Author: Amanda

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I am struggling a little bit with mom guilt.

Intellectually, I can look at it like this: I was running on fumes at the end of the fall semester. The last three weeks have been a welcome recharge of my batteries, with time to have dinner with friends, indulge in a bit of television watching, crochet more than I have in months, and generally accomplish things without feeling a sword blade at the back of my neck. I am comfortable in my budget and write off his expenses without a second thought as long as I economize like crazy in the rest of my life – which I’m used to.

He’s going better than he ever has before, he’s happy and relaxed and well cared-for. He will be those last things regardless of how often he sees me.

Emotionally: I am riding three days a week max, and feeling like I’m letting my horse down. I’m guilty about the money I spend on him, which I could be saving for a mortgage, or using to finish grad school with no debt. I feel that to justify that money and to do right by him I should see him more often, should put more into making our dressage better. There are many dedicated, accomplished riders in my life that I admire tremendously, and though I can on one level acknowledge that I have many other responsibilities in my life and cannot make my riding and Tristan’s improvement as a riding horse my priority – I still think I ought to do better. I am a competitive and driven person. It’s in my nature to always think I can do better.

This, too, shall pass, but a strong wave of it was just triggered by making the decision to meet my undergrad advisor – one of my favorite people in the whole world, who I haven’t seen for over a year – for coffee tonight instead of heading down to ride.

I wish…many things. I wish the barn were closer and I could make a trip to ride in 2 hours instead of 5. I wish I were in Vermont where I could spend less money on him – I wish I were at the place in my life where I could keep him in backyard.

Anyway. Here’s to 2011. I’m going to try to post more about our rides, in the hopes of making the time that we have resonate more.

not-so-quiet-freakout
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I’m stuck on one of those horrible plateaus. I’m pretty sure this one’s for good.

I’m not fit enough to do the things I want. I flop around like a dead fish in the saddle, ineffective bordering on interfering, and I am so stressed in every area of my life that my go-to response has been to ramp up with Tris. Escalation is no one’s friend, and it just leads to me behaving poorly as a rider, and Tris tuning me out. Last night’s lesson was the closest I’ve come to breaking down and crying right there in the saddle that I’ve ever come. I don’t have time to go to the gym. I’ve started trying to do push-ups and sit-ups and stretches at home at night, and the number I can effectively accomplish is so pathetically small I can’t even say it out loud.

I can’t get down to the barn enough to really move forward. I just can’t. If I went as often as I’d like a) I’d get fired, b) I’d flunk out of grad school and then c) what little social life I have would unravel entirely, not to mention Matt would probably get while the getting’s good. Also, I’d be broke. I’m just barely keeping my head above water paying for gas for 4 trips or so a week, and carpooling with Hannah has been a huge help, but I am a bad enough rider that 4 trips a week isn’t getting me anywhere.

I know that one of the cardinal rules of horses is not to compare yourself to others, but I can’t help it. I get dangerously close to blaming my horse because – I love him more than life itself, more than anything, but he does not make this easy. He’s difficult and not inclined to cooperate, and of course I can’t blame him a bit, but it’s hard when you’re as selfish and petty as I am and day in and day out watch everyone else get their relaxed and through horses on the bit and Tris won’t take the outside rein again. Some more. For years and years on top of years.

I’m juggling every.single.penny. to try to afford a dressage saddle this winter (and trailer repairs in the spring, and US Rider renewal, and supplements, and vet bills, and maybe some extra jumping lessons). I’ve convinced myself a dressage saddle will help. Deep down, I know it won’t, because I’m not having saddle problems; I’m having basic lack-of-skills problems. It’s not a magic fix, and it’s probably not even a mundane fix.

In short: Dear Tristan, I’m sorry for breaking the #1 rule of horses and losing my temper. You deserve a better mom.

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Two things.

First, last night, we had a super lesson. Stepping it up another notch.

Afterward, R. was watching Tris mug for treats from over his stall guard and said “You looked fantastic. Tris was hugely overstepping, and his back was swinging, and I looked at his face and he was all, I DON’T THINK THIS IS A GOOD IDEA. AT ALL.” That’s my pony.

Second, I’m very happy with my cheapo ice bandages: a multiple-cell flexible ice sheet from Kmart ($2.49 each), stuck to his legs with polo wraps. His fetlocks especially have been just a bit puffy all summer. Only occasionally heat, and he’s not off, not sensitive, none of it, but…y’know if 10 extra minutes after tougher work tightens his legs up again, I’ll do it. So far I’ve just done front but I’m going to pick up some more ice sheets and do his hind legs too, or at least have the capacity to do so after jumping especially.

Until now I’ve been using a half set of some sedate burgundy polos to wrap him. I have white and black polos already, but I am tempted to buy him a new set for wrapping.

The real question is…snakeskin or pink camo?

(It goes without saying that more suggestions for colorful polo wraps would be much appreciated!)

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It’s been a while, so I figured I should get back into things with two fantastic lessons in a row.


I’ve been working really, really hard the last few weeks to get my legs back and deeper. It’s finally starting to pay off – it’s starting to feel like a normal place for them to be instead of a painful stretch. The reward is that they’re much more solid and effective, and that I can really access Tristan’s hind end now, especially that sticky right hind.

In turn, he’s never been better. His canter is really starting to have lift and spring to it, and he’s flirting with really truly coming over his back in it. He’s reaching for the bit, and his trot is just getting superb. He’s developed a whole new level of confidence – if you’d asked me six months ago I would’ve said he was already a supremely confident horse. But I didn’t take into account a certain kind of body awareness and confidence in his physical ability to handle the work – before, he was struggling with his own musculature and confirmed way of going, and now that we’ve eroded so much of that and replaced it with solid, good muscle and stretch and bend, he’s starting to enjoy his own body in a way that’s really neat to feel. He’s still Tristan – he still gets snarky and snotty most of the time when I ask for new things – but that resistance is such a small fraction of what it used to be, and he comes out the other side much more willing to work with me.

So from last night’s ride: once again, some lateral work in hand, then a 10+ minute march, march, march in the walk warmup, then collect it together for maybe 5 minutes, then into a loose trot. I really need to stop making excuses for not doing that every time. He goes SO much better and more forward than when I ask for more work earlier. 3/4 of the way through the warmup T. stopped us and said that he really, really liked about 99% of what we were doing with the warmup – we just needed a hair more tempo. I have to balance his tempo carefully in the warmup – too much and he’ll happily run around like a lead weight in my hands, too little and he’ll happily be all slinky with no actual push. So T. got us to just the right metronome click for his trot, which was indeed only a fraction more than what we’d been doing.

Lots and lots of lateral work in general in the actual ride. I’m flirting more and more with a proper shoulder-in. I can get the angle, and for maybe half-step I can really get the push from his hind end, but I can’t sustain it, can’t keep him steady in the angle when he adds in that push. We’re getting closer and closer, though, and as I get more mobility in my lower leg I’ll be better able still to keep the push and the angle corralled together. Lots of leg yield, too, which he is really nailing. He just needs to be kept up in his tempo through that, too – when he is he is just wonderful; when he isn’t he chooses the easy way out and zips through his shoulder straight to the wall.

Not much fancy, but just a lot of good, correct work, at the end of which T. was effusive (!) in his praise, saying that my hard work on my legs had clearly paid off, that we had taken it to a whole new level, and he was thrilled with our progress. 😀


I have the week off and had asked for an extra lesson, if possible a XC school, and J. obliged by putting me in a noon lesson today. I started off nervous – it was extremely hot, I was running a bit late due to unexpected construction traffic, and the other horse in the ring was a big leggy beautiful Thoroughbred, impeccably turned out, rider ditto. (I found out later they’re from the Vineyard, which…made retroactive sense.)

It didn’t help that Tris was sluggish to start, wouldn’t walk on, and then when I asked for the canter, got hoppy – I’m sure he was a bit sore from last night. I pushed him through into a long rein canter around the ring, got off his back, then brought him back and started over. I didn’t get him to a *great* place, but I felt at least a teensy bit more confident at the end.

I completely ate the warmup 18″ crossrail, twice, until T. got on me about my leg, and we cantered it, and Tris fiiiiinally woke up. “Oh! We’re jumping! Okay, I’ll go forward for that.” We only did 2-3 courses, enough to get jumping on the brain. I did the same courses as the other woman, who is I would bet running around Novice, which was…intimidating, but a nice vote of confidence. Tris was awesome, of course, even when I saw a long distance, he disagreed and took *me* to the base, and then I gulped, planted my hands on his neck, and leaned like crazy. He propped us both up and over, and I got a lecture about not counting on my horse to save me.

Then, out to the back XC fields. A bit of a run around to warm up, and bless my horse, he was completely unconcerned about the loud mower going in the next field. We played around with some small courses. Tris was, of course, a super star. I ate a few fences, one in the same way I did in the ring (got it on my second try later) and…well…no excuse for the other two.

Tris popped right over the ditch, so our next “just to check in” was to “go play on the banks.” Okay. I decided (somehow? why?) to canter off the medium sized one to start off with. My little mustang went “WHOOOOOOOOO,” launched into mid-air, and landed bucking to kingdom come. I started laughing too hard to pull him up for 2-3 strides, till Tom yelled “GET. HIS. HEAD. UP.” and then I was sent back to walk down the bank many times to think about what I’d done. Tris stepped off quietly and beautifully, of course. Sigh. Then up a couple of times, and then we were allowed to trot down. Good pony. Idiot rider.

My crowning moment, though, was on my last run. I was not doing especially well with the heat, and had been drinking water, but was still getting pins-and-needles in my face and a bit wobbly in my legs and arms. I began to feel better just as T. called out our last run, and – I bucked up and went for it. Sent Tris down the long side in a nice gallop – he was tired, too, and getting a little strong – over the gate, then up and around to the coop. And, okay, first the coop had been tweaking me all day – it is very straight, and decently sized (to my eye anyway) and obviously it jumped fine but every time we approached it all I could think was “big!” and I’d had some wobbly moments with it earlier.

My course was coop to down bank, and the bank was on a slight offset angle from the coop, and in my head as I made the turn I was thinking “stay on the left side of the coop, that’ll make it easier to take a straight line to the drop,” and somehow on the rollback from the gate that turned into a line that was…to the left of the fence. Tristan galloped past quite cheerfully, then turned quite cheerfully, and then I damn well went over the middle of the fence the next time. (Cheerfully, of course…)

We nailed the rest of the fences, including one that I didn’t realize was on the skinny side until I approached it – a sort of garden stand series of steps. He didn’t blink at anything, no matter how airy or how reflective or even for that matter, the ditch. The steps were set at the bottom of a fair hill, and he started rushing it a bit, tired again, and not wanting to bring his hocks up downhil, and I stood up slightly, and wow, it was so easy to reach down and half halt through my core, then sweet as you please get back into position, hold him with my hands and bring him up with my leg. It was like some kind of karmic payback for the stupid decisions I’d made earlier: all of a sudden I was making exactly the right decisions, in the 5 seconds or so before the fence, on pure instinct, and my God, he nailed that fence.

In conclusion: best horse ever.

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Didn’t head down to the barn until after the World Cup, so I got there verrrry late and had the ring all to myself, which was good: I was concentrating too much on him to have navigated any kind of ring traffic.


While pulling out boxes of kitchen stuff to sort through for the new apartment, I ended up doing a bit of re-sorting of Tristan’s stuff, which meant that I was moving his other saddles a lot. I have three saddles in all: his everyday saddle, a Passier all-purpose that suits both of us well but desperately needs to be reflocked; a Wintec 2000 with changeable gullets that I bought for 70% off thinking of trail-riding; and an old, old, old (1940s) dressage saddle that I adore beyond words but will probably never be usable. It’s a beautiful caramel cover, has a shallower seat than anything I’ve ever ridden in, only the tiniest hint of knee rolls and no thigh rolls, and I think the tree is in serious trouble. It creaks. There’s also no padding left in the seat – you can feel your seatbones slide around *inside* the tree when sitting in it. Someday, if I have a few hundred dollars to spare, I’ll have someone really look at it, but for now…

Anyway: I had the Wintec in storage because it never quite fit him right; the gullets were either too wide or too narrow. It was a good trail saddle, but it didn’t make sense to keep it around just for that. Tonight, I looked at it again. He’s really been bulking up around his withers lately, starting some muscles just behind the point of the wither that will, with time, really travel down his spine and give him more of a back. (They were my new favorite muscles two weeks ago; this week it’s the filled in musculature just above his hocks – pony’s learning how to sit!)

I liked it better immediately after putting it on his back; still not perfect, but it was settling better behind his shoulders than the Passier. Getting up I had to tweak the stirrups down a few holes; it still took some getting used to. It’s far more built up the Passier, and it actually has padding instead of rock-hard leather. Consequently, it took some time for me to feel as deep in my seat and legs as the Passier lets me be right away. I never quite got the seat there, but once I got my legs settled it in I found that they were actually set better than on the Passier – whopping knee rolls on the Wintec, and the stirrup bars back a bit too, I think.

Ride went really, REALLY well. I think it was a bit of a perfect storm of three factors: first, he really is starting to go better and better, putting some air time and reach in his gaits and give me his back earlier and easier. Second, WOW did I have my leg on. Not until they got quite muscle-tired was I tempted to jack them up and go after him with my heel. Other than that, inner calf all the way. Which was both the saddle and the fruit that’s finally starting to bear from T.’s incessant body mechanics talks and my own furious determination to work on my legs. Third, I do think the saddle frees up his shoulders quite a bit more – he was much looser much earlier through the base of his neck than he has ever been.

Cons: I didn’t quite get his hind end the way I wanted it to. It was allllmost there, but not all the way. Should’ve gone for a few more leg-yields to really get the hind end moving.

Canter, though? Best it’s ever been. Which is an excellent trend! Even got the right lead bending and through after some long discussion.

Will ride in the Wintec with T. on Tuesday night – we’ll see what he thinks! Unless he has objections, I think I’ll ride in it for the foreseeable future, ie until I can afford to get the Passier reflocked.

cross-country
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Playing catch up again…

Let’s see.

Flatwork: We’ve been experimenting with a better level of collection which has us running into the age-old conundrum of ruining the mediocre now in order to make the next step better. Which is HARD. And always frustrating. We’re trucking along pretty well now with acceptance of the bit and some stretch and looseness and reach, really good at walk and trot, building solidly at the canter, can’t I just settle in with that and have a horse that’s already 200% better than he was this time last year?

No. Not really. So: really setting the outside aids, lift off the inside leg, keep the bend, teasing out more and more pieces of true self-carriage, stay there even when Tristan insists he’s dying, and start to get glimpses and pieces of it actually coming together for one or two strides. Back on the uphill climb part of the training plateau, where we’d been coasting the surface for a long time smoothing out the bumps and making sure his brain was coming, too.

Riding is such a humbling experience sometimes. So many people have told me “oh, it’s just sitting on a horse, I could learn to do that in 20 minutes.” Yes. You probably could, I tell them. I could sit you on a horse, and if you’re already a reasonably athletic, coordinated person, I bet I could get you w/t in 20 minutes, and if you’re very good, canter in half an hour. Then you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make it *good.* And that’s the part that a lot of people don’t get, refuse to understand. It’s also the part that I find completely addicting.

Conditioning: We’ve started actually working on hills and terrain, really putting the galloping track to good use. March up, march down, then again with leg yields back and forth across the narrow-ish track. Trot up, trot down, if not on the bit then at least stretching and using the body, keeping the march uphill and the balance downhill. Ditto with leg yields. Canter with cadence and balance and a wee bit of stretch. Gallop with my position opening and closing, rating the speed and then coming back, strong half-halts to try and lift what is still a very flat gait. He really enjoys this work, and is always quite chuffed and strutting afterward.


Short version – LOVED IT.

Long version – LOVED IT. Once Tristan stopped trying to bolt. Which really was never anything *bad*, just him expressing his opinion and me temporarily getting up in my head and forgetting that yeah, I can too keep my leg on and control that outside shoulder no matter how much he tries to convince me I can’t. And it was never anything but him needing to say “I still need to say HELL NO first, mom, don’t you ever forget that.”

Because really, once he got over that – and it was just the initial gallop ’round – he was WONDERFUL. Even a tetch lazy, not quiiiiite dragging me to fences like he had last time, which I chalk up to a week-long effort to tire him out. And it meant I got the opportunity to push him to a few fences, which was a-okay with me to practice. Jumped everything happily, only a split-second looky at the water, popped over ditches and banks calmly and quietly, so sensible about things that the clinician said admiringly “He’s really kind of cool, isn’t he?” Which pretty much made my day. Another rider was admiring him too, someone who really knows her horses, and I was SO PROUD of my little mustang.

In short, not preoccupying myself with what he was going to do meant we both got to buckle down and really learn. About jumping fences downhill – leg on, open the body a bit for balance, keep his hocks under him. About really packaging the canter for an up bank. About slipping the reins and finding gravity with my feet for down banks. About softening for a bit after an uphill fence to keep momentum. About focusing my eyes just beyond, but not too far beyond, a fence to encourage a better flow for the whole thing. About trusting him to work out his distances a bit once I’ve found our canter and show him how to carry himself up to the fence.

Biggest “best pony ever” moment of the day might have been when we were asked to lead another balky horse through the water. Yeah. Tristan. Who thinks water is the devil, who had to have another horse lead him through this exact water four weeks ago. Marched right through in front of this little mare, only a hair-second thought of taking a drink, and then waited, standing quietly, in the water. SO PROUD of him.

In short, as always, best. pony. ever.

lesson notes
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Lesson! Summary: good hard work, some boneheaded decisions on my behalf, and ultimately some very productive canter work.


Started off with a lot of walk work, and he was much less stiff than I would have expected thanks to Caitlin hacking him out on Monday. He was still clearly a bit tired, though, and a bit muscle-bound. He was also already a bit sweaty – hot day!

So, walk, walk, walk, bend, stretch, off the inside leg, spiral in and out, little bit of leg yield. We’re working on shortening the reins and keeping a steadier, more elastic connection, so I concentrated on that. When we picked up the trot I just let him feel his way into it for a minute or so, making sure he wasn’t ouchy anywhere – he felt more or less fine, perhaps a bit shorter in the right hind, but nothing major. When I picked him up we started to work with T. on really getting him into the outside rein, pressing him forward and gathering him up with my right hip bone and right hand. It took a while to get him really steady in that new level of contact, but once he did I was really liking the power I had access too. He’s not a “light and springy” kind of horse, he’s got a much more drafty and solid feel to him.

After working the trot for a while, I decided to work on my sitting trot, which was….ehhhhhh. Not great. I was hitting his back far too much, couldn’t quite settle in the rhythm. He wasn’t exactly pleased, and the quality of the trot work took an instant nosedive. We worked it out to get closer to where the rising trot work was, and then I asked for a canter.

His first left canter depart? GLORIOUS. In fact, so wonderful I got all caught up in supporting him with my legs and asking for bend around the canter and…had to haul him back to the walk in order not to slam into another rider. I kicked myself up down and sideways for that one. Poor decision, poor ring management, and I ruined a great canter transition. I took myself to the other end of the ring and tried to get the trot back to where it had been before I asked for the canter again. Took a while.

Anyway: canter work was generally really great. I’m starting to solve the long legs/light seat problem, inch by inch, as I work toward a seat that’s deep but not heavy, and legs that are long but not propping. Wouldn’t you know, the closer I get to that the more jump he can achieve in the canter as I can really support him. So I could really start to dig in with hips-to-hands, half-halts, and leg support to balance the canter, kick him UP off my inside leg to get him straighter and cleaner and not leaning.

One problem that cropped up last night was that he’s really starting to go well on the bit in a canter circle, but asking for that same bend, same reach, and same jump on a straight line was reaaaaaalllllly hard for him, and he dropped into the trot, all flustered, when I didn’t give him enough support. So that’s something to work on for strength!

Back from the canter to a long walk break, then picked him up again to work on the sitting trot again, and T. got involved – which he had been quite a bit all lesson, actually, I don’t know if he saw us go XC on Sunday and thought aha! now we’re cooking with gas! and decided we need our asses kicked on a more regular basis? Which is both a good and a bad thing! Anyway – T. really cleaned up my position in the sitting trot, and we had a few strides of loooooovely smooth sit for me and reach for him.

Then we worked canter transitions. I worked on staying back and staying deep, keeping my support in the outside rein and the bend in the inside, and T. said that magic thing that always helps us when I’ve forgotten it, which is to think of the canter transition as a down transition, not as going faster. I like to picture water flowing downhill; there’s more energy there, but it’s just a natural forward motion, smooth and easy. A few attempts at that and we started getting consistently nicer transitions, and ergo, nicer canters faster. Some of them REALLY nice.

We finished after a good right canter transition and circle, took a short walk outside, and then he got hosed off quite a bit – VERY sweaty boy who’d worked very hard and was pretty pleased with himself.

So, my homework: shorter more elastic reins, longer leg, better support on the outside, canter transitions as down transitions, and recapturing that smooth sitting trot I had so briefly.

cross-country
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Cross-country school at Scarlet Hill Farm!

Short version: WHEEEEEE!

My day started at 4am; drove the truck down to the barn, hooked up the trailer (took an embarassingly long time, usually I can hitch it myself in 2-3 tries…) pulled it out and started packing what I hadn’t the night before. Tris could tell something was wrong when he didn’t go outside with his friends, but bless him, only objected mildly and got on the trailer with a minimum of fuss. Trailered up well, came off the trailer at Mach 10, and I only hung on to the lead rope because of the knot at the end as Tris tried to pull me THROUGH the chest bar. I have some very impressive bruises already coloring in, and I don’t typically bruise.

Ah well. Tacked him up while he paced in circles and stared bug-eyed at the world, Hannah made sure his splint boot velcro straps were trimmed to her satisfaction (:P) and off we went – a bit later than the other horses, who were already trotting around when we got there. Tris was high as a kite, so I walked him around for a bit longer, and had a trot in which I asked nothing more than that he start to calm himself. Then we pulled up and T. described an arc for us to gallop. I thought seriously about asking someone to hold Tris so I could go puke in a bush.

Our turn came, and we started trotting, and then I sucked it up and asked for a canter. Did NOT approach gallop, was not going to go there, and that decision paid off when we had a long discussion about turning at the top of the hill to head back down. Muscled through it and jigged to a halt. Then over a warmup fence, which he charged in a bit of a long spot, but which thankfully reassured me a bit that his jumping brain, always good, was still installed. (Every other kind of brain had leaked out his ears at this point, however.)

Next, a short course, and Tristan stomped and cavorted and fidgeted and paced and generally acted like a total jackass while the other horses did it, and oh my God, I spent the whole thing thinking “T. can’t possibly ask us to do that on our first XC school in 2 years, can he? Oh my God, he can. Oh my God, I’m going to die.” Once again, I contemplated puking in the bushes. T. at least gave me some smaller options, and…off we went.

First couple of jumps okay, and then I got totally lost and panicky up on the hill – couldn’t see a line to the logs that the others had jumped, much less the line away from those, so I sort of went around them in a really stupid way and got all up in my head coming toward the next fence, a BN-sized house with a green roof and flopped all over the place and Tristan took his out, cut hard right. Many times. Squirreled and cut and…sigh. After I don’t know how many cut-off approaches I finally got good and mad, about the time T. crested the hill and started talking me through it step by step, and we had one prop/deer jump through the middle, circled for it again, and then went, I kid you not, SIDEWAYS over the corner of it. It must have been really interesting to watch.

One more approach, one more cut out, and now I was PISSED; circled again, and we went over it with a huuuuuge flyer, but straight and true, and T. started calling out leetle elementary jumps for us, building a rhythm, not letting me think about it, using my gritted teeth and my anger to build confidence, and bless him, it was perfectly done. Tristan started to find a rhythm, he started to jump them straighter and cleaner, and I could feel him start to widen his brain and take it all in.

Back down to the others, and for the rest of the (two hour) school, though I was not infrequently nervous, especially about galloping way off from the others, I was not scared again.

So, next up: ditch. Scarlet Hill had a neat little ditch complext that was a half-ditch (one side riveted, other side natural), an E ditch and a BN ditch side by side. Tris and I were tasked to trot over the half-ditch, since it was his first ever. And my God, he NAILED IT. Big strong surge of a jump, not a moment’s hesitation, a clear enjoyment of launching himself into space. Never even thought about looking at it (though to be fair it wasn’t very looky). One of the times over he was so pleased with himself he threw his head down and started bucking, nothing bad, just exuberance. GOOD. BOY.

On to banks next, up and down something I think was a low BN? I’m not great at eyeballing height. We trotted up to it and LAUNCHED into space over it. I am sad to admit I did not grab mane in time and probably caught him pretty good. He didn’t especially seem to care. Turn around, trot down, no hesitation at all, just dropped down. Trot up again, and he offered a canter so I took it, and he jumped up much better – more economical, more clean, more straight. Down again was quieter yet, a more true drop instead of a jump off. No hesitation, no spooking, no questioning. GOOD BOY again.

Then we did a bit of a course: up the bank, over a series of planters into a field, up over a stone wall out of a field, up a stone wall at the top of a hill, back down, over the same stone wall into the field, down through the field, over a baby coop to get out of the field, down the same bank. Bank up went well, and Tris jumped me right the hell out of the tack over the planters into the field, I gathered just in time to point and boot him over the stone wall, and half-halted hard enough that he trotted up the hill and over the stone wall. Fine by me; these were all easily jump-able from the trot, and I wanted more positive than challenging today. Less of a launch back into the field, and we had a bit of a discussion about hand-galloping down the hill to the coop. Landing was a wee bit spooky, with tall grass a few feet away from where he put his feet down that he didn’t want to run through. Bank was a bit more of a launch, but he was quite pleased with himself overall.

Then, water. Oh, Tristan. I knew he’d have issues. He HAAAAAATES water. Luckily, issues were minimal; after a few minutes of planting his feet and spinning around hard, T. had C. and her big bay horse trot past us; I kept kicking; Tris eyeballed the big bay horse and trotted after him. Didn’t give me another problem about it after that – we trotted back through a few times and even picked up a canter in the water to come out.

Lastly, a big long course. Down to the banks, up the hill to do the same loop we’d done before, back up to the same loop we’d started with that Tris and I botched so badly. No rosy glow for me; I was as nervous as I’d been, and starting to get very tired to boot. Tris, who’d gotten himself quite wet cantering through water, was shaking like a miserable wet dog (hard enough to jar me out of the saddle) and pawing and generally making his displeasure at his wet state known.

Nothing for it: started off down the hill. Jumps all went much smoother than the first time around, and this time he felt more balanced down the hill; we held the hand-gallop over the baby coop, and down the bank, and up the hill he felt like he had a little more in him, so I opened him up. Something clicked in his brain, and he was ON. Next was a transition pile of logs, tiny, he flew over it out of stride, chaaaaarged up the hill in a fast hard gallop, taking me to the next fence: he wanted it, and he wanted it bad. All of a sudden I had a cross-country horse underneath me, and oh. Oh, that was amazing.

Up the hill, and there were those log piles I’d skipped the first time. I had a brief moment of indecision, then pointed him at the BN one; he checked back in, I said go, and ZOOM. Down the hill, circle around, attacked the little house like he’d never had a problem with it, down over the ditch, then through the water – checked back in again just before we went in, but I responded in the affirmative, and he dug for another gear. Zoomed through it. Pull up, many, many, many pats, and he was done.

He was almost insufferably pleased with himself, prancing and motoring around, ears pricked. T. actually used the word “astounding” to describe how Tris started to eat up the course on the last run. No one could believe that was his first XC school in so long, much less his first ditch, bank, and water. Oh, and have I mentioned that he’s 15, and wasn’t really ever handled until he was 11?

I. Love. This. Horse.

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AmandaLeave a comment

Not much to say about last night’s ride: light, clean, straight, and I felt like I made good decisions all around. Tris came out forward, we warmed up in the walk for a looooooong time – I didn’t fuss with the reins or the headset, just focused on his hind end and back, how’s that for a revelation – and he moved off well into trot. Canter was malleable both directions, and the left lead is really starting to come along.

We are starting to play with a shoulder-in, too; I can get a solid sort of three track shoulder-in (hind leg on track, diagonal pair even on middle track, front leg off on another track), we just need to open up the angle a little bit more and he’ll be there. Which means still more work on my stabilizing outside leg – though that is really starting to come along. Though last night I was really getting it on spiral in and out, keeping the leg there and not letting him trick me by hollowing to the outside as soon as I put it on, pretending he could only move off my leg by flipping the bend. Lies!

It was also lovely to have a leisurely ride, no rush to tack up, ride, untack, and sprint to get back to Boston to study or something. I even wish I had stayed longer, thoughCaitlin tried valiantly to tempt me and I demurred in the moment. Next time, I’m not leaving the barn until the hockey game is over.

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AmandaLeave a comment

Lesson: very good. Tris came out much more limber and willing to walk on, which makes the fourth or fifth ride in a row he’s been like that. I am beginning to suspect either that he’s turned some kind of fitness corner OR that my redoubled efforts to keep him constantly supplied supplements have paid off. Perhaps some combination of both.

It was pounding rain, so one of those “ride for fifteen minutes then go stand with T. to get advice and direction for a few minutes” lessons. Which was good for us yesterday. My focus was on fixing the long legs/light seat conundrum (I’m getting small glimpses of the solution, but really wrapping my legs around him still makes my seat feel too light) and on keeping a good, solid, consistent hold of the contact. We’ve been slipping into a tendency lately where he gives, and I throw the reins at him because I’m so happy he’s given more. I’m either too heavy or throwing them away, I guess. But T. worked very hard with us on really setting the bit in his mouth, and then rounding him up TO it, the operative concept being that there has to be something for him to go to. I had to get over my nagging worry of blocking him in front, because with leg support he really can figure it out now – he’s over the “but if you have any hold at all I can’t moooooooove” phase.

He’s also changed tactics in the lazy department: instead of killing the motor when he gets round and bendy, he is, as T. put it, “popping the clutch.” He disengages in a very subtle way, then slowly loses energy over the course of the next five minutes. So: rhythm, rhythm, rhythm.

Canter was AWESOME, we’re really digging in and working on it. Spent a long time really working on a hips-to-hands balancing to make him SIT DOWN. The left lead transition is really starting to come along, but he still flails all the hell over the place in the right lead. We did a lot of walk-trot, halt-walk transitions, focusing on staying deep and keeping bend, with the hopes that nailing it in those lower gaits will start to translate up the scale.

Before the lesson I was fussing over him and noticed that his right front fetlock was a wee bit swollen and warm. Nothing that would leap out, clearly just above the joint and not tendon-related – all in all it looks like he wrenched it a bit in pasture. He wasn’t tender on it at ALL (believe me, I poked and prodded for quite a while, and then T. did as well) and he came out perfectly even and sound. I am mildly worried, but not desperately so. Something to keep an eye on.

I rubbed Sore No More in before and after the lesson, made sure he got a looooooooong walk warmup and cooldown, and mixed him a bran mash with 2 grams of bute paste. (Somehow my bute powder has disappeared from my tack trunk. Not cool.) He was decidedly less than pleased by the bute paste, and made every face you can imagine – twisting his jaw, sticking his tongue straight out the side, shaking his head around, rolling his eyes back in his head. If he could have gagged dramatically he would’ve.

Ride again tonight – keep an eye on the fetlock – and then Dover Saddlery on Saturday for a big shopping trip (new tall boots, ugh). Cross country clinic on Sunday at Scarlet Hill. I’m going to mail my entry form for the Area 1 Safety Clinic this weekend. I’m also toying with the idea of an Intro to Foxhunting clinic coming up in June…it’s the same weekend as Valinor, so that’s a tough decision – haul and volunteer, or find a buddy and do the clinic? Both are very appealing. 😦

I’m going to see about finding a dressage schooling show in July, then the Flatlands show in August, then in the fall for sure we’ll do a hunter pace, another dressage show, and mayyyyyyybe, if the summer goes REALLY well, an off-property schooling horse trial. Fingers crossed!