Crunch time!

For just a few minutes, I’m gonna focus on how much I enjoy the whole EXPERIENCE of going to horse shows.  What’s not to love, really?  The Williamston venue is well planned, the barns are bright and airy, and I will be surrounded by some of my very favorite people!  Collectively, we will have some of the best rides at the show, no doubt in my mind.

This time–because of the sheer length of the show (I will be there Wednesday through Sunday), because I am bringing my dog, and because I am camping–I am going to have to make a few lists of “don’t forget” items.  My saddle trunk holds all the necessities for the actual show (tack, sundries, coats, etc.), and one other duffle will hold all the necessities for stabling (grain, buckets, feed pan, etc.).  I’ll need to pack a dog crate and bed, and Hamish’s food.  I’m reasonably sure he will just hang out secured to the stall front or in my living quarters and chill–he’s a good boy.  Of course, I need my clothes, breakfast and snack foods, COFFEE, and toiletries since I’ll be living on site for the duration.  The portable heater is already packed in the trailer!

But wait, there’s more.  There’s the stuff I need to remember that makes this FUN, that makes this an EXPERIENCE, and which will make any outcome in the ring worthwhile.

• 1 complete master list of everyone in the group’s rides–I strive to see AT LEAST one ride from everyone.
• 1 new set of white polos, because I have about 6 sets and can find none of them.
• 1 video tape to return to Lisa Graff’s awesome husband, Terri, in hopes that he’ll tape a couple of my rides.
• 1 dozen sparkly pink tiaras, bearing the “Williamston/Wedaho Equestrian Gig” aka WEG insignia
• 1 sparkly “special surprise” for Anne Aloi (for thanks and congratulations on her recent 3rd level BLM championship!)
• 1 large pot of my White Chili
• Mike’s Hard Lemonade–it’s technically not Gluten Free, but a little malt liquor never hurts (until the next morning).
• 1 bottle of Dom Perignon for a special occasion, should one arise.

Unfortunately, many of my friends and I are competing against each other.  Lisa, Cathy, and I in the Training Championship; Karen and I in the First Level MFS Championships and again in the First level Championship.  So, in each of my Championship classes, if they win there will be no jacket for me.  The converse is also true, and it makes me sad that we can’t all be winners.  My goal is to ride the best I can each day–lay it all out on the court given the warm up and attitude of the horse below me.  My goal is to come out of each test happy with my riding, and happy with Bravo’s response.  And then just let the chips fall where they may.

Although Karen might find me in her closet late one night petting and drooling on her jacket.

Here we go, heart rate, here we go!

 

I've got a hair-trigger panic button!

 

 

I had my first “panic attack” about the finals yesterday–this is how it starts.  I’m not a terribly nervous competitor.  Any butterflies I have are  waved away in the warm up, if they show up at all.  I don’t mean that I’m laissez-faire about showing–I’m all business–but it has been a long time since I’ve had show nerves bad enough to feel debilitating.  Occasionally I’ve planned poorly with my warm up time, or Bravo’s come out like a bucking bronc, or I’ve had a tack or number malfunction that gets me a bit addled, but again that’s usually gone by the time I hit the centerline.

Except for finals classes.  I stress.  I fret.  I over think.  I analyze.  I over-analyze.  I plan.  I change my plan.  I go back to my original plan.  I inwardly scream at myself for obsessing about a plan.  In a word, I choke.

For instance, I had a small panic attack yesterday when I looked at my watch while driving.  It went something like this:  “Oh, my watch is so sparkly in the sunshine.  I will wear this watch at the Williamston show.  Hmm…maybe I should pick up this watch in white before the show to better blend with my white gloves.  OH GOD WILLIAMSTON IS RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER AND IT’S THE FINALS!”  My heart rate went from a pleasant, and relatively normal 60ish bpm to RACING.  It was over in a flash, but I had the sweaty palms, the urge to flee, the deer in the headlights eyes–you get the picture.

I psyche myself out for these big classes, and I don’t know why.  I’ll convince myself that I have no business being in the class with all those other nice horses (despite having a pretty successful season), and then I’ll swing the other way and feel confident that Bravo and I are ready, willing, and able to win.  And then the analyzing and over-analyzing cycle begins again.  I’ve read many books and articles on performance anxiety, and I think this is why I have conquered my show nerves for 99% of my classes.  So why can’t I just get on and ride my best test 4 weeks from now and not concern myself with the fact that it’s “The Finals”?

Because it’s The Finals.  OH CRAP!

A week of ups and downs and ups (literally and figuratively) and riding like a fish

My Koi vest points--it's fate!

I’ve been flying pretty high lately–Bravo had given me really good rides this past 2 weeks.  In fact, focusing on our connection, and armed with a new Herm Sprenger Duo bit (probably the mildest bit made), I have been making progress getting Bravo to not only accept, but embrace a connection to my hands.  Just a few good steps here and there, but it’s coming.  Monday I had a lunge session to work on my seat with my reins totally pitched away and was encouraged that I can, in fact, effect walk-trot transitions and transitions within the trot totally using seat alone.  With my seat bones “stapled” to his hind legs, I have been able to really compress his canter (which I lost for awhile, but appears back–yippee), even starting some REALLY good canter half -pass and  some working pirouette work to the left.  (His weaker lead to the right I can get haunches in, and compress the canter about 50% of that to the left, an obvious area that we address daily, but that’s coming too).  Monday night, I hurt my back in an unrelated incident involving a rowdy 4 year old child.  Tuesday, my back was tight and painful for part of my ride (which was otherwise fine). Wednesday, therefore, I only lunged him for exercise, and Thursday with my back still not happy, I opted to give us both a day off. Friday started out well, and I was excited to have a nice schooling session before our clinic with Anne Aloi on Saturday.

Not. Almost every ride, Bravo has to “give his opinion”.  Usually, this entails some small bucks, or some squealing, maybe a hop sideways–invariably always occurring to the right–the weaker side in which he doesn’t quite bend around the inside leg.  Friday was no different.  But then, something happened, a switch flipped, and all of a sudden he went from “voicing his opinion” to throwing an all out tantrum.  By the time I was untacked almost 2 hours later, we both looked like we’d been through the ringer. Bravo did not want to be in the ring, and used both “exits”* probably a dozen or more times.  Mostly he popped out that left shoulder, then bulldozed his way left, cantering/hopping sideways to try to get where he wanted to go.  When I tried to thwart these dalliances, which for the last few months I could mostly tactfully ride through, he went further and was eventually rearing (small) like he used to do a year ago.  I would get him forward and listening, only to have a repeat of tantrum throwing a couple minutes later.  Dejected does not begin to describe my feelings–I really thought we were passed such extreme behavior–and I was spent the rest of the day analyzing why this happened and how I should have reacted.

(*While the ring at Brookside has my favorite footing, there is no exterior fence or boundary at the moment.  Therefore, there is no visual containment, and I’m not sure how much/how little this matters to Bravo’s behavior.  Clearly at a show, that little 12″ fence around the sandbox never HELD anyone inside!)

But Saturday was a new day, and I was REALLY looking forward to the clinic. Last clinic, you’ll recall, I had the worst.weekend.ever.  Abscess, run over iPhone, shredded windshield wipers…the list went on.  Also, despite getting tips and pointers from Anne, mostly in a show setting, I’ve never had a LESSON with her before on this horse.  If you go to any shows in the VA or NC areas, you know that Anne has had quite a bit of success the last few years, mostly on young horses, so she is “walking the talk” at the moment.  She also has a real interest in being an effective coach–she wants everyone to feel a difference between the beginning and end of your hour, she wants feedback on her wording and “verbage”–basically she really cares.  She’s also pretty frank, which as a native northerner I quite enjoy–there’s not a “bless your heart” coming from her!  The only negative was only getting one ride (versus one each Saturday and Sunday)–my husband leaves tomorrow for another 3 months in Afghanistan and I wanted to make sure to spend all day Sunday with the family (and by the way, I’m sneaking this post in while he is packing upstairs!).

Bravo settled in fine, and I gave him a really quick lunge to make sure there was no edge, based on the poor rank behavior 24 hours prior.  Once it was our turn in the ring, there was just a bit of looking around, interested but not afraid, and I went right to work. And so did he–as soon as we turned to track right at the trot, he was bounding sideways, headed right for the chairs and golf cart housing the other riders/spectators.  Turkey!  (I’m trying to keep it clean, other more choice words were considered.)  Kick him forward, make him go right, right leg–lots of stuff yelled to me, and we got around.  He tried 2 or 3 smaller attempts as well, and then the big sigh finally came and he relaxed for his lesson.

The gist of the lesson was to slow it down–mentally and physically.  I worry that slower means less engaged–and for many horses I think that might be true.  For Bravo, who was born with a hind leg that wants to reach deep under his body, this is apparently not the case.  The key she wanted me to focus on was FLUIDITY. Slow it down, make it correct, make it fluid, make it relaxed–the heat can always be turned up later with a horse like him.  Slow it down, focus on correct position, relaxing my elbows, relaxing my wrists, pushing my hands to his ears.  We started with alternating shoulder-in to straightness on the 20 meter circle, asking for more length of stride when he was allowed to straighten.  Then that was expanded to shoulder-in on the 20 meter circle to small leg yield to a short diagonal while asking for more stride length.  Finally we alternated 10 meter circles with straight lines asking for the bigger strides once he was straight and connected.  Throughout I was reminded to not be hurried, not be harried, calm the body, calm the mind, visualize a fish swimming in a pond.  I could feel some really good lengthened steps in there, and Anne thinks it will come with time.  I have been cautioned to not let him “run”–a little guy like him will turn into a hamster on a wheel in no time. After a short walk break, we ended on alternating shoulder-in to half pass–again focusing on the slow, relaxed, the fluid.  It felt great, and riding that way let me really make sure my position was as correct as I can make it.  An added bonus is that I may be able to use this type of mental image (as well as the actual embodiment) to help him in anxious moments–I can’t wait to try it tomorrow and see if there is a difference in behavior.  I have time before the finals to try a few new things.

Look Ma, no hands!

At least, I try not to over use them.  Why is the half-halt so darn difficult sometimes?

I’ve had several great rides in a row.  I’ve been riding a lot on “my own” lately, meaning, not having as many lessons.  Mainly, it’s because between the abscess, the weekend away, etc., and then the requisite days to get back on track, it never seems like we’re ready. Additionally, I wanted to spend some time on self-analysis, so that I could feel and fix things on my own and become a bit more independent.  I think it’s working.  Becky has a lot of mirrors, which make this more feasible.  I’ve also been watching TONS of training videos on Dressage Training Online and I think I have a girl-crush on Catherine Haddad.

I have had a developing epiphany (which, by definition, is impossible–I guess it’s more of a realization from which I am coming out of denial) about my hands.  Namely, that I rely to much on them; actually, just the right one.  I don’t remember any other horse that I have ridden in which I was so right hand dominant (I am also right handed).  In the last couple weeks, I’ve realized I’m over using this hand because Bravo is not moving off my right leg into my left rein (tracking right), and then the hand comes in to “fix” this. Admitting you have a problem is the first step in recovery, right?  I’ve made a conscious effort to release that rein and push him into the bend with the right leg instead all this week.  Considering this is a really basic BASIC which should already be confirmed in an almost-Second level horse, I know this means I’m going to be taking a few steps backwards over the next few weeks fixing me, fixing him, fixing me.  Riding the Emmi pony (on whom I don’t do this, sigh) will help with my determination to overcome this fault as well.  But in order to ride a true half-halt while tracking right, and recycling the energy from Bravo’s hind legs through my seat and into receiving hands, I need to fix this.

Every journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.

What do you do when life hands you a whole CRATE of lemonades?

meyer lemons--at least they are yummy

I’m thinking–make Margaritas!

Did you ever have one of those days?  Or in my case lately, two or three of those days?

I had a fantastic ride on Thursday.  Awesome.  Submission-check!  Half-halts-check!  Practicing in a light rain-check!  A credible run through Second level test 1-check! (Sans medium gaits, of course)  Bravo was light, he was responsive, he was sound–truly the reason we riders really do this.  I had a 2-day clinic planned in Wilson NC at Wooten Stables with Anne Aloi, and was really looking forward to spending the weekend away learning, watching, and also having fun with some of my friends.  Friday I planned to have a quick ride after work, clean my tack, pack and prepare the trailer, and give Bravo a bath.  When I arrived I put Bravo in the cross-ties, brushed and tacked up, and hopped on.  And Bravo was lame.  Not just lame–LAME!

@$#&^*^$#^%$*(*^&%%$#!!!!!!!!!

No heat, no pulse, no swelling, positive hoof testers through the Equicast at the toe.  Darn, the bruise is back.  I was only minimally dejected–we’ve been there before and usually a day off put him back right.  A dose of Ketofen later, I finished my original plan to get ready for the weekend.

But it was not meant to be.  Any of it.  I’m still trying to handle myself with grace and aplomb, but really I want to cry.  A call from the barn just as I was about to get in the car started the downward spiral.  Apparently Bravo was standing in the stall on 3 legs. Now what?  When I arrived, there he was, standing with his right fore in the air.  His pastern was puffy and his digital pulse was bounding as I led my rickety boy to the wash stall.  I rasped off the fairly pristine cast, grabbed the hoof testers, and quickly found the abscess. Minimal exploration with the hoof knife revealed a small garden pea-sized cavity in the toe that those pesky bacteria had been excavating overnight.  I packed the hole, added poultice, threw on a boot and decided I would hope for the best and try to enjoy my weekend.  At worst, it should be a weekend with friends, auditing some good instruction; and at best I might be able to actually do a brief lesson on Sunday.

I’ll cut right to the chase.  Bravo did not go totally sound–in fact despite 4 soakings/packings/poultices he actually worsened (I decided to just let the poultice do it’s job and will look for more abscess pockets tomorrow). I zoned out and missed the exit for 264/Wilson and had to grab my iPhone and recalculate my route–adding 15 or so extra minutes to the drive.  I forgot my bag of foods/snacks both to share for our group lunch and containing all the foods that are safe for me to eat (I have dietary restrictions).   An auction I was hotly watching/bidding on for a youth dressage saddle ended and I missed out by $7.  Sunday morning I forgot my aforementioned phone on the bumper of the truck after putting my suitcase into the truck bed–yes, it was recovered, after being run over by a car–and no, there’s not an “app for that”.  Wisely, I opted to follow a friend back to the Raleigh area in case I had (more) problems now that I was phone-less, and spilled my soda on my white T-shirt when we stopped for lunch.  The piece de resistance was watching the rubber of my driver’s side windshield wiper split and fly off during a (thankfully) brief summer thunderstorm, leaving me with about 10 feet of visibility, and then having that same storm decide to briefly dump on me again as I was unloading my poor sad pony into his comfy stall.

And now, once I hit “publish”, I’m going to bed, even though it’s only 6:53 pm.  I’m afraid I might slip in the shower and crack my head open or fall down the stairs and break my leg.

-Robyn