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.