All Grown Up

Wow. Almost 2 months since my birthday post. There were stories to tell but I've forgotten most of them because I am a bad blogger. I do remember this one though:

Matilda earned the code name "Nonplussed" a while back simply because nothing seems to bother her. Not even her foot getting stuck in a bucket. Towards the end of the summer, the guy who works at the barn came into the office with a bemused look on his face and told us that Matilda's foot was stuck in her water bucket... her water bucket that was affixed to the wall at her shoulder height. (We're still not 100% sure how she could get her foot all the way up there) Kim and Rachel raced around to her stall, concerned that she might panic, begin to thrash or go into shock if left in that position to long. We reached her stall to find her standing calmly, her leg extended nearly straight out in front of her with her foot in her water bucket. The three of us moved around her cautiously, attempting to lift her leg up, attempting to lift the bucket off of its hook, attempting to unscrew the hook from the wall, one of us occasionally muttering "Be careful" or "Look out for your toes" as we waited for panic to set in. All the while she stood there, breathing quietly, her leg extended nearly straight out in front of her with her foot in her water bucket, looking at us as if to say, "ummm, guys, my foot is stuck in this here bucket." Rachel finally grabbed a lead rope and we were able to wrap it under her leg enabling us to lift it up just enough to get the bucket off the hook. Her foot and the bucket came down to the ground together while we moved quickly back telling each other "move out of the way" "look out!", in case she freaked out as the bucket clattered to the ground or if her foot was asleep or whatever. She simply stepped out of the bucket, turned around and looked out the window, "I don't know what you guys were worried about. My foot was in a bucket. I knew you'd get it out."

Such is life with Matilda. She remains quiet, grounded and largely unflappable. Yeah, she can be quick and she might give a head toss and try to run away, if you aren't paying attention, but even in that she is manageable and listens to instruction.

With the beginning of fall, I wanted to focus more on her personal care. Up until now, I have kept it simple just doing some basic grooming whenever I rode but it is time to dig a little deeper and take more responsibility for other aspects of her well being. To this end, I am adding small things to our routine like putting on a hoof strengthener once a week and attempting to keep an abscess clean (she's got one under her chin that's been there for years, never getting better or worse.) On a more irregular basis it involves keeping her mane pulled and her tail cleaned and conditioned. I attempted to train her mane to lie on one side of her neck by braiding it but within a couple of days it had flopped back. I will try again later but do not have high hopes of success.

Over the fall and winter, I hope to get her more comfortable with clippers so that she is better prepared for trimming in the spring. It took Rachel and I over an hour to do her face last spring. I think it tickles.

And so we continue on. I love riding Matilda, love spending time with her. I work on my jumping position, her straightness, softening my seat and slowing/strengthening her canter... but the fact of it is that Matilda is all grown up. She is fully involved in the life of the barn and I have come to the realization that she doesn't need me to ride her anymore. She is a well-loved school horse now, being used in one to three lessons each day. Her riders range from pre-teens to adults; beginners have had their very first ride on her and more advanced students are working with her consistently in weekly lessons. I see her throughout the week working through all kinds of softening, extending or jumping lessons under Kim or Rachel. Her riders seem to adore her and she takes care of them.

A bittersweet realization. I sort of want to think that she will fall apart and go crazy if I'm not her constant, if I'm not holding her together. That's just not the case. She'll be quick some days, lazy on others, like all the other horses but my gut is telling me she's solid. She's certainly got more to learn; they are things that she can learn in her lessons with other riders, not necessarily me. She's not my horse, but truly a Bramblewood Horse.

                                        Bittersweet indeed, but I am so very proud of her.

Year 38: The Year of Faith

I turned 38 on Saturday. Last year, I skulked into 37, my typical shrinking violet, hoping that no one would notice while secretly waiting for someone to make me feel special. Incongruous. My new favorite watchword. Honestly, despite my skulking and weird feelings about turning 37, it was a really awesome year. Highlights included:

 

getting a tattoo

                                           
                                                                                         

losing 40 lbs,





 converting to Catholicism

                                                             

feeling my first buck (in memoriam, Plum),


riding Matilda and throwing myself full force into the life of Bramblewood Stables.





With all that amazing-ness there was the odd realization of simply growing older. I grew up a baby sister in a family of first borns, was one of the younger members of my schooling class, married an older man and just always seemed drawn to people older than myself. I've always been the youngest, the baby. This summer, sitting around the barn talking to my colleagues and some of the girls that are always there in the summer, I suddenly realized I was the oldest one there (even if just by 6 weeks). How did that happen?!? It was a bit of a shock and it's taken me some time to get over myself.... I may not be there yet....

I've also been reading "Tao of Equus", a fascinating book that sort of lays out the mysticism and spirit of the horse, drawing a lot from myth and legend among other things. The book lays the foundation for a method of equine assisted psychotherapy and it is where I picked up my new favorite word, incongruous The author uses it to describe words or behaviors that are out of sync with how we actually feel (like telling people you are fine when you are angry, sad or worried, JENN) and it has impacted me greatly. I've been making a great attempt of late to understand and express my own true feelings.... express them better than I have in the past, at least.

Thinking about my last birthday, the amazing year of 37 and my past incongruous behavior, I decided I wanted to share my enthusiasm for the coming year and so I told everyone about my birthday! Store clerks, students, waiters and jazz musicians. Oh the reward! Gifts, cakes, congratulations on my 25th :D, 'Take 5' played for me, general happiness and a birthday ride (basically cantering while you scream BIRTHDAY RIDE!!! WOOT WOOT!!!) to name a few of the joys of the day. What a lesson in sharing yourself with the people in your world.

And so I continue to look back at the accomplishments of the year and move forward into the next, even as I strive to reduce the incongruent behaviors in my life (how many times can I use the word?? It's wonderful to say out loud too) and since this is supposed to be a blog about barn life:

I feel I have completed my goals for this first year teaching at the barn (well, as much as one can in an ever-evolving environment) namely building my student base, increasing my presence (going from 'who does she think she is?' to 'Miss Sarah, do you think it would be ok if I....?') and getting a decent handle on the day to day workings and priorities of the barn as a whole.

This year will see a shift in my priorities as I look to create a more in depth plan for Matilda's day to day care and grooming, hopefully take more riding lessons but most importantly search out and begin preparing for instructor certification which feels long over due. I know there are some significant gaps in my knowledge of the horse (the kind of information that will catch you up on a test) that will require some extra time spent with my nose in a book. I can't say as I am looking forward to getting back in the habit of studying, but at least I am fascinated by the subject:)

Right now I am looking at getting my certification in biomechanics. Lots of detail about posture and position and how small things impact our, and therefore our horse's, balance. I think this will fit well with my new found understanding of the spirit of the horse. Think of the powerful combination and possibility of the deep spiritual bond between horse and rider grounded in the physical reality of how our bodies impact each other. I am excited about it!

My next post will be about Matilda, I have stories to tell. I just wanted to take a moment and share some things from me, my plans and my joys of the season. I have an amazing job with fabulous friends, an amazing husband and an amazing faith! It's going to be a great year!

Everything's Shrinking! (Even as My World Expands)

"Summertime and the living is easy." - Porgy and Bess

What a lie! Summertime means soaring temperatures, constant re-scheduling and summer camps. There's nothing easy about it. Enter the micro-ride: My new term for squeezing in 15-40 minutes with Matilda whenever I can. She actually seems to enjoy them. They consist of 5-10 minute warm up and cool down periods with 10-20 minutes of walk, trot, canter and/or jumping depending on the day and how we feel.
There's been a lot going on for us since my last post two months ago. For a while it seemed that the whole falling apart into a rushy canter (what I considered running away with me) was becoming a semi-regular happening. It happened just enough to become, happily, a non-event rather than some kind of epic life altering moment.

I discovered, however, that there is a fine line between confidence and stupidity the day that I had a beautiful ride on Matilda; one I wanted to end with a few steps of canter. As soon as I asked, she fell apart and raced down the side of the arena. I brought her down to a trot but let it make me mad- I really wanted those steps of canter. So I asked again, more racing, brought her down and then asked again to be met with more racing. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew this was not working but I was really proud of myself for not freaking out and panicking. It was when I saw that Kim had left her young student to help me that I came to my senses and realized that for all intents and purposes I was continually asking Matilda to be slightly out of control. She just wasn't with me on this one. I was riding through it fine (confidence) but she wasn't learning what it was I actually wanted and I was positioning us for an accident (stupidity). I stopped what I was doing at that point and decided to take a moment to think through what was going on and strategize my next move.

In stepping back and mentally reviewing what had been happening over the course of several weeks, I saw that, when I asked for a canter transition, Matilda was giving me a nice canter or a rushy run off depending on her frame of mind but not necessarily distinguishing the two. My sense was that I was not effectively communicating to her which was right, which was what I wanted, so I was getting whatever she was in the mood to throw at me. The question I had to ask myself was how to tell her very clearly which one I actually wanted?

I had to go back to the beginning of course: the click. I had been hesitant to use the click for the canter because I envisioned her picking up a canter, me clicking, followed by an abrupt stop (to get her reward) as I flew not so gracefully over her head. The prospect made me nervous to say the least. I was also concerned that I would create a habit for her of taking a step of canter then immediately stopping. This didn't happen with the trot so I'm not really sure why I thought it would happen here. Just nerves. Higher stakes.

The day came to try and she felt good. We did a lot of walk/trot work, a lot of listening exercises and she was with me. I finally asked for the canter and got the one I wanted. After about 5 smooth steps, I clicked and watched her ears flip back as I squeezed the reins and she slowed gently. We did the same thing going in the other direction. That day I think we repeated the exercise one more time in each direction before beginning our cool down.

I don't ask for a lot of canter. Only when I feel like we are really in sync, like she is really listening and we are moving together... simpatico. Since that day, the first day I clicked for the canter, every time I have asked for it, I have gotten it. Beautifully.

These days when we canter, I can add leg to keep her going through a corner, or half halts, to slow her down, without the canter breaking down into a trot or rushing forward. We are getting a little more control, a little better balance, each time we try. Sometimes I click and reward, sometimes I don't, just to keep things interesting.

Poor Baby

It's hard work and my little drama queen let's me know how she would prefer to spend her time. This is after a "grueling" 30 minute ride. She just couldn't hold herself up any longer I suppose.

In addition, Matilda and I have been working on our jumping together. I took a loooong hiatus from working on jumping and am slowly easing my way back into it one small step at a time. Matilda is a natural and a good teacher, carrying me easily and allowing me to make my mistakes as my body tries to remember how to hold itself and when to release. All in all, we are just having a blast together... when we have time together.

 

And now, I would like to introduce you to Plum. She is an adorable pony that I am trying to take on. She has been ridden and trained for years by a brilliant teenager who is going away this fall to an equestrian school. Plum is still too quick to enter the schooling program. She needs to be ridden and worked and have her education continued as she learns to listen and slows herself down. Kim has agreed to let me work with her and I am thrilled at the prospect. If I can do anything like what I have been able to do with my sweet Matilda, this experience, my philosophies and entire life up to this point will be affirmed. HA! That's a little too much weight for this little one to carry but you get my drift.

I was more excited the week before last however. Between camp and storms I only rode each horse about 20 minutes all week. Kind of takes the excitement out of a new job when there is no time to do the work for 2-3 weeks. It'll happen and I think I am really going to be able to help Plum make the transition to a school horse. I can't wait to try, that's for sure!!

During my few times on Plum, I've discovered that she is super quick and not so good at listening to me. Then she reminded me I have to breathe and helped me to understand that I need to focus on her and what we are doing - not allow myself to get so introspective and over-analyze while I am riding. She's got so much to teach me. I know that already.

Last week, while I wasn't riding, I spent some time relaxing in the paddock watching Matilda and giving her good scratches or simply trying to gain Plum's trust. That one needs some work. I enjoyed sitting back and watching Matilda's creativity and suppleness as she reached under the fence for that grass.

This week should provide more opportunities for riding and maybe there will be more stories to share! Until next time~ Shorter rides, smaller horses: Big opportunities!

Yoga in the Sand and Other Events on a Practically Perfect Day

I haven't had as much time as I've wanted to spend with Matilda the last couple of weeks. I'm always running late or find myself engrossed in barn conversation and fitting in a ride. My focus has been on making sure that I spend more time working her, riding for more than an hour at a time in preparation for an increased work load, which has meant quick grooming sessions and no hanging out.

Today I made it to the barn on time and was able to give Matilda the entire 3 hours that I had designated as 'Matilda time.'

There were no lessons going on, so I took her in the ring and tied her lead rope around her neck so that I wouldn't have to hold it and it wouldn't drag on the ground. We played. We walked side by side together.  We walked over poles and crossrails, well I jumped and she plodded over them. She trotted next to me as I jogged. I don't remember her doing that before today. When I've tried it in the past, we wound up looking like this:

We (almost) fearlessly investigated a black snake crossing one corner of the ring. I was more nervous than she was. (She really was quite curious but I couldn't see a happy ending to that scenario.) And as we jogged/trotted around the arena, a bunny raced full speed past us across that same end of the ring but it did not phase my girl. I'm not sure she even noticed it.

I started working with her on grazing politely. I never,ever graze her, you know, because she is so bad about pulling people around for food. Today, we would walk up to the grass and when she stopped attempting to yank her head down out of my hands, I would reach down, pull some grass up and offer it to her to eat out of my hand. After that she was permitted to gently lower her head and eat a little. It was a start.

The best part was when I did some yoga poses "with" her. I wasn't really practicing yoga, I just wanted to see how she would respond to me moving through a few poses in front of her. It was hilarious. She was so confused! I could see her trying to figure out what I was asking her to do and fitting some of the things she knew into what she saw me doing.

When I did a Forward Fold (bending over to touch my toes, basically), she bent her head down to the ground just how I taught her to stretch her neck. When I did a side lunge into Warrior 2 at her, she backed up and side stepped. She would check my hands for treats but when I aimed a Warrior 2 at her with a treat in my hand, she just kept backing up! Eventually, I had to break the pose and walk up to her and put the treat into her mouth in order for her to take it because every time I inched a little closer and said, "c'mon, just take it" in the pose, she backed up :) Good girl!

The best was a yoga pose called 'triangle' which involves sticking one hand in the air. She sort of took in the pose for a bit then picked up one foot! We haven't done that one in a long time. Cracked me up and I couldn't resist rewarding her. I can hardly wait to try it again! :D

And the ride...
I had to give her a couple of correctional taps on the shoulder for disobedience. Collapsing in with that right shoulder even though my right leg and left hand (remember them from a couple of posts ago?) were doing their jobs. It took me more than one correctional tap before I realized I was holding just as much (if not more) with the right rein as I was with the left. It got me to thinking about how I treat people outside of the ring: over-criticizing or correcting others for faults that are my own. Will I ever learn these lessons?

In any event, after our transition work and some long breaks to watch tiny girls in their lessons, we got down to business. Not long ago I asked Matilda for a left lead canter, a canter on our good side. We cantered around the entire ring once. It got a little rushy about half way through but it was never completely out of control and I was able to bring her down to the trot easily. I was not comfortable asking for another canter that day, however.

Today, again after a lot of preliminary transition and balancing work, I asked for my problematic (emphasis on MY) right lead canter. With those aids that I've been focusing on in place, she picked it up beautifully! There are a few things in particular that I would like to note, for myself as much as for anyone left reading this thing:

1. Head shakes. There were none.  Matilda's upward canter transitions often include her pulling her head down and shaking it. To me, this indicates a sense of leaning into the chest and front legs, being out of balance, sort of frolicking with me along for the ride. Today the head dropped as she stretched into the canter but not a sense of yanking and no shakes.

2. Control. As we cantered around the ring I felt in control. I could add leg or half halts to adjust speed and make adjustments in my rein aids for steering and balance support. It was the same feel I had on that left rein canter that I asked for not too long ago. It's a change from the "along for the ride" feeling that I've had in the past.

3. Faster pick-up. I used to ask her to canter 2-4 times before she would actually do it. Today (as well as a few days ago) the canter was there the first time I asked for it, within a few steps of asking. 

4. Shorter runs. Her canter, when it feels right, makes me so happy I tend to push her through it until it just sort of falls apart. Right now that happens after one lap around the ring. I need to discipline myself to half ring runs so that I am in control of the upward transition, downward transition and every step in between. I need to start teaching her to wait until I ask her to down shift into the trot. I can build slowly from there. The transitions will teach us both so much.

I ended our work with figure eights that included 4-6 steps of canter on both ends. All beautiful!

Our cool down period consisted of some bareback riding, admittedly not my favorite thing. It is something of a novelty but it does require serious balance. It's a nice way to relax and connect with the horse. (Talk about feeling the movement!)

Back into the barn we went, where I sponged her off with cool water before putting her into a stall to finish cooling down before giving her lunch. I love to put her in a stall where I can sit on a bench right next to the door. I offered her dill pickle potato chips (which she does not like, fyi) and she pulled a halter and lead rope off it's peg and tossed it on my head. All mixed in with nuzzles, conversation and laughter (on my part at least).

As I took her back out to her paddock, down the grass lined path, I stopped to see if she retained any of the polite grazing lessons that we had gone over earlier. She stopped and tilted her head toward me, not bending to the grass at all. I leaned over and pulled some up to give to her before we continued on our way.

If I have any complaint about today it is that there was still not enough time. There is something quite profound about the horse/human relationship. I end a day like today feeling full to overflowing. It's a feeling I wish I could convey to my students and countless others but it is not quite expressible. I don't understand why riders settle for walk, trot, canter, jump when there is so much more of a connection with life to experience.

I feel like I could write heaps more, but why? You get the gist of the day, of our time, and I have to get up early in the morning. I was tremendously blessed today. I hope for more days like it and pray for patience to get through all the others. The End.

Why Be Normal?... Wait, What's Normal?

"I just want to be normal." I heard these words today and they were so familiar to my ears. I had to ask, "Why?" Then I realized that 'normal' is such a vague, nebulous term.... what does it even mean?

In college pursuing "normalcy" for me meant drinking, smoking and other things that are not important to detail (I mean, my mother is my biggest fan). Basically ignoring Doctors who would tell me to be careful because of the medications I was on at the time. Dangerous pursuits.

Wouldn't it be wiser to define the person you want to be, rather than go after some intangible ideal?

I want to be an honest person, responsible with integrity. I want to be brave. (I'm not saying this is who I am, mind you. Certainly not... yet.) I want to be happy, to laugh every day. I want to be a person that people enjoy and look forward to being with; I want to be the cause of laughter in those around me.

Is this a normal person? I don't think so. It is the person I want to be, however, defined by words that have meaning to me.

I want to be a good rider. Vague, nebulous. (I love that word - Neh-byooo-louuuus - its pretty and fun to say) The definition of a 'good rider' will change from barn to barn. It will depend on your age and discipline. For some, it is simply going over the highest jump you can as soon as you can, but being able to hold your seat over a jump doesn't necessarily mean you rode it well. Again, VERY dangerous pursuits.

I want to be a well balanced rider. Balanced physically in the saddle; balanced in my approach to the horse by spending time working, playing or relaxing for a spa day.

I want to be a rider that listens. Listens to the horse and is willing to lay aside what I want for what she needs. Listens to the words of the people around me, whether they be compliments or criticisms, with respect and humility, without becoming defensive or hurt.

I want to build a relationship with a horse that is based on who we are, not someone's guaranteed system that will work for anybody. We're not anybody. We're not normal (see above). We're Sarah and Matilda. So there.

Lastly, I want to be a rider who is always aware that any time I am with a horse, it is a blessing. Any time I am on a horse, it is a miracle. A blazing one. With fire and angelic choirs.

Many would say that achieving these goals won't make you a 'good rider'. Well, I'm not looking for that. I want more.

Yeah, that's the person I want to be. That's the rider I want to be.

A Balancing Act.... with JAZZ HANDS!!

So, I promised a change in content and here it is: I made a somewhat feeble attempt to make this blog all about Matilda and not about me and my stuff. Without going back and reading all my posts, there is no way for me to know how well I succeeded or miserably failed at achieving that goal. From here on out, all bets are off. I will no longer attempt to filter out "my stuff" that I bring to Matilda and to the ring. (Cue overly dramatic music - GO!) Matilda's destiny and my own are inextricably linked for the time being. (That sentence makes me laugh. I can be such a drama queen) I spend as much, if not more, time in the ring working on my riding skills as I do on her ride-ability. She is such a good teacher, I might as well share what I am learning.

SO, one good thing about being me is that I love to analyze, think and try to figure out what went wrong. One bad thing is that once I start, I over-analyze, over-think and ultimately wind up criticizing myself as being wholly at fault for what went wrong. C'est moi. That, however, does not mean that there is no value in said analysis, so I am going to let you in on my mental machinations following that second run off last week. You know, the one that I was able to control... Did I tell you about that?... Yeah, that was me that kept cool and brought that running beast down.

Another good/bad thing about being Sarah is that I am hyper-aware of some of the imbalances in my own body. Good because being aware of it makes me work to change it and helps me understand the source of some problems; Bad because with this hyper-awareness comes fixation on this as the source of all my problems (even I get tired of hearing myself say, "Well, you know I've got that weak right leg). This is where a lot of my stuff is going to come out because I don't think I've shared much of my own history as part of this blog and you should know some of this stuff about me as we go forward.

When I was about 15, I began having some serious pain in my joints. After 2 years and many trips to many doctors, I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis in my right knee and both my shoulders. Eventually, I developed sciatica in my left hip, most likely due to a significant rolling limp that I adopted from the knee pain. The rheumatism is now in remission (Thanks to God) but my 15+ years with the disease left me with joint damage and cartilage loss in all three joints as well as an atrophied right thigh muscle. Last time I had it checked, it was 2-3 inches smaller than the left thigh.

Dealing with something like that at the already wonderful age of 15 can make you really self-conscious and, yes, hyper-aware of yourself. While I like to think that the illness does not define who I am today, it has definitely stuck with me and plays a part in how my body functions.

On a totally different note, I am also VERY strongly right handed. I blame my left hand for my slow typing skills and for not being a concert pianist... well, that and laziness. (My apologies to Mrs. Michaelson for not practicing more.) The difference between the fine motor skills and timing in one's hands can be seen most clearly in, are you ready for this, JAZZ HANDS! I love Jazz Hands. By that I mean I love my right Jazz Hand. This is kind of embarrassing but here they are:

Can you see the difference? One hand has that nice gentle quiver, which I can make smaller or larger, faster or slower. The other is a big, jerky awkward movement... Actually watching it back, neither is very good but I think you can at least see the difference and you'll have to trust me on the rest.

"How does all this apply to your work with Matilda?" you are asking and rightly so. In thinking back over the two times that I have dealt with an out of control horse (well, that second time I brought her back. I didn't fall. Did I tell you about that?) I believe I have figured out some things.

First off, one of the vital things in steering and riding is your diagonal aid. Meaning (in the most basic of terms) your left leg pressing harder into a strongly supporting right hand or your right leg pressing into your left hand. These are important to help guide and support the horse into proper balance through the turns. Without these aids working properly (some of this depends on the horse, too) the horse may drop a shoulder, leaning too far in, circles start to get smaller or they can get faster as balance is lost.

Another factor that I am going to talk about is the rider's balance. Not just keeping from tipping forward or flopping back into the saddle, but the harder one to maintain. Keeping your weight evenly balanced between both feet, ie not leaning on the right foot as you turn right. Most of us have a favorite leg to stand on. Mine is obviously my left. I lean on my left foot when I am brushing my teeth, chopping vegetables, folding laundry, etc. Hence, I tend to put more weight into my left foot when I am riding.

Back to what is going on with Matilda. In the week or so leading up to the run off (I don't know what else to call it but wish I could come up with something. It sounds like some kind of tie breaker in a competition.) there were some crazy fast trots on one side of the ring, slow on the other, collapsing circles, collapsing straight lines. Most of this was happening when we were on the right rein (riding with our right side towards the center of the ring). The run offs have both occurred when I asked for a canter transition on the right rein in a corner.

Through a right hand turn the important diagonal aid is right leg/left hand. Especially with a Matilda type, who already has a tendency to drop her right shoulder.

You know, my muscle memory is pretty good at this point. My legs and arms know where I want them to be, which leg or hand is to be active and which should be passive without me concentrating on it at every moment. What I think has been happening, though, is that when I focus on something I want Matilda to do, like pick up a canter or trot a straight line, I start to focus on her and let my body go on auto-pilot and some of it's more natural tendencies start to reveal their ugly sides.

What I mean is that, in my right turns, while my right leg may be giving beautifully timed squeezes in the perfect spot, it softens and weakens to the point of being a small tug on the hem of a skirt. My left leg, also well timed, is screaming at her even though it may be pressing her with less frequency than the right. In the same way, the right hand is giving gentle well-timed half-halts, while the left... well, I'm probably just lucky it hangs on to the reins some days.

These imbalances in my own body, rather than supporting and advising her to maintain proper balance, would actually be pulling and pushing her deeper into her own natural imbalance... and then I ask her to go faster.

My last couple of rides, I have really kept these thoughts in focus and what a difference it makes! When I make sure that I am putting extra weight into my right foot, to avoid leaning to the left, my right leg seems to be able to work better. It is harder because of the weaker muscle (there I go again - pointing out the weak leg) but in this instance I think the difficulty is showing me how little work the leg has been doing up to now. Once I got the leg working better, our lines stayed straighter, our corners were deeper and our pace started to even out. All from putting effort into creating better balance across the saddle.

Our work consists of tons of transitions: walk, trot, halt, trot, stretchy walk, marching walk, halt, trot, etc. This serves two purposes: 1) I am constantly forced to practice my aids as I move through upward and downward transitions. 2) I am told by people wiser than myself that it helps to create straightness and engages Matilda's hind end, aiding in control and balance among other things.

Yesterday after a good amount of work and transitions, I asked for a few steps of canter on the left and right concentrating on "Right foot - Left hand" or vice versa, rather than "C'mon, CANTER, GOGOGOGO!!!!" I am happy to say that we got those steps of canter.

If you keep your ears open when I am in the ring you will probably hear one of the following being said or sung out loud: "weight in your right foot, lean on your right foot", "right leg - left hand, right leg - left hand" or Jingle Bells. Jingle Bells seems to be my perfect trot pace. I'll find a Beach Boys song that will work in December. Sigh.

Any and all of these little mantras or songs are to help me keep my focus on not letting my weaknesses stay that way. Making sure that I am at the very least not dragging Matilda into bad habits, at the very best that I am supporting and suggesting good ones.

I've been reminded in all this that every time we are with a horse we are its trainer and teacher, no matter how well or poorly you ride, no matter how long you've been riding, no matter how long that horse has been ridden. Matilda will only be as good a horse as I (and her other riders) teach her to be and I have to ride to my utmost potential for her.

There's so much more I could talk about. I really need to write more, I don't want to forget any of this, ever. But off I go to yoga, to strengthen and balance myself for Matilda's sake, if not my own.

She ran off with me again.

Matilda ran off with me again today. This time, for the first time in probably three to five years, my brain and body did not shut down until I fell off. I was able to do all the things I wanted to do and stay in the saddle as I brought her down to a canter and then to a trot.

I have a basic understanding of why this is happening and I know the people I want to talk to about the details of that why and how to fix it. That will be for another post.

I've tried to keep this blog all about Matilda; tried not to bring too much of myself into it. Tonight I am enjoying this moment for myself. I was very emotional afterwards. It's hard to explain without going into the details of what was going on three(?) years ago. I may have explained it before, I don't know. I left a lot of angst and trauma in the ring today. I gained some respect for myself, in my own eyes, that I didn't realize was missing. Respect for myself as a rider, teacher and potential trainer.

I think it's time for the focus of this blog to shift. Don't worry, Matilda will still be at the center and heart of it. If you've known me for the past year, then you know that it's all about Matilda.

A quick comparison

I have another blog entry coming, but I wanted to post these for a quick comparison. I'm thinking that there's more of a difference here than a lack of dirt.

Matilda in March, 2011:

One year later in March, 2012:

I'm happy. More to come!

Following Up on the Fall

After my fall last Friday, I had a weekend to reflect and think and try to suppress the paranoia that wanted to build up. I committed myself to riding every day possible this week, even if I didn't want to. (I still ended up riding only 2 out of 4 days - but I bought some new boots!)

Tuesday, I did some work in the paddock, bringing out the old target stick and clicker. I brought her up and rode for 20-30 minutes. Light walk and trot with lots of clicks for downward transitions.

Wednesday I did another 5-10 minutes of ground work, using the target stick and walking together, before tacking up and getting on. I rode for about 40 minutes and we did walk, trot and canter then trotted over a cross-rail twice. Matilda did beautifully. She felt good and I really enjoyed the ride. Still lots of click and reward for downward transitions and some for random obediences.

I made an effort to spend more time with Matilda around our rides. I enjoyed a game of "peek-a-boo"/"hide and seek" with her - myself crouching below her stall windows and calling to her until she found me. Fun.


The fall, so dramatic last week, is past and out of my head. I got to sit and watch Matilda in a lesson yesterday. She looked good and relaxed with a happy rider. Now I'm just looking forward to another fun week with her.

First Fall

Well, hardly my first fall. I guess I should call this, "First Fall Off Matilda".

It's been an interesting couple of weeks since my last post about the brilliance of Matilda. I think it was the day after that post that she walked away from me into the giant, composting manure pile. She hasn't done that in almost a year. (see: "Matilda's Day Out" 2/25/11).

A day or two after that she tried to walk away while I was mounting her. Then tried to walk away while I was dismounting her. I lost my temper that day and whacked her on the rear as my feet touched the ground. Not cool, although she looked beautiful cantering across the ring and in circles all tacked up like that, sans rider. I was watching her, standing next to the mounting block. Sigh.

That was the day I realized that she and I were not enjoying our time together. I had slipped into full work mode and as I was riding her, after spending 20 minutes re-teaching her how to stand still while I got on, I took a moment to breathe and really noticed her. I don't know how to describe it, except to say everything felt flat. No buoyancy, no joy. There was no desire in me to cry out or laugh as we cantered down the straightaway and no lightness in her big ole trot step. It was what it was, namely all work and no play.

A brief confab with Rachel resulted in my decision to take some time off of riding Matilda.

Which brings us to this past Friday. Knowing she hadn't been ridden in a week and that she would normally be used in two lessons on Saturday, I had to get on her Friday and make sure things were ok. I was looking forward to it. I had taken more than a week off before and found no changes in her so I wasn't worried at all about riding. All her quirks showed up on the ground. Right?

She was a little stiff and I found her shoulders a little harder to contain than normal but after a week off, nothing unexpected. I asked for a canter transition and she picked it up with a head toss. No good. We tried again, another head toss. Third time's the charm so I asked her to pick up the canter again. I don't know what happened but she took off. Honestly, I wasn't sure she had that kind of speed in her and I was completely unprepared. I'm not sure it would have helped if I had been.

I lost a stirrup in the first sharp turn to avoid going over the jump and tipped onto her neck, losing the reins in the second sharp turn. I remember looking at the ground and the rail that she was racing along, as my foot made a half-hearted attempt to find a stirrup, and heard myself say out loud, in an oddly calm and typically sarcastic voice, "Well this just isn't gonna' work." What an odd thing to say.

At this point I began letting myself slide off her back, trying as much as possible at this pace, to land between her and the fence, REALLY not wanting to land on one nor under the other.

I hit hard and heard a nice CRACK! as the back of my helmet hit the ground. The immediate thought that went through my mind? 'I get to go to The Farmhouse in Landrum and get a new helmet! Maybe lunch at The Hare and Hound!' So odd what goes through your mind. And all of this probably unfolded in under a minute.

Adrenaline was pumping but at the same time I felt oddly calm. Two years ago, after a fall like this, I would have had to have been hand walked (someone holding the lunge line or lead rope... a pony ride)around the ring. You might have been lucky to get me around once or twice and that just because someone would have made me and so that I could say "Yes" when people asked if I got back on.

Boy have I come a long way in the last two years.

I got Matilda from the people who stopped her running (Kim and Rachel I think, that part is lost in the rush) dumped my busted helmet and borrowed one from one of our borders and friends, sweet Lindsey. I walked and halted beside Matilda for a few minutes, just trying to get a handle on her energy. She was quiet. Back up I went. No one walking beside me, no one holding on. We walked and stopped some more but this time with me in the saddle. Still no weirdness. We picked up the trot and trotted and walked in circles and little figure eights. I finished by trotting a figure eight with three steps of canter in both directions. After the fall we rode for 20-30 minutes.

Boy have I come a long way in the last year. (Quasi-repetition intentional. I do not have a concussion ;)

The bad news is that in the critical moment of running off, my mind still goes blank and my body still locks up, giving me zero chance of recovering control from a position actually up on the horse. I think we can all agree that would be a good thing.

The good news is that I have high hopes that my quick recovery of nerves and occasional lucid moments as the drama unfolded means that next time I might be able to hold it together even better. My brain knows what to do, it just has to continue functioning in that moment.

Tomorrow I am back at the barn and am actually looking forward to working with and riding Matilda. I have a sort of loose plan for the day and will most likely spend some time doing some stretching and ground work before I hop on. Work will be light: walk and trot. I'm going to try to spend the next few weeks paying attention to Matilda, trying to listen to her body language and movement. Making sure, as best I can, that nothing weird is going on with her and trying to re-establish some sort of connection.

I will also be getting myself back into Yoga regularly. Since the holidays I have been super lazy about it. I need to spend the time making sure that my mind is quiet (how can I listen to what she may be trying to tell me if my mind is full of noise?) and my body is as soft, supple and balanced as I want Matilda's to be. On Friday, I rode for 15 minutes before I realized my stirrups were uneven. Seriously?!

Lastly, I will be paying attention to the portents all around me. Looking back to Friday, they were all over the place, ala Final Destination. Everything from talking with Rachel about needing to embrace and not fear falling to actually falling when my heel caught in a gate I was trying to crawl through to knocking my water bottle off a counter and hearing it crack as the top broke. Yes, the same crack I heard when my helmet hit the ground... only the second was louder. If only I had been paying attention.

OK, that last one is sort of silly but I do think I need to pay more attention to what is going on around me. I started to take Matilda for granted and paid for it. She has given me some brilliantly striking reminders of who and what she is, I need to remember and respect that.

We rarely get to know why a run off or kick or buck happens. I spend a lot of time analyzing, trying to figure out the whys and wherefores of it all but the simple truth is stuff happens, for whatever reason. In a perfect world there would be no run offs and no falls but in our world the only way to avoid falling off a horse is not to ride at all. That ain't gonna' happen.

P.S. I got my new helmet today and am ready to go! I'll try to let you know what happens...

A New Year and A New World for Matilda

Just over one year ago, I started working with Matilda. My original goal was to work on her ground manners until she was considered "manageable" and "lunge-able"; to work her on the lunge until she was deemed ready to ride.... ready for someone else to ride, that is. I wasn't going to do it.

Oh, how times and plans changed. And changed. And changed again. That's ok, I'm allowed to change my plans since I have never done this before:/ Since my last post in October, plans changed again and things have progressed at an exponential rate. The whole "therapy horse" and learning to respond to voice commands idea is on the shelf, not gone - never gone. The barn needs school horses now and may need therapy horses someday. "Need now" won and I began to think seriously and somewhat aggressively about what needed to happen before we put Matilda into the lesson program. The lunge line is gone. Some time ago I decided it was simply unnecessary. The clicker and reward are all but gone, brought out only when there is a specific problem that needs to be worked on.

So what's been happening instead? Here's a summary:

On October 21, I took a first riding lesson on Matilda. It was the first time that we had to accomplish tasks given to us by an outsider, my instructor, boss and Matilda's owner, Kim. When I began this, I never would have imagined myself on Matilda in a lesson, much less working on leg yields, trot poles and canter transitions (that would be a mere 3 weeks after our first canter steps together. About 3 months or 24 rides after the first time I got on her). I was full of performance anxiety before the lesson, so afraid that we would tense up and Kim would not be able to see all that I had been able to do on Matilda. That was not the case. Matilda performed brilliantly and it made my novice trainer's heart soar to hear her described as "supple", "soft" and "relaxed" by her owner and my boss.

Matilda test one-check!

At some point in November (I think, I didn't make note of the date) I asked Rachel (the other instructor/trainer) to get on Matilda and try her out. She rode walk/trot/canter and then we put her on the lunge line to simulate a beginner lesson. Rachel tried to emulate all of the things that she's seen novice rider's do to a horse; things that can elicit a poor response from said horse. (It was worth doing just to watch Rachel flop around like that!) Matilda absorbed them all without issue. If things got too out of whack, she stopped or slowed.

Matilda test two-check!

On December 10, I taught one of Kim's advanced students on Matilda.

Matilda test three-check! Passed with flying colors. In fact, this student is continuing to use Matilda in her regular lessons.



In the midst of these tests, I was riding Matilda 2-4 days a week. Trying to ride for about an hour (the length of most lessons) and building the duration of our trotting to make sure her stamina was decent. Of course, we threw in some canter as well. As part of her training and testing, I walked and/or trotted past squeaky truck breaks, ATVs, dogs, goats and horses being turned out or brought in; we also raced squirrels down the side of the arena. As hard as I tried, she spooked at nothing. Almost every ride I had was a good, working ride. I have been so impressed and elated with her as a riding partner throughout the last few months. Don't want you to think everything's been perfect (actually, I do)...

It has not been smooth sailing all the way through. There was the day that Matilda decided to play statue. It didn't matter what I did, I could not get her to move one little bit. She may have even been holding her breath. I must have looked hilarious that day, lifting my legs as high as I could and bringing them down into her side while she stood there - I'm pretty sure she was yawning when she wasn't holding her breath. That was the day I re-introduced Matilda to the dressage whip. I was nervous about that one, afraid I would tap her with it and she would take off or jump out of the ring. I started by tapping her lightly on the rump - I don't think her ears moved on that one. After some trial, I found that three (not one, but three) good cracks on the rump got her moving. Barely. And I was afraid she would take off. Sheesh!

Then there was the day that I was un-tacking and right before I got the halter on, while the reins were still around her neck, she decided to walk away. I didn't want my bridle to be broken (Smart, huh?) so I sort of stumbled along behind her as she walked into a stall, pinned me against a wall and started to eat. (If this happens to anyone else, just let go of the bridle, by the way). A couple of days later she did it again, only this time she did have the halter on and was in the cross ties. She just decided to walk away. She lifted her head, broke both the cross ties, turned around and walked away. It's quite shocking when she does this, mainly because I go into a panic and she is so d-n calm about it. Her calmness makes me mad.

I've found that the best thing to do in these situations is stop her almost before she starts, right at that moment where her mind is made up to go (which means I actually have to pay attention and be proactive, yuck), or let her go. If you try to hang on or throw a rope around her neck, she just goes faster. If I miss the chance to stop her, I just have to wait until she stops (usually to eat), gather the reins or put on the halter and then she just comes with me. Like nothing happened. We're still working on this. When she is in the cross ties, she is not allowed to move a muscle... Or I just tack her up in a stall when I'm lazy about it. :D


And so, after 2+ years in pasture, 7 months of relationship building ground work and 5 months under saddle, Matilda is a working member of the barn and starting to earn her keep. She has 3 riders, besides myself, who use her in regular lessons ranging in skill level from novice to advanced. Two of these lessons are back to back and she is able to function and move well for two hours straight, even through meal time.

Matilda and I continue to move through our walk, trot, canter work. We had a lesson with Kim yesterday and our focus will be on transitions, esp. the downward transitions. With all that draft in her and that big head, she does tend keep her weight on her front legs, pulling her rear end behind her. We will be working on helping her shift her center back so that the energy and drive comes from the back to the front with more consistency. You know, like a well-balanced horse should.

Here's a video of me on Matilda waaaay back in November. This is a little rough as we had finished a long ride and were half way through our cool down before someone asked to record. I had a video of her in a lesson that I wanted to post, but broke my phone before I pulled the video off. Sigh. I'll try to get more....

http://youtu.be/0iTDD9ov6gU


To a certain extent, my job with Matilda is done. She is no longer left in the pasture. Kids don't look out, point and say, "Who's that? Does anyone ever ride her?" She is well known, earning her keep and, most importantly, well loved. Everyone who has been on her has thoroughly enjoyed riding her. Everyone (and I have asked) has felt safe and in control on her - willing to push and see how much they can do the very first time they are on her.

Now my ever-evolving job is to fine tune and see how much she is capable of doing. To learn as much as I can from her while I am teaching her. She makes me spend a lot of time thinking about how and why things are supposed to work the way they do: analyzing my aids and owning each one fully so that I can be more consistent for her. Analyzing the way her body works and what she needs from me so that she can achieve the shape and movement that I want and that others will be asking for someday. Someday soon, probably.