The Spooking Chronicles, Part What?

The stinker took advantage of me when I probably should not have been taking a lesson on Monday and did another big spook. Again, I did stay on, but because I wasn't feeling well, it took me a bit more to get it under control. I also came out of contact with the seat because I got pulled forward and, apparently, I hit him with the whip.

I've been repeating the word Whoa! a lot. Gayle said I totally forgot it and I finally yelled it at him. He did stop when he heard it from me.

Clearly, this is the new evasion to avoid real work. It was a successful strategy in the past (Rod Bergen is so wrong about horses being unable to strategize), but I'm not going to be put off by it again. Eventually, he'll have to try something else. I'm much less bothered when he decides that a collected back up will work.

Gayle did say that I had a great collected canter underneath me when he took off. All I can say is, he feels like a whole lot bigger horse when his back is up under me. There's a lot of power when that engine is engaged.

Gayle asked me if Ashley could ride Ace in a dressage clinic at the end of the month (actually, it's June 1, I think) and, of course, I said yes. I'll go and watch. They'll be sharing the spot with the warmblood and rider they often take lessons with. The mare is about a hand and a half taller than Ace and proportionally bigger. So it is quite entertaining to watch them keep up or or slow down to stay with each other.

Riding the Spook

I had another great lesson on Saturday, including the moment when Ace saw a dragon (neither Gayle nor I saw it, of course) and took off across the arena. He was on a loose rein when it happened, but my hands were in the right place, so a finger on the pommel kept me balanced as he dropped the right shoulder. I never lost contact with the saddle, got him back under control, turned him and made him go right back to work. That obviously wasn't his plan, but he got the message.

Earlier in the lesson, I was letting him walk on a loose rein while I was pulling on a glove. Gayle commented about how relaxed I was, letting him move freely while I tried to get the glove on. After the spook, she said she couldn't have handled it any better than I did. She was pleased that we just went back to work after something we both knew was bound to happen at some point.

Knowing that he took off at a canter and I just sat there makes the thought of approaching the intentional canter less scary than it has been for quite a while. Gayle and Ashley both keep telling me that he has an awesome canter (as has anyone who's ever ridden him--he looks like a rocking horse.)

He's moving off my leg so easily these days that I regret that I wasn't able to find the right trainer sooner. Of course, I really wouldn't have been able to afford the training program I am in when I first got him. It does help to have him worked by Gayle and ridden by Ashley and I'm really glad that I don't have to longe him every time before I get on his back.

I dropped by Gayle's place when Ashley was riding him in a group lesson last week and Gayle told me that when the lesson was over, Ace was very confused that I was no longer there. He had noticed when I came in but didn't see me leave. I guess he knows who he owns.

I have seen him block other horses at the barn if they try to get too friendly with me. If he's with a group out in the arena and I'm in his run, he'll guard the gate and keep the other horses away. God forbid I open the door and someone beats him to his treats.

Progress

Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a rut with my riding and sometimes I feel like I'm making great progress. The spill last summer really put a damper on my riding for months, but I seem to be getting past it now. It helps to have a trainer who is sympathetic to this older rider and isn't forcing a time-table on me.

We had a great ride with our trainer on Saturday. It didn't hurt that we had managed a lesson for six days in a row--no rain, no wind, no holidays, nothing to interrupt the work while we were making up lessons for all of those occurrences. Ace was relaxed and ready to go, and even the "Day of the Horse" events taking place across the street didn't bother him--much. The static feedback from the microphone and loud speakers sounded like firecrackers and his ears perked right up. He got over it and I got on.

I had him ready in time to spend around half an hour warming him up before Gayle got to the barn, so we were able to get a lot more done in the alloted time. I took only the first hour of my 7:45 yoga class, but thats when most of the stretching gets done, so it worked out well for me.

The extra work outs Ace is getting from Gayle and Ashley are really paying off. He's moving off my leg and I can get him to trot without holding a motivational tool in my hand. He really feels far more forward than he has in a long time. He's keeping his back up and his head down and when he starts reaching under himself, he's got a very powerful trot. I'm still having a little problem falling forward, but I'm working a lot harder at leaning back and engaging my abdominals to stay in the saddle. One of these days I know I will have to go back to the Schleese and won't have the false sense of security of the western saddle.

We've learned we cannot say "Good Boy." Ace has decided those words mean he can stop. He's done a good job and the job is over. Not exactly, pal. He can be quite adamant about not moving forward after hearing those words. When he is moving, he'll take any direction in the general vicinity of his hoop to mean "oh, I can go inside the hula hoop and be safe and get treats." I've gotten much better at keeping him from going into the hoop when I don't want him to. He is very funny. You cannot convince me that horses don't have a sense of logic and can't plan their actions.

When we were finished working, and Ace had a chance to romp in the arena on his own, I got his weekly bran mash ready. I added a lot of water, so it was a very soupy gruel. He went diving in to find carrots and I swear he had slop all the way to his eyes. I have no idea how he keeps the stuff out of his nose. He nickered at me between forays to the bottom of the bucket and I just kept telling him "keep that dirty nose away from me." He stained his sock when he wiped his mouth on his left front leg.

We went to a birthday party on Saturday evening where I had a long talk with a friend about the Kentucky Derby. She knows a lot more about Thoroughbred breeding than I do and said that Eight Belles' sire is producing big, fast babies that break down at an alarming rate. She can't understand why anyone would breed to him. That information makes me even more upset by what happened, as has the more explicit reports of what happened to the filly's legs. One can't help but think that money means more than anything to people who engage in this sport. Kay also thinks that it will be a freak if Big Brown wins the Triple Crown. She and I are both waiting to see what the reports on his feet are coming out of the Derby. I haven't seen or heard anything yet.

Back in the Saddle Again

With a little help from my trainer, I was able to get on--and off--Ace again last night. He was a perfect gentleman. I was very concerned that something was going to hurt badly, but that wasn't the case. I had a little discomfort from my left rib-shoulder blade area and this morning it's a little tight, but that was the worst of it. There was a slight pinch where I still have bruises (some of which are just now reaching the surface) on my backside. Looking at where I sit, we think that some of the worst bruising is from where I hit the cantle on my way to the ground. I managed to slowly slip down Ace's side out of the saddle (he didn't move as I dragged my leg across his back) and nothing got jolted when I touched the ground. Good. Next time will be much easier, and this time was a lot easier than Gayle thought it would be.

After Gayle left, Zsuzsu had a discussion with me about the "story I'm telling myself" about what happened. I said it would be easier to know what story I'm telling myself if I could figure out what happened. The one thing she wanted me to focus on is that the horse did not "throw" me. I lost my seat and then lost everything else. The horse didn't do anything wrong and did not try to make me to come off his back (this part I do know, deep down inside.)

Well, it will be back to practice, practice, practice, but not quite yet. My ribs still hurt and I was pretty stiff from wearing my riding boots for three hours. They've got an inch of heel, and that shifted my pelvis enough for it to tighten up. Cleaning Ace's bedding did nothing good for me either. He needs to have clean shavings, but I'm not in any condition to unload them from my car right now. We've also lost the place we were storing that stuff because there is now a full house at the barn. Trixie, an adorable pony who is a few years older than Ace but who lacks a lot in formal training, is now in the shed row stall that used to house shavings and supplements.

What Happens When You No Longer See the Horse Underneath You

This will be fast because I'm still not sitting up for very long.

I became unseated from the Arabian Prince during my lesson on Friday and I've got a bruise the size of Nebraska on my left hip. I did get an x-ray this evening, and I didn't seee anything indicating a break, but I'm not a doctor so we'll see what he says tomorrow. Meanwhile, when I move the wrong way, it feels like a big scab ripping off me--and I have no broken skin anywhere.

So here's hoping the news is good tomorrow and I'll be back on the horse shortly. I'll definitely be talking to my yoga teacher about some yoga therapy.

Riding Lesson

Last night, I took a lesson in my Cadillac of a dressage saddle for the second time. I feel like I am bouncing on the back of the horse and that the saddle makes a terrible squeaking sound. I suppose that will get better as the saddle breaks in, but until then, it is a bit disconcerting.

The horse seems mostly happy with the saddle unless it slips into his shoulder blade. Then he does what my friend Melinda calls "the flamingo." He lifts his left leg and stands on three feet. Because I don't see it very often when I ride the western saddle, and I used to see it when I rode in my other dressage saddle, it suddenly struck me that he's been trying to tell me something. In fact, when the saddle is placed correctly, he's fine. It was only after I had ridden for a while that he did it and we discovered the saddle had slipped. I may have to spring for that more expensive, newer model girth to keep things where they belong.

I had a lot of trouble keeping my toes turned in while moving my hips forward last night. Practice, practice, practice.

Independent Seat

I'm working on developing what is known in riding as an "independent seat." Simply put, it means you stay on the horse without holding on with hands or legs (sort of.) There's an anchoring with the pelvic bones that I am absolutely sure is easier to learn at the age of 7, when there is no fear, than in the much later decade I'm now living. As my instructor gives me the combination of movements, I cannot help but say "yeah, right." Nevertheless, I have progressed from no-handed walk on the horse on the lounge line to no-handed sitting trot, with my arms in the crucified Jesus extension.

There was a time when I thought I would throw up just sitting in the saddle. There was no way I could let go of anything that high in the air. Fear of heights, fear of speed. I no longer feel like I'm stories above the ground when I'm riding my horse, but I've still got issues with speed. I could be wrong, but I think part of yesterday's lesson was laying the groundwork for the canter, the gate which scares me to death. It scares me even though I've cued and ridden the canter a number of times. It's the lack of control over speed and direction, and I've actually experienced both. "What if he spooks?" is the often unspoken but always understood monster behind the door.

All horses spook. If they didn't, they would have been eaten eons ago. Spookiness is a survival trait. I've worked long and hard at developing the Arabian Prince's mellowness, but he has his moments. Othertimes, we watch the world being crazy and he just sighs. I'm very proud of him on those days because it gives the lie to people who think Arabians have scrambled eggs for brains. Julie Goodnight says "the average Arabian is smarter than the average cowboy" which is why cowboys won't own them. I've met plenty of people who aren't as smart as my Arabian is. He knows enough to stay out of the rain, for example. He knows enough to keep a clean area where he eats and sleeps (putting him a few steps ahead of my son.)

The independent seat is hard work. I got home after my lesson last night absolutely exhausted. Tomorrow, I'll probably identify a bunch of muscles I didn't know existed. I've always thought that sailing is too much work to be fun. Even if riding is a lot of work, I've got the pleasure of a horse who talks to me when I drive up to his stall and who lets me know if he thinks I'm paying too much attention to another horse.

Yesterday, for example, I rode a school horse for my lesson. Nicholas is extremely dependable on a lounge line, and knowing he is that trustworthy gives me the confidence to let go of everything and ride no-handed and with my feet out of the stirrups for some things. Ace was turned out while I was tacking Nicholas. He worked himself into an absolute lather, running back and forth and around the turnout. When I went to put him back in his stall, he was dripping wet, and that dried to a nice salty crust. It was too late to bathe him, but I did manage to brush most of it out. That was all because he was not happy that I was stepping out on him.

I realize that's a bit of projection, but the only people who don't think animals have emotions are the people who don't own and observe animals on a regular basis. That goes for people who don't think animals understand words. If I say "out" and I'm in the bedroom, my dogs head for the door to the yard and wait. If I say "snack," they immediately head to the living room and look at the treat bag. If we think a horse can understand "whoa," why wouldn't they understand "walk," "trot," "canter," "foot," "carrot," or "cookie?"

The Arabian Prince is about to get some schooling from an experienced rider. It's been quite a while since that's happened on a regular basis. Should be fun to see what happens when a rider with an independent seat actually takes a turn on his back.