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...
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