I hab a code.
I haven't been out to see Ashke since our lesson on Monday night. Cassandra has been hand walking all of the horses in training with you, because the temps haven't moved out of the single digits. I was too sick on Wednesday to go out after work and help feed. I have horrible congestion, my ribs and chest are starting to hurt from my cough, I'm not sleeping very well, my ears hurt and I just feel lousy.
Today, I called in sick for the first time in four years. I was running a fever last night and I really don't want to make anyone at work sick.
I probably won't get out to see my pony until tomorrow.
Hopefully today the temps will actually breech 10 degrees.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
TTTT: Muffin
I can't remember a time when I didn't wish for a horse with all my heart. My earliest memories are of riding with my mom all over the wild grasslands of the Fort Hall Reservation in Southern Idaho. All of those horse memories originated with Uncle Merrill, who had his breeding farm at the end of Wolverine Canyon, about 15 miles from where we lived. At that point in my life, fifteen miles was forever, and it felt like a magical world when we were at his place.
One of the first horses I became attached to was a Palomino Appy mare, three years old and green broke, that he had raised from a foal. She was sweet tempered and already going pretty quiet under saddle, except for when my father would try and ride her. We kept her at our place for a spring and summer and I remember the dust rising in a big cloud as she bucked and kicked until my father flew from her back and landed on the roof of our chicken coop. She didn't like him much, but would graze for hours with me perched on her back, six year old hands wrapped around the saddle horn.
My very first ride by myself was on her back.
It was for my sixth birthday. We had trekked to Uncle Merrill's ranch to go on a trail ride. For the very first time I was going to ride by myself, instead of riding behind my mom. I was set up in a saddle that was too big for me, with about fifteen feet of reins for me to handle. Uncle Merrill told me to keep the reins short, but he didn't explain what that meant. I did. They were about 10" long from where I had my six year old fists clenched to the end of the reins, leaving a loop of rein that hung down almost to the ground between my fists and the bridle. My father, mounted on the big red mare with my little sister in front of him, didn't pay any attention. Instead he turned the horse and led the way down the dirt driveway.
The road cut next to a high ditch bank lined with stubby Russian Olive trees set so close together there was only a couple of feet between each trunk. This is one of the ways in which Westerners build fences . . . by planting trees so close together that the branches grow into and through each other, creating a living barrier of bark and twig and in this case, three inch long knife sharp needles.
Leaves are alternate, simple, with thorns or spines.
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One of the first horses I became attached to was a Palomino Appy mare, three years old and green broke, that he had raised from a foal. She was sweet tempered and already going pretty quiet under saddle, except for when my father would try and ride her. We kept her at our place for a spring and summer and I remember the dust rising in a big cloud as she bucked and kicked until my father flew from her back and landed on the roof of our chicken coop. She didn't like him much, but would graze for hours with me perched on her back, six year old hands wrapped around the saddle horn.
My very first ride by myself was on her back.
It was for my sixth birthday. We had trekked to Uncle Merrill's ranch to go on a trail ride. For the very first time I was going to ride by myself, instead of riding behind my mom. I was set up in a saddle that was too big for me, with about fifteen feet of reins for me to handle. Uncle Merrill told me to keep the reins short, but he didn't explain what that meant. I did. They were about 10" long from where I had my six year old fists clenched to the end of the reins, leaving a loop of rein that hung down almost to the ground between my fists and the bridle. My father, mounted on the big red mare with my little sister in front of him, didn't pay any attention. Instead he turned the horse and led the way down the dirt driveway.
The road cut next to a high ditch bank lined with stubby Russian Olive trees set so close together there was only a couple of feet between each trunk. This is one of the ways in which Westerners build fences . . . by planting trees so close together that the branches grow into and through each other, creating a living barrier of bark and twig and in this case, three inch long knife sharp needles.
Leaves are alternate, simple, with thorns or spines.
The Russian olive is a shrub or small tree, often leaning or twisted and
distorted. It has an open crown and often thorny branches.
Itis native to Europe and western Asia. It is commonly used as a windbreak
and wildlife cover and food.
This particular ditch had Russian Olive trees on both banks, leaving a wide, deep channel for the water to flow for flood irrigation. At the end of the drive, there was a dirt track that cut up the bank and headed up into the hills behind Uncle Merrill's place. (In my teen years I went dirt biking on that trail. Such a strange juxtaposition, in retrospect.) Muffin followed the big red mare as we headed up that trail. My mom and Merrill were still in the stockyard with their horses.
I can't tell you why my father didn't notice the reins. You'd think if your six year old was riding for the first time you would pay attention to that sort of thing, but he didn't. We climbed a pretty steep trail that switchbacked up the hill until we came to a little curve in the trail that widened out and overlooked the stockyard. I remember looking down the sloping hill to the multitude of corrals and lean-tos, seeing Uncle Merrill and my mom just leaving the barnyard. The hill down from us was sloping and grass covered, but basically pasture land between where we sat watching and waiting for the other horses to catch up to us. Muffin saw them too.
The most direct route between two points is a straight line. That's pretty much all horses know about geometry and all they really care to learn about geography.
Muffin headed home. Straight down the hill, slower at first because it was steep, then picking up speed as we neared the bottom of the curve. By the time she hit the flat she was galloping. I had my arms stretched as far over my head as I could, trying without success to pull back on the reins. I did manage to keep them off the ground so they didn't trip her up as she galloped her way to the other horses.
Remember the straight line premise? Yeah, that applies to Russian Olive Trees as well. She ducked her head and started to thread her way through. I gave up any attempt to try and slow her down, and instead I ducked behind the saddle horn. I must have looked like a monkey. I drew my legs up to my hips, grabbed the horn in both hands (still holding the ends of the reins) and tried to hide my body behind the horn of the western saddle I was riding in. The horn is about four inches tall and maybe six inches wide at it's widest point.
The thorns in the trees ripped at my, tearing clothes and hair. I was in a short sleeve shirt, and I watched the thorns scratch bright red tears in the skin of my arms and shoulders. I pressed my face into the pommel of the saddle as Muffin scrambled down one side of the canal, with it's corresponding lack of tree limbs to duck, then lunged back up the other side, branches whipping past me. By that point I was crying in big heaving sobs.
On the far side of the canal, Muffin slid down the canal bank, finally freed from the trees, and plopped herself into the middle of the road right in front of my mom. I was damn near hysterical at that point, blood spotting my face, both eyes still intact (thank goodness), tears splashing down onto the horn of the saddle.
I think my mom would have comforted me, if it had just been the two of us. However, Uncle Merrill's bellow knocked those thoughts out of existence.
"Stop your bellowing or get off my horse! You gonna cry, you don't get to ride my horses."
I stopped. Immediately. I smothered the pain and bit down on my lower lip. There was nothing I wanted more than to ride. (And do I really need to wonder where my stoic acceptance of pain when it is linked to horses came from? Hurt or not, bleeding or not, you stay on and ride.)
"Shorten those reins!" Merrill snapped.
I tried, but really had no idea what he was talking about. In disgust he moved his dun forward and showed me how to shorten the reins, where to hold them in relation to the pressure on the horse's bit, and how to properly thread them through my fingers so I had control, even at the age of six.
My mom suggested that he tie a knot in the reins, so I would have a marker that would tell me where I should hold them.
"No one rides my horses with a knot in their reins. If she doesn't want to ride properly, she can get the hell off."
I still can't ride with a knot in the reins. I don't remember the rest of the day. I would assume we went on our trail ride and everything was fine. It certainly did not curb my desire to ride. Or to own a horse. Or to ignore my own physical discomfort when on horseback.
The most direct route between two points is a straight line. That's pretty much all horses know about geometry and all they really care to learn about geography.
Muffin headed home. Straight down the hill, slower at first because it was steep, then picking up speed as we neared the bottom of the curve. By the time she hit the flat she was galloping. I had my arms stretched as far over my head as I could, trying without success to pull back on the reins. I did manage to keep them off the ground so they didn't trip her up as she galloped her way to the other horses.
Remember the straight line premise? Yeah, that applies to Russian Olive Trees as well. She ducked her head and started to thread her way through. I gave up any attempt to try and slow her down, and instead I ducked behind the saddle horn. I must have looked like a monkey. I drew my legs up to my hips, grabbed the horn in both hands (still holding the ends of the reins) and tried to hide my body behind the horn of the western saddle I was riding in. The horn is about four inches tall and maybe six inches wide at it's widest point.
The thorns in the trees ripped at my, tearing clothes and hair. I was in a short sleeve shirt, and I watched the thorns scratch bright red tears in the skin of my arms and shoulders. I pressed my face into the pommel of the saddle as Muffin scrambled down one side of the canal, with it's corresponding lack of tree limbs to duck, then lunged back up the other side, branches whipping past me. By that point I was crying in big heaving sobs.
On the far side of the canal, Muffin slid down the canal bank, finally freed from the trees, and plopped herself into the middle of the road right in front of my mom. I was damn near hysterical at that point, blood spotting my face, both eyes still intact (thank goodness), tears splashing down onto the horn of the saddle.
I think my mom would have comforted me, if it had just been the two of us. However, Uncle Merrill's bellow knocked those thoughts out of existence.
"Stop your bellowing or get off my horse! You gonna cry, you don't get to ride my horses."
I stopped. Immediately. I smothered the pain and bit down on my lower lip. There was nothing I wanted more than to ride. (And do I really need to wonder where my stoic acceptance of pain when it is linked to horses came from? Hurt or not, bleeding or not, you stay on and ride.)
"Shorten those reins!" Merrill snapped.
I tried, but really had no idea what he was talking about. In disgust he moved his dun forward and showed me how to shorten the reins, where to hold them in relation to the pressure on the horse's bit, and how to properly thread them through my fingers so I had control, even at the age of six.
My mom suggested that he tie a knot in the reins, so I would have a marker that would tell me where I should hold them.
"No one rides my horses with a knot in their reins. If she doesn't want to ride properly, she can get the hell off."
I still can't ride with a knot in the reins. I don't remember the rest of the day. I would assume we went on our trail ride and everything was fine. It certainly did not curb my desire to ride. Or to own a horse. Or to ignore my own physical discomfort when on horseback.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Letter of Thanks
Dear,
Thank you Arabians Ltd for breeding Thee Ashke, son of Thee Asil out of Bint Kieshta, born on April 17th at your farm in Waco, TX. Thank you for raising him in your foal program in such a way that he loves and trusts people, for it is that love and trust that sustained him through his long, dark ordeal. It is that beginning that imbued Ashke with such a great heart, with such affection for everyone he meets, with his verbal communication with the barn crew, regular riders, our trainer, myself and my family. His ground manners are impeccable and even when he is excited or nervous he is respectful of my space.
Thank you Judy, for deciding when he was 10 months old that he was worth saving. I'm sure surgery to repair his fractured patella was not recouped in his sale price. However, thank you for seeing him as an unique individual with potential, despite the fractured leg, and not simply as a business decision. Thank you for spending the time to rehab him before sending him out into the world to find his own way.
Thank you, Steve, for not understanding what you were given. For dismissing this wonderful steed as small and unbreakable. Thank you for not being interested in saving him. Thank you for not "breaking" him, either physically or emotionally. Thank you for not being invested enough to bond with him, since that might have destroyed his will and indomitable spirit. Thank you for giving away something invaluable while drunk at a party.
Thank you J, for putting up with credit card bills and hair covered clothes, and me being gone in the evening, for making dinner and helping with homework, for riding your bike on our trails, for towing the horse trailer, for allowing me to make mistakes with tack. Thank you T, for letting me make Ashke a priority, for doing your homework by yourself, for being supportive and understanding when I want to ride. Thank you both for making this a reality for our family.
Thank you, N, for showing both of us what consistent and persistent care, consideration and correct work could do for Ashke. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement as I found my way toward a new riding style, new method of thinking about riding, and for our trainer. I'm not sure we would have progressed as much or as quickly without your guidance and support. Thanks for being as obsessed and willing to discuss every little thing related to horses, and dressage and life. Thank you for introducing me to Diane and holistic veterinary care.
Thank you blogreaders and bloggers for your support and encouragement and all of the comments. It's been wonderful to meet others with the same passion in this journey, to learn and share and commiserate and recommend. Some of you feel like family and I wouldn't have met you without this medium.
Thank you, Ashke, for being a rockstar, for bumping me in the back of the shoulder when we walk, for whinnying when you hear my voice for the first time, for whinnying at me when I walk back to the grooming stall after going to the tack room, for licking my face and hands and shirt, for tugging on my clothing, for putting up with my struggles to get back into a balanced, relaxed riding space, for your eagerness to explore new venues, for your sweet smell and how much you love it when I groom you, for waiting for me, for not giving up, for trying, for listening, for being wonderful and perfect and mine.
Thank you Arabians Ltd for breeding Thee Ashke, son of Thee Asil out of Bint Kieshta, born on April 17th at your farm in Waco, TX. Thank you for raising him in your foal program in such a way that he loves and trusts people, for it is that love and trust that sustained him through his long, dark ordeal. It is that beginning that imbued Ashke with such a great heart, with such affection for everyone he meets, with his verbal communication with the barn crew, regular riders, our trainer, myself and my family. His ground manners are impeccable and even when he is excited or nervous he is respectful of my space.
Thank you Judy, for deciding when he was 10 months old that he was worth saving. I'm sure surgery to repair his fractured patella was not recouped in his sale price. However, thank you for seeing him as an unique individual with potential, despite the fractured leg, and not simply as a business decision. Thank you for spending the time to rehab him before sending him out into the world to find his own way.
Thank you, Steve, for not understanding what you were given. For dismissing this wonderful steed as small and unbreakable. Thank you for not being interested in saving him. Thank you for not "breaking" him, either physically or emotionally. Thank you for not being invested enough to bond with him, since that might have destroyed his will and indomitable spirit. Thank you for giving away something invaluable while drunk at a party.
Thank you J, for putting up with credit card bills and hair covered clothes, and me being gone in the evening, for making dinner and helping with homework, for riding your bike on our trails, for towing the horse trailer, for allowing me to make mistakes with tack. Thank you T, for letting me make Ashke a priority, for doing your homework by yourself, for being supportive and understanding when I want to ride. Thank you both for making this a reality for our family.
Thank you, N, for showing both of us what consistent and persistent care, consideration and correct work could do for Ashke. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement as I found my way toward a new riding style, new method of thinking about riding, and for our trainer. I'm not sure we would have progressed as much or as quickly without your guidance and support. Thanks for being as obsessed and willing to discuss every little thing related to horses, and dressage and life. Thank you for introducing me to Diane and holistic veterinary care.
Thank you blogreaders and bloggers for your support and encouragement and all of the comments. It's been wonderful to meet others with the same passion in this journey, to learn and share and commiserate and recommend. Some of you feel like family and I wouldn't have met you without this medium.
Thank you, Ashke, for being a rockstar, for bumping me in the back of the shoulder when we walk, for whinnying when you hear my voice for the first time, for whinnying at me when I walk back to the grooming stall after going to the tack room, for licking my face and hands and shirt, for tugging on my clothing, for putting up with my struggles to get back into a balanced, relaxed riding space, for your eagerness to explore new venues, for your sweet smell and how much you love it when I groom you, for waiting for me, for not giving up, for trying, for listening, for being wonderful and perfect and mine.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
The Mind Boggles
They come in Peppermint or Golden Apple.
Peppermint flavored pop-up wipes make bit cleaning fun! Treat your horse and yourself to a clean, tasty bit every time.
Regular use of Peppermint Bit Wipes promotes acceptance of the bit, and keeps bits sparkling clean. All natural, human grade ingredients leave no oily after feel like traditional wipes.
Perfect for many uses- clean nostrils, hooves, dock, faces, and hands. Canister of 40 7" x 8" wipes.
Regular use of Peppermint Bit Wipes promotes acceptance of the bit, and keeps bits sparkling clean. All natural, human grade ingredients leave no oily after feel like traditional wipes.
Perfect for many uses- clean nostrils, hooves, dock, faces, and hands. Canister of 40 7" x 8" wipes.
Okay, so why would you use them on your horses hooves, their dock or your own face. Seriously.
Dirty and sticking zippers are a thing of the past! Pharmaka Zipper
Saver Spray cleans and lubricates zippers, prolonging their life and
reducing the chance of blowouts and damage. Simply apply to the length
of the zipper and work the zipper several times to evenly distribute the
product. Does not smear or stain leather and clothing.
I'm pretty sure this is German for WD-40. I'm not believing it doesn't stain leather or clothing.
Trophy Tails Hunter Tail Extensions are made from 100% natural un-dyed
horsehair taken from LIVE horses. Only live horses that are well cared
for have the glossy healthy hair that we feel will blend with your
horse’s beautiful healthy tail. One pound tails come standard 38 inches
long and half pound tails come standard 37 inches long. This is
typically much longer than is required on most horses, but you are given
the most hair for your money, knowing that you can trim down to a
PERFECT fit. Remember, you can always trim, but you can’t add!
Soooo, let me get this right . . . you are going to spend $160 for a horse tail and then cut it?
The EQyss Premier Color Intensifying System leaves your horses coat shiny and enhances the color.
How? How does this bottle of shampoo and conditioner enhance the color? Does it work better on one color over another? It didn't really say.
The Humane Twitch can be used by one person. Aluminum handle, cotton tie and swivel snap.
Let's not fool ourselves here, this twitch is no more humane than any other twitch. And yes, I know that sometimes they are necessary, but I would never say they are humane. It does, however, allow you to twitch your horse and then wrap the handle with the cotton tie and snap it to the halter, leaving the user hands free. Nice, right?
Sorry, just a few items I found while surfing Smart-paks website. Had to share.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Canter
Tonight I had a lesson with Cassandra and by 6:30 the indoor was completely empty, which meant Ashke was completely focused on me. I talked to Cassandra about the tripping incident yesterday and asked her what she thought. She said the footing in the indoor is deep, he is less confident to the right and doing a transition on a curve might be more difficult for him. She does not think this is a back strength issue, since he is maintaining the contact and his frame on his own, not something I'm forcing him into. She thinks it's more likely a balance and confidence thing, which I am contributing to, since I am less confident and more scared when we move to the right. Tonight, and for awhile, going forward, I am going to straighten him out before asking him to transition downward, so he's not trying to figure out how to transition at the same time as he is trying to balance on the circle.
I remembered something since yesterday morning that Ashke told the psychic . . . he told her that he wanted me to tell him using words what I wanted him to do, so tonight we did that. I explained to him verbally what I wanted him to do, what we were going to try, and then he also got lots of verbal praise after each attempt. He was pretty much preening by the end of the lesson.
We started off on the trot to the right and I asked Ashke for more bend through his body, while Cassandra coached me on using my calf to encourage the bend. As we were trotting the circle, I verbally told him what I wanted his body to feel like, how it should feel to him to bend around my leg and I'll be damned if he didn't do it. Two circles and he had it. I could feel the difference and spent a lot of time watching where we were going instead of staring at his head. We tried that in both directions and he did really well.
Then Cassandra explained the chewy trot, (the technical explanation for us non-dressage people) and what it demonstrated. Ashke must have been listening, because when she talked us through how to do it (at the trot, I length my reins and ask him to reach down for contact, keeping himself relaxed through his topline) he did it. Not for very long, but he reached down for contact when I relaxed it slowly. Cassandra said I didn't just want to drop contact, but to lengthen as he kept reaching for it. He did awesome. Then we did the long, low walk with him reaching for contact. I told Cassandra it felt like he was looking for a spot to roll. She said to take him to the buckle if I could, and he did, reaching all the way down and rubbing his nose on the ground as he walked. Silly boy.
Then we cantered. As soon as I started thinking about it, I couldn't get him to trot in a rhythm. He was flipping his head and trying to anticipate when I was going to ask him to canter. I stopped him and said to Cassandra, "I must be doing something different when I start thinking about cantering because it makes him really upset." Cassandra said that I get really tense through the shoulders, so I worked on relaxing my shoulders and breathing, thinking about nothing but trotting. We tried twice to pick up the canter and I think Ashke was a little confused about what I was asking. I held the dressage whip and just flicked the tip the third time I asked for the canter, and he picked it right up. It was an amazing canter. He was relaxed and confident and forward and his head was down and he was using his back. When we went to transition down, I straightened him out, verbally asked for the trot and then used my seat to bring him down. His transition was perfect.
Then we tried the right. I dropped the dressage whip, because once he knew what I wanted it just made him nervous. It was much harder to relax and trust him going to the right. I find it harder to ride to the right and I'm positive now that it is messing with his confidence. Once I acknowledged that I have a harder time trusting him to the right and that this is my issue, he settled down a lot. We finally got a decent trot and I asked him to canter. It was breathtaking. I made sure we were moving in a straight line for the transition to a trot and asked for it verbally and he shifted down smoothly. I was so proud of him.
At the canter in both directions he was collected and smooth, and so light in my hands I could have wept. And I rode it without holding on, without my back bothering me, without the fear.
Then we rode Intro Test 1 as my introduction to a dressage test for the schooling show in March. Ashke must have listened to Cassandra explain it to me, because he was amazing. Me managed to make it through all of the parts, even if the chewy trot wasn't as chewy as we could have hoped, but I was so proud of my boy. And we have stuff we can practice, like trotting half a 20 meter circle, then picking up the canter (he did it on the correct lead in one stride) for half the arena. I can practice the elements of the test in a variety of combinations, so he doesn't memorize the movements, because trust me, he would. He really was incredible.
And the canter issue, was all me. Maybe not the trip and stumble yesterday, which I have an effective plan for, but the lack of confidence, especially to the right, has been all me. My hesitation and lack of confidence to the right has compounded Ashke's issues, since I am holding onto stuff he isn't. We are getting closer and closer to a balanced and collected canter in both directions with each ride and I am hoping that I can overcome my hesitation so I'm not communicating it to him the next time we canter. He gets the rest of the week off, because it's suppose to be "freeze your tits off cold" (or whatever body part you wish to freeze off). We ride again on Saturday.
Walking on air. So very proud.
I remembered something since yesterday morning that Ashke told the psychic . . . he told her that he wanted me to tell him using words what I wanted him to do, so tonight we did that. I explained to him verbally what I wanted him to do, what we were going to try, and then he also got lots of verbal praise after each attempt. He was pretty much preening by the end of the lesson.
We started off on the trot to the right and I asked Ashke for more bend through his body, while Cassandra coached me on using my calf to encourage the bend. As we were trotting the circle, I verbally told him what I wanted his body to feel like, how it should feel to him to bend around my leg and I'll be damned if he didn't do it. Two circles and he had it. I could feel the difference and spent a lot of time watching where we were going instead of staring at his head. We tried that in both directions and he did really well.
Then Cassandra explained the chewy trot, (the technical explanation for us non-dressage people) and what it demonstrated. Ashke must have been listening, because when she talked us through how to do it (at the trot, I length my reins and ask him to reach down for contact, keeping himself relaxed through his topline) he did it. Not for very long, but he reached down for contact when I relaxed it slowly. Cassandra said I didn't just want to drop contact, but to lengthen as he kept reaching for it. He did awesome. Then we did the long, low walk with him reaching for contact. I told Cassandra it felt like he was looking for a spot to roll. She said to take him to the buckle if I could, and he did, reaching all the way down and rubbing his nose on the ground as he walked. Silly boy.
Then we cantered. As soon as I started thinking about it, I couldn't get him to trot in a rhythm. He was flipping his head and trying to anticipate when I was going to ask him to canter. I stopped him and said to Cassandra, "I must be doing something different when I start thinking about cantering because it makes him really upset." Cassandra said that I get really tense through the shoulders, so I worked on relaxing my shoulders and breathing, thinking about nothing but trotting. We tried twice to pick up the canter and I think Ashke was a little confused about what I was asking. I held the dressage whip and just flicked the tip the third time I asked for the canter, and he picked it right up. It was an amazing canter. He was relaxed and confident and forward and his head was down and he was using his back. When we went to transition down, I straightened him out, verbally asked for the trot and then used my seat to bring him down. His transition was perfect.
Then we tried the right. I dropped the dressage whip, because once he knew what I wanted it just made him nervous. It was much harder to relax and trust him going to the right. I find it harder to ride to the right and I'm positive now that it is messing with his confidence. Once I acknowledged that I have a harder time trusting him to the right and that this is my issue, he settled down a lot. We finally got a decent trot and I asked him to canter. It was breathtaking. I made sure we were moving in a straight line for the transition to a trot and asked for it verbally and he shifted down smoothly. I was so proud of him.
At the canter in both directions he was collected and smooth, and so light in my hands I could have wept. And I rode it without holding on, without my back bothering me, without the fear.
Then we rode Intro Test 1 as my introduction to a dressage test for the schooling show in March. Ashke must have listened to Cassandra explain it to me, because he was amazing. Me managed to make it through all of the parts, even if the chewy trot wasn't as chewy as we could have hoped, but I was so proud of my boy. And we have stuff we can practice, like trotting half a 20 meter circle, then picking up the canter (he did it on the correct lead in one stride) for half the arena. I can practice the elements of the test in a variety of combinations, so he doesn't memorize the movements, because trust me, he would. He really was incredible.
And the canter issue, was all me. Maybe not the trip and stumble yesterday, which I have an effective plan for, but the lack of confidence, especially to the right, has been all me. My hesitation and lack of confidence to the right has compounded Ashke's issues, since I am holding onto stuff he isn't. We are getting closer and closer to a balanced and collected canter in both directions with each ride and I am hoping that I can overcome my hesitation so I'm not communicating it to him the next time we canter. He gets the rest of the week off, because it's suppose to be "freeze your tits off cold" (or whatever body part you wish to freeze off). We ride again on Saturday.
Walking on air. So very proud.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Too Close
I almost died today.
This would not be the first time in my life that I have experienced that feeling, just the first time in a long while. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I tempted fate more than once as a kid. If I hadn't had my head turned to the right when Queenie fell on the road, I probably would not have survived that fall. Or if I had been riding in a saddle. I seriously can't count the number of times I've come off a horse, sometimes of my own accord, sometimes not, sometimes having experienced fairly significant pain and broken things and long term issues with my poor abused body. As Indiana Jones said in Raiders, "It's not the years, it's the mileage." I feel like I have over 500,000 miles at this point.
When I started riding again, being seriously hurt in the pursuit of this passion was a major issue for me mentally. I am no longer single and young. I am middle-aged, with an almost 14 year old who would be emotionally and financially devastated by my death or serious injury. I have responsibilities. I mentally weigh the risks against the rewards and take my family into consideration when making decisions. That is why I have no issue or pride where being safe is concerned and if I have to get off and hand walk Ashke home so I am safe, then that is what I will do.
For over a year, one of my biggest issues with cantering Ashke is his tendency to trip. I'm pretty sure it is a back strength issue and a retraining his muscles issue. He's had such a hard time learning to pick up his feet that even trotting through caveletti has been a real issue. I have seen him gain strength and ability, especially since starting dressage, and I know it's a work in progress, but days like today really shake my confidence.
And I was thinking on Monday of last week how proud I was that he wasn't tripping as much any more.
I rode early with Erika on Cassini. There was no one else in the arena and I told Erika I was going to work on my figure eights, keeping Ashke working on changes of direction and working off the rail. Erika also takes lessons with Cassandra and is working on the same thing, so we played follow the leader. We started at the walk, then progressed to the trot. For the first time I wanted to try doing the exercise at the canter. Erika opted to move into the middle of one circle and let me try the canter by myself. We did the figure eight, dropping to a trot to change direction. Ashke actually did really well, although he wants a little less contact moving to the right. I think I've been holding him too tight and he is fighting that pressure. Remembering what N had said about horses feeling claustrophobic, I gave him a little more on the right, while still retaining the contact. He relaxed a lot more and kept his head down. I did a double circuit to the left (so he is still listening to me rather than predicting what I am going to ask) and he had a less than smooth downward transition to the trot. It almost feels like he's not sure where he is supposed to put his feet when he goes from cantering to trotting. I think it was also influenced by two riders bringing their horses into the indoor during our circles. I told Erika that I was going to try the right lead again, before the riders brought their horses into the arena. He picked up his right lead correctly and as we came around the second time he saw the new horses entering the ring, threw his head up and braced, and tripped.
Badly.
I seriously thought we were going down and it would have been a very bad wreck. The kind where the horse flips forward and lands on the rider.
He caught himself on my outside rein and was able to get his feet under him without hitting the ground on his knees. It was a close thing. We stopped and I looked at Erika. Her face was white and her eyes were huge. She said, "That was almost really bad."
We finished up our ride, working on laterals from the quarterline to the outside rail in both directions, then turns and spins and sidepassing. Then J showed up and it was time to go. Walking Ashke back to the barn, I thought, "Not going to canter any more" and knew that for fear. The other voice in my head said, "it is getting better each ride and you just have to keep progressing." The problem with the voices (other than the fact that I'm insane) is that they are both right. At what point does my responsibility to my son over shadow my desire to right my horse at any gait, on any terrain, on any given day.
I'd like to believe that second voice. I wish I didn't feel that this was a real threat to my safety. I wish I believed he was as sure footed as I think he should be. I wish I could impress on N that this is one of the reasons I am hesitant to canter. Both times I've had a horse fall with me, we were cantering. I really don't want it to happen again.
I have a lesson with Cassandra tomorrow night. I will talk to her about it then. I know that we haven't really done a lot of canter-trot-canter transitions and I would love to believe that as we continue to work on them, he will get better. Our history tells me this will happen, since tripping has been an issue since I started trying to canter him, especially in the indoor arena. This is the first time he's tripped in several months, and he was startled by the other horses, distracted and off-balance.
But still.
I refuse to be conquered by fear. Responsibility however, that is a different story.
This would not be the first time in my life that I have experienced that feeling, just the first time in a long while. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I tempted fate more than once as a kid. If I hadn't had my head turned to the right when Queenie fell on the road, I probably would not have survived that fall. Or if I had been riding in a saddle. I seriously can't count the number of times I've come off a horse, sometimes of my own accord, sometimes not, sometimes having experienced fairly significant pain and broken things and long term issues with my poor abused body. As Indiana Jones said in Raiders, "It's not the years, it's the mileage." I feel like I have over 500,000 miles at this point.
When I started riding again, being seriously hurt in the pursuit of this passion was a major issue for me mentally. I am no longer single and young. I am middle-aged, with an almost 14 year old who would be emotionally and financially devastated by my death or serious injury. I have responsibilities. I mentally weigh the risks against the rewards and take my family into consideration when making decisions. That is why I have no issue or pride where being safe is concerned and if I have to get off and hand walk Ashke home so I am safe, then that is what I will do.
For over a year, one of my biggest issues with cantering Ashke is his tendency to trip. I'm pretty sure it is a back strength issue and a retraining his muscles issue. He's had such a hard time learning to pick up his feet that even trotting through caveletti has been a real issue. I have seen him gain strength and ability, especially since starting dressage, and I know it's a work in progress, but days like today really shake my confidence.
And I was thinking on Monday of last week how proud I was that he wasn't tripping as much any more.
I rode early with Erika on Cassini. There was no one else in the arena and I told Erika I was going to work on my figure eights, keeping Ashke working on changes of direction and working off the rail. Erika also takes lessons with Cassandra and is working on the same thing, so we played follow the leader. We started at the walk, then progressed to the trot. For the first time I wanted to try doing the exercise at the canter. Erika opted to move into the middle of one circle and let me try the canter by myself. We did the figure eight, dropping to a trot to change direction. Ashke actually did really well, although he wants a little less contact moving to the right. I think I've been holding him too tight and he is fighting that pressure. Remembering what N had said about horses feeling claustrophobic, I gave him a little more on the right, while still retaining the contact. He relaxed a lot more and kept his head down. I did a double circuit to the left (so he is still listening to me rather than predicting what I am going to ask) and he had a less than smooth downward transition to the trot. It almost feels like he's not sure where he is supposed to put his feet when he goes from cantering to trotting. I think it was also influenced by two riders bringing their horses into the indoor during our circles. I told Erika that I was going to try the right lead again, before the riders brought their horses into the arena. He picked up his right lead correctly and as we came around the second time he saw the new horses entering the ring, threw his head up and braced, and tripped.
Badly.
I seriously thought we were going down and it would have been a very bad wreck. The kind where the horse flips forward and lands on the rider.
He caught himself on my outside rein and was able to get his feet under him without hitting the ground on his knees. It was a close thing. We stopped and I looked at Erika. Her face was white and her eyes were huge. She said, "That was almost really bad."
We finished up our ride, working on laterals from the quarterline to the outside rail in both directions, then turns and spins and sidepassing. Then J showed up and it was time to go. Walking Ashke back to the barn, I thought, "Not going to canter any more" and knew that for fear. The other voice in my head said, "it is getting better each ride and you just have to keep progressing." The problem with the voices (other than the fact that I'm insane) is that they are both right. At what point does my responsibility to my son over shadow my desire to right my horse at any gait, on any terrain, on any given day.
I'd like to believe that second voice. I wish I didn't feel that this was a real threat to my safety. I wish I believed he was as sure footed as I think he should be. I wish I could impress on N that this is one of the reasons I am hesitant to canter. Both times I've had a horse fall with me, we were cantering. I really don't want it to happen again.
I have a lesson with Cassandra tomorrow night. I will talk to her about it then. I know that we haven't really done a lot of canter-trot-canter transitions and I would love to believe that as we continue to work on them, he will get better. Our history tells me this will happen, since tripping has been an issue since I started trying to canter him, especially in the indoor arena. This is the first time he's tripped in several months, and he was startled by the other horses, distracted and off-balance.
But still.
I refuse to be conquered by fear. Responsibility however, that is a different story.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Sweetheart
I was supposed to go to the barn this morning to ride with N and Cali. It was snowing and a high of 23. We are the House of Sick, right now, and I just couldn't find the energy to go out this morning. Cassandra had a Show Season Planning meeting at 4 and I really didn't want to drive for an hour in the snow twice today. So, I bailed on the riding part of my day, choosing to hang out at home instead. I headed to the barn about 2:30 with the intention of letting Ashke play in the snow in the outdoor for ten minutes or so before the planning meeting.
When I got there, F was getting out of her car carrying her new dressage bridle. She found a bit similar to the one Cassandra has been riding Amaar in and brought it out to try it on Amaar. They are going to do a lesson on Monday to see how he goes in it and they are also moving him into the shed row so Cassandra can catch him. He has been very evasive. I asked F is she wanted to run Amaar with Ashke and she said that sounded like a plan. Ashke greeted me with whinnies when he heard my voice, then shoved his head into the halter when I got to his stall. (According to N, he was very upset that she was there this morning and I wasn't. He whinnied for me non-stop for forty-five minutes. Good thing the barn crew likes him.) When I walked him outside to meet Amaar, he was very snorty and dancy, not rude with it, but very up. He loves playing in the snow.
As we were walking down the slight slope from the barn to the outdoor, my foot slipped on the ice under the snow and I lurched sideways, kind of stumbling into him. He stopped and braced, a soft nicker coming from him and turned his head to make sure I was okay. I straightened and Ashke shoved his nose in my face, licking my chin and cheek, soft whickers coming from him. I was laughing so hard, I had a hard time getting him to stop. My Arabian, you know, the breed known for being a "hot" horse, snorty and dancy, positioned himself under my hand and walked solid and steady through the snow, his head dipped, watching me to make sure I didn't slip again. It was the sweetest thing, ever.
We turned him and Amaar loose and I video taped them.
If two grey horses run through the snow and you can't see them are they still running?
When I got there, F was getting out of her car carrying her new dressage bridle. She found a bit similar to the one Cassandra has been riding Amaar in and brought it out to try it on Amaar. They are going to do a lesson on Monday to see how he goes in it and they are also moving him into the shed row so Cassandra can catch him. He has been very evasive. I asked F is she wanted to run Amaar with Ashke and she said that sounded like a plan. Ashke greeted me with whinnies when he heard my voice, then shoved his head into the halter when I got to his stall. (According to N, he was very upset that she was there this morning and I wasn't. He whinnied for me non-stop for forty-five minutes. Good thing the barn crew likes him.) When I walked him outside to meet Amaar, he was very snorty and dancy, not rude with it, but very up. He loves playing in the snow.
As we were walking down the slight slope from the barn to the outdoor, my foot slipped on the ice under the snow and I lurched sideways, kind of stumbling into him. He stopped and braced, a soft nicker coming from him and turned his head to make sure I was okay. I straightened and Ashke shoved his nose in my face, licking my chin and cheek, soft whickers coming from him. I was laughing so hard, I had a hard time getting him to stop. My Arabian, you know, the breed known for being a "hot" horse, snorty and dancy, positioned himself under my hand and walked solid and steady through the snow, his head dipped, watching me to make sure I didn't slip again. It was the sweetest thing, ever.
We turned him and Amaar loose and I video taped them.
If two grey horses run through the snow and you can't see them are they still running?
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