Sorry to drop off the map like that, Loyal Reader. You must’ve been worried that I'd been eaten by bears or something. Never fear. I am safely back home after my trip to Slovenia. The worst that befell me on my journey was coming down with the sniffly virus circulating among and laying low the barn staff in Lipica. It was nowhere near as bad or as memorable as the weekend I spent in Listowel, Ireland, when I came down with the flu shortly upon arrival. I think that must’ve been the highest fever I’ve run as an adult, since I am pretty sure that my memories of the town/weekend do not entirely sync up with the reality of the place and events.
I was on a bit of a downer in my last post, partially because I was getting sick. But I only ended up missing one of my lessons because of it (my sense of balance was seriously and weirdly off kilter in the first lesson of the day so I decided to bag the second.)
I was on a bit of a downer in my last post, partially because I was getting sick. But I only ended up missing one of my lessons because of it (my sense of balance was seriously and weirdly off kilter in the first lesson of the day so I decided to bag the second.)
I don’t feel like I adequately explained why I was so disgruntled about riding that one particular horse, but it was a significant experience so I’m going to revisit it and clarify a few things. First, the back story:
I rode him in six lessons total. Lessons one and six were with Instructor A, who had quite a history with the horse, and the other four were with Instructor B. The first two lessons he was willing, supple and balanced, and picked up both canter leads no bother.
Lesson three he was also fine from my point of view, but Instructor B pointed out towards the end of the lesson that he was looking at her like, “Oh, I’m too old, I’m tired.” At that point we'd only worked on lateral work at the walk and trot, so she wanted to finish up with some canter work. The exercise was pretty simple: Start off in a 20 meter circle in the center of the arena. Pick up canter as we approached the rail (B for right lead and E for left.) Half circle in canter, then continue straight down the long side, go down the short side past C, back up the long side, and do a downward transition to the trot once we get back to where we started off.
Right lead was fine, no bother. We broke into trot on the second long side sometime between H and S, but I was pretty tired and a little switched off at the point, so we called it good and moved on. Left lead he broke before we even got to the rail at B. I could feel myself completely drop the contact on the outside rein as it happened, but being aware of what your body is doing is one thing, being in control of it is, unfortunately, another. I have no doubt that I was also leaning forward and not using my seat, so it's entirely attributable to rider error. We stayed on the circle, regrouped, and tried again.
Right lead was fine, no bother. We broke into trot on the second long side sometime between H and S, but I was pretty tired and a little switched off at the point, so we called it good and moved on. Left lead he broke before we even got to the rail at B. I could feel myself completely drop the contact on the outside rein as it happened, but being aware of what your body is doing is one thing, being in control of it is, unfortunately, another. I have no doubt that I was also leaning forward and not using my seat, so it's entirely attributable to rider error. We stayed on the circle, regrouped, and tried again.
Second time, we picked the canter up and kept going. When we got down by C, there was a noise from outside the entrance of the arena down by A, he spooked, took a couple of hops, and I fell off over the left shoulder. Oops. It was an idiot mistake on my part. I am perfectly capable of riding through hiccups like that. I am not a particularly brave rider, and I’m the first one to point that out, and I’m obviously big on self-analysis, so this isn't me putting a brave face on anything. It was a lesson to me about not mentally checking out of the ride before the ride is over (in the same way I'm finally getting the whole point about not dropping lateral movements a few steps before the end and actually riding the horse into straightness instead of mentally moving onto the next thing and letting the horse splat out.) I was tired and not balanced and yeah. I fell off of an old, short horse after two mild, unexpected hops - which I should've been prepared for, since I could tell that he'd been a little nervous about the other horse being lunged down by A being taken out of the arena a couple of minutes before. But it was a short fall to soft ground, I didn't get any sort of adrenaline rush, it was just mildly embarrassing, but whatever. No harm, no foul. By far the worst part was suffering through the many lectures about getting back on and everything I did wrong and conquering fear. As I was getting back on, riding the horse, putting him away, and all around not making a big deal of it.
For lesson four I was given the choice of riding a different horse but didn’t because, y’know, the whole thing was a little stupid and not really the horse's fault. But, this lesson was nowhere near as good as the previous ones. We spent the next three lessons in a different arena, which didn't help anything. There are three indoors at the facility. The main one used for lessons and lower level schooling is 20 by 60 meters exactly, yum. A girl could get spoiled never having to think about geometry or proportions. Then there's a 20m by 40m used mainly for lunging, but also the odd ride. Both of those arenas were full, and probably due to the falling off incident we were told to ride in the big (30m by 75m?) arena used for performances. It has the pillars in the middle, and potted plants in the corner, and bleachers on two sides - an endless assortment of shadows and objects to snort at, basically. Plus, the only other riders in there were always working on higher level and very collected movements - nothing wrong with that, it's just a very "up" sort of energy which was probably not so good for where we were at.
So, we were in the performance arena. I was a little tense, he was a little tense - another dynamic that probably didn't help. Instructor B was giving me more annoying lectures about not being afraid, being the boss, etc. (And also giving me those spiels I get from horse people who rode as kids about how great it is when you ride as a kid because you fall off a million times and don’t care. Which I get, and that sounds awesome. But I suspect that part of the reason it doesn't matter so much when you're a kid is you probably don’t get fricken drilled about the whole thing for years afterward, you're allowed to just move on. And it's not like I have a time machine so I can go back and ride as a kid, but I've forgiven technology and the space-time continuum for that, and I'm perfectly happy with where my life is at, though I do think the universe still owes me a shetland pony.) (I do realize I'm being a little touchy about things that, in the normal run of things, I wouldn't give two craps about. It was just a bit of a high stress situation for me, and there was always a bit of a language barrier, so it was a little difficult for me to express myself and feel understood. Which, if you've made it this far into my post, I'm sure you realize is one of my personal circles of hell. The typing will continue until I feel understood.)
So, we were in the performance arena. I was a little tense, he was a little tense - another dynamic that probably didn't help. Instructor B was giving me more annoying lectures about not being afraid, being the boss, etc. (And also giving me those spiels I get from horse people who rode as kids about how great it is when you ride as a kid because you fall off a million times and don’t care. Which I get, and that sounds awesome. But I suspect that part of the reason it doesn't matter so much when you're a kid is you probably don’t get fricken drilled about the whole thing for years afterward, you're allowed to just move on. And it's not like I have a time machine so I can go back and ride as a kid, but I've forgiven technology and the space-time continuum for that, and I'm perfectly happy with where my life is at, though I do think the universe still owes me a shetland pony.) (I do realize I'm being a little touchy about things that, in the normal run of things, I wouldn't give two craps about. It was just a bit of a high stress situation for me, and there was always a bit of a language barrier, so it was a little difficult for me to express myself and feel understood. Which, if you've made it this far into my post, I'm sure you realize is one of my personal circles of hell. The typing will continue until I feel understood.)
In any case, I was having some issues getting him to bend to the left, and with all sorts of behavioral ticks and resistances that had not surfaced at all in the previous three lessons. The instructor’s response was, “You can do this. This is all in your head. You stop yourself and say I can’t, when really you can.” Which was madly frustrating at the time, and in that particular instance I don’t know if she was right, but the next day in my first lesson with a different instructor on a different horse, I realized that she was right in general about some other things I have with my riding and it was very helpful insight.
But then I had lesson five with this same instructor/horse pair, and everything was even worse. Circumstances aside, something was fundamentally amiss. I am not an incredibly experienced rider, so it’s entirely possible that I’m wrong, but it did not feel like evasions to get out of work. He seemed like a willing, honest horse, and I felt like I literally could not force him to bend him with my right aids around my left leg. He wasn't counter-flexing to drop contact, because the contact on the outside rein was still there, and he wasn't curling behind or anything, it was like he suddenly couldn't bend. I asked the trainer to ride him, she got on and was like, “Oh wow, yeah, he can’t bend, there’s possibly something physical going on.” And we called it a day and decided to use a different horse in the next lesson.
But then I had lesson five with this same instructor/horse pair, and everything was even worse. Circumstances aside, something was fundamentally amiss. I am not an incredibly experienced rider, so it’s entirely possible that I’m wrong, but it did not feel like evasions to get out of work. He seemed like a willing, honest horse, and I felt like I literally could not force him to bend him with my right aids around my left leg. He wasn't counter-flexing to drop contact, because the contact on the outside rein was still there, and he wasn't curling behind or anything, it was like he suddenly couldn't bend. I asked the trainer to ride him, she got on and was like, “Oh wow, yeah, he can’t bend, there’s possibly something physical going on.” And we called it a day and decided to use a different horse in the next lesson.
My final lesson on this horse, the next day, was unexpectedly with Trainer A again. I got to the barn, she told me she’d schooled him earlier and he was fine, I took that at face value. And he was way up more through his top line, nose dead on the vertical, and all around using himself better. But he was seriously not happy and escalating the behavior, and also it just felt like he was looking for an excuse to explode. And at that point I was scared, not because I’d fallen off, but because he’s a living creature, with his own internal life, and I felt like he was going to keep ramping it up until he got his message across. Either he was in pain, or he really wasn't happy with my riding, but either way, I felt like I was being bullied into riding him, and feeling pressured into bullying him, and that pissed me off.
Rewinding to the moment of insight I’d mentioned earlier: I realized, in a lesson with Mr. Mustache on Thais, that I’ve developed some weird mental block about picking up the canter as a way of controlling the pace of new work in lessons. Through a huge set of circumstances, both due to internal forces and external ones out of my control, I’ve ended up pushing myself/being pushed very fast and very hard in my riding. The pressure of being continuously over faced, and pushed into learning new material, without ever getting the chance to relax and consolidate, is making me a little ring sour. (To paraphrase Radiohead: I do it myself. And that's why it really hurts. I'm not a big Radiohead fan, but The Bends is seriously worth whatever purchase price you can find it for. They're like The Who of our generation - yes, maybe blahdyblah things that could be discussed, but the dudes get us. And, more importantly - know how to fucking rawk.) I am physically blocking myself from picking up the canter as an evasion. We can’t do new, hard things if we can’t even do all three gaits.
I'm using the term "evasions" not just for artistic impact, but because I really and truly believe that that is how evasions start and become confirmed with horses. In my experience, most horses basically want to get along. It's possible this opinion will change with experience and time, but so far, with every horse I've encountered that had evasions or resistance issues, they were clearly traceable to the horse being worked through pain or fear, or being worked in an improper manner. The horse I described above was perfectly fine for the better part of three rides, and I don't think that my riding went dramatically downhill after that, or that he just decided he didn't want to come into work. If you continually make a horse work when they are mentally or physically incapable of doing the work comfortably deep-seated problems will result. Period. And the same hold true for us humans. Evasions = defense mechanisms. And defense mechanisms occur when people are powerless leave, and have to find a way to make it through unbearable situations. It is not sentiment, but experience that has taught me to take the reactions of horses into account. They do have an opinion about what is happening to them, and the truth will out.
It’s eye opening in many ways. In the practical context of what's going on with me, I don’t have a solution other than giving myself time. And having some frank discussions with my new Trainer Dude about where I’m at and where I’m going.
I'm using the term "evasions" not just for artistic impact, but because I really and truly believe that that is how evasions start and become confirmed with horses. In my experience, most horses basically want to get along. It's possible this opinion will change with experience and time, but so far, with every horse I've encountered that had evasions or resistance issues, they were clearly traceable to the horse being worked through pain or fear, or being worked in an improper manner. The horse I described above was perfectly fine for the better part of three rides, and I don't think that my riding went dramatically downhill after that, or that he just decided he didn't want to come into work. If you continually make a horse work when they are mentally or physically incapable of doing the work comfortably deep-seated problems will result. Period. And the same hold true for us humans. Evasions = defense mechanisms. And defense mechanisms occur when people are powerless leave, and have to find a way to make it through unbearable situations. It is not sentiment, but experience that has taught me to take the reactions of horses into account. They do have an opinion about what is happening to them, and the truth will out.
It’s eye opening in many ways. In the practical context of what's going on with me, I don’t have a solution other than giving myself time. And having some frank discussions with my new Trainer Dude about where I’m at and where I’m going.
But that’s something for another day. I gotta go catch up on laundry. Life is awesome, I'm totally swell, and I have loads of other long-winded stories to tell. So, until next time, peace out.
-Beth
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