dressage · lesson notes

Lesson Notes

Second lesson on Tuesday, and it went really, really well. I think the 30 minute spots are a perfect fit for us right now: I have him warmed up, we zero in on a few specific issues, and then I have homework.

Warmup was a bit rocky on Tuesday, as he was hopping about rather than go forward, so I stood up off his back and urged him into a canter for a few minutes, and focused on staying forward and straight rather than anything he was doing with his head.

When R. came up for the lesson, we started by testing the response to driving aid exercises we’d been drilling and she saw huge improvement. Not perfect, but already much sharper off the aids. So now that we had laid the forward-and-straight foundation back down, we added flexion back ion.

She talked about something I’d never really parsed for myself before. If the inside rein is responsible for flexion, then there are three types of inside rein that can help achieve that flexion. The first is an indirect rein – a subtle lift and shift of the inside rein more toward the outside rein, while brings your elbow back behind your shoulder. Second was direct rein, which is straight back. Third was open rein, bringing the rein away from the horse’s neck.

Indirect rein is more for collection, is more subtle, and is a lighter aid. Direct rein is, well, more direct, and in Tristan’s case in particular I have to be careful not to kill the motor when I use it. Open rein is more for greenies who are just learning to steer (and also for oh $h!t moments on XC, I should think…).

We worked on a 20m walk circle and re-established flexion. Tris settled in beautifully, thankfully showing R. that instead of the lazy lunatic who slams into walls as in our last lesson, he does have a dressage pony in them. Within a stride or two he flexed beautifully into the inside rein and filled up the outside rein. We’re not talking FEI collection, here, but he recognized and executed the concept beautifully. We repeated at the trot, and worked through a rough patch tracking left – he is hollow to the left and over-eager to fling his shoulders to the outside. So we applied a few strides of counterbend, release, inside bend, release, counterbend, release, and he worked through it nicely.

Then we worked on layering in a half-halt for more collection into that outside rein, once he’d filled it up. R. doesn’t like to use the term half-halt when teaching because she feels it places too much emphasis on the “halt” – it’s more of a half-go, or as she calls it a connecting aid. I’ve always thought of a half-halt as that guy in the old phone commercials – “Can you hear me now? Good!”

So we broke the half-halt down into its component parts: forward energy, inside flexion, outside rein, and release. In the perfect, imperceptible half-halt these all happen practically simultaneously. I’ve never been that coordinated and in the past my half-halts have been an approximation of this but I’d like to take this opportunity to really nail them. So then we worked half-halts on the 20m circle at the trot.

One of the most useful concepts R. gave me while we were working the half-halts was about recycling energy. That’s essentially what a half-halt does: if you feel like your energy/collection level is at, say, a 2, then your next half-halt should be at a 2.5, and think about loading the hind legs, increasing the collection, etc., up to that 2.5. Then go for a 3 on your next half-halt. The idea being you’re always asking for a bit more with each half-halt and that you aren’t “leaking”” energy in between (or at least hopefully not). I am thinking of them a bit like a catalyst, too – you’re checking in, you’re putting a finger on the connection, and when you’re asking for more dressage collection you use it to recharge the battery, but if you use a half-halt out on XC or in the jump ring, you’re asking for a re-orient – “here, the jump is here, let’s touch base, let’s re-form ourselves to tackle what’s next.”

Tris was a bit tired even after that short lesson, as he used his back and hind end waaaaay more than he has. Our prescription is 10-15 minutes of this work a day for the next stretch and then we’ll check in again and take the next step. We’ll also make sure we get plenty of road hacks in there, too. ๐Ÿ™‚

lesson notes · rehab

First Lesson Notes

In short: very basic foundational lesson that we both really, really needed.

If I could have asked to address any issues right now, it would be our lack of forward and my tendency to nag. Tris had been out for so long, and I’ve been so tentative about his rehab, that I haven’t really gotten after him the way I should have, and have fallen into the trap of asking every few strides for him to keep going, even at the walk.

That’s exactly what R. addressed after watching us warm up for a little bit. We made a great first impression (NOT) when I asked for the trot, and down the long side I asked for more forward, he flipped his head around, threw his shoulders around, tripped, and slammed my left leg into the wall, dragging it along for a stride or two. There is white paint all on my iron on that side and you should see the lump/friction burn on my knee. It was awesome. Then he head-flipped and tried to hop into the canter and was in general extremely unpleasant, though he started to listen and smooth out nearish to the end. Sigh.

So we worked on isolating driving aids, the idea being that he should darn well listen when I put leg on instead of barely maintaining. My responsibility is to dictate the tempo, his is to maintain the tempo. It was basically a disciplined, methodical version of the good old fashioned aid escalation method: he gets one test to listen to the aid he should respond to, and then he gets pony kicked forward and praised for going forward. We did the exercise in both directions, off each driving aid: leg, seat, whip, voice.

He is not a stupid pony. Within a few minutes he was powering right along with much lighter aids. We did it on a relatively loose rein at the walk and then trot, and then I picked up the reins for more contact and we repeated in both directions at walk and trot. In generally, R. had us going much, much straighter than I am used to – I am used to keeping him in some sort of bend at all times, and she wanted my hands MUCH quieter and to worry about straight and forward instead of bend. It was a good solid lesson and it was simple but not easy. I had to fight my urge to ask him for more bend, more supple, and just focus hard on getting engagement.

We did not exactly put our best foot forward but that’s okay; I think this was a fair representation of our problems right now, and after 11 months I couldn’t possibly expect him to come out and give me the work we had last August. We made clear progress, we have homework, and perhaps most importantly, I liked the way the lesson went, both physically and mentally.

R. had plenty of good things to say, too – she liked my general position, and even apologized for giving such a basic lesson, because she said she could tell we both knew better, and I had all the right answers, we just needed to shore up our foundation before we could move forward again. She liked how generally supple we were and said that once we squared away our forward problem he’ll be easy to get right back where he was. She also said he was looking 100% sound when he was straight (though predictably wonky when he was flailing all over the place) and complimented my rehab generally.

He’ll get tonight off and then back to work on Thursday. Hip hooray for progress!

lesson notes

Lesson Notes: Sea Changes

So I finally sucked it up and put in a request to ride a school horse in my lessons going forward. I was worried and maybe a bit scared – I haven’t ridden any horse but my own (other than to hack out at the walk!) – in years. Close to three years, I think. I can’t actually remember the last time I did. I can make a decent guess, but that’s it.

That’s not exactly the way to get good as a rider, and certainly even five years ago I got on other horses with regularity, but my role has never been the get-on-and-ride-anything type of rider. I want to do well by the horse I have, and form a partnership with him, and I’m happy with him.

But I digress. I got to the barn and flushed Tris’s foot and rewrapped it; all is proceeding as planned, and he behaved well. Then I checked in with T. and got a little Appaloosa lesson horse named Charlie.

I had a ridiculous amount of fun. There were a few moments when I felt guilty, actually, I was having so much fun. I had…maybe not forgotten, but I had been so out of touch with the idea that a properly trained horse, who has the buttons installed, who has a willingness and a base of athleticism, is magic.

First things first: Charlie, though he looks a bit on the stocky side, is surprisingly narrow to sit on, especially for someone with longer legs. The effect of this was to seriously unbalance my seat for the first 20 minutes or so as I tried to figure out the geometry of it all, which pleased T. to no end as one of my bigger flaws is my tendency to let my leg swing. Tris has such a large barrel that it took up leg even when I didn’t have it right where it needed to be. Take away that barrel and I was floundering.

Then he got on me and worked hard on me for about 10 minutes on a circle and about halfway through it clicked: oh yeah. I can do this after all. And then I was deep in the saddle and keeping my leg on and connecting to the bit through my core. Not all at once, and T. nagged me for another 10 minutes or so when I started slipping, but by the end of the lesson – as he told me afterward – I was snapping back on my own.

I hadn’t ridden a horse on the bit in the canter in years. Which is depressing as hell to admit out loud, but I didn’t even realize it until after I’d gotten Charlie warmed up, and I asked for a canter, and all of a sudden he was soft in the mouth and I could half-halt and hey, there were his hind legs, and I could adjust the canter, and it was awesome. Sigh.

I admit to feeling a bit smug, maybe? I have watched this horse in lessons for years and years, and I had formed the idea that he would feel a lot like Tristan. I couldn’t have been much more wrong. He put up only token resistance to the ideas of bending and going round, and then tried to cross his jaw – which T. said was, for him, a sign of the next level of resistance, but once I learned the feel it was easy enough to wiggle him out of – but when I put leg on properly, he was there, and when I stabilized with the outside rein, he went into it. We were looking and feeling terrific by the end of it, and he looked in the mirrors as good as I’ve ever seen anyone ride him, and I felt awesome and then I realized I was feeling superior to 10 year old lesson kids and adult re-riders so I should get the hell over myself already. But it was still a nice boost in confidence.

2012 show season · lesson notes

Lesson Notes: #$#!@ Outside Leg

Balance, balance, balance: between forward and supple, between solid in my aids and position and soft and forgiving, and of course the good old-fashioned kind.

Some nice moments, but overall inconsistent. We touched on consistency a few weeks ago, and haven’t climbed back up that mountain. He’ll swing and get soft and round…and then fling his head up and lose it five minutes later. I’ll lock in with my seat and have soft hands…and then he’ll jut his shoulders out and I’ll get a bit out and it spirals down from there and ends up with a rock-hard and static left rein.

I’m fighting some unevenness in my own body right now, too. There’s something slightly odd going on with my left hip that I need to overcome that’s making it more difficult to keep my left leg really wrapped around. I can’t quite nail the feel of a solid outside rein while tracking left.

In all? Productive lesson. Good lesson. Once again more proof that if I could just ride, if I could just be in the right place and give the right aids, he would be going so well, but when I break up my own fluidity it just…disintegrates. It’s like juggling fifteen fresh eggs and as soon as I drop one the rest go splat, and then I have to walk all the way back to the fridge and start the juggling routine again, one egg at a time, before we approach that level again.

Tuesday night was my last ride for nearly 2.5 weeks; I’m away for two weeks for a long-awaited and long-planned-for vacation. I arranged for the best barn kid ever (which could so honestly apply to half a dozen kids at our barn, which is amazing) to sit on him during that time, and deeded over my two missed lessons to her. Probably I’m going to have to eat crow when I come back and she’s improved him dramatically in just two weeks, but – I’m okay with that.

When we get back, life starts to fly fast and furious: XC again at Scarlet Hill, followed by Valinor at Elementary, followed in short order by King Oak. Home stretch!

2012 show season · groton house summer classic · lesson notes

Lesson Notes: Consistency and Following Aids

So I’ll be honest: I was more than a little nervous about Tuesday night’s lesson. Though all signs pointed to Tristan recovering completely from whacking his hoof on Saturday, and I felt that I’d acted appropriately in treating it, even his brief bout of unsoundness from the abscess has me paranoid.

He came out his usual self, sticky and fussy in the warmup but giving me good moments, and once he settled in we were right back where we had been. I focused on leg yields in the warmup, asking him to step over without rushing, without blowing through the outside rein, and with bend. It took some time, but after a few good leg yields our overall suppleness increased.

Our focus for the lesson was on two-way communication and consistency, maintaining a length of rein that allowed me to feel his mouth constantly and not giving quite so much in reward. T. talked about how the getting there aids are different from the maintenance aids. I need to be focusing more on the latter now. Instead of constantly picking up and dropping the connection, I need to find the bridge to keep the connection all the time.

There were some really, really nice stretches in there, when I felt that we were completely and totally engaged with each other, my aids were spot-on and instantaneous, my core was fully engaged, and he was working with me instead of evading or fighting. There were also some uglier moments. The canter might – maybe – be finally coming along, creeping slowly toward balance and self-carriage.

We also ran our test for Sunday, Beginner Novice B, aka “when in doubt, cross the diagonal.” Ugh. I didn’t like it any better riding it than I had reading it, but there are some nice moments in there for us. The canter transitions at X, however, do not help at ALL. T. liked it overall and praised my accuracy, but my rhythm was off. Our half-turn to the final halt was great, but I blew it by rushing the halt, which meant we overshot G and he landed crooked.

Tonight, we’ll work a bit in the back fields with his new bell boots, I’ll get started on packing/prepping the trailer, and we should be good to go for Sunday. We go dressage at 8:06 (second ride of the whole day), stadium at 10:54, and cross-country at 11:04.

abscess · cross-country · falling off · lesson notes · scarlet hill farm

95% Perfect: Cross-Country Schooling at Scarlet Hill Farm

With Tristan completely sound for a dressage ride on Friday night, we went up to our scheduled lesson at Scarlet Hill Farm on Saturday. The trip went well, and we got there with plenty of time to tack up and walk around a bit.

We started the lesson with a bit of trotting and cantering around, and then some small and medium-sized jumps singly. Denise pinpointed our problem almost immediately: Tristan tends to land from cross-country jumps and think he’s done, often coming back to a trot. Part of it is his laziness, and part of it is my fault, leftover from his grab-the-bit-and-run days. In order to build a rhythm out on course, though, and to really work on his galloping, we’ll need to figure out how to land, kick it up a gear, and then come back for the approach to the next fence, all strung together and repeated.

So our task for the first 20 minutes was to get a good, forward approach, land, and gallop off straight. I was to make a really big, exciting deal out of going forward, straight. We’re still dealing a bit with his tendency to fling his shoulders every which way as an evasion. As Denise put it, if he’s going sideways, he’s not going forward.

For the first jump with this strategy, I cantered him up a hill, really zeroed in on the jump, landed, and immediately cheered him on forward – so he threw a party on the landing, as they say, dropping his nose and throwing in a few bucks out of excitement. He’s only done that a handful of times, and I couldn’t stop laughing. He’s still Tristan, so we’re talking mostly speed bump bucks that he stopped as soon as I pulled him up. We tried it once again, and this time I kept his head up and urged him forward, and he found his galloping gear a few strides out. The idea is that teaching him to land and go forward will also help improve our approach, and improve his scope as a consequence.

We then put together a few jumps, in some nice big loops of the field, and I was happy with everything except one piece of my own riding. I didn’t find as many places as I wanted to get off his back, for a few reasons. One, I’m not in the kind of shape I want to be in, and didn’t feel like I could both balance and ride effectively. Two, related, when I got off his back I didn’t have the kind of connection that I wanted in order to keep him forward; dropping back into the saddle helped me bring him forward and up – and then put me in the right place to gather him again for the fence.

Then we strung together six jumps in a row, in a big wide circuit. The first three went beautifully, and after that we had a bit of a downhill run. He was feeling a bit fresh, and a bit off-balance, and at the foot of the hill Denise had given me the choice between a BN-sized jump that was a bit spooky, versus a jump that she thought was 2’9″ or 2’11” – definitely Novice-sized – but rampier and much more straightforward. When I looked at it from up the hill, it also looked like the line would be easier, the turn wider and flatter.

However, I hadn’t anticipated being off balance from down the hill, and I both backed him off a little too much – feeling too fast, though I really wasn’t, and also a bit in my head, as it was bigger than anything we’d jumped yet – and didn’t get my line, angling him a bit to the right and not really channeling him straight over.

We still would’ve been fine save for one final thing: he dropped his right front leg ever-so-slightly and caught his hoof hard on the 4×4 on the top of the jump. Again, still fine, exceptย this was the foot that had just abscessed, and I’m sure dinging it that hard stung like hell. He landed, went OW, and stumbled hard – never falling! – but just enough for me to be thrown forward on his neck. I had a moment or two of trying to save it, and then decided to bail, rolling over his shoulder and landing shoulder-hip-head. I completed the roll and went straight to my feet, to see him hopping around and not even wanting to put the RF on the ground.

I had a moment of sheer panic and checked over the leg – no hair missing, no scuff on the boot at all, and then I saw a scrape on his hoof. Denise made it down the hill, and we stood him for just a second, then walked him about, and then I got on and walked and trotted him for a second. It had clearly stung like hell, but wasn’t any kind of permanent problem. We then proceeded to walk and trot a few times over the smaller barrel fence, the “spooky” one (he didn’t care) in beautiful form, and then we went up to play in the water, just in case his foot did start to ache again.

He did GREAT at the water, everything I could have hoped for – went right in, trotted around, trotted in and out. Then we put together another small course that involved jumping out of the water over a small long, looping around a few small jumps, and dropping back into the water over the same (barely 12″) log – which he’s never done before.

Again – GREAT – and not only that but he jumped out of and dropped into the water SO WELL. Like a pro. Set himself up for it, didn’t launch, didn’t hesitate, slowed down but only a hair, and I was so stinking proud of him. Unfortunately after that loop his foot really was achey – sound at the walk and trot, but clearly not quite up to galloping and jumping. I asked if we could pop him over a ditch while we were there (he has never indicated any signs of being ditchy, but I wanted to cover my bases) and we did so.

As Denise pointed out, he was jumping much better and more cleanly after whacking his foot. She said wryly that it’s a tough lesson, but sometimes they need a bit of a wake up like that. He even got close to cracking his back and getting scopey over a little red house jump. It’s really too bad that he started getting sore again, because he was starting to go really well, but I got everything I wanted out of the day, and we’ll be back next month for more.

He stood quietly to get untacked and bathed, and I rubbed liniment all over, including his RF hoof and sole, figuring why not? When we got back to the barn, I settled him in and soaked his RF again to get some of the sting out, then gave him bute and asked the morning feeder to give him more. That, plus some rest, should put him right as rain.

In the meantime, I am off to Dover to get myself a new helmet (it was due anyway, 3+ years old and dropped a few times) and him some bell boots to go cross-country in from now on…

2012 show season · lesson notes · show planning

Lesson Notes: Rhythm and Consistency

I’ve known for some time now that Tristan’s best dressage scores would come not from flashy movement, or superior training but from consistency and accuracy.

Last night, we took some great big steps toward achieving a consistent forward rhythm throughout our ride. I started out focusing hard on keeping him relaxed through his back right from the first step, and slowly, slowly ramped up his walk work. In all, we had easily 20 minutes of walk work in which I gradually asked him for more, took in more rein, and stepped him through his hind end more.

That paid off almost immediately in the trot. As T. commented, Tris has definitely been flashier and moved better, but he’s never maintained such a solid commitment to the bridle from his hind end throughout. He had good activity and maintained a sense of forward. I was trying to keep two things in mind for my leg: one, not to nag, but instead to be a constant presence and to make individual leg action purposeful and quick; two, to anticipate his ducking out moments and remind him that he had to maintain, not back off, when asked for more bend and more roundness.

The payoff were a dozen or so strides at a time, in a few separate instances, in which all of a sudden the activity and spring and swing in his hind end increased exponentially. I was a bit caught by surprise, as I think he was: all of a sudden there was a lot more to deal with. I tried to mostly stay out of his way, keeping the reins very light and keeping my leg on while not asking him to do any more than what he was doing.

We ran through our test – Beginner Novice A – for Hitching Post this weekend, and T.’s only criticism was that I’d botched some of my figures, and made roundish squares instead of proper circles.

After the ride, I filled up the water buckets for my trailer and spent some time organizing my new travel trunk. Tonight, I have a shopping list at Dover, I’ll organize my trip paperwork, and create a final packing/schedule list, and tomorrow, we’ll have a conditioning ride and I’ll finish prepping my trailer.

conditioning · lesson notes

Lesson Notes: Outside Rein

It’s been a frustrating couple of weeks. I’ve been extremely busy and stressed in the rest of my life, and some of that has bled through to my riding. My last two lessons weren’t great; one was outright awful. Tris is having what T.ย  has characterized as a “rebellious phase.” We’ve fallen off the edge of the plateau and are slowly climbing up again.

Last night’s lesson was better, though. Tris had his teeth done, and I think that helped him feel a bit softer and looser in the mouth, because he was more willing to work with me than he has been. We even got to some fairly nice work by the end of it, and are slowly touching on good stuff in the canter.

My next step is to really solidify my outside rein. Tris gets so stuck either overbent or stiff as a board that I have trouble feeling that sweet spot, that just-enough-bend moment when I can drive him through to the outside rein. I tend to overcompensate on the inside and focus on that instead of really balancing from outside aids. T.’s new mantra for me is “your inside aids are doing enough.” I’m also working hard to half-halt through my hips instead of using my elbows, which is bearing fruit in the canter.

After a really, really rough patch with the right lead canter we are slowly getting that back. Tris learned a bit of an evasion in flinging his neck and shoulders around, picking up the wrong lead, and then dropping into trot; we’re getting the right lead more consistently now, and I have more ways to fix that problem.

I spoke with T. about a conditioning schedule as well. There has been some back and forth on the COTH forums about conditioning, and I described the two camps to T. and asked for his opinion. My gut, as I explained to him, is that Tristan is not currently fit enough to come off a BN cross-country course in the kind of condition I’d want, so I’ve been doing a schedule that looks something like:

15 minutes brisk walk
8 minutes trot
2 minutes rest
8 minutes trot
2 minutes rest
8 minutes trot
5 minutes rest
2 minutes canter
1 minute rest
2 minutes canter
1-2 minutes loose trot into walk and done.

T. agreed with the schedule. Tristan doesn’t have the base of fitness that many event horses do – he wasn’t started until he was 11, after all – and he doesn’t exactly exercise himself in the field. (T. described at length Tristan’s attitude when others in his field are cavorting around: “You guys, that looks like a lot of work and effort and there is hay, right here, for me to eat. You’re all stupid.” I commented that Tris is constantly saving his energy for when a mountain lion actually does attack, and in the meantime, he sees no point to it.)

Conditioning will also tighten up his ligaments to get ready for the concussion of a XC course, and I’ve been instructed to do my sets in two-point, which will work on my lower leg. I can already see what a difference riding in short stirrups more regularly has made, so tonight it’s a conditioning night in two point for us. I was glad to have my gut feeling confirmed.

We are officially entered at Elementary at the Valinor Farm CT, and will be schooling XC afterwards. We’ll also enter Hitching Post at the end of May at Grasshopper, and are arranging stabling for that.

lesson notes

Lesson Notes: The Thin Line Between Bravery and Stupidity

T. has been down in Florida living the high life and enjoying the gorgeous weather and training, and L. has been teaching lessons. They teach very different lessons, but both very good. I had been without stirrups for about two weeks before leaving them off for an entire lesson with L., and it worked out okay.

Tonight, I brought my stirrups into the ring and put them in a chair on the corner and told T. that I’d been going without them, and to please order me to put them back on if he thought I needed it – if I wasn’t being effective. He shrugged and said to go ahead without them.

I warmed up at the walk, and then worked a bit at the trot, and then T. called me down. I realized that my lesson-mate was not going to be coming and that I was going to have a private lesson, and as I realized that, T. said, “Okay, rising trot at this end of the ring until you can get your horse more forward. Rising without pinching with your knees OR your thighs.”

I spent the next ten minutes thinking I had done a very, very stupid thing in showing up to this lesson without stirrups, but I was damned if I was going to cave, so rising trot it was. I’m not sure if starting me off like that was a test or just a way to make sure that I wasn’t depending on pinching, but he actually seemed pleased with the work, and Tris did start to move out more forward.

In fact, T. seemed pretty darn pleased with my riding the entire lesson, which was really terrific feedback and validation of the no-stirrup work I’ve been doing. He was happy with my position in the canter, even!

This is not to say I don’t have notes. I also have a homework assignment: watch video of Mark Todd doing dressage on Charisma. I explained that I’ve been focusing lately on not scrunching my leg up to cue aids; when I truly let my leg hang long, my ankles are off his barrel, and I’d gotten into the bad habit of raising my leg an inch or two to cue a leg aid, which was not correct at all. Mark Todd was also too tall for Charisma, so I am to watch and study and ponder.

T. talked me a lot through a truly effective, plugged-in sitting trot as well. Think draping my legs around, think dropping my knees down and lengthening my thigh. We focused most on my core, and he manipulated my body a bit to show me where the power would flow when I really connected the half-halt in through my seat: through my lower back, through my hips, right through to the rein, with no need to lock up my elbow en route. Similarly I am to engage lift through my abdomen and when I really do it right, feel it bump up right against the bottom of my rib cage. For this to be really effective and free, I am to focus on lifting my sternum (my most effective mental picture) and make my shoulders heavy.

I took those ideas out for a spin, and there were whole stretches where I felt more plugged in to my seat than ever before, and as if Tris and I were truly moving together more than I’ve ever felt. I’m thrilled.

Best of all: I’m not actually all that sore. I’ve been trying to go to the gym on non-barn days, and have been targeting my riding muscles specifically as well as a general cardio improvement, and it’s really starting to pay off.

I also gave T. my proposed spring/summer/fall event schedule, and left a check for the saddle fitter. Tris will get a massage on Thursday, his first in quite a while, and then both saddles will get partially adjusted. Then spring shots next Monday. Our first schooling show of the season is a month from Thursday!

lesson notes

Lesson Notes: Sitting Slow

I’ve had the past few days off, ostensibly to use up some leftover flex days and work on my master’s thesis. I have actually gotten a fair bit of writing done – above and beyond my goal – but I also took advantage of the time to schedule a lesson during the day instead of the evening.

Today’s lesson was almost a jump lesson, but the fence in the outdoor needed a new board, so we headed in for dressage.

I waffled a bit about putting the stirrups back on the saddle, at least to warm up, but decided not to. I’ve been trying to hit up the gym more often and work on the elliptical; the little diagram on the machine says that it works all the right riding muscles. That, combined with a few weeks now of no stirrup work on the flat, meant that I felt more confident about getting through a full lesson without stirrups.

Today was about finding the right balance between forward and too quick. Tristan is naturally a very heavy, behind-the-leg kind of horse. Combine that with the fact that everything we do is a kind of negotiation and it means that I’ve fallen into the habit of nagging him with my leg instead of being truly effective.

So, L. had me really focus hard on what aids I was giving with my legs, when, and whether they were listened to. He got one chance to respond to an aid, and then I made him listen to it. The internet would have you believe that this solves all problems after a few minutes. Not so for Tristan; we’ll have the same problem tomorrow, I’m sure. But concentrating on it at the beginning of each ride will sharpen him up.

He didn’t ever listen perfectly; he’s still not interested in stepping out smartly only on my say-so. But he did pick up his feet quite a bit more – too fast. Because he’s generally so behind the leg, my skill set for riding a quick-moving horse is rusty, to say the least. So ultimately today’s lesson became about sitting slow, using my core to get power and length into his stride rather than simple foot speed, and organizing that with all my aids.

For most of the ride we careened between almost breaking and zipping around, with occasional moments of balance in between. By the end of it, though, we’d gotten closer to where we want to be, and I could feel what I needed to be getting at.