Happy New Year!!!

“…And the stars were shining, distant bells were ringing…”

Have you ever stood outside in the dark on Christmas Eve, ankle-deep in snow in the middle of a pine forest, staring up at the Milky Way and breathing in the knife-sharp air? The silence sounds full of song and miracles. So many years I’ve paused with my five siblings on our way to church and longed for what was, or what might yet be. This year I yearned for what is.

This was the year of Prairie Creek, of making wonderful friends, of a happier family, of building a home. Of learning to dance.

Lately Surya and I have been working on bending, and it’s going very well. For weeks I insisted, twisting myself around in exaggeration, and achieving flashes of brilliance. But I have again come up against a wall in my own knowledge. When Surya bends correctly, I don’t know enough to be able to give in pressure and thus reward without first thinking about it, which means I can’t reward her instantly, which means she doesn’t have flashes of insight. Instead, we are working toward bending in increments. First, I get her trotting in a good rhythm and on the bit. Then, I ask her to bend around my inside leg without bending to the outside. My main struggle is with the reins. In opening the inside rein, I have a tendency to give with the outside rein. Or I pull the inside rein down, or back. The result of any of these is Surya bending her poll and cocking her head while traveling straight with her shoulders. After endless repetition, I am slowly figuring out how to set her up so the pressure is relieved when she bends with her whole neck and flexes around my inside leg. She is slowly figuring out what I want. This is difficult for me because the concept is new; it is difficult for her because she is very short-coupled and bending is not so easy. Inch by inch, we are making progress, and holding the improvements from ride to ride. Not flashy or instantaneous, but I am happy.

And yet, the last few weeks of 2012 have been bittersweet. One of my best friends moved away across the country. And my Awesome Rider Friend’s horse (that she was leasing) was put down after he unexpectedly went fully blind. “Johnny” (out of respect for his owner’s wishes, not his real name) was a horse that would always pay attention if you called his name. People would sing-song from across the barn, “John-ny!” and he would pick his head up from his hay and prick his ears in their direction. We all miss him.

Johnny went Advanced in his day, and had the biggest heart. He loved jumping, and would prance in place in the start box on cross-country, waiting to gallop enthusiastically to the first jump. But as wild and forward as he could be under saddle, Johnny was a consummate gentleman on the ground, and sweet as a puppy. He would put his nose very close to his person’s chest, and then flop his ears, close his eyes, and sigh in contentment. He enjoyed hugs to his face. He was already at our farm when I arrived, and Surya arrived, in the winter of 2012. I met ARF just before she started leasing him, and we quickly became friends. So Johnny accompanied Surya on her first trail rides around the farm. He was often in the ring as we struggled with the trot, and then the canter. He showed Surya that the water hose was not scary in the summer months, and that clippers could be tolerated in the fall. He rolled his eyes at some of Surya’s antics, but flagged his tail too when the cold weather arrived.

Though the ending was sad, I do not regret knowing him. ARF loved that horse like he was her child, and he brought her to her first events. His time here was beautiful.

My heart broke a few times and expanded a lot in 2012. And though I would have been satisfied if it had, I am so glad the world did not end! Especially since I attended a bar crawl dressed in footie pajamas and a fluffy sparkly candy cane headband on December 21^st, and that is not how I want to greet the afterlife.

In a few days I will raise a glass to loves won, to old warriors, to friends, to young clumsy ones, to family, to wild tangled trees, and to loves lost, for auld lang syne. May you all find joy, peace, and magic in the New Year.

Pictures

I promised pictures, so here are some glorious ones, from Melanie Pack at i{mpack}t studio (impacktstudio.com), all from Show No. 3. Please do not repost these without permission. Thanks!

Being cute in a wash stall.

Dressage test. She's bearing down on the bridle here, but being very good and not running away.

Jumping a clear round!

Still jumping; we trotted between jumps.

Walking to the jump arena.

My face is very happy despite my lower leg hanging out west of the Mississippi.

Also during the dressage test.

Note the weird clip job Surya has on her sides and belly. This is a result of the fact that she was very scared of the clippers, and I had not finished teaching her to associate them with grain when the show occurred. So she is half-clipped. Also, these pictures are all from before my dressage meltdown. Maybe we are better now?

Strength of Conviction

One of the managers at my work the other day said something offhand that was so wise, and had such a visceral impact on me, that I’ve been thinking about it ever since. He said “just because you’ve compromised doesn’t mean you’ve lost your convictions.” At first glance, this seems a rather obvious statement. But if you dig a little deeper, it’s profound.

The conversation started with a discussion of EPA regulation and the impact it has on our industry. It morphed into a discussion of the type of people working at the EPA and the reason it has a public relations problem. (Disclaimer: I have a Masters of Environmental Science from UCSB, and have publicly hugged trees in the past.) Many of the people hired at the EPA have strongly-held convictions. Unwilling to start in a place of mutual dissatisfaction and work in incremental steps toward a goal, they expect bad things to stop happening now. This is the same idealism espoused by college students and politicians everywhere.

I graduated grad school convinced I wanted to work in Corporate Social Responsibility, making corporations more environmentally sustainable. If someone offered me that job now, I probably would not take it. I very quickly followed the stereotypical path of idealist college student/grad student to jaded corporate worker. Sure, anthropogenic climate change is real, but I don’t want to spend my time trying to convince people to flee a burning house. They can save themselves, sheesh! Besides, I can acknowledge the economic reality of changing our infrastructure to actually address the problem, both in terms of mitigation and adaptation (what I don’t understand is the media’s obsession with finding another side to every story, even if there isn’t one, and the self-important individuals who think to eschew years of research, schooling, and impartial scientific analysis for their opinion of how the world should be). The reason for this cynicism is twofold: conviction in the face of apathy is difficult, and I understand the arguments behind the points of view in opposition to my own. The thought process continues, if I understand the other side’s point and am willing to compromise my own opinion, and the other side won’t help work toward my goal, why even bother? At that point, I wonder if I care about anything, then descend into an emo spiral until I’m eating tuna in ennui with Henri the Cat.

As the manager at work pointed out, this is a juvenile reaction and a stupid fear. You can compromise your opinion with losing it. You know you’ve reached a true compromise when nobody is happy.

Do you want your goal, and want it now? Or are you willing to do the hard work of working toward a conviction in reality, beset with doubts and frustrations? Look, it’s easy to walk into Mordor if you are absolutely sure the ring must be thrown in the fire, and all your friends are backing you. The path is clear, even if it is difficult. But life is not Les Miserables. In reality, LeMarc isn’t 100% sure a barricade is the way to go. I sure as hell hear the people sing, but they are really off-tune and I don’t think they’ve agreed on a song. (Besides, isn’t it only Siths that speak in absolutes?)

So what is my trite point here?

1.      @Politicians. Just stop the idealist posturing and fix the fiscal cliff already. Taking a tough stance in negotiations is great; failing to reach an agreement is unacceptable. I promise I won’t hold compromise against you.

2.      @Planet. I think I discovered I still care about saving the world via my career. Hang in there.

3.      @Me. As usual, please try and be more patient in the training of Surya. Just because you have the goal of eventing perfection and the willingness to work to get there doesn’t mean the path is obvious and easy.

P.S. Surya and I had an AMAZING dressage lesson on Tuesday. My trainer confused me with the horse and said “Good girl Alex” as we were trotting around. I guess our collapse was actually deconstructionism. My trainer told me that the usual training pattern is rapid improvement, a period of plateau, and then, while the effort may not be visible, you become good enough to start reaching for the next level. At this point, things fall apart. However, suddenly, when you’ve put it back together, you are three times better than you were before the humpty-dumpty. So here’s to hoping the next dressagexplosion comes soon!

Weighty Thoughts

Newton’s Third Law (revised):

“For every half halt there must be equal or greater leg.”

My Awesome Rider Friend coined this axiom a while ago, but it’s been especially applicable the last two weeks. Surya and I spent the time after Show #2 building a pretty picture, which culminated in Show #3. Then, over the course of three lessons, we took everything apart, scattered the pieces around, and I threw a tantrum in my mind (and okay, out loud a bit) about how I sucked as a rider and our schooling was incorrect.

INCORRECT!

It started during a dressage lesson, two days after the show. In working on getting Surya more supple and in steadier contact with the bridle, my trainer gave me a very simple instruction while we were trotting to the left on a 20-meter circle. “Stop using an indirect inside rein. Use an opening rein.” Surya immediately turned left into the circle. I opened the right rein, brought the left rein back to her neck, and nudged her over with my left leg. This was not the response my trainer was looking for, from me or Surya, and not the reaction I was expecting from Surya. I strengthened the pressure from my inside leg and opened the inside rein a little. She braced against my leg, curved her body to the right, and decreased the radius of the circle. My immediate reaction was to use an indirect inside rein to get her “back on the bit” and on the correct size circle. And that was when it all fell apart and we realized that the pretty picture I was working on was smoke and mirrors.

I knew for a while that Surya tended to lean on the inside rein, indicating that she was falling in on her inside shoulder. But this was not the true problem. The true problem is that she was never really submitting, never bending around my inside leg. Rather, I was using an indirect rein to bend her poll while she braced against the inside leg and rein. I exaggerate slightly. If the problem was obvious, my trainer would have stopped us long ago. We were going well enough to have adjustability, steering, and contact in the trot and canter. My trainer told me a few months ago to stop using a big (emphasis on “big”) opening rein until we gained control over Surya’s hindquarters and shoulders. Surya now travels straight, but I over-interpreted the ban on opening rein and instead developed an indirect rein addiction. The result was Surya and me drawing circles of decreasing diameter while she accelerated in stress. My trainer put an immediate and absolute moratorium on indirect reins, and proceeded to spend the rest of my lesson telling me, repeatedly, as I needed constant reminding, to open the inside rein and use my inside leg. It did not go well.

As in half halts, the legs are more important than the hands. The impulsion, direction, and bend must come from the legs through to the hands. Laugh at my cluelessness if you want, but I finally understood what the hell people mean by that. The reins are used to define the direction of the bend, to increase submission, as backup to the leg, and as an emergency break. If the reins are the main (mane) event, you are riding from the front of the horse. As my ARF recently discovered in her own riding struggles and said in exasperation, “In dressage, everything must go back!”

I was released from the lesson on Tuesday with the mandate to work on bending Surya around my inside leg with an opening rein. Ortogocryinacornerjustkidding. This went terribly for a few days, and then it was time for our jump lesson. Which, spoiler alert, went terribly.

After the success of the show, my trainer had us work on cantering jumps.

Here is a list of things I don’t do:

1.      Anticipate the jump and throw my upper body forward before Surya takes off. Hooray! (this is because I cannot see a distance to save my life, have no idea when she is going to leave the ground, and so just react when she jumps)

2.      See a distance. (see above)

3.      Hit her in the mouth upon landing.

4.      Help.

Here is a list of things I do:

1.      Steer. (I am actually pretty good at this)

2.      Swing my lower legs really far back, especially when going over a jump and landing. (this means I don’t land in my heels)

3.      Land on my hands, on Surya’s neck. (because my legs are still behind the jump and I therefore cannot use them)

4.      Suck at jumping.

According to both my trainer and my ARF, part of the reason my lower leg swings back is because the saddle I am using (an old one borrowed from ARF) is awful and it encourages me to do so. The other reason is because I am terrible at jumping.

Until this week, I didn’t even understand what I was supposed to be doing mechanically. I understood what was supposed to happen as we were going up, and then over, but I was completely lost on the down part. My trainer kept telling me to just sit up as the horse goes down, but for whatever reason that was still mystifying. Sit up?! When?! To what degree?! At what exact point in time?! Is my back supposed to be arched? Curved? Flat? Are my heels and lower leg in front of me? Should I look exactly the same as if the horse is flat, except titled at an angle?

My trainer finally gave me a concrete image that somehow made it all better last Tuesday. “Keep your upper body parallel to the horse’s neck.” And then I added Sally Swift’s maxim to keep your feet under your center of gravity. Obviously this doesn’t work if the horse doesn’t have good form or is jumping high enough to bascule beneath its knees, but Surya is such a Mary Sue at the height we are jumping that the imagery works. I resolved to imagine this happening in my head until it happens naturally IRL. So. There’s that.

Meanwhile, in dressage land, we had another lesson, and confirmed that we still were not getting it (biiiig surprise there). My trainer suggested that perhaps she should ride Surya to give her the right idea if the next lesson does not go well. At this point, after three lessons of disaster, I was feeling like dismounting and punching the wall. It was not so much that things were not going right. After all, we LITERALLY ran into a wall the first few times we tried to canter to the right. It was more the fact that our (my) inability to execute dressage movements felt like a regression. It’s easier to shrug about the jumping. I haven’t put in the work to be good at it yet. But I have higher expectations in dressage.

Oh well. Back to basics. After another rough couple of rides, I think Soy Bean (Surya’s nickname to her barn name when I am happy with her) and I are communicating better. I think things are starting to click again. She moved off my inside leg and bent with the inside rein instead of turning. But she still continually tried to turn to the inside, and I constantly struggled to keep my hips angled along the curve of the circle instead of twisting them to the outside to keep her from turning in. Something was missing. The key “aha!” moment came after I went back and re-read Philippe Karl’s book Twisted Truths of Modern Dressage. Despite the off-putting title, the book is a gem of discussion of riding and training technique. My favorite chapter discusses weight.

I spent many years as a child in ballet being yelled at by my mother to stand up straight, many years as an adult practicing yoga, and the last year being told by my trainer to sit up straight, tuck my pelvis under, and stop collapsing my right side. While I am certainly not perfect, I feel confident enough to say I do not slump in the saddle or lean significantly to one side or the other. However, I do weight one side more than the other.

Philippe Karl discusses how a person’s weight placement affects a horse. Imagine standing facing a wall with another person on your shoulders. The person on your shoulder leans to the right. Do you step left or right to stay underneath them? Right. You stepped into their weight. Now imagine you are holding a heavy suitcase in your right hand, and you are trying to go faster to get to your train. Do you skip with the left leg or the right leg? Left. It’s easier; there’s nothing inhibiting the movement. So, if I want Soy Bean to stay on the outside of a circle while bending to the inside, weight the outside slightly. This also gives her more freedom of movement on the inside.

While Karl does not specifically mention this (probably because he is way too awesome for such obvious instructions), I think it particularly important to note that I try not to weight one side or the other by leaning. Rather, imagine standing up very straight, then lifting up your left foot. Technically, you are now weighting the right even though you are still standing straight. I’m really not quite sure I’m doing this right, since Karl is too much of a horse riding god to dispense such minutiae, but I think I have the general idea.

When I started working on canter with Surya, I paid very close attention to my weight. Since we started consistently getting the correct lead, I let my attention lapse. After re-reading Karl’s snarky proselytizing, I paid attention to my weight again at the trot, and realized that I’d been weighting the inside! I was telling Soy Bean to turn in, and brace against the inside. I shifted my weight to the outside, and all of a sudden BAM! We were trotting in flexed steady bendy circles. Combined with opening reins and better leg yielding, I think I have something.

Things I am unsure of:

1.      If this success is repeatable, and as much of a break-through as I think it is. We will find out today in our lesson.

2.      If I’m actually weighting the outside, or merely am finally balanced and no longer weighting the inside. How can anyone tell? The difference is not exactly super visible.

3.      Apple versus pumpkin pie. If Ryan Gosling would just endorse one or the other…

The past few days I’ve been thinking a lot about the following: a horse is expected to bend into an inside leg, but travel away from an outside leg. The difference between the two is monumental, and key to my current struggle. I think in more advanced training it’s the same concept as the difference between a half-pass and a leg yield.

The Clipper Project

There are two things that Surya truly hates in this world: shots, and clippers. Due to patience, treats, and stubbornness bordering on pathological obsession (I literally dreamed about it a couple of weeks ago), she learned to accept the clippers.

I started by rubbing the clippers over her while feeding her treats. She did not care in any way. The snorting and eye rolling started when I ran the blade through her hair and she discovered it was a bit poky. However, after twenty minutes of bribery, she accepted the new development. The next day, I turned the clippers on and convinced her to not run away from the sound with apples (her absolute favorite treat). By the end of half an hour, she would get her nose as close as six inches for a bite of apple. I decided, however, that having her face them head-on would prove more difficult than sneaking them up on her. The next time I went to the barn, I rubbed the clippers on her, turned them on for less than a second, fed her treats, and continued touching her with them. Snorting occurred, but no running. At the very end of the session, I turned them on and shaved off a 1 inch square of hair! I turned them off immediately, fed her an entire apple, and returned her to her stall.

A couple of days later, I again went through the same process, and achieved some hair removal at the end for a total of five inches of clipped wonder on her left side. I managed to clip her belly (badly) and sides (badly) in time for the show two weeks ago. She looked like she had mange, but I didn’t care because I was so pleased with our progress!

Last weekend, my ARF and one of the women who works at the barn helped me finish the job. And by helped, I mean I held Surya’s head and fed her a constant supply of treats while my ARF did the work operating the clippers. Surya stood quietly, though shiftily, until about halfway through the process when she decided that having a continuous stream of horse treats and grain was not enough, but that she wanted the stockpile ALL AT ONCE IMMEDIATELY and tried to barrel past me to achieve those ends. We established that was not on the menu (literally, get it? hha) and resumed with our initial set-up.

Once we were done with everything except the underside of her neck, we paused to evaluate and discuss how to convince her to let us get that close to her head. Smart Barn Woman tired of the discussion, picked up the bucket of grain I had been taking handfuls from, and shoved it up Surya’s nose. She snorted in surprise as her snout up to just below her eyes was suddenly encased in plastic, but then dug in with gusto. Smart Barn Woman immediately lifted the bucket high into the air to expose Surya’s throat, and said “Go quick before she runs out of grain!” ARF quickly ran the clippers up her throat. Surya rolled her eyes to freak out at the clippers as her nose made chomping noises fuckfuckfuckwhatthehellareyoudoingstopitohbutthisgrainisSOGOODICAN’TSTOP. ARF finished clipping the underside of her neck at about the same moment Surya finished the grain and flipped the bucket into the air as she decided to object, and then we all collapsed on the floor holding our stomachs in laughter.



Surya, clipped and full of grain.



Show No. 3!!!

One blue ribbon in dressage and a 61.5%, and a clear round of jumping! I consider this show a resounding success. This is the first time we’ve competed in dressage doing a walk-trot-canter test, and the first time we’ve competed in jumping. I set the goal of doing the w-t-c test and jumping back in August, and we achieved it!

The morning started a 3-day's drive from perfect. Surya was agitated and excited by the activity at the barn and grounds, and trotted even when walking in-hand. She did not stand for mounting, and I ended up doing a flying leap onto her back and then adjusted my stirrups and reins jockey style. She is normally a very calm horse. While not pokey, she does not try to run away. This morning, though, she put on an OTTB attitude and charged around. She bore down on the reins in the trot and flashed her black legs as fast as they could go. When I asked for the canter, she decided I was Mel Brooks shouting “Ludicrous speed! Go!” and leapt into a gallop straight toward the show photographer (who subsequently leapt into a gallop in the opposite direction). That made me mad (I really like our photographer- she rides at the barn, and is ridiculously talented at her art), so I shortened my right rein, dragged Surya’s head around to her side, and made her trot in tiny circles until she started letting my legs and hands dictate speed and direction.

By the time it was our turn in the ring, I had control of her, but she was still locking her jaw against the bit when I asked for contact with her mouth. I went into the arena nervous that she would explode at the judge’s box, or whistle, or lettering. However, I was determined, and rode in with purpose. We achieved a lovely halt at X, and I breathed a little easier. The rest of the test went well, but I spent the time forcing her to maintain a slow, steady pace and perform the correct geometry. She tried to spook a few times, but I caught her with my legs before she had the opportunity and put her back to work. She bent off my leg, and kept reaching for contact, but did not maintain it. I did get both canter transitions, at A, on the correct lead! The transition back to trot was also good from both directions, though we were a bit late to the right. By the end of the test, my calves and thighs were trembling from the effort of containing Surya and implementing the required movements. I gritted my teeth as we trotted up the centerline and willed her to a slightly crooked (but still square!) halt. I still grinned in triumph. The judge told me, “great impulsion, work on maintaining contact with the bit and suppling.” Yeah.

When I exited the ring with a giant grin on my face, my ARF told me, “that was a great test! You did an awesome job, but Surya didn’t help at all…that was all you. [laugh] You looked like you were riding for country.” So we got a 61.5% on our first walk-trot-canter test, in the Starter Horse Division. My goal for the next show is to get at least a 70%. We have until March to practice.

After dressage, I untacked Surya and stuck her in her stall to relax for a few minutes while I went to scope out the jumping situation. My trainer told me to walk the course, and then jump the warm-up a few times before going to the ring. “Ok.” Then I stood in front of the arena while my head exploded. My ARF came up behind me. “What do I do?” She looked at me weird and said “Walk the course?” Sad to say, I then shouted at her, “I don’t know what I am doing! I haven’t been doing this since I was 12! How do I walk a course?!” Because she is my ARF, and by definition awesome, she stayed calm and showed me how to walk the course. It’s really not that hard.

I tacked up Surya in her jumping gear and we headed to the warmup. My ARF stayed to coach me through trotting and cantering over the little jumps. With one reminder to land in my heels, I was off. As soon as I entered the ring, I wasn’t nervous. The plan was to trot everything, but canter the combinations if things were going well. We trotted the first jump and cantered away on the correct lead. Even though Surya was excited by the show and very hot, she came right back to the trot and put her business face on. We jumped the second jump neatly, cantered five strides, and jumped the third. We came back to the trot and approached a vertical with a bending line to another vertical. We jumped the first one well, and went to the second at a canter from a slight angle. Back to the trot, and we headed toward a two-stride. Because we didn’t have quite enough impulsion going into the two-stride, Surya landed the first jump, took two small strides, realized she couldn’t jump from that distance, bulged slightly on the right, added a short third, and then jumped perfectly over the rails. We trotted the last vertical, then the plank, and we were done with a clear round! While the dressage might have been all me, the jumping was all her. She is just absolutely brilliant. I don’t know what I’m doing, so I sit up, give direction, and she figures out the rest. She is so incredibly smart.

The whole barn clapped for us at the end. A woman from another barn asked what breed of horse she is, and where I got her. Justified, because she’s special!

We got our clear round jumping ribbon, and then smiled for a photo op. I think I will remember this show forever. I will post pictures and videos in a few days.

Hurricane Sandy Was a Bitch

Surya and I have been improving our jump work in leaps and bounds (literally by leaping and bounding, ha). We are also putting in some very consistent and productive dressage sessions. This is good, because our third show is a week from today! I don’t have plans to go off the farm until the spring, so this show is still at the barn. However, this time we are going to do the Starter Rider Dressage class, Starter Horse Dressage Class, and Clear Round Jumping class! Excitement will be had by all.

Not that additional thrills are needed. This week already produced plenty of drama when Hurricane Sandy passed directly over the barn. Thankfully, my trainers are well-prepared, responsible, knowledgeable barn-owners and horse-caretakers, and the horses and property made it through the storm without a hay bale out of place. Even so, all the horses, even Surya, were very full of themselves during the deluge.

I don’t blame Surya for her wildness. I felt like running myself. Last year I moved to the East Coast a few weeks before Hurricane Irene. The day the hurricane hit the city, I went for a run half an hour before the rain started. The air felt unbelievably heavy, muggy, and hot, and I was pretty sure I was breathing in water instead of oxygen. This year, the hours before it started raining were scarier. As I was returning Surya to her field for her last few hours outside on Sunday, the barometric pressure dropped until I was gasping, and the lack of atmosphere pressing on my torso gave me space to leap and spin and buck and run. The roiling clouds were steel blue, and the air was cold. A very faint but steady wind blew from the east, belied only by reluctantly-shifting dried leaves and a barely-heard whistle. Surya snorted and flagged her tail, and we trotted circles around each other. The few birds in the woods around the farm that had not already migrated south were silent, and I felt like holding my breath. Later, driving over the river back to home, I watched the stalwart city skyline with some trepidation.

The wind started that night and then rain within the gusts. I worked from home the following day and stayed inside. By Monday night, the 20-foot trees outside my apartment were bowed and maelstroms of autumn leaves partially obscured the torrential rain. Across the river, the horses spent Monday night in the barn with the storm doors closed. Surya is spooky at sounds; she was not happy with the noise and threw hay around her stall. Tuesday dawned calmer, though still rainy, and all of the horses were turned out. They ran all day in the wind. When the rain finally stopped, most of New Jersey and the barn were left without power and with overwhelming destruction. In the city, thankfully, there were no power outages and no irreparable damage. But the storm did shift our civilized reality to a baser state. I emerged from my apartment Tuesday evening to puddles of water in every depression in the pavement, and tree branches blocking the one-way streets. Hesitant people bundled in coats against the chilly air cleared debris from the sidewalks. While my neighborhood usually lives up to the description of the City of Brotherly Love, people were especially friendly as I ran down the leaf-coated cobblestones. The reminder that we do not live in an artificial bubble, that water, and food, and heat are one gust of wind from gone, was also a reminder that society’s basest function is mutual support. The next day at work the first question we all asked our colleagues in the office and on the phone was “How did you fare in the storm? Is there any way I can help?” I am grateful my family, my friends, my horse, and I are all okay.

I finally made it back across the bridge Wednesday after work. It was evening when I got to the barn, but still light from the full moon and the orange glow of the city to the west. After a brief ride, I took Surya outside to graze on the drenched, browning grass. The fields stretched away into the dark, and it was very quiet. On the horizon, there were thin strips of dark blue clouds, like stacked layers of ragged silk. The Little Dipper was oddly prominent in the clear sky. Surya and I were both somewhat…languorous. The air felt like it had a long, hard cry, or sex – drained, calm, and a little bit smug.

After a while, she lifted her head, and we just stood for a long time, breathing puffs of frosty air. My dressage-educated mustang can still act feral when the mood strikes. At least in New Jersey, it’s going to take a little while to return to normal. Hurricane Sandy was a bit of a bitch.

Rain and Shine

So I figured out how to have the best lesson of Surya’s and my life on Tuesday evening. I started out by getting to the barn extremely upset. This was the result of stupid 20s-year-old girl stuff that they make sitcoms about and, unless you’re the one actually experiencing it at the time, inspires eye rolls and chuckling. After I tacked up my wonderful pony, we headed past the outdoor ring to the gate that leads to the trail around the barn property. My trainer, who is a mind reader as well as the regular kind of brilliant, asked me what was wrong as she gave another student a jump lesson in the outdoor. I shouted “I’m fine!” and launched Surya into a trot toward the trail. Sometimes it’s incredibly gratifying to act like a middle schooler.

Surya really does not like the gate and the portion of woods immediately after. She predictably spooked, but I was having none of it and smacked her with the dressage whip hard enough to inspire instant obedience. We made it past the woods and then cantered around the rest of the trail. We would have galloped, but it was lightly raining and everything was wet. (Do you see how this is a sitcom? I was upset, it was raining, etc.) We turned around to follow the loop back, and did shoulder-ins along the fence-line most of the way.

After the cold dark outside, the indoor felt warm and cozy with its bright lights and slightly dusty air. We warmed up for a few minutes, and Surya moved beautifully off my leg. When my trainer came in, we were standing quietly while Surya softly chewed on the bit. We picked up the trot, and all of a sudden, something connected. Surya was soft, round, on-the-bit, yielding to my leg. My legs were long and quiet, my heels were down, my hands were flexy but steady. It was beautiful.

Of course, then she got over-bent. We spent the second half of the lesson discouraging her from getting her nose behind herself and her poll lower than her crest. But I am very pleased, because this new problem is a wonderful one to have! The fact that she’s moving forward off my legs, bending in the direction that I dictate, and stepping through and straight is fantastic. Her head position is secondary to aligned shoulders and haunches.

Our canter work was also much improved. The canter to the left continues to be our better side, despite the fact that her paces are actually better to the right. However, I have mostly corrected the problem of her picking up the wrong lead to the right. As long as I sit up, put my weight on the left, bend her slightly to the left, open the right rein a little, squeeze a little more with my left leg than the right, and don’t collapse the right side of my body, she picks up the correct lead. I’m pretty sure I do all this automatically to the left; I just have to think about it to the right. I’ve also improved my seat in the canter. The less busy my legs and balance, the better her canter.

Ultimately, I learned three things Tuesday:

1.      A longer, more varied warmup resulted in some fantastic dressage.

2.      Insisting on absolute obedience when she was spooking translated to absolute obedience the rest of the ride.

3.      My horse is ridiculously sweet when I am upset. She let me hug her nose, which she normally dislikes. She is one of my best friends. I <3 her. J

Patience (or lack thereof)

As I mentioned in my last post, Surya and I are having an argument about the right-lead canter. More specifically, she does not want to do it and has developed astonishing skill at evading my aids and picking up the left lead instead. The left lead is coming along quite nicely. We started out teaching the canter by bending her a bit to the outside, weighting the outside hind, opening the inside rein, and asking when she steps on the outside hind. This initially worked quite well on both leads. On the left, she now picks up the canter almost at the same moment I ask, and I have started bending her a bit to the inside when asking. She is really moving into the bit on the left lead, and we can speed up and slow down while keeping a balanced and even pace. It’s great! The right, not so much. We were improving, but the past week was a regression.

She pops out her left shoulder, and no matter how much I weight the outside, she waits until she’s stepping with her right hind so she can lurch into the left lead. I’ve been getting very frustrated and confused. I think this relates to the fact that I’m getting too demanding in other areas as well. I expect her to be on the bit, round, and moving off my leg at all times. To a certain extent, this level of expectation is good, but I think I’ve moved beyond reasonable. Yesterday in my lesson, after I found myself wanting to smack her with the dressage whip to get the right-lead canter, despite the pony being tired and cranky, I threw down the whip and have put a moratorium on its usage until I can get my emotions under control.

Ultimately, the problem is that she is too good for me. I have too high of expectations, but she tries so hard to do as I ask despite being tired or confused. I need to listen better when she objects, because she is the least contrary horse I have ever met. If she doesn’t respond, there’s a good reason. For example, my trainer told me to practice cantering a pole, and I cantered the pole for 15 minutes on Monday. This evidently tired her out. I noticed that she was tired Tuesday, but I still muscled her around and insisted on good transitions. She just said “ok mom” and tried her best.

The problem, I think, is that when I first started riding her, I had no expectations so I had infinite patience. I now have expectations, but no patience. I need to go back to coaxing her into communication with me, instead of bludgeoning her over the head with demands.

This is ever my tendency: demanding, pushy, dominant. With a horse that pushes back for the fun of it, this works well. For an angel of a wonder-pony, like Surya, who tries to do what I ask no matter what, this borders on abuse. Thankfully, we both have at least one trait in common…we don’t hold grudges, and we don’t get mad (just frustrated). I will apologize, and we will move forward with “soft and flexy” in mind.

Does anyone else feel like they’re walking through the world just trying not to hurt anyone?

Jumping

My trainer is a tough woman with high standards and mad riding, training, and teaching skills. I adore her. She has brought many young horses along, and has taught numerous Off-The-Track-Thoroughbreds to jump. She can make anything look good, but she creates confident scopey horses with thinking minds, not just good rides. I respect the hell out of her, so when she says that a horse is good, I believe her!

Not to brag or anything, but my trainer loves Surya. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have such a perfect horse. Seriously. She’s brilliant. I mean, I didn’t even evaluate her jumping skills when I bought her (because she didn’t really have any, and I’m more than a bit clueless as to what to look for). But, we started jumping her and she is honest and brave and smart and has perfect form.

Towards the end of August, my trainer declared that Surya was forward enough, on the bit enough, bending off my leg enough, and her canter was sufficiently ratable as to start jumping. I think I jumped up and down in the saddle, and then she explained that she meant Surya was the one to do the leaping. Oh, gotcha. We had already spent a fair amount of time trotting over a pole, walking over logs outside, and generally navigating obstacles. However, this was to be a bit different. Instead of simply taking a bigger canter stride to get over an obstacle, Surya would actually jump. Jump standards and painted poles would be involved. Excitement!

We spent a few rides cantering over a pole on the ground. Surya is very good at this. I am not. Okay, I guess I’m alright. I don’t always see a distance, and I have no practice at counting down strides, so I’m terrible at it. Because I’m green, especially at jumping, I wanted my trainer to jump Surya for the first time, and to spend a few training sessions with her thereafter.

On September 1, we headed to the outdoor arena (where the jumps are located). Surya was outfitted in my trainer’s “baby horse jumping saddle” – described as basically having a seat belt as a result of its deep seat, perfect knee rolls, thigh blocks, beautiful leather, and super-grippy irons. With a bit of fanfare from me, my trainer rode Surya at a cross-rail at an even trot, Surya jumped it as if she had been doing it her entire life, and exited in a perfect, even right-lead canter. My trainer giggled. I have never heard her make that sound.

“That is an excellent beginning! She doesn’t even care. This is clearly going to go very well.”

The above video is of the same day, except with me on board. Observe how awesome she is.

Music to mine ears. My trainer rode Surya again the following Wednesday, and reported back that she was even better. She cantered over cross-rails and verticals, and Surya started using her back and actually jumping instead of just taking a particularly animated leaping canter stride. She evidently has perfect form…her forelegs leave the ground in formation, her knees don’t point down, and she doesn’t over-jump.

So here’s the plan, according to my trainer. We are going to spend a few months doing very easy cross-rails and small verticals. Most of the time we will just do one jump at a time, but sometimes will follow-up with a second jump. Nothing too close (at least 10 strides in between). This will build Surya’s confidence, establish what we expect of her, and ensure that she is still having fun doing it (right now, her cute little black-tipped ears point straight forward over every jump). As a side benefit, this will build my confidence, establish what my trainer expects my riding to be, and ensure that I am having fun with the jumping thing. Hopefully we will be ready to jump in the November show the barn is hosting! After a few months, we will start bringing the jumps closer together. The height won’t increase for a while, as we are in no rush, and the goal is to create confidence, ratability, and gymnastics first.

The past two Saturdays I have gotten to take a jumping lesson on my enthusiastic mare. It’s a bit amusing to interested third parties since we are both green. No seriously, I know nothing about jumping. My ARF keeps saying that that is not true. Technically, I guess, I know some things. I mean, I basically live at an eventing barn; it’d be kind of hard to avoid any kind of knowledge. But I haven’t done it since I was cowgirling around in Colorado, and given the minimal instruction there, I don’t think it counts. The good news is that Surya is so honest and smart to the jumps that she saves my butt, and my trainer says that while I don’t necessarily set her up great, I don’t get in her way, hit her in the mouth, or slam on her back. So I’m not discouraging good activity at least.

The lessons have actually gone very well. The learning curve is very steep. The first time my trainer had me canter toward a jump, Surya ducked out to the right. My trainer got a very perplexed look on her face, since Surya did not even think about trying that with her. Then, she remembered that she needs to give me instruction as well as directing me how to direct the horse.

“You need to want to go over the jump. Apply leg, support her, don’t take it off. Keep her nose up so she sees where she is going. Let her jump to you. Look up. Keep your hands steady and LAND IN YOUR HEELS.”

I tend to forget the last instruction. After those directions however, we got over the jump fine. I, of course, got really excited and promptly forgot about steering.

“Get your shit together! You’re not done yet!”

I now leave the jump behind as soon as we are over it. Seeing a distance will likely be a problem for a while though. The first time it came up, we cantered up to a jump and Surya took a really short stride just before taking off.

“You forgot to count!”

“You didn’t tell me to count!”

“Oh. Right. I forgot you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“K thanks.”

This is obviously just my nascent (in)ability to see and create a distance. But Surya is such a perfect wonder-pony it almost doesn’t matter yet. This past Saturday, the last jump we jumped was a black and white vertical. We came up to it at a distance where Surya would have to jump it long or take a really short stride and probably trip over it. I was blissfully ignorant of this fact and just happily rode to the jump. Surya, according to my trainer, flicked her ears, thought about it, then jumped long with her knees in the air in perfect form. We land, and having no idea the monumental wonderfulness of what just happened, praise Surya and then turn back to my trainer. She is standing pointing at my horse, grinning ear to ear, and laughing with one of the advanced students and barn employee standing next to her.

“What?”

“Most green horses would have stopped at that. I mean, pretty much any green horse. She just knew where you wanted to go, thought about it, and made it happen.”

“Oh! Well, good girl Surya, you perfect wonder-pony.”

I feel that this is trending in a positive direction. Both the jumping and dressage are coming along quite nicely. We do have some problems (it’d be weird if we didn’t, right?). The past week Surya and I have been having an argument about the right lead canter (i.e. she has taken to popping out her left shoulder and picking up the left lead canter instead), but that’s a topic for another post.

Go Surya!

Show No. 2!

Show Number Two was a grand success! We placed 2^nd (out of 7) in the Starter Horse Division, and 5^th (out of 8) in the Starter Rider Division! We scored 66.25% in the Starter Horse and 60.25% in the Starter Rider. I am so happy with Surya; she was brilliant.

We started off the day in much the same mood as the last show…spooking at everything, head in the air, tense through the back, and generally displeased with the whole situation. A giant black trailer drove by us two minutes after we started warming up and Surya took off cantering sideways. However…I kept her trotting and insisted she pay attention to bending and transitions instead of everything else that was going on. By the end of our warm-up she was relaxed and listening, and I was happy! Thankfully, this time we got to ride in the indoor arena, which is where we’ve done most of our schooling. At the entrance to the arena there was a great big blue tent providing shade for the show officials. It gave us trouble last time, and Surya again stopped. But this time I gave her a very light tap on the shoulder with my crop (didn’t want to go with the dressage whip in case she freaked out completely) and she moved forward into the arena with no problem.

I spent a lot of time since the last show riding around cars, blowing whistles, and blaring car horns at Surya. To her credit, she did not look twice at the car the judge was sitting in, and did not even flinch when they beeped the horn for us to start. She did give the stink-eye to the letters on the edge of the ring, but she listened to my leg telling her to stay on the rail. She was on the bit for a good part of the time. My Awesome Rider Friend took video of our first test (Starter Rider), even though she was preparing to go ride her own test. (Technical difficulties preclude me from posting the video at this time.)

Unfortunately, I memorized the test wrong, and we did Free Walk from F to H instead of F to E. That got us two points off for errors, and in that class we ended getting 5^th (sorry to put a cramp in your style Surya!). Happily, the second time we went in the ring, we competed in the Starter Horse Division, and she was so good (and I made no gross mistakes!) that we ended up with our red ribbon. I do not have a video of the second test because ARF rode her test 5 minutes later. Suffice to say it was better than the first test.

I am so happy with the way this went. We may not have won, but we showed up!

As I told my trainer in our lesson on Tuesday, I am re-committing to dressage. I’ve spent a lot of time the past few weeks introducing Surya to scary stuff, but then slacking off and just running around in my jumping saddle (no jumping yet). I have now ridden Surya a total of 110 times. I should be able to put her on the bit, round, and relaxed at least 80% of the time. I need to re-commit mentally to being a thinking rider, both in terms of my physicality and hers. I rode with this attitude on Tuesday, and it felt like a completely new kind of riding. Surya was perfect, and my position felt good.

66.25% is a good start. We have a lot to work on!

Our First Show

Well, Surya and I competed in dressage in the schooling show our barn put on last weekend. It was the first show either of us ever competed in. It…did not go as planned. Before getting into the specifics, let me say, I am so proud to have such a beautiful and talented horse. Our trainer encouraged us to attend the show since we are doing so well in our schooling. Surya has a wonderful presence of mind, and I think we work well together. That being said, my trainer and I both thought she would spook at everything and I did not expect to put in a great test this first time out.

What I did not expect was Surya refusing to go forward to C from X. Apparently, the judge’s box (a parked car at the end of the ring) is very scary. We were doing okay in the warmup until we passed the car at the same time the judge blew the whistle for us to start the test. Holy startling Batman! Cantering and snorting ensued. But, we got it together and trotted confidently and (mostly) straight to X. I got a good stop and saluted the judge. I squeezed my legs and lifted through my body to trot on. Lovely rein-back! Back to X. I took a minute to grin and give up any aspiration to fluke perfection. Okay, this will not be a straight path to the Olympics. Go forward Surya. No, I really mean it, kick. Head tossing. Eventually, I got a decent leg yield followed by a side pass and at that point, because we had moved at least a few feet in the direction of the judge, I declared it somewhat of a win and moved on to circling at E. As soon as we weren’t heading to C, Surya went on the bit (more or less), and we completed the transition to collected walk and then extended across the diagonal. We picked up the trot a little before C (whoops) and then galloped at C. It was short-lived however, as I forced the trot and circle at B. We trotted down to A then back up the centerline and I achieved a very willing stop at X. The judge poked her head out of the car and I managed to get Surya a few steps closer so I could hear her. The judge opened the door of the car and ye Gods!

Whirl and gallop. Stop and return. I guess since we haven’t done any jumping yet it didn’t occur to Surya to simply leave the ring? On the plus side, the judge had very nice things to say about my riding and my secure seat (which she couldn’t have observed had we done the test correctly, so there ya go). Since this was my first show ever, I was very proud of myself for getting positive feedback and upholding my side of the partnership. And everyone said Surya was looking gorgeous and cute.

Actually, I’m absurdly happy with how this went. First of all, as long as there is improvement show to show, I’m happy. Secondly, Surya is a mare. She is also stubborn. However, up to the show, we hadn’t had any serious disagreement. I’ve given her time and convinced her to do what I want without too much effort. As a result, there hasn’t been an opportunity to establish myself as the boss under every circumstance, even if she really really doesn’t want to do it. At the show, Surya wasn’t genuinely terrified. She wasn’t shaking, I couldn’t see the whites of her eyes, and she wasn’t truly trying to put as much distance between herself and the car as possible. Consequently, it was a question of obedience. She was merely unsure about the car and so she took matters into her own hooves. This moment would have come sooner or later, and I’d rather it come sooner than when we are trying to teach her to go over scary jumps at a cross-country course. I’m going to re-create the car situation in my lesson this week and see if we can reach an understanding. Aka, I am alpha pony and the car is not scary.

That being said, while my brother took video of my test, no one will ever see it unless it’s part of a montage of “look how far we’ve come” when we’re celebrating the win of a Grand Prix.

First World Problems

Well, I thought Surya’s and my progress was fast before. Boy was I wrong. The past two weeks have felt like a continuous stream of epiphanies. All of a sudden things are working. Then, five minutes later, things are working even more. I feel like all the previous months of building on principles and riding position have reached a threshold where I can use them. After 75 hours on Surya’s back, we both have some muscle memory.

I hear this in my trainer’s voice. The past two weeks, instead of telling me to put my heels down, she’s been telling me to keep my heels down. Instead of telling me to push Surya onto the bit, she is telling me to get her rounder. My lesson this week felt like my brain was understanding things faster than I could comprehend them. My trainer pointed out that I don’t squeeze, I kick. So I stopped kicking and squeezed with the inside of my (whole!) leg. That made a HUGE difference. Then we cantered, and it was perfection. My trainer had me sit in the saddle, and all of a sudden, I understood how to move my lower body with the horse, my upper body in counter-balance, keep my heels down, keep my leg on, and not drive with my seat.

Surya also seems to have a lot confidence in what we are asking her to do. Now when I mount up, she becomes very serious and gets right to work.

One good thing about a green rider/green horse combination is the fact that we have yet to reach a plateau. If I’m struggling with something and not improving, she has figured something out and over the aggregate we improve. If she’s stuck, I’m improving my riding, and over the aggregate we improve. The other thing is that I assume she is better than she seems when I am riding her, and it’s my riding that is holding her back. I’m never quite sure how true that is, so I have endless motivation to improve immediately so as to stop cramping her style.

Anyway, the point of this post is that we are having these incredible epiphanies riding in the indoor arena. BUT we are participating in our first dressage show in a week and a half (for both of us, the first show, ever), and while the show is hosted by our barn, the dressage competition will be in the outdoor arena. When Surya and I ride in the outdoor arena, she is very distracted and we are not nearly as good as in the indoor. My goal for the show is to show up (haha, pun intended) and for Surya to not freak out. Still, it would be nice to have some precedence of proper behavior in the outdoor arena. So, a dilemma. Do I continue riding inside and see how long my warp-speed streak continues, or ride for a week in the outdoor to try and present our best selves at the show? Definition of first-world problem.

Thoughts on Zoos and Suburbia

The San Diego Wild Animal Park is the zoological standard to which all others are held. It is 1800 acres where various types of animals can run…well, if not free, then with sufficient space to avoid boredom and an environment just controlled enough to mitigate against sudden death. While zoos used to place exotic species in concrete cells for the public’s viewing pleasure, many now serve the dual functions of entertainment and preservation, and try to emulate San Diego. Instead of bare concrete, they provide tigers with an island of greenery, things to climb on, things to play with, and intellectual challenges. Nevertheless, most of the tigers I’ve seen still pace along the edge of their moats.

Living in a major metropolitan city and surrounded by hundreds of miles of suburbs, I often feel like the tigers. Sure, there are lots of activities and parks, but it is all so tame. There is no discovery involved. We’ve bull-dozed the world and built ourselves the perfect artificial habitat, air conditioned to the ideal temperature. Even the trails we’ve built traversing our “undeveloped”, “open” spaces are well-groomed and often paved.

Argh! WHAT IS THIS OBSESSION WITH PAVEMENT???

Not only are our parks designed by committee to provide maximum amusement to the general public, but they are all circular, self-contained, and oh god, so boring. Trails are no longer built to a destination, they are the destination. They’ve become an amusement park. How can you have an adventure when you are traveling in a carefully controlled, safe circle?

In building suburbia, we’ve destroyed our natural environment. It’s like building a zoo featuring rainforest species on top of pristine rainforest! Why?!

There are some exceptions to this tendency. The Appalachian Trail runs the length of the East Coast in an unbroken line of forest. But that’s one trail! What if I want to go somewhere the AT is not? I got very excited today when I learned of the American Discovery Trail…a whole non-paved trail across the country…on the exact route that I would choose to take if I planned it myself.

Road trip! Only not confined to the artificial bubble that is the American highway. I want to see the land. I want to meet the people. I want to stand on top of a mountain and have the option of going in any direction I choose. That is freedom.

Videos! And Happy Fourth of July :)

Happy Fourth of July! So far, this has been one of the best summers of my life. Concerts, boats, pools, beaches, friends, family, and horses have occurred and it’s only the beginning of July! This time last year I was not happy. This past Sunday, I spent the day watching my ARF compete in eventing. The difference 12 months can make is astounding. Actually, thinking about it, the difference 4 months can make is astounding. Case in point, it’s been about 4.5 months that I've owned Surya.

When she first got to the barn, she would not go into the indoor arena, because she had never seen one before. She was very hesitant to enter her stall. Let’s not even talk about wash stalls or fly spray. My riding posture (actually my riding everything) was terrible. We couldn't trot in a circle on the bit, let alone pick up the canter.

Last Friday, after tacking her up in a wash stall and dousing her in fly spray, we headed toward the trail that circles the property. We stopped at a grassy area behind the outdoor arena and did some quick trot work and cantered on both leads in nice round circles before continuing onto the trail. (As an aside, her canter, on both sides, is turning out to be lovely.) As we stepped beyond the fence line Surya rounded her neck even more and pricked her ears forward. Her walk became animated and bouncy. She was so excited and happy! And then I realized I hadn't seen that level of animation in a couple of weeks. Which means that she has gotten bored with the indoor and outdoor arenas. Yes! The fact that she’s bored with our normal routine means that she is completely comfortable in those surroundings. She is not feeling particularly challenged or interested by what we are asking her to do. This is really wonderful. I took her away from semi-wilderness and her comfortable position on a beautiful peaceful farm in rural California and transplanted her to a busy training barn half an hour from Philadelphia where not quite everything was different or new (read: scary).

And, not once in the process of introducing her to the barn, her stall, the indoor arena, the outdoor arena, cross-ties, jump standards, fake flowers, wash stalls, fly spray (well, re-introducing that one), winter blanketing, spring grazing muzzles, and clippers, did she even think about stomping, kicking, biting, or being anything but a sweet and polite model equine citizen. The one thing that she is truly traumatized and terrified of is shots. However, even when cornered and twitched in her stall while being subjected to spring vaccinations, she made no attempt to hurt anyone. Sometimes she makes a “grumpy face” when walking in from her field, but I think she just likes to be a little surly unless given a reason not to be (carrots help). I’m so proud of her.

A good thing about 4 months of everything being new is that Surya and I just went through a 4-month-long trust exercise. The result, I think, is a pretty good bond. Case in point: we were walking up to the barn the other day, when there was a very loud crash from inside. Surya leaped sideways and backwards, but then stopped of her own accord and immediately looked to me. Holy shit! Did you HEAR that? I patted her neck, she calmed down, and we went inside. So, because through all the introductions of Scary Things, Surya has shown the utmost respect for my well-being, and I think I now have her trust, she has my trust. It also helps that I have developed my seat, and that no matter what is happening, if I say “Surya, hoe” she stops so fast I get thrown up her neck. (By the way, Chris, however you taught her that….genius!)

Thus, I now have confidence to do scary things in the saddle as well as on the ground. The trail ride was a little scary for Surya. She was fine when we were walking by forest – she was first trained to saddle in the redwoods of California, after all! However, while the farm is bordered by another horse farm and wheat fields in the west and east, it backs to houses in the north. These are yet more unfamiliar structures. But with my encouragement, she walked on past the tarps and lawn ornaments back into the safety of grass. Hopefully by the time this trail becomes routine and boring, I can get a truck and trailer and we can start going for rides in some of the state forests in the area. Or start schooling cross-country jumps. I haven’t decided whether to be an eventer or endurance rider. I will probably end up doing both as a result of indecision. Either way, I think my point is that four months ago we were strangers and now we’re becoming a pretty good team.

To prove it, as promised, here are some videos. Be kind please, but constructive criticism is welcome!

Riding: As my trainer said to me this morning, the months of trotting and controlling direction and speed have paid off. Now, I can push her more forward into the bit while maintaining the same posting speed, and she just gets rounder. And, trust me when I say that my riding has improved drastically!!! Our canter has gotten much better too, but no video yet.

Clicker training: So far, she is trained to go after the donut and then touch it. When I click, she comes back to get a treat. I'm not quite sure what I want to use this skill for, but I'm thinking of teaching her to fetch. I just really like the concept that the clicker instantaneously tells her when she is right, that she has to use her brain to figure out how to get the treat, and that I'm not forcing her to do anything...she's "playing" because she likes the outcome. Hence the unnecessarily epic music. Also, she is a bit disheveled from her bath.