AKA The Chew Toy
Description: 15.1H, ~800 lbs, adorable liver chestnut mare with a wide white blaze. Sweetest thing you’ll ever meet
Attack points: 0
Special abilities: Survival— The Chew Toy knows when to get out of the way but still manages to live. She’s been surviving in the feeding pasture for several years now

Doc AKA Slim Fast
Description: 15.3H, ~1000 lbs, veteran bay thoroughbred-type gelding with a skinny blaze and a hind sock. Trusty trail horse, kind soul
Attack points: 0
Special abilities: Diplomacy— Slim Fast will defer to others with a bow of his head. Unfortunately he’s been in the herd for a couple of months now and appears to be losing weight very quickly

Squirt AKA Totally Screwed
Description: 15.2H, ~950 lbs, nervous gray thoroughbred-type gelding. All-round beta kind of guy
Attack points: -800
Special abilities: Bolting— Totally Screwed will bolt quickly and often at any sign of attack, sometimes through the fence. This is his third try in the pasture; first two attempts required several weeks of rehab in the barn

Something Pretty Incredible

2009-05-08T20:11:00.000-07:00

I tied Howie to the ties by the barn yesterday evening. As I groomed, he was happily scrounging around for food leftovers on the ground. His nose went this way and that, over and under his lead rope, over by the pole and back again.

As he reached for a particularly scrumptious-looking piece of hay, his ears went all the way under his lead rope, and when he lifted his head, the rope crossed over the top of his head, and slid down to wrap around his neck. He was stuck.

Howie: Oh crap.
Me: Oh crap!
Howie: Panic???
Me: You’re all right, buddy, let me see how to get you out of this mess.

And he listened! He stopped pulling back as soon as I told him, “Whoa big guy. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got yourself into.” He held perfectly still, uncomfortable and jammed as he was, waiting for me to get him out of his bind. I patted him on the neck and went to the knot and tried to pull it free. It was just a one-loop slip knot, but geez he had managed to pull it really tight. So I went to his halter to see if I could unclip it. He stood, patiently waiting, following my movements with his near eye. I had to maneuver the halter around a little, added a bit of pressure to get the space I needed, unclipped the leadrope, and voila! he was saved.

He shook his head out a bit, exhaled, and (dare I say sheepishly?) pretended like nothing had happened. I clipped him back to the leadrope. After a few minutes he settled for a snooze for the rest of the groom and tack time.

If this had happened with my old thoroughbred, he would’ve backed up against that halter and leadrope, rearing and straining until something snapped. Then he would’ve bolted for the next zip code, regardless of where I was or what I was doing. He packed me around fine under saddle but just didn’t care about his humans.

And now this big baby who gets his nose in everything, walks out of the cross-ties because he thinks it’s funny, and plants his big ol’ feet for big bucks when the wind blows up under his tail— now this big baby is teaching me about love and trust and respect. Incredible!

How Perfect

2009-04-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

I wandered up to the barn today despite my sniffles and wooziness (I’ve been sick for the past couple of days) to try to get some respite from sitting on the couch at home— where I tend to get bored, then antsy, then whiney, and finally cranky…

The first thing that struck me was the peace out there around midday. Even though the spring chill is still in the breeze, the chill was dampened by the warm midday sun. The normal sounds of life at the barn— the guys cleaning out stalls, horses being led here and there, the occasional whinny— were softer, calmer.

And wow, my horse… El Bronco Loco? In the warm midday sun all the wildness melted away and I was left with Wonderful Angel of Loveliness. We moved at an easy pace up to the barn, he snoozed while we tacked (yes, in the cross-ties he’s been trying to jump out of for the past week), he moved with precision at every command in the round pen, and behaved like a seasoned pro under saddle.

Even his nemesis, the rolling manure cart that he’s trained himself to spook at, only got a tweak of an ear, rather than the previous bolt-halfway-across-the-arena-and-buck-until-I-get-launched move. We spent a lovely half hour in the arena, working on leg yields, transitions, serpentines, even a few steps of canter.

We wrapped up with an amble back to the barn, a lovely rub in the cross-ties, a feed, and an amble back to the pasture.

Is this what housewives and retirees get every day? Is this the secret to their glistening horses? Is this how they can stand around and chit chat, take the time to brush out their horses’ tails until every strand of hair sways in the wind?

Even through the sniffles, I thought (not for the first time) that it’s time for me to hurry up and win the lottery so I can retire. Then baby Howie might actually live up to his name every day!

Delusions of Grandeur

2009-04-26T20:06:00.000-07:00

Thursday evening was a bit brisk, the kind of brisk that blows up horses’ tails and makes them want to run and buck. I lunged Howie, he squealed and bolted when one of the barn guys emptied his manure cart. One of the pony club girls was out with her mare walking laps around the barn, and every time they came into view Howie would pin his ears on them and want to show off (not so much “look at what a gentleman I am", more like “wanna see how high I can launch her?"). It took all of my concentration to get him to focus on our ride, and while everything was touch-and-go, we finished up without a mishap… and even got a compliment from a fellow boarder!

As I wrapped up, I thought that it would be great if we could get a really solid ride in, some time when it was calm and quiet and we can both focus. So, I got motivated and kicked myself out of bed at 6:30 a.m. the next day.

I remembered mornings being glorious times to ride with my old Thoroughbred. I loved getting rides in before work, watching the sun climb in the sky.

Let’s just say things were a little different with Howie. Everything was a wreck, to put it mildly.
Eyes bugging out of his head: What do you mean I’m supposed to go to work before breakfast???
Jumping 5 feet in the air: What is that giant geyser of water shooting into the arena??? Oh my goodness there’s another one! This is just wrong. WRONG.

Continued attempts to run through the cross-ties: There’s a guy back there, I tell you. He’s got a cart. And a radio. And he’s like, walking around. He’s trouble I tell you… I’m outta here!
In the round pen, running and bucking: Everyone else is out running and bucking! Wheeeeeeeeeeee. YeeeeHAW. [Horse in the neighboring paddock is squealing and prancing back and forth] LET’S RUN!!!!!!

Stop, snort, and stare: Hey! That mare got away… Oh look, she’s running and bucking around the barn. That looks like a lot of fun! [Run in a small circle, snort some more] Hey! Looky over here! I wanna be cool like you!!!

Let’s just say, after that display, there was no way in heck I was going to sit on the Wild Beast. But, in the end, after A LOT of work in the round pen over cavaletti, Wild Beast started to resemble my horse a bit.

As I put him back in the pasture (practicing that he did NOT drag me down the hill like a powerboat), I was bummed that I didn’t get my ride in. But at the same time, there wasn’t much anything I could do about it. He’s going to be a horse, he’s going to be young, and when the wind blows up his tail that certain brisk way, he was going to become Wild Beast.

I turned him out with lots of hugs and kisses. There was still plenty of breakfast left, but instead of going straight to the food by his pasture buddies, he stayed by the gate staring after me. I turned back to see what he was up to, and he points his nose in the air and wrinkles his lip at me. I laugh, and appreciate that we had gotten the time, even if it wasn’t very productive. And I remembered a saying from our head of media sales at work:

“Blame no one. Expect nothing... but do something.”

Getting Back on Track

2009-04-22T20:04:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday: Gusty winds, didn’t even attempt to ride (do NOT want a repeat performance of El Bronco Loco.) Lots of lunging, including this trot-halt-trot exercise Carol used to keep us amused. I had no idea one could get a horse to do trot-halt transitions on the lunge! And yeah, it was plenty challenging.

Last Thursday: Calm and mild. Lunged Howie a lot, to the left, to the right, with side reins, walk around the arena, etc. He behaved himself beautifully and went right to work. Really didn’t want to, but forced myself to get on. He hadn’t been ridden, and felt it. Nerve-wrecking ride, his focus was here and there and way out there, then here again, then gone again. Tried to keep a tempo at the walk but couldn’t. Tried to work him into some schooling figures at a walk, he didn’t want to go over there, he didn’t want to bend properly, he didn’t want to walk forward, he didn’t want to halt! He wanted any excuse to be stupid, I called it quits after a half hour— no disaster was progress!

Last Friday: Again calm and mild. Lunged Howie a lot again (I still didn’t trust him). Lunged him in the spooky half of the arena, he tried to be stupid a couple of times and gave up, went to work. I really focused on bossing him around, trot now, canter now, trot now. He went with the flow. Again, I really didn’t want to, but forced myself to get on because he was behaving so beautifully. We went back to the schooling figures (staying in the near side of the arena because I’m a chicken), and… amazing! No opinions. I wanted to go this way, he went that way, I wanted him to bend that way, he bent that way. Definitely progress.

Last Saturday: Gorgeous calm day. Early morning ride… So nice to be out there to begin a fresh day, rather than dragging the remains of the work day with me to the barn. Lunged him again (I’m trying to be safe), he was a perfect gentleman, I felt pretty optimistic when I hopped on. And we got some very decent walk work, I took a deep breath and bumped him up to TROT. And… he trotted! We even went all the way around the arena, right past the spooky spot that got me launched in the first place. We’re doing pretty good!

Yesterday: HOT. Lunged him minimally (I was worried he would melt), hopped on for a lesson with Carol. We worked short serpentines down the arena, he moved this way and that so smoothly, his mind was right on his work. We did walk-halt and walk-trot transitions, each time focusing on keeping a soft contact on the outside rein. He was a star, working so well I was the one who had to concentrate to keep up. Then a couple of girls came in with their galloping horses, Howie had a couple of evil thoughts about running off and bucking, but we were able to ignore them and hold ourselves together for the last bit of changing directions and bend, at a trot, at the far end of the arena. Hazzah!

Path to Recovery

2009-04-06T20:02:00.000-07:00

Day 0 (Thursday after 7 p.m.)
Meds: 500 mg codene, 1 shot gin
Activities: None (unless you count crying)
Hours spent horizontal: 5
Evil thoughts about Howie: 4

Day 1 (Friday)
Meds: 600 mg ibuprofen, 2 beers, 2 glasses wine
Activities: Typing while lying in bed (thank goodness for working from home), watching TV, napping, sending world’s best fiance to store for food
Hours spent horizontal: 23
Evil thoughts about Howie: 2

Day 2 (Saturday)
Meds: 600 mg ibuprofen, 2 glasses wine, 2 beers, 2 cups sake
Activities: Going for a 20-minute drive, napping, watching TV, watching 2 movies, going for a waddle around the block, sat up for dinner with Albert, reading a book
Hours spent horizontal: 20
Evil thoughts about Howie: 1

Day 3 (Sunday)
Meds: 600 mg ibuprofen, 1 glass wine, 1 beer
Activities: Going to grocery store, watching world’s best fiance carry all the groceries, eating a hamburger, watching TV, watching world’s best fiance clean his motorcycle, helping cut asparagus and chives for dinner salad
Hours spent horizontal: 14
Evil thoughts about Howie: 0.5

Day 4 (Monday)
Meds: 600 mg ibuprofen
Activities: Driving to work, getting gas for the car, attending 150 meetings, wishing I could lay down
Hours spent horizontal: 8
Evil thoughts about Howie: 0

Ode To The Crappiest Day

2009-04-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

It started with the alarm beeping, beeping, beeping;
Heavy-lidded, I crawled out of bed,
Dragging, dragging, dragging;
To work that was just grinding, grinding, grinding.

Then to the dentist for the drilling, drilling, drilling;
But on the way *CRACK* and my car started scraping, squeaking. whirring;
I pulled over by the highway, peeked under the car,
and saw nothing.
Onwards to the dentist, people are staring, staring staring;
The car is screeching, screeching screeching.

The dentist pulls out the needle piercing, piercing, piercing;
Then she starts the jabbing, jabbing, jabbing;
My insides are clenching, clenching, clenching;
I leave the office worn,
And hit every red light between there and the barn.

Waiting, waiting, waiting;
I sit in the car and start screaming, yelling, cursing;
Except my entire mouth is numb,
So all I get is slurring, slurring, slurring.

Enough! I say as I head into the barn,
I will have a good ride and the day will be thankfully over;
Howie’s eyes are wide and wary,
The wind is blowing, blowing, blowing.
Mind over matter, I mutter as I hop on;
His ears are pinpointed on every object, moving or not;
Before I knew it he has spun and bolted;
I sit deep in the saddle, pulling, pulling, pulling;
One flying leap, he lands on his front feet, hind end so high in the air;
And I am flying, flying, flying;
I count the seconds in the air,
Splat.

The stars are spinning, spinning, spinning;
Sharp pain is shooting through my back;
My lungs are struggling, gasping, gasping, gasping;
It takes me minutes to get back on my feet.
I give up.

What more can I do?
With a handful of ibuprofen in one hand and shot of cheap gin in the other, I say, “Screw you, Crappiest Day!”

Constant Dialog... For Better or Worse

2009-03-29T19:57:00.000-07:00

Albert and Reco, me and Howie, and Deborah and Sasha all trooped off on a trail ride Thursday evening. The sky was clear, the air was still, but in the seeming peace and quiet it was amazing that the 3 humans still couldn’t carry on a conversation.

Me: Oh what a beautiful day!
Deborah: It really is, perfect for a trail ride.
Reco: I don’t want to go down the hill.
Howie: I want to bite Reco.
Sasha: HORSES!!
Albert: Wow Reco, will you please move your butt?
Me: Howie you do NOT bite Reco.
Albert: Sorry, what were we saying?
Deborah: It’s so nice to be able to go out. Such a treat.
Albert: Yeah it really is. What kind of horse is Sasha again?
Sasha: HORSES!! HORSES!! I LOVE HORSES!!
Howie: Can I bite Sasha?
Reco: I hate this hill.
Deborah: Sasha will you please calm down.
Me: Wow Reco really is showing us his blazing thoroughbred speed, isn’t he.
Albert: Seriously… Reco will you please move?
Howie: I’ll bite him. I want to bite him. I really really want to bite him.
Reco: You bite me I’m going to kick you in the face.
Deborah: Er, Sasha is an Andalusian.
Sasha: I LOVE HORSES!!! YAY HORSES!!! I’M SO EXCITED!!!!
Howie: What’s wrong with Sasha? He’s weird.
Sasha: I CAN’T CONTAIN MYSELF!! WHAT A GOOD DAY!!!!!!
Me: Dang, nice piaffe.
Deborah: Sasha will you please just walk like a normal horse?! You are so annoying.
Me: So guys, how about after this trail ride we graze the horses for a bit so we can actually carry on a normal conversation?

Hazzah!

2009-03-23T19:54:00.000-07:00

I found myself Saturday morning posting to a very respectable working trot on my horse. He trotted honestly forward, heading in whichever direction I chose, rounding his back and stretching forward into the bit, ears relaxed and focused on me. I wanted to go over by the gate, he kept trotting. We went past the gate and over to the far side, and he kept trotting. We went over a pole, and he kept trotting. We went round and round past a couple of girls on ponies standing in the middle of the arena and he kept trotting. Just for laughs, I sat and asked for a walk. He walked. I lifted my seat for a trot… and, we were trotting again!

How did this happen?? What alien being had taken over my horse? What magic pixie dust of energy now motivated him to move forward obediently?

The day started like any other. Carol was trying to coach Howie and me while we walking around a patch of grass on a remote patch of hill (we had been banished by Pony Club from the arena). Howie was sucked back and thinking alternately between being annoying and being stupid. Every time we hit an uphill he would stop and back up into the nearest pole, fence, or tree. Every time we faced the barn he thought about bolting back to it. Carol did her best to focus us on tempo and consistency, but any leg and whip would bring him to a stubborn stop, and I really really didn’t want to hit him hard enough to give him an excuse to execute the stupid thoughts in his head.

We gave up and asked the instructor teaching in the upper arena for some space. She gave us a “These girls don’t steer” warning and let us in. We gratefully squeezed in there with a couple of little girls and their lesson ponies careening around like pinballs. Howie and I walked at a crawl (the best I could do), still stopping and backing up every couple of steps.

Carol would not be deterred. She had us walk a serpentine with square corners, all the time talking tempo tempo tempo. Then we did turn on the forehand reverses up and down one of the long sides. Howie started moving forward a bit better after that, which we took advantage of and did turn about the forehands while still walking up and down the long side. He caught on to the exercise and thought maybe he was pretty clever.

Next, she asked us to trot. I wiggled my feet and he stopped and backed up. The whip behind my leg got zero response. We tried the whip on his shoulder and… voila!… motivation. A couple of sharp raps and a kick got him trotting. We trotted a circle and back to a walk, then I wiggled my legs again for the trot and he gave in a little easier… and three steps later he flung his head between his legs and started flinging it about, trying to haul me over the front of the saddle. We came back to a screeching halt.

“You have to win this one,” Carol told me. And off we went again.

Every time he flung his head down, I practiced sinking deep into my position and continuing the forward movement. I banished all thoughts of getting launched through the air from my head. I figured, if he can’t get his head down and stop, he can’t buck. So I clung to that forward movement with every ounce of focus I had.

And Carol encouraged me and asked a little more of us each time. After about 10 minutes we had walk / trot transitions with minimal leg, and a couple of times I didn’t even have to do that to get him to trot out. He gave up flinging his head about, he gave up all thoughts of stopping. We even put down a pole and he started thinking about getting his feet over that pole that instead.

Hazzah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Operation Kick And Go

2009-03-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

Cesarism #2a: “Follow through, make it a psychological exercise”
Cesarism #2b: “Follow through, make him surrender to the activity”
Cesarism #2c: “Follow through, take time to build the relationship”

“Raise your expectations", “Don’t let him get away with it", “Get after him NOW"… I’ve heard the phrases before (over and over in my case since I am not an assertive person by nature) but none of them gave me the clarity and empowerment as Cesar’s “make it psycological", “surrender", and “take the time".

Make it a psychological activity means that when you ask him to do something, and he doesn’t do it (either because he doesn’t know how or because he doesn’t want to), you address the issue by presenting the situation to him again with corrections until he picks up the right behavior.
Make him surrender to the activity means you practice presenting the situation to him and having him pick up the right behavior until you sense that relaxation from him, that he has completely relaxed to the activity and what you asking from him.

Take the time means take the time to practice, listen, and learn about your horse. Practicing the situations with him and adjusting your corrections to communicate to him what you want takes time, patience, and effort. This is about building a relationship with your horse, not about hopping on and dashing over a few fences (which I am guilty of doing with my old horse, I wonder if he and I ever had a conversation in the two years I owned him!)

Just in the past week I’ve made some interesting mental strides in Operation Kick And Go thanks to these Cesarisms. Howie is still stopping, backing up, and bucking whenever I use my leg or whip while riding. It got to the point where last weekend we spent 10 minutes of the 15 minutes I spent riding him at a stand still… a bit embarrassing with the little Pony clubbers cantering gleeful circles around us.

But, it’s a matter of follow through. It’s true that some riders could probably hop right on him and have him go beautifully (we call these riders trainers), but he doesn’t for me. This Operation Kick And Go then becomes a great psychological exercise. He doesn’t want to go when I ask him, if I clam on too much leg or use the whip too heavily he gets angry and bucks. From pure trial and error, I’ve discovered that if I become incredibly annoying (lots of frequent tiny taps with the whip and loose wiggles of my feet), he becomes motivated enough to figure out how to make that annoyingness stop. When he tries taking a step forward, I sit still and tell him how smart he is. He stops, I become annoying again.

At a rather lurching pace, I at least had him walking for a good 5 minutes consecutively today more or less forward in the arena. This was a good 5 minutes more of quality walking than we got last weekend, so I’ll call that progress! (Hey, I’ll take anything at this point)

And after lots of praise and carrots and apples and peppermints, the good feeling I had from working with him rubbed off on him too. After a nice graze I put him back in the pasture where his buddies were finishing up dinner. Instead of running off to join the herd as he usually does, today he rubbed and loved on me long after the halter was off. He soaked up my joy and happiness, even following me a few steps back to the gate when I turned to leave.

Thank you, Cesar!

Cesar Milan is Awesome

2009-03-11T19:51:00.000-07:00

I got hooked on Dog Whisperer over the winter. And I know it might seem cheesy, but a lot of Cesar’s methodologies make a lot of sense! And, I have to admit, have a lot of weight in the new ways I’m trying to approach my horse these days.

Cesarism #1: “Use your energy”
My translation: “Use body language to communicate with the horse”
Example: Howie tries to be a pill in the cross-ties. He scoots himself all the way to the front of the range of the ties, and stands in a thoroughly inconvenient spot. While I would’ve previously told him “Stop it. Stop it! Hey. Pill. Move. Backwards. Now!” while pushing him back, now I simply stand in front of him and move towards him. We practice him giving me space by moving backwards.

Result: He can actually focus on and understand what I’m communicating! It’s incredible. I hardly have to poke him to get him to give me space in the wash rack, he keeps track of me and gives me space whenever I move around. This is a total 180 from the horse that used to step on me so often I wondered if he was aiming for my feet! Cesar talks about using “energy” to direct dogs because that’s what dogs use to communicate amongst themselves. When I concentrate on staying quiet and moving in a way that encourages Howie to move or do something I want, it’s incredible how willing he is. It even carries over to voice commands while on the lunge. Because I am using quiet and body language to communicate with him otherwise, when I use a voice command like “trot” or “gallop” while he is on the line, he recognizes those commands and moves off like a charm.

I nearly fell over yesterday evening from shock when I had him walking (practicing tempo) on the lunge for about 5 minutes. Usually at this point he has fallen asleep and any attempt at trotting would involve several minutes of very embarrassing begging and pleading on my part. Last night all I did was say “trot", and off he went!!!

Long Winter, New Chapter

2009-03-03T19:48:00.000-08:00

It was a long winter away from Howie, filled with many other lovely life things — I bought our first Christmas tree (yeah it was a four foot plastic one from Target, but it still lit up and glittered in the first home Chris and I ever shared); Christmas with Chris’s family in San Diego, New Years’ at our place with friends, roadtrips to Santa Barbara and Sonoma and Carmel… and, wonder of all wonders, a proposal from my dearest and a shining ring amongst quiet tears, rose petals, and a hundred candles.

It was a wonderful winter, during which I spent many a spare moment in my happy life thinking that if only I could find this kind of happiness and balance with my horse. Thinking about him after our slow slide in the fall, I would only feel inadequate, depressed, and frustrated. Silly me, I would say to myself, Howie is a baby horse and I should expect to feel challenged. And yet, I couldn’t see that any of the time I had spent last fall getting us anywhere. We just seemed to be stuck in separate worlds. How does one get… unstuck?

Just as they tell you with horse riding and training, when something isn’t right, it’s up to you to make a drastic enough change to make a significant difference right away. Instead of niggling and nagging with that spur every step while he falls asleep, goose him one surprising enough to send him forward so you don’t have to do it again for 5 minutes. I’m not so good at goosing the horse yet, but I came up with several ways to turn my view of riding and being around horses upside down…

1. I spent much of my life around thoroughbreds. This plus a very detail-oriented focus on my riding really turned me into a hyper-conscious person who could predict the chances of any horse reacting to a trash can, a forklift, or a stream of running water. I didn’t expect it enough to help the horse spook per se, but the percentages still ran like the stock ticker in the back of my head. Now, I’m out there and consciously ignoring (if that even makes sense) what Howie may or may not be thinking. I’m just… being, enjoying myself while going about my business, and it’s up to him to follow.

2. My natural disposition is to avoid conflict. This, combined with limited time to ride and be around my horse, meant that he used to get away to with all kinds of things… being reluctant to walk up the hill, diving for grass, smushing me in the wash rack, ignoring me on the lunge line, stopping and bucking under saddle. Now, the bucking bit is obviously something that I knew needed to be corrected, but the key was all the other naughty things he thinks he can get away with means he thinks he’s established dominance. I have heard this all before, but now the difference is I take the time to challenge him. The success or failure of the time spent with him is not measured by whether or not I managed to climb in the saddle and hit canter for the sake of hitting the gait. I’m now focused on challenging him and having him practice obedience… If we run into issues leading that day and he drags his feet, we go back and do handwalking with lots of transitions at a spanking tempo the whole time if we have to.

3. I’m going back to the basics. While Howie is gifted enough to certainly make do without proper practice at many exercises, I’d really like for us to have basics to fall back to. Today it might be handwalking, later it may be a solid walk trot and canter. Building the foundation piece by piece is going to do wonders for my confidence (and hopefully his too, although he’s not really lacking any). If we have a bad bucking day under saddle? Well, we have lunging and handwalking to fall back to to get his brain back into relaxed, attentive, obedient mode.

I keep reminding myself of these points, but so far it has come quite easily to me. I also changed up the training so that Howie and I are on our own now, which helps me work a bit harder at taking responsibility while also allowing me the freedom to experiment. Carol, an experienced rider and coach who keeps her horse at the barn, has also agreed to teach us a few things and point us in the right direction.

The result? Well so far I am hopeful and optimistic. It may be a long and winding road this way, but so long as I’m having fun, then it’s well worth it.

PonyPonyPony

2009-03-03T19:46:00.000-08:00

It was early, it was freezing cold, and it was pouring rain. Everything about this morning should have put me in a horrendous mood to start the day.

But I found myself propelled out of bed when the alarm went off butt-early in the morning by a single thought: Howie is back!!

Everything around barn was a lake, the hill down to the pasture a gushing waterfall, and the pasture itself the everglades. I slipped and slidded by way down the hill, scrabbling up the side to grab his halter, and skidded my way down to the pasture entrance. Wading through the pasture, I needed a snorkel to see where I was going, but I finally fished him out from the far end of the pool.

And there he was… as furry and round and cute as I had remembered. I gave the giant mudball a hug, and brought him up to the barn for a bit of grooming.

He stood wild and wide-eyed in the cross-ties in the barn. After all, it had been 3 months since he had been here! A lady at the barn sneezed behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The wind and rain poured on outside, he squidged away from the hose and continuously tried to crawl out of a crack in the door.

Grooming done, I took him out to walk laps around the barn. He spooked a bit, mashed me a couple of times, but eventually settled down to an energetic and attentive walk after about 10 minutes. In another 10 minutes and he was nearly back to his old self, keeping his ears and eyes on me while we did walk and halt transitions the unrelenting rain. We worked another few minutes until he was totally obedient and attentive (my new mantra for the next year), then we went for a bit of a graze, and back in the pasture he went.

I then spent another few minutes lugging feed in the rain. By the time I was finished, I was drenched through a water-resistent jacket, and the fleece I wore underneath. My jeans were soaked through and heavy with wet and mud, and my hat was soggy and useless. I was chilled to the bone.

By all accounts, I should have been miserable this morning.

And yet, when the lady who had sneezed earlier smiled and said hello what a handsome horse you have, I grinned from ear to ear and babbled on as relentless as the rain on how wonderful my horse is, what fun we’re having, and what an awesome way to start the day.

HE’S BACK!!!

Barefoot and ready for holiday!

2008-12-03T19:45:00.000-08:00

The barn was gorgeous today in the morning. The dew was still fresh in the air and clinging onto blades of grass. The entire grounds was starting to be covered with grass since the rain, everything looked plush and velvety and vibrantly green.
I walked up to Howie in the pasture. He looked bright-eyed and young this morning, barefoot for the first time in many months, he looked very much like the first time I met him over a year ago now.
I gave him a couple of cookies from my pocket. He stuck his nose in my fleece so I took the opportunity to hug his head. From that position, he started to lip my belt buckle, which made me laugh.
“I’m going to miss you, baby,” I told him. “Be good at Laurie’s and relax and have fun and remember to grow up a little bit if you can manage.”
With a final pat, I walked back up the hill. As I closed the gate I looked at my barefoot baby pony in the pasture and looked forward to the spring when he’ll be back for our adventures part 2 together.

Learning (me more than him)

2008-12-02T19:44:00.000-08:00

I was once again suitably impressed by Amanda (one of Laurie’s protegees)’s presence on horseback on Saturday.

I had asked her to hop on for 5 minutes after my lesson to see what she felt. He had settled into the work for the hour quite nicely with Laurie and with myself, although a bit lazy (the kind of lazy that suits him when we’re asking him to work, but has enough beans to send him off scooting at top speed with the first scrunch of tires on gravel!). I was curious to see her assessment of him, as she had ridden him before this whole bucking phase.

She hopped on him (from the ground onto a 16.2H horse, impressive in its own right), and rode off without much ado. I noted that she did have to work as hard as I did to keep him in front of her leg, but all in all was succeeding keeping him there. The pair walked down to the far side of the arena, and with a few thwaps of the crop she had him trotting… and cantering… and bucking.
Amanda sat through the bucks and brought him back to a walk. Without breaking concentration, she explained to us, “Well that wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to trot.” And before the end of the sentence, she tried again, and he trotted on.

Down by the gate, she brought him back to a walk and tried to pick up a trot again, which he was being a pill about. She thwapped him again with the crop a few times, to which he took offense and bucked some more. She sat through the bucking, and explained to him, “Well that’s not what I wanted. I want to trot.” And again, she booted him and thwapped him a few more times (trying to trot) and they were off.

Howie’s misbehaviors did not trigger any emotional response from her. She was enjoying herself working with this young horse, and all she replied to his bucking and laziness was “That’s not what I want". She left it at that, and moved on, tried to again to get what she did want. It was very educational to see and experience. When Laurie got bucked, she got mad because she knows she’s not the cause and the horse is being an idiot. When I get bucked, I get depressed because I feel like it’s caused by some physical / emotional / mental deficiency on my part. When Amanda got bucked, she shrugged and moved on to what she wanted to do. Amazing.
At the end of the ride she hopped off him and brought him over to us beaming. “Oh my gosh he’s such a great horse,” she said. “All that other stuff is just 3-year-old nonsense. He is going to be such a wonderful horse for you.”

Her positive energy really lifted my spirits. It was the last lesson before Howie is off in Laurie’s pasture for the next few months during the dark and stormy days of winter, and it meant a lot to me to be able to feel good on that sunny afternoon, heading into a winter without horses.

No more pencils! No more books!

2008-11-18T23:16:00.000-08:00

Howie and I managed to put in a very respectable half-hour’s worth of riding in on Sunday…
The first 10 minutes were heavenly, we were engaged, we were forward, we were bending and lengthening.

The next 10 minutes were more earthly, a couple of attempts at taking my leg off by drifting into the rail, more testing on the “go” command. We still managed some nice spiral in / spiral out at the trot and a couple of canter steps.

The last 10 minutes were just, well, comical. Perri watched as I kicked and cursed and cajoled trying to get the horse to trot. Eventually I yelled, “I want to go over there and I want to go over there FAST. NOW.” That seemed to do the trick, even if Perri was laughing at us from the bleachers! We wrapped up with a spanking trot about the arena.

After the ride, I took my time putting him up. Perri and Jen and Cynthia were all out and about on the pleasant sunny afternoon, and I was having fun chit chatting with them (and making it a point for Howie to behave even when my back was turned).

He did admirably, and we finished up by 10 min of grazing on the new grass that sprouted up in the past couple of weeks after the rain. And, as I led him away from the grazing, he picked his head up and walked after me like a gentleman with a single tug and a “time to go” from me (that nearly knocked my socks off with his history of being a pill around food… hooray for me!)
We marched up the hill and back to the pasture gate, went in, and I rubbed his head for a bit after taking his halter off. Then I told him, “ok bye!”

The transformation was stunning and hilarious. The horse that had been standing sedately and soaking in my love and affection now turned from me and headed down the hill to his pals. After a couple of steps at the walk, he kicked up his heels and careened down at a canter, tossing his head and running straight to his favorite chew toy, a mare named Ella.

Wheeee! School’s out! Let’s PLAY!!!