In my last post, I talked about how solid Matilda is and how I don't need to ride her as much. I was true to my word and significantly reduced my riding in November, December and January. Reports of quickness and shoulders popping came in with phrases like "her power steering has gone out". My ego would like to think that she was missing our rides and somehow crying out for me (we joked a little that she must have read my post and disagreed with me) but the reality is that she is young and still relatively new to the life of a school horse. We seemed to have reached the point where she began testing boundaries and discovering.... ummmm.... how to challenge inexperienced riders (to put it kindly).
Due to an exceptionally heavy lesson schedule, I had no time to ride until the end of January. I watched her in lessons and felt an explosion of some sort was inevitable. Time for me to put riding Matilda back on my regular schedule.
The first few rides were remarkable in their uneventfulness. They felt exactly like our rides in November. I remember watching her get quick in one of Kim's lessons and saying something to the effect of 'I'm just not getting that from her. Why won't she explode with me? I'm waiting for an explosion and getting just the same old ride.' Famous last words.
It had to be a short ride on Tuesday which meant no time for our usual warm up, involving a series of adapted yoga poses for me to balance and breathe ultimately connecting my breath to my movement then to her movement as we bend, twist and open up our spine and ribs together. We did take a moment for me to goof off and see if I could pull off a pose that I envisioned over the weekend:
She looks relaxed and happy there, doesn't she?
The ride began normally; at some point I pressed her off the rail and then pressed her back to the rail (I can't remember why) and in that simple moment everything changed. Matilda was 'up'. Her trot was fast and huge; her neck and head, usually stretched out with her nose attempting to drag on the ground, was high so that I had to keep shortening my reins in order to keep contact with her mouth. It was as if a switch had flipped and I knew I had found the ride I had been waiting for- the one that would give her the energy burn that I felt she needed and that was inevitable.
I got around to asking for a canter on the left. It started with a head toss and came fast and huge. It was a canter on the edge but a true 3 beat canter and she was with me and I felt comfortable and in control. This was the explosion that I knew was coming. As I defined explosion. Before. How naive.
We took a break as Kim finished up a lesson (Kim, her adult student on a pony and 2 other girls who were job shadowing that day were in the ring). I asked to have the rail so that I could have a canter on the right.
The trot on the right, leading up to the canter departure, was even more jacked up with some head tosses thrown in for good measure. I had a very particular spot in the ring where I wanted to ask for that canter. I kept my leg on and used deep half-halts... I remember laughingly saying 'I think I'll keep my reins super short!' I began to sink, closing my seat to ask for the canter and *POW* in the blink of an eye, I was on a runaway freight train....
Here I must pause as the story breaks into 2 parts. As with any panicky, emergency situation my brain was processing so much and on different levels: primarily what I was doing and what I was feeling in Matilda. As happens in these situations, however, the timeline is fractured so I must fracture the story. I know how I would like to believe things linked up but I am not certain. You will understand as things unfold....
I was on a runaway freight train. From the first couple of steps it was clear this was different. Not a couple of steps of craziness before settling into a canter, we were in deep. My brain shut off. Typical. Tipped forward in the corner. Lost a stirrup. I cannot recite the initial thoughts because they would not be appropriate for my audience. The upshot of my thinking, as I found myself tipped forward onto her neck, was 'grab mane and just hold on!' Kim had stepped into our path, becoming a human barricade in an effort to slow Matilda down, thankfully leaving us room to pass along the rail. There was no slowing her down at this point but as I passed my dear Kim, I heard her yell 'SIT UP!' I did and found my reins were in my hands. I had not lost them and I still had contact.
I wish I had an MRI of my brain at this point because I KNOW it started firing. Big time. Hold, half-halt, use your leg, press her into your hands, deeper half-halt... then I heard my own voice, Obi-wan Kenobi style, 'RELAX! DON'T GRIP WITH YOUR KNEE! BREATHE!' I breathed. I felt my hips open and my seat deepen. There was that subtle shift as my legs wrapped around her body instead of digging into her sides...
At the start, I was on a runaway freight train: What was I feeling from Matilda? A true freight train. Full speed ahead. Pedal to the metal. Unyielding and unforgiving. Hold? Half-halt? Squeeze? Like trying to knead iron or stone.
After one lap around the ring, all of a sudden, it changed. I felt her become a living, breathing animal under me. We were still galloping; the shape of her body had not changed but everything had changed....
I like to think those 2 events were linked but I don't know. I do know that as those 2 moments unfolded I saw Kim start to move into our path again and I had found my voice. 'I GOT IT!' I called to her with complete conviction. In that moment, I was certain that my balance and position were good and I had her, that this was going to end well and that I was not going to be picking sand out of my teeth for the rest of the day. I knew it deep down.
My voice now found, I started to talk to Matilda, 'Whooooaa....' again and again. I felt those first steps of true canter and encouraged it, not wanting to come down too suddenly, until I heard 'I would feel much better if your foot was in that stirrup!' Yes, my friends, I was still riding with one stirrup. Trot, walk, grins, breathing, laughter. I was still in the saddle. Miracles.
My lesson wasn't over. I couldn't leave the ride there. I picked up another trot and found Matilda still jacked up! If this was about unused energy, our run would have taken the edge off. There is something else, something more fundamental or elemental going on here. No way I was going to ask for another canter transition at this point so I put her on a tiny trot circle instead. After (what felt like) 10 circles I felt something like the same change I had felt before... a softening perhaps? I put her on the rail and we had a nice, even -paced trot around the ring. Ride over. Content. No more.
Questions abound: What caused this? There are so many variables: hormones, seasons, weather extremes, no warm up.... Is that explosion inevitable or can I ride smarter and get to the other side without 'AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!'? Right now, I don't know. Time will tell.
I do know I gained a lot from that ride: information, knowledge, things to ponder and consider, feelings....
I can still 'feel' that change from machine to life when I think back. That is something I want to treasure always. I don't understand why it is important but my gut tells me it is vital. I will remember it,treasure it, ponder it deep within my heart.
There are more discoveries just around the corner. Some have been uncovered and will be shared in the next post but some are hidden, holding their breath and waiting to be uncovered.
I am riding, working. The adventure of the Matilda project continues....
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