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.