I've missed this!

I was worried late last week that the rain wouldn't let up in time for the weekend. I had big plans to get Promise out and about, and was hoping to ride. But if it was going to rain, it wouldn't be possible...and if it was going to rain all day Friday and into Friday night/Saturday morning, I wasn't sure I wanted to take my chances even lunging her, for fear she'd slip and restrain that ligament.


It was looking like a lose-lose until late Friday, when it started to clear up a little. It was still raining off and on, but the sun was sure trying to make an appearance. I felt a little hope. Maybe all was not lost.

I woke up Saturday morning to brilliant sunshine beaming through my blinds. I wanted to turn them off and go back to sleep, but then I remembered...it's the weekend! Yay! I peered outside and was relieved to see the ground was 90% dry and the sky was a sparkling clear, bright blue.

After a quick breakfast, I made the trek to the barn. It was wetter there. The creek at the back of the arena...more like a river, now. The barn owner says it is the 2nd highest they have ever seen it get. Good thing I decided not to find out if Promise can swim! :)

She was in a great mood, happy to see me, and even looked happy when she saw me bring all her stuff out. She didn't hide from me like she sometimes does, but stood watching, ears pricked in my direction.

I brushed her, stretched her legs, then wrapped them and then unhooked her to do her shoulder and hips stretches. She reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally wanted that candy cane pole...she tried so hard to reach her stifle! Snapped, crackled and popped the entire time, too. Progress is being made, though!

After I put her saddle and bridle on, we moseyed over to the arena, where one of the therapy classes was just finishing up, and another was getting ready. I had enough time to lunge her in the newly enlarged round pen (with footing steadily being added to it to make it deeper and more level, sweet!) -- and hop on her and begin warming up before the next two therapy kids came in. 

We worked a lot on moving laterally. Leg yield from the rail to the quarter line and back. Shoulder in. Haunches in. Turn on the forehand. Circles, circles, circles. Everything I asked her, I wanted her to be using her hind end in some capacity...preferably a correct one. We walked...a LOT. And trotted a LITTLE.

I also focused on keeping my hands steady and in constant contact, but to be sure that I was asking her for these movements with my leg and seat. I have a bad habit of accepting contact from her mouth without making her hind end do the work it really needs to do to have correct contact. I had forgotten how nice to feels to be *truly* and *completely* engaged from behind and working into the bit.
 
I also worked a bit on getting downward transitions through my seat...something we've learned, but gotten seriously far away from. When she would start to jig to evade a request, I would sit deeper, and make my torso and seat move less by squeezing my thighs and sit bones. Every time, she'd come back to me and walk. Now I need to get strong enough to do that at a real trot, to ask for a walk. I guess I need to ride more, first!

Afterwards, I gave her a bath and let her hang out in the sun with some hay to dry so she wouldn't get a chill with the wind. It was in the low 70s, and felt great in the sun, but the wind, in the shade, made it feel chilly. I know, I know, those of you in *real* winter don't sympathize...and believe me, I still have not forgotten what it feels like!

On Sunday, she was even better. She was sore on the lunge line - a bit gimpy on that right hind. But, not enough that I was concerned about reinjuring it, or pushing her too hard. Again, I intended to mostly walk with a bit of trot, once I got on. We continued to focus on lateral movements and circles. Walking collected, and relaxed, pushing from behind...rebuilding those muscles slowly. 

She seemed to work out of her soreness pretty quickly and actually seemed more willing to use her hind end than she had on Saturday. Feeling more supple, perhaps? 

Our trot work was absolutely fantastic...she was SO light in my hand, but maintained contact with the bit and reins, without pulling or resisting or getting distracted. She was engaged and coming through from behind, which felt great. And, she was really focused on me, and would have moments of "losing" her concentration, where either she got distracted or I wasn't as subtle with a cue as I was aiming to be, and her head would come up. As soon as I relaxed and asked again, she would relax and go back to what she had been doing moments before. 

Even the trainer giving a beginner lesson (she rides at least intermediate dressage) on Sunday said she looked really great! 


She will be getting lunged 2-3 times a week for about 15 minutes, as I accepted the very kind offer. And, I can see that she is definitely regaining some of the muscle in her topline, just from that little bit of extra work, and being more active in turnout.


All in all, it was a wonderful weekend spent with my beastie, and I am looking forward to riding again. 

A Short Story: Counting Strides

I entered the arena, dressed for show. Beige pants, spotlessly clean, neatly pressed the night before. Tall black leather boots, reaching my knees, shone with the shoe polish that had been diligently applied. My shirt, which was a celadon-green color, brought out the grey pinstripe in the navy double-breasted jacket covering it, making that stripe look green as well. My hair was neatly braided and concealed in a decorative net at the nape of my neck, while a protective satin helmet covered the rest of my head.

The horse beneath me was a dark seal bay. Her coat gleamed almost as brightly as my boots as the sun danced across her coat. The black on her legs had been freed from all particles of dust and was highlighted by the black polish that had been applied to her hooves. Her mane and forelock were neatly braided, accenting the muscles in her neck, which was bent in eagerness as she eyed the course around us with curiosity.


I shortened my reins, consciously blocking the events that had taken place outside the arena as I subtly fixed my position in the saddle and cued her to canter off. The response was instant and fluid. She took up the right lead and we cantered a large circle in perfect harmony before making a straight line for the first obstacle.


As we approached the first fence, she lengthened her stride in preparation for the effort of lifting her massive body from the earth. “Easy.” I murmured, my lips barely moving as I spoke to her. Her ears flicked toward my voice, the response coming seconds later as her speed decreased without changing her impulsion. “Good girl. Easy.” I repeated, shortening my reins again and steadying myself in my half seat. Eyes up. I reminded myself, counting the remaining strides aloud. “One…two…three…four…go.”


I allowed her motion to lift me from the saddle as she took off from the ground and raised my hands, tracing her neck with my crest release. We sailed over the three and a half foot fence with ease, and a precision that most only strived for. Landing on the other side, we remained on a straight line. “One…two…go.” I counted to the next fence. Again, we took off with the word go, sailing easily over this fence as well. So far so good.


She came back to me in the corner, slowing her pace at my bidding with an impatient swish of her tail. She was ready to go. I could feel the power in her straining muscles as we neared the third fence, which was set in a quick line of four across the diagonal. I raised my hands, causing her to lift her head so that she could see over the top of the last fence in the line.


Ears pricked and alert as we approached. Two strides…one stride, take off…sail, land…one stride, two strides, take off…a hoof trailed behind us, knocking a rail but not pulling it off of its cups. We were both shaken by the rub, but I clenched my teeth, determined not to let it ruin the rest of the line.


“Easy.” I told her, my voice louder this time. The words were more for my own nerves than hers. One…two…three…I squeezed her belly with my heels and she stretched over the width of the oxer, the time in the air longer with the increased breadth of the fence.


Smooth landing, no rub behind this time. One stride, take off…land. A rail fell behind us and I silently cursed. Four faults. I thought to myself, trying to keep my focus not on the points that would be deducted from our score but on the rest of the course. We were far from finished.


We reached the corner and executed a smooth flying lead change, with an obligatory swish of the tail as her hind end completed the motion. Then turning left, a single fence on the far rail awaited us. We rode through the corner, slow and steady. One…two…three… four…


I groaned aloud as she added a stride right before the fence. Ignoring my cue completely, she took off on her own, chipping into the fence and almost took the rails with her front legs. It stayed up, despite the hard hit and her hind end cleared.


We cantered on, pretending to be unfazed, but our turn was sacrificed as we recovered and we almost overran the next fence, which was a tight turn to a fence on the same straight angle as the seventh. It had to be approached from the opposite direction. I fixed the approach as best as I could before we reached the fence, far from perfect I thought as we were suspended over it. In midair, I gently tugged on my right rein and looked over my shoulder toward the next fence, parallel to the diagonal line.


The horse turned in the air, smartly choosing the right lead as she landed and completed a wide arc. We looped around the tenth fence, heading for the ninth, which was alone on the angle. Now, the loose figure eight. I reminded myself of the pattern as we approached the ninth fence, another wide oxer. One…two…three…four…take off.


Another turn in the air brought us between fences three and four, only to return in the opposite direction through four and five.


Then, the tenth and final fence was before us, looming larger than the rest. This one touched the four-foot mark in height, and was almost that in width. Again, I raised my hands and the horse lifted her head, raising her view. Her ears flicked toward me as she caught sight of the fence, a small hesitation in her stride that could be felt but not seen. “You’re fine.” I assured her, urging her forward with my legs.


She responded, her pace increasing. I forgot to count this one, concentrating more on simply getting over it. “H-up!” I exclaimed as we reach the base of the fence. I was no longer heeding to the unspoken rule of silence while in the show ring and the seemingly confident sound of my voice was all the horse needed to reassure her.


She took off, and cleared the obstacle, landing easily on the other side. Then, we cantered into the corner, and I asked her to change her lead again. She did, swishing her tail again. Her neck, glistening with sweat, arched with her accomplishment as we completed our second courtesy circle before returning to a breathless walk and exiting the arena.


Holding my reins at the buckle, I asked her to stop beside the trailer. She obeyed and as I dismounted, she dropped her head to scratch the side of her face on one of her legs, all of which were cleanly wrapped in black polo wraps.


She then lifted her face and swung her neck toward me, to finish scratching on my shoulder, but the reins were caught, stopping her motion. She looked stunned and disappointed as a tall young man straightened her head. “She’ll beat you if you drool on her.” He murmured to the horse, rubbing her ears. “Nice ride.” He added, offering me a small smile.


I glanced up from the saddle, where I had been rolling my stirrups and loosening the girth. “Thank you.” I replied quietly, pulling the girth away from the horse’s body. It moved about six inches, and I gently patted her shoulder as I spoke again. “Can you walk her for me? I want to watch the last rounds.” He nodded, watching me as I walked back toward the arena I had just left.


I stood beside the fence as the last three riders in the division traversed the course of ten fences. One had three refusals and was immediately disqualified, although he opted to finish the course. The second went clean and with the fastest time, putting the pair in the lead. And the third pulled a rail in the diagonal line, only to have a refusal at the last fence. The sudden stop in the horse’s momentum caused the rider to slide right out of the tack, flying over the horse’s head. She landed hard on the ground on the other side of the fence, making me cringe in sympathy.


Jump off is down to four. I thought, turning from the arena fence to the gatekeeper. “Can I put number 384 last in the jump off?” I asked the man.


He flipped through the papers on his clipboard and nodded back at me. “384 last for the jump off.” He confirmed, smiling slightly. “Nice ride earlier.” He commented.


“Thanks.” I replied, nodding in appreciation before turning to find my horse. I spotted her through the crowd, following my boyfriend willingly. She looked exhausted and I sighed softly as I started to walk toward them. “I’ll take her.” I stated when I caught up to them. He handed me the reins and continued to walk beside me. “One more round, baby girl.” I told her, taking the reins in my left hand and draping my right arm over her lowered neck. “Just one more round and then we’re done for the season.”


She bobbed her head slightly as if acknowledging my comments and I smiled at the gesture. “She’s being amazing.” He commented from a step behind me.


“Yeah, she is.” I agreed, my focus still on the horse.


Silence surrounded us for a minute, and I found myself enjoying it. Then, his voice broke the air. “So can we talk about this?”


“Dan, I have enough to think about right now.” I retorted, glancing at him briefly. “This show is really important to me.”


“Apparently more important to you than I am.”


I sighed heavily at this accusation, shaking my head. “This round could make or break my scholarship next year.” I told him, my look letting him know that the conversation was over for the moment.


He rolled his eyes in response, “You may be done with the conversation, but I’m not.” He commented, increasing his stride so that he was beside me. “I know school is important to you and I respect that. But this –” he gestured wildly with his arms, making the horse raise her head, her eyes widened slightly as she surveyed him.


Her step changed to a half-hearted jig as she spooked sideways. “Easy.” I muttered, my hand still on her neck as I softly tugged on her mouth, bringing her back to her lazy walk.


“This is crazy.” He finished, his gestures relaxing now, after the minor episode he had caused.


“I’m glad I have your support, Dan.” I stated wryly.


“You do, but I’m not sure why anymore. This obviously isn’t going to work out- and, y’know, I’m tired of trying to force it. I know as soon as you leave for school we’re done – so why don’t we just end it now?”


I was silent at first, allowing his words to sink in as a voice announced over the loud speaker that the jump off would begin after the fences were rearranged. Finally, turning back toward the trailer so that the horse could have a drink of water before I needed to remount, I responded. “It is inevitable.”


“That’s all you have to say?”


“For now, yes. My horse needs some water and a quick brushing. Then I need to get back to the ring to watch the trips before mine.” I explained, looking at him now.


An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “I’ll fill a bucket.”


Nodding, I brought the horse back to the trailer and reached for a brush before quickly running it over her body. He returned a few minutes later, straining against the weight of the ten-gallon water bucket in his hand. He placed it in front of the horse, and she eagerly drank from it, grumping slightly when I pulled her away from it after a couple of sips. “Enough for now.” I scolded her gently, undoing the girth so that I could shift the saddle closer to her withers.


When the saddle was settled, and the girth safely tightened against her belly, I pulled my stirrups down and looked over my shoulder at Dan. “Can I have a leg up, please?” I asked. He was silent as he took my left leg in his hands. “One, two, three – go.” I counted. At go, he lifted my body, and I swung my right leg over the horse’s back, gathering my stirrups and reins in one motion. Then, squeezing her belly gently, I cued her to walk, tipping my hat slightly at Dan.


“Good luck.” He muttered, barely audible as we walked toward the arena.


I asked the horse to halt a few feet away from the crowd of people gathered at the fence of the arena. I was tall enough when mounted that I could see the course over all of their heads.


I watched intently as the first rider entered on a small black horse, four white legs and a wide blaze highlighting its face. She circled before beginning the course of five fences, each set at three and a half feet. Her horse was traveling at full speed, trying to set a time for everyone else to beat, but the speed the rider chose sacrificed accuracy and she took a rail at each fence. She left the arena with twenty faults, and a comfortable position at fourth place.


The second rider entered at an energetic trot, on a huge chestnut with an even bigger stride. The horse’s movement was so effortless that he barely seemed to be moving, even though the pace would be hard to beat. The round ended cleanly, with a time of 58 seconds.


I returned to reality as I heard the gatekeeper yell to the crowd, “289 on board, 384 on deck. 384 – where are you?”


“Over here.” I replied.


“On deck.” He repeated, acknowledging my location.


“Got it.” I yelled back, straightening my seat, and gathering my reins again. My horse swished her tail as I gently nudged her to wake her up, but lifted her head, paying attention again.


I watched the third rider make his way around the course, taking two rails. As he exited the ring, I nudged my horse again and we walked toward the gate just as the gatekeeper called again, “384 on board. Good luck, 384.” He added as we passed him.


I nodded to him, offering a small, nervous smile. I asked my horse to trot and then to canter as we began our courtesy circle. 58 seconds or better. I told myself as we approached the first fence. Fatigue had set in and the horse hesitated as she saw an obstacle in front of her. I squeezed her belly hard, and clucked to her, encouraging her.


She picked up her pace obligingly, and cleared the first fence, which was set in the exact center of the arena. Turning in the air, we made a tight loop back to the left, to a fence on the diagonal. She grunted as she lifted her body over it, and touched a rail with her hind leg, leaving it swinging in the cups. It balanced delicately as we continued on, but did not fall.


The third fence was on a bent line and I cut the corner as much as I could, directing her toward the right side of the fence, so that we could make the next bending line work. After clearing the third and fourth fences, we looped back toward the second fence, approaching it from the opposite direction.


Clearing that, we finished the course, and raced back through the light that triggered the timer. It beeped, signaling the official end of our round. I brought the horse back to a walk before leaving the arena, patting her neck vigorously as I dismounted outside the gate.


“384, clean in 57.8 seconds.” The announcer’s voice said over the PA system. “Official results of the Intermediate Jumper Classic…” his voice drifted off for a second as he verified his notes. “First, 384 clean, with a jump off time of 57.8 seconds. Second, 432 also clean, with a time of 58 seconds. Third, 289, eight faults, with a time of one minute, eight seconds. And fourth, 501, twenty faults, with a time of one minute, twenty five seconds.”


Hearing the results, my concentration shattered into a wide grin and I emitted an excited scream as I threw my arms around the horse’s neck. Dan approached us, a fleece cooler draped over his arm. He helped me take the saddle off of the horse’s back and then tossed the cooler over her, buckling the straps before taking both the saddle and the reins from me. “Go change, I’ll bring this back and walk her.”


Still smiling, I turned to him. “Thank you, Dan.” I stated, kissing his mouth without a second thought, before hurrying back to the trailer to get my change of clothes.


You’re welcome. He thought to himself, leading the tired horse slowly in the same direction. “C’mon, girlie,” he said to her, “You both worked hard for this…” he paused, as a realization took over his one-sided conversation, “And I’m going to miss both of you.”