Photo by Morgan King, National Horseman. Used with permission.
I’ve never had a coach. I’ve avoided team sports with the enthusiasm of a dedicated couch potato. Although I was on the riding “team” in college, the lessons were as any other riding lessons and the ostensible coach was a burned-out, upper-level rider. Displays of enthusiasm were passe.
While I’ve had good instructors, in most cases, my problems ceased to exist the moment the lesson was over. In some cases, I ceased to exist while the lesson was in progress, but I don’t dwell.
Before now, I’ve never worked with a riding professional who knew me well enough to say, or not to say, just the right thing at just the right moment.
Example 1: Driving
Coach had pondered ways to improve my soft-to-the-point-of-ineffective hands. She decided on long-lining. This morphed into driving lessons. On the first day, we talked endless driving theory: how to do it, what to expect, how it should feel, how a class is conducted. She stood in the ring and answered every question I had for as long as it took.
Before my next driving lesson, I was still nervous about the whole idea. I started asking more questions. She interrupted me with, “Just get in the damn cart.” Okay, she’s Southern, so she probably didn’t actually say damn, but it was strongly implied.
At Nationals, I had mini-meltdowns before each drive. She stood at Alvin’s head, silent and impassive, until I just got in the damned cart.
Example 2: Riding
On the second day of the show, I experimented with my position, achieving personal if not commercial success. On day three, I was going over my game plan. Coach agreed. Same idea. Same ride. I was in the zone. She added, “Don’t overdo it.” Yup. That was exactly what I was about to do. [Show Report]
Example 3: Facebook
The relationship between coach and student is a sensitive, compassionate, and deeply nuanced one. This is best exemplified by the sign she posted on my Facebook page after the show:
A jump-off is a balance of speed and carefulness. The faster you go, the more likely your horse is to knock down a pole, earning penalty points. The more careful you are, the more likely you are to finish in the pastels. This was obvious to me. I had not realized that it applied to other disciplines, for example, to a saddle seat academy class.
In my lessons, I can get the slow, collected, “tea cup” canter fairly reliably. It’s the same canter one uses to rollback for a jump. In shows, I was hesitant to press for it. One has to, in broad terms, heave the front end while motivating the hind end. As I pranced around attempting to impress the judge, I had been reluctant to sufficiently heave on the front. If I misjudged and heaved too hard, the horse might downshift into a trot.
After placing last & second-to-last on day one of Nationals, I had nothing to lose. So, Sam lost the canter. What where they going to do, give me last? I rode in the class as I did in a lesson. I worked on elevating and gathering at the trot – to the extent Sam & I are capable. I insisted on cantering slowly but powerfully. Ditto. I still placed second-to-last, but with a huge personal improvement in understanding what was needful. This helped me to big fluffies on day three. [Show Report]
You can place if you compete. You can only win if you are willing to lose.
In the weeks before Nationals, I had two-a-day lessons for two weeks. (More on this later). I improved commensurately. I improved so much that I undoubtedly lifted myself from the pastels into the primary colors. (For purposes of discussion, green or sixth place, counts as a pastel.) Hence the redesign of my predictions [Show Today].
I improved so much that I entertained fantasies of winning the whole thing. I envisioned a ribbon rack holding eight blues, including two National Championships and the driving Championship. As it turned out, I was deeply wrong about my ribbon haul [Show Report]. However, once the idea of a blue streak was planted in my head it would not go away.
This rendered me EXTREMELY nervous. Last year, I could barely eat my breakfast by Sunday. This year, I was that nervous on the first day. (By the second day, I had much less to worry about, but I digress.) The possibility of doing that well put me in a very weird head space. It didn’t end up affecting the way I rode, but it made the ramp up way too tense. Bottom line, if I am that nervous, I am not as ready as I think I am.
Contrast this with my attitude before the Equitation Final. I knew – down to my seatbones knew – that if I could qualify to ride the pattern, I would lay down the best line in the class. I might not win the class, but I would win the pattern. Bring. It. On.
Between preparing for Nationals, attending Nationals [Show Report], and recovering from Nationals, the home team got an unearned but hefty vacation. They’ve had sporadic work when my Top Hand had time, or when I wasn’t face first in my pillow from two-a-day lessons. But no noses to grindstones.
No longer! Back to work! Time to make something happen!
Sigh.
In theory, the Thoroughbreds offer me so much more. Riding my own horses. Riding every day. Jumping. Remember jumping? In reality, the Saddlebreds have the edge at the moment. Horses to actually ride. People to talk with. Ribbons. Big, fluffy, ruffled, awesome ribbons.
Bridles, tack, & helmet were dragged out this weekend. Rodney did couch time & long-lined. Milton long-lined twice. On the one hand, nice progress with both horses. On the other hand, an infinitude away from were I wish to be with either one.
How Many People Does It Take To Ride a Horse?
All of them.
People to transport the horse.
People to care for, feed and, clean up after the horse.
People to help shop for clothes.
People to do my hair.
People to do my makeup.
People to pin my sleeves at the last minute when they luff in the breeze.
People to manage the tiny buttonholes.
People to check that my tie is straight.
People to tack up while I stand around not getting dirty.
People to hold my jacket when I get ready to go.
People to hand me lipstick for a last minute touch up.
People to warm up self and horse.
People to give me the nod at just the right moment to storm into the ring.
People to sit around the edges of the ring reminding me of my riding sins.
People to cheer when the results are announced.
People to put on the neck ribbon.
People to remind me which direction to go in a victory pass.
People to throw dirt to perkify horse ears in the photo.
People to reverse the process while I stand around hugging people.
Go Team Stepping Stone!
Photo by Julie Wamble
What Would You Do?
Coach asks me to check the judges’ card for one of the kids. Hmmm? Being an inquisitive type, I check the posted results from my classes on Friday. Second class. Yup, 6th of 7. First class. Well. The announcer read the card wrong. I wasn’t 6th. I was 7th.
Hmmmf.
I followed the directives of the announcer in good faith. Do I keep my green ribbon? However, I know I was last. Should I fess up to the organizer? In the end, I felt morally compelled to swap out my ribbons. Besides, I didn’t have a pretty, purple ribbon.
This happened again for the driving class on Saturday. I was announced 4th but the card had me 5th. Fuck it. If they can’t figure out how to run a horse show, it’s not my job to do it for them. I kept my white ribbon. Besides, I already had a pink.
Retail therapy from Paul Delott.
Where Should I Go?
Finish Your Pass! From my first saddle seat show [Sorta], when I pulled up immediately, I have tried to remember this. On the long side, keep going. On the short side, stop.
In my second class, we are trotting in the second direction. We are told to walk. Okay, I’m still headed across what would be the short side of a dressage arena, i.e. across from C. I have not turned right to head down the long side, M-B-F . Therefore, I walk.
Turns out, the long side/short side distinction is more of a suggestion than a geometric directive.
To a dressage rider, I stop between G&I. To every saddle seat rider filling the arena, I am randomly coming down to a walk in the middle of the ring. This is not done. So not done.
What Do The Horses Think?
Have the nerve-inspired bout of Tourettes before getting in the cart.
Me, sitting in cart, says: “… shit, shit, shit …”
Alvin, listening attentively, hears: ” … trot, trot, trot …”
In the schooling ring, Alvin is all business. On the way out, he sashays across the warm-up ring. As soon as his feel hit pavement, the air completely leaves the balloon and he says, ‘We’re done. I’m goin’ home.’
After the schooling session, I want to be nice. So, I stop Sam in order to get off, loosen the girth, and walk him back. This is not what Saddlebreds are used to. They are ridden back to their stalls. ‘Why are you making me stop? Why aren’t we going back to my bedroom? Why are you doing this weird thing to me?’
Blurry but beautiful
What Did It All Look Like? Sandra Hall Photography. Classes listed yesterday [Part 1]. I’m easy to find in all 8 classes. I’m the only one with a helmet: black on Friday, black with bling on Saturday, & blue on Sunday.
I have ordered NAF14-038-012 (driving) & NAF14-067-052. Sam may look better elsewhere, but my inner 12 year old wants the victory pass photo. Note during the line-up for the last class, everyone else is looking straight ahead in a poised and confident fashion. I am looking off to the side. I hope I am watching another competitor ride the pattern, but I doubt it.
Photos by Courtney Huguley
What Next?
I’ve learned a tremendous amount about riding while polishing my position. Certainly, there is more to learn. On the other hand, I could lead a rich and fulfilling life if I never rode in another equitation class. On the third hand, I still don’t have a big, fluffy blue …
Virtual Brush Box 