Author: Amanda

cross-country · jump judging
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Aaaand the other piece of Saturday’s fun: jump judging.

I understand the principle of jump judging, and I know the rules, but I had never actually done it before Saturday. It was really terrific fun. Well, as much fun as standing in the pouring rain/swarming mosquitoes for 5 hours can be.

I was paired with a very experienced jump judge, who was an old school, very sarcastic horsewoman who smoked like a chimney and luckily declared she liked me. She was kind of hilarious, in a wonderful way; I didn’t even mind the cigarette smoke – it kept the mosquitoes away. She also really, clearly knew her stuff; she made small comments after each rider went through that were always spot-on, several of them things I hadn’t seen, and I learned a LOT.

My Training fence was 17a&b, a lovely carved and stained bench, two stride, to a big log that was curved in such a way as to *look* hanging, but actually was stable. They were very straightforward gallopy fences with a relatively clear approach and no spooky elements; perhaps a verrrry slight bending line if you didn’t get your approach quite right, but nothing to worry about at all. My big lesson watching those fences was about the balance on approach: I got to see, in minute detail, where exactly each rider chose to half-halt and rebalance and prepare the horse, and to see which ones left it too late and took a bit of a flyer. No stops, no problems at all at our fences.

The Beginner Novice fence was #3; after a bit of a run uphill, riders had to come around a Novice log, and down a shady lane into an open, sunny clearing with a very straightforward log in it. Nothing spooky at all about it, and indeed we had one rider who had stops at fences 1, 2, and 4, but rode ours nicely. So again a very easy one to judge. My lesson for this fence was about rhythm and staying in front of the leg. There was much more variation in the rides to this fence than there had been at Training; BN riders are a much broader variety. Some came in half-halting for all they were worth and choked the horse up; some came in clearly very tentative and dreading the whole thing, and didn’t know how or were too afraid to really boot the horse to carry them to the fence. You could tell the move-up riders five strides out; they had an air of confidence and the horse had clearly already settled into the galloping rhythm.

My partner made an excellent metaphor: driving a car down a road filled with potholes. If you go too slow, you’re going to dip into every one and jar yourself. Too fast, and you’ll skip over the top of them and eventually crash into one when you dip at just the wrong moment. A good in-between rhythm and you’ll feel them, but won’t skim them. It really sunk in for me how important riding a good galloping rhythm around the course is.

King Oak treats its volunteers faaaaabulously, too: gave us a really thorough briefing, drove us out to our jump, brought bug spray to us when we asked, thanked us over the radio repeatedly, and came around a few more times through the day with extra snacks. All of that was very much appreciated, as the day alternated between cold pouring rain and hot, muggy mosquito swarms. I was either shivering in fine tremors or pacing and swatting away half a dozen bugs at a time.

Looking forward to my next jump judging opportunity. 🙂

trailering
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Quick rundown of the trailering, which I was so worried about. It was not without incident, but in general went well.


I trailered two horses, who will be known as Big Mare and Little Paint. I’d been in agonies for weeks beforehand about whether Big Mare would fit in my not-huge trailer, given that Tristan can flip his head and lift his front legs and nearly hit the ceiling, and he is teensy.

Big Mare did indeed fit, just barely. I’m not sure she was wild about it – rolled her eyes and planted her feet a bit when it came time to reload at King Oak – but she was not scraping the ceiling, and we got the butt bar done up. Little Paint jumped right on.

About 40 minutes into the trip, I looked in my rearview mirror – as I do very frequently when trailering; I can see horse’s heads and the hay bag through the front window of the trailer – and noticed I couldn’t see Little Paint’s head. Just withers with some sticky-up mane. Well, okay. “H.,” I said, “I can’t see your horse’s head.” H. looked. She was not concerned, and it was entirely possible he was stretching out behind the hay bag, or even snoozing.

20 minutes later, still can’t see his head. Call E., Big Mare’s owner, who is following us; she doesn’t have a good enough view inside the trailer to tell either way. I make the executive decision to pull over, though H. is still unconcerned. We find a Wal-Mart parking lot, jump out, and…Little Paint has somehow put his head UNDER the chest bar. (H. didn’t tie him very tightly at all, apparently?)

Bless the Little Paint’s brain, because he was just standing, perfectly calmly, waiting for someone to rescue him. So we did – unhooked the chest bar, and he lifted his head and started attacking the hay bag.

Continued on totally without incident (unless you count being behind a big Econo van with literally some person’s entire worldly possessions strapped very precariously to the top, and clothes flying off of it with every gust of wind, oh my god) and arrived at King Oak.

Unloading was another small piece of excitement…H. did not unhook Little Paint’s trailer tie. He very politely told her so, twice, and on the third try shrugged, stepped back, felt resistance, and did what any sensible horse does in that situation, ie panicked. Popped the leather crownpiece of the halter and came flying out. I reached up, put my hand over his nose as he skidded out, turned him toward me and pulled his nose down, and he heaved a big sigh of relief and stood beautifully to get a new halter on. Seriously, what a great brain he has.

Saturday morning we arrived at the showgrounds to find it POURING rain, and I made perhaps my best decision of the weekend: hooked up the truck immediately and pulled it forward from its overnight parking space so that the entire rig was pointing downhill. At the end of the day, we loaded up the horses (neither was wild about getting back on, but they both did quite nicely after lodging a short, polite formal protest) and tried to get out of the field (which was now a muddy pit).

The only, only thing I would change about my truck is to make it a four wheel drive. It’s one of my big anxieties about trailering, getting stuck. And yes, King Oak already had the tractor out and ready, anticipating just my situation, but – still. So I built up some momentum, crested the hill with the truck, alllllmost crested with the trailer…and skidded out.

Okay. Back down the hill, then back up the hill so we’re pointing downhill again, then more momentum, and this time I’m anticipating the mud even more so I start jigging the steering wheel juuuuuust slightly so we’re not going in a straight line, and the truck diiiiiiigs in and there was a split second where everything felt greasy and then, breakthrough. It’s a difficult feeling to describe, but I can feel, through the seat and through the gas pedal, when the truck starts to get some bite. And once I felt that, even though we were still wiggling, even though the truck was snarling and spewing smoke, even though we had attracted at least 20 bystanders and no doubt some event organizers a bit peeved about what I was doing to their field – I was no longer worried. We inched up and then made it.

The ride home was totally uneventful, we were all chatty and giddy and happy in the end-of-event exhaustion. When we got back to the barn I pulled the truck up and left it while I rode Tristan. They cleaned my trailer out I think better than I EVER have, and I popped it into a perfect parking space on the second try.

So: trailering anxieties are not disappeared, but they are seriously diminished.

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In lieu of an actual thinky update, a few bullet points:

– Tristan is awesome. No surprise there.

– My left leg is substantially weaker than my right, and now that we’re working more and more and more from the seat and the legs it’s starting to light up holes in my aids with big neon signs. To wit, spiraling out tracking left is hard, as is spiraling in tracking right. To say the least. Slowly getting better, though, as my aching hips can attest.

– I want a dressage saddle so badly I can taste it. Unfortunately, it’s rather low on the financial priority list.

– In talking with L., we’re going to set up a weekday soon to take Tristan over a bunch of XC jumps in hand, especially the ditch and the banks, before we introduce them under saddle. He’s jumped most everything in a haphazard way, but I want to do it *right.*

– I’m hauling people to King Oak this weekend. We’ll see how my trailering anxieties hold up. Fingers crossed no panic attacks. :-/ Only thing for it is to keep doing it, though. And once I’m in the truck and driving I’m usually fine.

– I’m struggling right now with a bit of a dichotomy: when I really get my leg in the stirrup at the canter, I lose my seat. Vice versa. I know the answer here is that I’m not truly deep in my leg, I’m just propping off the stirrup and that’s what’s lightening my seat, but damn, it’s proving to be a long uphill slog to get the same feel in the canter as in the sitting trot or the walk, that plugged-in, legs-as-weights sensation. Tiny, subtle shifts in balance and weight are still missing.

– I’ll miss the Flatlands show in July for family time, but I’m eying the XC Safety Clinic at Scarlet Hill in June, and the Flatlands show in August. In the fall, who knows, maybe an off-property dressage schooling show, if we can find one? I’d like a crack at a Training test, especially after we’ve had all summer to work on our canter.

– Speaking of the canter, the transitions. I’m feeling in a lot of my riding right now like I know where to find the answers, I just have to work harder to get them. I know the feeling I’m looking for in that transition, and I have pieces of what it takes to get Tristan there, but so far a good, uphill, soft, relaxed canter transition is eluding us except for a split second at a time.

– Solutions, as always: ride better.

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First things first: BEST PONY EVER.

He was a little stuck in the warmup last night, didn’t want to move out, and I could feel the right hind lagging. So we marched, alternating leg pressure to time with his hind legs, asking for nothing more than a teensy stretch and bend in front. He was still sluggish moving into the trot, and we finally had a discussion that led to a bit of a hand-gallop, and after that he was easier to work with.

Lots of changing bend in the trot, and he’s really coming into that nicely, switching over smoothly instead of going flat and hollow for a few strides of don’t-wanna. I think I’ve gotten the knack too of supporting with the outside leg while switching to a new inside leg to really clearly tell him what I need.

Canter was really our shining moment, though. Once I found a good 20m circle to work (jumps are set out in the course for Sunday already, a bit tough to navigate esp. when L. was packing up the leftovers in the truck and was a moving target to avoid), he came into my hands beautifully. Downhill, yes, but not nearly as heavy as he could’ve been, and amenable to at least the suggestion of lifting his withers. He’s coming sooner and sooner after the transition, too; used to take several strides to re-organize, and now in the first or second after a head-flinging transition he’ll settle in.

Part of the transition is my difficulty: I really, really need not to give in to the temptation to tip forward and “help” him into it, putting my outside leg too far back. It feels like it works, but it just works in the wrong way. Sitting reallllly up straight and back gives him no options but to add more power and straightness to the transition to make it work.

I was happy with my body (straight and following) but NOT my seat and only occasionally my legs. I was asking him for difficult enough self-carriage that I had to keep leglegleg, and while on the plus side he was responsive to that and trying his heart out, on the minus side I got my brain tricked into inching my legs up and up and digging heels in, my old bad habit, instead of wrapping them down and around and supporting that way. And when I really SHOVED my legs down, I lost my seat. It was really hard to get that balance just right.

He was going so well, so quickly that after 10 minutes or so of working the canter, I put him on a long-rein stretchy trot. He was powering around so beautifully, and so clearly not yet tired, that I thought…well…and sat back and asked for the canter on a long rein.

And he gave it to me.

He just balanced almost on the buckle, reaching his hind legs under him, not flinging his neck up, not hanging on to the reins, just lightly and perfectly there in my fingertips. And every time I just twitched my fingers and gave a half inch, he took it eagerly, and oh, that canter – it probably didn’t look like much, but I could feel, deep down inside it, a beautiful smooth rocking. And he was keeping it happily and easily, with only a little leg, and all of a sudden it was easy to sit, and my legs were long, and I had this almost-scary moment where I thought that this must be why people like hunter-under-saddle.

Didn’t quite nail the down transition, but we made up for it in the change of bend and picking up the canter again going the other way: he came through instead of up, and was if anything even lighter and smoother. It was just so much FUN. We went around the ring just maybe twice, with a few 20m circles, and then he was done. He was so pleased with himself, and I couldn’t have been happier. We went for a very short walk out back, he drank half the stream dry, and got a good rubdown and many many peppermints.

So, in summary? Best. Pony. Ever.

(I almost want to push the show forward just one week – look what we’re working on, look what we could bring next week! – but that’s part of the point of a dressage show, isn’t it? A moment in time, and then you get another snapshot a few months later, and you compare them and are blown away. So the temptation to put it off until you can really nail it is kind of avoiding the whole lesson. But still, damn, for just a little longer…!)

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First things first: turned in my show entry for the barn’s schooling show last night. Beginner Novice A and 2’0″ jumps. Talked to T. last night and he said I should be concentrating on building from positive right now instead of challenging myself, which settled the decision in favor of 2′ instead if 2’6″. Which made sense to me, so: easier jumps it is!

Warmed up, and Tris was a bit snarky in the walk work, but settled into some really lovely trot. We worked on introducing even more roundness and collection, reallytruly getting him on the outside rein. Mixed success on that one; I still have a tendency to hang on the inside rein when Tris does his brick wall impression.

In the canter, my lower leg was MUCH better than it was in Sunday’s jump clinic, so huzzah for that. (At least in the beginning of the lesson.) Consequently our canters were much better.

We ran the test, which went better than I had expected. I am falling into a tendency to wait on transitions until the exact right moment: there’s something to be said for the requirements of nailing a transition at a letter, come hell or high water. I really quite like the test; it’s a good one for Tris. Lots of kick-kick-kick and settle in, just truck along. It rewards good geometry and a workmanlike attitude, which is pretty much my niche. Tris, though dearly beloved, is not a horse to show really brilliant moments in dressage tests. He’s much better at consistency and evenness.

T. mostly liked the test too, had a few pointers: I wasn’t quite as accurate as I should have been, Tris’s free walk didn’t really click in until the second half, and my circles were a bit lopsided in the open part of the ring. But not bad at all other than that.

We walked for a bit after the test and Tris did NOT want to pick up and work again. We need to break a bit the pattern of warmup – walk – work – done. He’s not amused when he gets two breaks, and usually the second work isn’t great at all. It’s important for both fitness and training though that he learn that he CAN and SHOULD come back on the bit even if he’s a bit tired and has decided he’s done.

I worked mostly on canter transitions, especially the trot 20m, canter 20m, down the long side piece that’s in the test. Just a few minutes in holding the right lead canter got ugly, and I kept pushing him HARD, got a little more pissed off than I should’ve, but was still progressing, not regressing, even breaking multiple times. Once he gave me his neck and stretched out, I brought him back and we had a power trot on a long rein around a few times. Et voila.

lesson notes
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Two rides to talk about, with good meaty work (mostly).

First ride: lesson on Thursday. Dicey to begin with; I had emailed with J. about taking the spot (had to miss Tuesday b/c of class) but never got confirmation, and I am occasionally nervous about talking to T. about these things and then thought I got a yes but he didn’t say anything for the first 20 minutes and…anyway, it worked out eventually.

Started in the walk for a loooong time, 15 minutes of stretchy and get-your-ass-in-gear, working the hind legs up, not letting him get away with anything with his shoulders. It was occasionally frustrating – he often wants to escape into the trot instead of marching in the trot, so I had to walk a fine line between keeping his energy contained in the walk and stifling him. The walk is tough to work on sometimes, because you can end up breaking it by over-restraining, especially with a lazy horse like my pony.

Trot work was good, not great; took a little while to even it out, he was trying to laze along whilst hopping and doing a brick wall impression. T. got on me about really wrapping my legs around him and using them to channel that, pressing him up to reach for the contact instead of kicking him per usual, more of a steady go-go-go with nowhere to escape, and he had a couple of really nice patches. The head-jerking from the weak right hind was only very minimally present, so it seems I’ve found the fix for that. Hooray!

Canter: overdone a bit per usual. Left depart felt good, right depart felt up and down but at least present. He stretched and loosened in the left – we’re starting to get whole 20m circle tours in which he thinks it’s okay to give his neck to me and will spiral in and out and I know that sounds like baby stuff but you really have to ride this horse’s shoulders to believe it. Right was at least cooperative; not as good as left yet, I think he’s only slowly getting stronger on that right hind. He has the thrust but not the lift, which is what he needs now to really work on that canter. I also need a better seat + leg cooperation to help him get there: homework for both of us!

Yesterday was…okay, I guess. He was tired and a wee bit sore, and I would’ve given him bute afterwards except…the tub that the vet dropped off expires in 7 days. So I didn’t want to open what I’d be asking him to replace anyway. Anyway: curried a yak’s worth of hair off of him as well as a pig’s worth of mud, and he was VERY pleased to get all that attention – we’re talking 30+ minutes of currying alone to really dig in there. Lip drooping, legs squared, ears floppy, other things all hanging out…he likes to be spoiled.

The downside was that this was all during dinner, so while tacking up he stomped his foot and tried to snake his head for his grain; a loud “Tristan, NO” and he whipped his head back to center and stood rigid, clearly sulking for all his worth. Did not move a muscle except to open his mouth for a bit, and gave the world’s weariest sigh when I led him off.

Riding outside, I’d just intended to get him somewhere good and be done, but that somewhere good was frustratingly difficult. He was very hoppy in the right trot, kept trying for canter, so I let him blow out for a few laps, somewhere just below a hand gallop standing up in the stirrups, knuckles on his neck, trying to loosen that back up. He got one more brief canter and then no more excuses; he’s capable of saying eff you, so the fact that he only said “eh, okay” when told to stay and work on his trot was my sign that he could now. Trot eventually settled into something SUPER nice, low neck, hind end up through the withers, power and cadence. Felt really really good, both ways, though a bit more discussion to get there and stay there to the left.

Then I ruined it with the canter. Surprisingly, right lead went rather well; picked it up easily, held it for me, softened a bit, didn’t try to throw his shoulders to China. Left lead was…ugh. So choppy I kept double-checking my lead, refused to relax his neck, actively bolting out the right shoulder (across the ring and almost into some HUGELY tall jumps, the horse does not stop for nothing, he really would have gone through them). So I kept after him, and worked the transitions instead of the gait, and when he gave me some semblance of a calm(er) transition with an obedient 20m circle, we were done. Bit of a hack to cool out, then his first hosing down of the season, hanging out for a while to make sure he was cool enough to get his grain.

I’ve got an entry form for the home show on the 18th, am settled on the Beginner Novice A test and I think 2’6″ fences. My other option is 2’0″ fences, which…my horse will trot over and/or through. I’ll confirm with T. at the jump clinic tomorrow, and then fill out my paperwork and check. Trailer also came back certified sound, so we will hopefully start to get out and do some trail riding (turkey farm!!) and cross country schools over the next few weeks.

HOORAY FOR SPRING!

lesson notes
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First things first: not lame!

I explained the things I’d been noticing to T. before we even got the lesson started, and he watched us warm up – head-jerking, inconsistent contact, etc. – and put us through our paces veryvery thoroughly, with improvement in spots. Then we talked about it for a while.

The upshot is: shortness in the right hind. Which is not unusual; it’s always been his weakest limb. T. did not see any discomfort or pain, more of a mechanical stiffness/habitually limited range of motion. Which is to say, he’s fifteen, and this is the first time in his life he’s being asked to really truly swing his hind end. Probably evenly split between his stifle and his hock. He can reach and extend without pain, he’d just really rather not. So add a dash of laziness on top of it all.

So what’s happening is he’s coming up short with the right hind – not necessarily a problem tracking right, but tracking left he’s not getting the thrust he needs to (as T. explained it, most of the lifting power comes from the inside hind, most of the thrust from the outside hind), then offloading the problem onto his left front, which is throwing him off balance and making him jerk his head up.

Solution is, as always, kick-kick-kick-kick. Bend him inside, half-halt outside, push him onto the outside rein and then make damn well sure the outside hind is doing its fair share. Supple with the left wrist, bend around the left leg, half-halt the right hand, kick-kick-kick-kick the right leg. Several circles of come-to-Jesus and we were going 2-3 strides evenly and with power; once we could get that more or less consistently, we had a bit of a walk break. Picking up again, I worked HARD on the same problem in the walk, where it was a bit easier to convince him to swing through. He wasn’t exactly pleased at all of this, mind, but once I closed off every available exit door, he sighed and farted and acquiesced.

By the end of the lesson, he’d loosened up nicely, and we had some really glorious canter complete with spiralling in and out both directions, and a big powerful swingy trot on a long rein a few times around to stretch out.

So: old horse, new tricks. Though as T. points out, we’re kinda victims of our own success. It’s not like this is new for Tris, more like by the time we used to get to this level of the work it was the last five minutes of the ride, and he was already warmed up and loosened. So he wasn’t really having to work very hard to muscle through it. Now, we’re warming up with the work we used to finish with, and he’s not quite supple enough to support that work so early in the ride. It’s just a time-patience-work thing, though; strengthen that right hind, get the joints used to moving, loosen up the joint fluid, and blow his little mind. He’s already on glucosamine and I just started him on MSM about 3wks ago. We’re getting more bute on Friday from the vet; for the next little while, I might make him a little bran mash with bute after days he’s worked hard.

Horses are so neat sometimes; every small little thing adding up and figuring it out and working on it is always like putting together an incredibly intricate lifelong puzzle. I love it.

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Long time, no talk. Mostly very very good, straight uphill as Tris is starting to learn to not just accept the bit, but push through his hind end, up into his back, and in line with his shoulders. He’s getting stronger, and the canter is coming along nicely.

Alas, tonight, after a week and a half of scheduling disasters that left him mostly-off-with-just-C.-riding, I went out and while grooming him, discovered a whopping big edema on his chest, about the size of my fist. Further investigation revealed a tick buried in him at the origin point. Fifteen minutes of some rather excruciating digging with tweezers and I still couldn’t get all of it – the area around it was swollen, and it was dug in pretty good. Tris was a trooper, only shifting his feet occasionally to show his displeasure, and checking for my face after kneeing me in the forehead once. We had words, and he was very sorry.

So on second diagnosis: not an edema, an abscess from the tick bite. He always gets them, though usually before on his face. I cleaned and swabbed away with Corona, showed a few people who will be at the barn all weekend so they’d know to keep an eye on him, and rode.

Riding was…eh. He was stiff and fussy in contact, and sort of jumpy-forward, not power-forward, which I had some trouble channeling. I was also not navigating the outdoor ring very well, couldn’t find a good circle until halfway through the ride, and all the changes of direction and bend so early were not sitting well with him. But eventually he settled in to work nicely, and we even blew out for some gallops down the long side.

The problem, though, was his trot to the left. Something funky’s going on. It could be a veryvery mild lameness or it could be his new style of resistance. He has switched sides again, and was superb to the right and a beast to the left tonight, so that could have triggered this newly weird bracing to the left. But his head is jerking ever so slightly, and he’s not nearly as consistent in the contact as he was. He showed a tiny hint of this in my lesson last week, but T. didn’t say anything, so I set it out of my mind. This time, though, C. saw it as well, and I don’t know. She agreed that it’s tough to place. If he’s still doing it next Tuesday for my lesson with T., I will bring it up and get his word on whether it’s my riding, Tristan’s resistance, or we need to give him a week+bute or something first-line like that.

The slightly good news is after the ride, the abscess was better, had clearly drained a bit, and the Corona stuck on nicely. I am away for the weekend – again! – so C. will keep an eye on him. I don’t think this will need hot compresses, just scrubbed out with hot water and swabbed with Corona to keep the wound site itself clean.

Sigh. Not exactly what I was hoping for on such a gorgeous day…

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Again with the sucking about keeping this up.

First: unexpected jump lesson on Tuesday, and it was awesome. Tris came out spunky and a bit tight, but forward and ready to rock and roll; he hadn’t been ridden in four days. He warmed up great, and I got to work on floating my seat and half-halting him to a better tempo instead of booting him forward into one. The trick with him is balancing on that edge, keeping that gathering without letting him think he gets to slip back down a gait to make it easier.

Jumping went well – when I ride better, he jumps better, surprise. Some of his new maneuverability in the canter translated beautifully in the rollbacks we were trying. I had a couple of reallllly nice jumps, and only one truly awful one; he took a teensy bit of a long spot, I wasn’t as deep in my stirrups as I could’ve been, and just…never got into two point. T. described it as parasailing. Quite the flyer.

At the end, we got to just canter around and jump what we wanted, and Tris was a bit tired and punky, kept breaking his canter or not rating, and after each jump I was thinking about many things and kept getting a teensy bit more and more into my knee rolls and out of my stirrups. Which resulted in a brief time out as we circled and re-organized, and had 2-3 quite decent last jumps. But for reference: the loose ring he’s going in now is not going to be enough bit to jump anywhere but the indoor. It is a bit too subtle for my black-and-white pony.

Last night was…not nearly that good. It wasn’t even 5% that good. It was one of the worst rides I’ve had in weeks and weeks. Started off not awful: bending nicely in the walk, then springing in the trot but not quite through, and still tense enough that he wasn’t blowing out like I was hoping. He was also reluctant to move off the inside leg, though he had outside leg down cold – spiral in was great; spiral out was a negotiable thing. I just couldn’t quite fix it, and am still nervous about riding in traffic, so couldn’t really shove him out the way I wanted too.

I asked for canter earlier than I usually would to try and blow him out – sometimes that will loosen him up. And it. was. AWFUL. It felt like riding a washing machine that’s out of whack. He was off balance, high-headed, cranky, and my seat immediately went to hell and my legs came up, we had horrible fights about not running through his shoulder, no semblance of softness to speak of, hard to keep him there more than a few strides, constantly got the wrong lead…you name it. I was practically in tears after a few attempts – and it didn’t even accomplish what I hoped. I settled for a decent down transition and a bit more forward swinging trot, and gave him a break.

Picking him up again after his break felt better. Still not what I’d call “good,” but his trot came back quickly, and I asked for a better contact – really into the outside rein instead of just curling his neck. He was tracking up a teensy bit more, though he never quite got where I wanted him. Canters were…well, better, but again that’s not saying much. He was at least getting some circles through, and not trying to fling his head around and crash into the other horses, though Bobby, who was cooling out, was not convinced, and tried to swing and double barrel Tris when we came around one circle. So that was fun. Can’t really blame him; it probably looked rather out of control.

He got a teensy bit soft at the end of each canter, and I called it done on that work for the day. Back to the trot, then a break. After the break, walk-trot transitions on a circle and through leg-yields to try and inject more energy into his walk, then some stretching in the trot, and then done.

I don’t know what to do about his canter anymore. I can’t ride it well, and we keep taking one step forward and three steps back. I don’t know if he’s stiff from the cold, or if it’s mental, or what. I spent most of the ride home nearly in tears sorting out what I’m doing wrong: I’m out of shape, I’m not riding him enough, he’s getting older and stiffer, and in the end, I’ve had this horse for over four years and we still can’t canter decently. I can’t go down to the barn any more than I am; I’m already struggling to pay for gas each month and staying up until midnight to read for class, not to mention getting to M.’s and crawling straight into bed. I can’t afford to put him in any kind of extensive training, and at this rate, if we don’t get his canter in a place where I’m not worried about him bolting sideways out of the dressage ring, we aren’t going anywhere this summer. Shipping out to ride Intro tests just doesn’t seem worth it to me. I just don’t know.

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AmandaLeave a comment

…oh well.

Got there last night to find four other horses in the ring, and my crowded-ring skills are very rusty. Tris was a bit wigged out by so many horses, and disinclined to get right to work. Problem is, until he’s warmed up and forward, steering him can feel like trying to turn an aircraft carrier. Which, as you can imagine, creates additional problem in a crowded ring.

In retrospect, I probably should have just worked on our space management to get him over it; instead, I tried to get work done. I have lost my dressage whip in the wilds of my parents’ basement, and had been borrowing a school one; all the ones normally on the wall were now being used, so I had to try to get a reluctant Tristan forward without the occasional reminder of the whip. Which didn’t work. (Spurs tend to create an artificial aids arms race with Tristan, and I have been avoiding them, but who knows, might be time…)

He tried to spook in every corner, occasionally flipped his head up and his shoulder out right into the path of an oncoming horse, and while we had some really lovely moments, overall I was not pleased with either my riding or his willingness to cooperate. I should’ve expected it – never in his life has he been good two rides in a row – but still. At least I was in a better mood than earlier this week and could more or less shrug it off. The only really humiliating part was that T. was teaching lessons to people who were riding their horses much, much better than I, and…yeah. Ouch.