Brian Sabo Clinic Report - Sunday

Much like the previous day, my Sunday wake-up time was a cheerful 6:00. I'd resigned myself to this fact, though, and got up without grumbling too much about internal clocks. I wandered over to say hi to Pandora, toss her some more hay, and refill her water buckets.

I must note that I didn't have to muck her stall all weekend - I guess the stabling fee covered mucking. Score.

We rolled out at about 9:00, much earlier than yesterday, but we wanted to watch everyone else's XC rounds.

Several times over the course of the weekend, if someone was having trouble with leads, Brian said this: "A flying change or a change through the trot does not school them to land on the correct lead, because it's not much more difficult to do. To school for the correct lead, you must bring them to a walk on a straight line, get your correct bend then pick up the canter from the walk." Alternatively, you could walk-halt-reinback-walk-canter, or walk, pirouette away from the inside leg of your desired lead, and then canter. Works remarkably well, from what I saw.

Another common theme was to concentrate on keeping the hind legs moving, not telling the horse to jump. "If you keep the hind legs moving, the horse will figure out when to jump. But if you're telling the horse 'JUMP' whenever you want him to take off, then you can never ever be wrong, because you're not allowing him to learn to figure it out for himself." As long as the hind legs keep pushing, you'll get over the fence eventually.

For this same reason, he prefers several clucks or kisses (to encourage continued forward motion) rather than one big cluck or kiss, or worse yet, a 'HUP!' (which cues the jump). In fact, HUP! is apparently an acronym of a french word that means "I'm a freaking idiot who can't ride."

Did I mention he has a sense of humor? ;-)

While watching the Training-level group, I heard a lot about the 95% rule: if you're jumping a post-and-rail fence followed by a ditch, water, wall, or bank, 95% of the time the horse will come in close to the fence. This affected how you should ride, i.e., don't push your horse for the long spot.

Brian consistently told riders NOT to kick their horse back up into the canter if it drops into a trot on the approach. The legs should say 'keep going,' but you don't want to transition upward. It's part of the whole "maintain" section of the approach that he spoke about before and I explained yesterday. If you keep the trot, you can encourage the hind legs to keep moving in a nice carrying gait - but if you kick them into a canter for the last few strides, they'll be taking long, forehandy strides and it's not a good way to jump a fence.

He also said that he will not move a horse from Training to Prelim until it can canter down a line to a 3'3 square oxer, transition to a trot three strides away, and maintain a perfectly balanced steady trot to and over the fence.

Every time a horse rubbed the fence in front, Brian noted that 85% of front rubs are the rider's fault. (Sometimes I think he made up percentages!) They're caused by riders leaning forward and weighting the front end, thus preventing him from getting his forelegs up in time.


Okay. As for my lesson - it was very good!

From the moment I mounted up, I could tell Pandora had remembered the lessons from the day before. Her canter had a hint of "I want to run away," but not nearly as much as before, and my half-halt was still there. We cantered a big loop around the stadium field, practicing our extension and compression, and she was right there with me. I also worked a bit on my walk-canters on a small circle. It's very hard to get the lightness, but she was trying for me.

Brian began by setting us on a very large circle around the field. First at the trot, then at the canter, he had us practice lengthening and shortening the stride. One lady had been sitting deep in her saddle when trying to compress the canter; he brought us all in to explain why this is a bad idea.

To collect the stride, you need to soften. When jockeys want to slow down at the end of the race, they stand straight up - in other words, a very nearly dressage position, legs straight beneath the body. Sitting deep like that is driving them forward, not lightening.

He then sent us at a small coop for our first fence. He noted that because we weren't practicing over something simple like a cross-rail, this first fence was going to bring out every horse's nature. The carriers would likely drop to a trot, and Pandora would probably want to rush.

Everyone had trouble. Pandora ducked out twice. The first time, I used my crop on the shoulder she ducked out on. Brian promptly informed me that the refusal was my fault for tipping forward, not Pandora's, and he wouldn't let me go on until I used the crop on myself instead!

So, with a few hard taps on my thigh, we came around to try again. I focused very hard on maintaining a tight core, looking up, and keeping my shoulders back. But she ducked out again. It sure didn't seem like it was all my fault - I didn't tip until she pulled me to the side - but I suppose if I would have ridden it perfectly solidly, she wouldn't have been able to duck.

The last time, I rode as firm and strong in my position as I could, and she jumped over it just fine.

We moved on to jumping the "pimple hill" - a little hill with a log at the top. He had us jump a cross-rail about a stride away from the base of the hill, then head up the hill and over. Here, he very strongly emphasized the importance of a solid position. He didn't want us to tip forward at all over the top. As long as we maintained a steady position with supporting leg and did not lean forward, everything would work itself out.

Wonder of wonders, he was right!

It's hard, though. The first time, I concentrated on almost nothing but being strong in my core and keeping my shoulders back.

I still got pulled forward.

After that I must have been extra-sure not to lean, because I didn't end up tipping anymore. I think, to be fair, it's a combination of me and my horse. She tends to pull me forward, even when I am trying my hardest to stay up. That doesn't mean I'm allowed to tip forward - obviously I need to work on it until I never tip. And I will, because it really did make for better fences.

Anyway, she jumped the pimple hill very nicely.

We went on to work on some water stuff and simple logs. We jumped up and down a bank into water, a first for us, but Pandora did it all smooth as butter. Again and again, I found that if I tipped forward, we got a slightly weird jump; if I didn't tip, everything tended to work itself out.

I had started the weekend wanting to jump 'up,' as in more max-sized Novice fences, because I'm tired of jumping tiny stuff. I didn't get that desire at all - most of what we jumped was simple and probably in the 2'3 - 2'9 range, but I realized that it wasn't a big deal. Brian spoke to us a little at the very end, and essentially voiced the same thoughts I was having: "I know some of you wanted to jump big and complicated stuff, and so you might be feeling like you didn't quite get to do what you wanted this weekend. But I promise you that if you take the techniques and things I taught you here and you work on them and apply them to all your riding, it WILL be worth it."

Which is essentially what I came away thinking. No, I didn't get to challenge myself and my horse by jumping big stuff, or trying a big drop into water, or practicing ditches. But I learned how to ride every fence well and was shown again and again how much of a difference it made; I learned how to ride an approach to fences that helps me teach not only come to it in a good stride, but teach my horse how to figure things out; I learned how to school my problems and turn them into strengths.

I would ride with Brian Sabo again in a heartbeat. In fact, I tried to talk him into taking me on as a short-term working student (I was thinking next summer), but unfortunately he doesn't have a permanent barn location - he travels giving clinics. Bummer. Apparently I was about 20 years too late, because once he had a great working student program! Ah, well.

He has a fantastic sense of humor and is extremely educational. He's blunt about it when you screw up, but he's just as quick to praise you when you get something right. He (probably correctly) blames the rider for most of the problems, but if a horse is really acting stupid despite a good ride, he recognizes it immediately.

Overall it was a wonderful weekend, and we told the organizer to give us a call if she has him back again!

I'll make one last post about this with some of my favorite quotes from the clinic.

And, I'm not sure if I mentioned - a friend of the friend I went with brought her video camera and taped our rides. As in, all of them, plus clinician comments, plus interesting moments from other people's rides. I should be getting the video sometime soon, and I am SO excited for it. Of course I will write about all the new insights I get from it!

Brian Sabo Clinic Report - Friday and Saturday

Our trip up to Sisters on Friday afternoon was uneventful. The horses would stay at a barn here, and each day we would haul about 30 minutes to the clinic site, which was over in Redmond.

Stabling was very nice - covered outdoor stalls that open out to big circular runs, maybe 24x24 if they were squares. The footing was sand. Both horses settled in nicely - Pandora looked around for maybe 10 seconds, then promptly drank about half a bucket of water and shoved her face in her hay.

Have I mentioned how much I love her eating and drinking habits? Always steady, always prodigious. I never have to worry about her getting enough water.

We watched Brian giving some dressage lessons. Unfortunately, with intermittent chatting amongst the viewers and the occasional interruption from a phone call or something, it was a bit hard to get the gist of what he was saying. He had a girl working on walk-canters with her Training-level gelding - that's eventing Training, not dressage Training - to help him carry himself more lightly. My glorious moment of the day was to stand in as a traffic cone in one of her corners so she would either quit cutting the corner or run me over. Thankfully, she chose the former.

We got to go check out the clinic site that evening, because Brian needed to watch a local instructor teach for part of maintaining her ICP certification. It was fun. I was a little disappointed because I'd wanted to take the horses for a hack that evening to make up for them standing in a trailer all day, but oh well. At least they had runs to walk around in, and when we returned Pandora sure seemed cheerful.

I tried to sleep in Saturday, I really did. Except, we went to bed at about 9:00, so I ended up waking up against my will at about 6. Sigh.

We got ready slowly, fed the horses, ate some breakfast, then headed over to the clinic.

Pandora was, um, "exuberant." Which in a way is good - she was channeling exactly the kind of attitude that had caused such a terrible jumping lesson about a month ago, which meant I could learn how to fix it. It wasn't quite that she was trying to bolt when we trotted or cantered . . . just that she wanted to go fast, and she really didn't want to listen to my suggestions. Not panicked or rebellious, but anxious - it wasn't a "screw you" sort of attitude, not that I could tell anyway.

The facility was beautiful, by the way. A quite long, wide field with very thoughtfully maintained and constructed XC fences, a dressage arena, and a big wide open grassy area at the very end where the stadium fences were set up.

We all introduced ourselves to the clinician and began by trotting a big circle. On the far side of the circle was four trot poles to a cross-rail. Upon landing, Pandora wanted to scoot. Not majorly, but obviously enough that Brian had a pretty quick idea of what she was like.

The second time I went through, he explained something that - as far as I can tell - effectively showed me how to eliminate her rushing on the landing side of fences. Or at least school it.

"You don't want to tell them that you're afraid of going fast," he said. "You never want to say 'NO' to that, because at some point, you do want them to gallop. What you want to say is, 'Yes I like that, but not right now.'"

So he had me go ahead and bring her back to a good working canter after the fence. THEN I asked her to open up her stride. Then I asked her to come back. Then we extended and compressed again. (He also told everyone to pay attention, because "Sooner or later every horse is going to try this and think this is a good answer, even the ones that want to go slow now.")

I swear I had a totally different horse after that. It was as if whatever anxiety had been causing the rushing just went away. "Okay, boss, you got it." A nice feeling, let me tell you. I mean, she still wanted to "push" at the fences, especially the last few strides, but everything between the fences was much more in-tune.

Also, as we jumped a fence from the trot, turned, transitioned back down to trot, and jumped another fence, he made the very dry observation that when I had a perfectly steady solid leg, a soft following hand, a still upper body and a perfect eye (not for striding, but focused forward and up), she jumped without rushing.

Gee, so if I can just be perfect all the time...



Brian characterized horses two ways: pushers and carriers. Pandora was the only pusher in our group - that is, she has a tendency to want to lengthen and flatten her stride, pushing herself at the fence. A carrier, by contrast, tends to want to shorten and slow the stride, often manifested in a transition to the trot in the last few strides of the fence. A horse's tendency will come out much more strongly when he or she is given something new or challenging, and their tendencies can change over time. Neither is inherently good or bad - you just have to be aware of it, and develop their ability at the opposite end of the spectrum so they're more balanced.

So for Pandora, she needs to be more willing to sit back and flex more in the joints of her hind end. At one point, he had me doing walk-canter-walk-canter transitions on a pretty small circle, and I was amazed at how light she could make the upward transitions. These, along with halting on the approach, turning on the forehand or reinbacking, then trotting forward, really reinstalled my half-halts. He emphasized that the purpose of the halt-correction was NOT to stop a horse from rushing, but to school the half-halt.

One of his biggest things was how you handled your approach to fences. You would come around the turn, expand the stride to generate more forward energy, then half-halt and compress to take however much of that energy you need and transform it into carrying energy. A half halt, as he defined it, takes forward and turns it into carry. How much 'carry' you need varies depending on the nature of the fence - you need more carry for a tall vertical, more push for a fence with a lot of spread like an ascending oxer.

The most important part was that after you half-halt, you must maintain exactly what you have for the last few strides before a fence. If the horse rushes, you don't fight, and you don't say "Okay you're right, let's go!" You resist with your body and hands, saying, "I disagree," but you cannot force the horse to come to the correct conclusion. Only time and a consistent experience going "Hey, I buried myself to that fence, that kind of sucked" will work.

Pandora was very good. I think I have a lot of work to do in terms of maintaining the pace those last few strides, because she wants very much to lengthen. But I have good tools, now.

It was a very long lesson, 2.5 hours in the middle of the HOT day. I definitely did not drink enough water and afterward I was a bit of a shaky grumpy mess until I drank a bunch of watered-down gatorade and ate a sandwich. After that, I was fine.

Pandora and my friend's horse got to just chill out at the trailer. As usual, Pandora drank about a bucket and a half of water, then settled down to munch on her haybag.

It was a very good day. I walked away feeling like Pandora and I were even better partners, more tuned in to each other and what we needed. Brian focused a lot on what I needed to be doing with her - expand, compress, HOLD, HOLD, and he got after me for allowing her to drop her head down after our last fence and sort of fall into a walk. Bad habit. So I started to make her still use herself, canter a circle, and transition nicely downward. She argued at first but gave in, and I admit it felt much nicer.

Only one ride, and already I had learned so much. XC would be the next day, Sunday, and I couldn't wait to see what was in store.

Rally Report! (Plus extra training thoughts)

Well, I have a little less than a month to go before the Mega-Rating where I'll take my C-1. It shouldn't be too terribly challenging, but it's more of a challenge than my D-3. The real question will come if I decide to take my C-2 next spring, because the level of riding and knowledge expected for it is more than what I have right now. But, you know me, I love a good challenge.

I really had to DRAG myself out to the barn yesterday. I was very tired from the rally. But, I did it, and I had a great ride. Pandora was on her best behavior and we rode in the outdoor - it was the absolute PERFECT temperature for riding, and there was a beautiful sunset too.

With all the hard work we've put in, Pandora has become much more responsive to lateral work. We still are just not getting that left bend at the trot - she tilts her face to the outside and leans in over her inside shoulder while swinging her haunches out. I have also noticed that in halt and reinback, she tends to blow her haunches out through my right leg/rein. So it's all symptoms of the same problem, and I just need to figure out what the problem is. Strength in her hind end, I'm guessing - the right leg since it's the one she ignores, or the left leg since that's the one she swings out to unload? Don't know.
Either way, the more lateral strengthening work we do, the better it will get, I'm sure. In fact, I think general strengthening will be a big help. I'm hoping to make it over to Elijah Bristow, a state park with horse trails about 10 minutes from our barn, to do some riding and conditioning. Event horses need to go over terrain, after all, and there's nothing for building strength like riding over hill and dale.

On the plus side, she can hold the correct bend at the walk. So we do a lot of walk-trot transitions on the 20-m circle, trying to hold her in the bend as I transition up. I can actually feel her lean into my inside leg as she makes the upward transition. It gets worse as she gets tired, but I'm thinking that maybe if I do this, I will be able to hold her in the correct bend for a few strides, so both of us can at least understand what it feels like to do it right.

She gets excited about the canter transitions too. But, I got some good ones. I am trying everything I can think of to keep her engaged and working hard off her hind end, like a 20-m circle with transitions from trot-canter-trot-canter-trot-walk-canter-trot-canter-walk...etc. It gets her a little riled up, but she carries herself better. Walk-canters are hard, but Brian had us doing them at the clinic I went to last weekend, and it really helped my half-halts and Pandora carrying herself. I struggle with that, because we're not near good enough to do proper dressage walk-canters, but even our attempts are helping with strength and carrying...chicken-and-egg, I suppose.

Anyway, lots to work on. There's a nearby dressage trainer I want to try taking lessons with. A friend's ridden with her before. If all goes well, I'm hoping to take a lesson every other week for several months throughout fall and winter, if I can swing it. We are just at the point in dressage where I don't know what to do next, as I've mentioned several times before.

Then, I was thinking about maybe trailering to Inavale for stadium and XC lessons with Brooke as we move from winter to spring, because I could certainly use some of those, and I click really well with Brooke no matter which horse I'm riding. Brooke is $40/hour for a private lesson, and the dressage lady is $35 for a private lesson (don't know how long it is). I think I can do it, it's only an extra $70-80 per month if I don't overlap too much with the two kinds of lessons.


I'm funny about lessons. I take a bunch and learn a lot, but if I go on too long, I develop this overpowering need to go home and work on things on my own. I need time to take what I've learned and digest it by myself, working through the exercises and awareness that I've taken away. I did that for most of the summer - I took a LOT of lessons early summer and then I really needed to go home and figure some things out for myself. It's been good for me, because focusing so hard on how to fix this left bend has made me incredibly more aware of what Pandora does with her body and why.
But, now I'm at the stage where I want and need another round of lessons. I'm at the limits of my experience, so I need a pair of educated eyes to help take us to the next level. I think with some quality, one-on-one instruction this year (I've found consistent, individual lessons seem to help much more than group lessons with rotating instructors, at least for what I want right now), I should be able to easily meet my goal of competing Novice next year and maybe taking my C-2.


ANYWAY.


The rally was wonderful. We got 8th place riding-wise (an E for one of our riders on XC really hurt us, plus a few stops and time penalties here and there), but we got 3rd place in Horse Management! I was extremely proud of our team because that's certainly the best we've done since I've been a member. I told everyone on the team that I wanted to do really well in HM, and they all got psyched about it - everyone chipped in to help keep our tack room clean and organized, stalls picked, etc. As the weekend went on I think we all got tired and let some things slip, which may have cost us a higher placing, but oh well!
It was my first time as Stable Manager, so now I know a lot more. I learned that it's easy to drop a lot of needless points on safety checks, as they will dock a point for a not-quite-tight-enough girth, a crooked noseband, a strap not through its keeper, and the like.

Still, I had a great time. The facility was gorgeous - it is the same place where the Mega Ratings are held. She has 78 acres there, wow. Lots if it is in a big open field with BN through T sized fences, and I really hope we get to go in THAT field for the rating next month instead of the little field we did the rating in last time!

I was glad I wasn't riding, because it was much easier to take care of all the riders than to deal with my own horse and equipment, but I admit I was itching to get out there on XC. There were some Training-level fences that looked like a blast to jump, including a section of trunk on a huge fallen tree. Next year, maybe!

Okay, enough for the day. I am writing the clinic report (probably even as you read this!) and it'll be posted tomorrow.

A Fine and Pleasant Misery*: Part II

Here's a continuation of the Event Derby story. Sorry it's taken me so long, finals and packing and working has sucked up my time. The good news is, I'm OFFICIALLY done with my first year of college. Yeehaw!

I haven't ridden much lately for pretty much the same reasons I haven't been posting. Pandora has been acting on-edge a lot - not as bad as when she was in raging heat, but I free-longed her last night to blow off some steam and she was just going for it. Fingers crossed she settles down for Lily Glen.

Anyway, without further ado:

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Ah, morning. A quarter to 8, to be precise. Birds chirping, horses nickering, grass waiting wetly outside to be tromped through. Which I do, promptly, to feed and water my horse, who has managed to drain two hay bags and two buckets of water overnight. Sigh.

It is satisfying when she nickers at the sight of me, though. I choose to ignore the fact that she nickered only the second time I approached, which was when I brought her hay.

I head out to the barn, correctly suspecting that our instructor won't quite be ready for the guided course walk at 8AM sharp. My pants are wet wet wet by the time I even get down to the barn, so I know the course walk is going to be hopeless. Thankfully I borrowed my mom's very waterproof boots, so my socks at least are dry. But everything else is, as usual, wet.

Our instructor is perky. This is because she has a cup of coffee in her hand, and also waterproof boots that are tall enough to keep her legs dry. The course walk, despite its sogginess, actually goes well. The course looks nice, though there are some rather tight turns for Beginner Novice. Then again, this is a hybrid between SJ and XC, so I suppose I should be glad there aren't any SJ-tight turns.

The course looks like this: the first three fences are a serpentine, two stadium fences and one rolltop. Then a right turn to a double stadium, hang a right to a fake trakehner (it was a little stadium vertical set down inside a shallow ditch), then up a longish hill to a little barn. Over the barn, pretty tight left-hand turn and down the hill to hop over a little ditch. Then an almost 90-degree left turn and a few strides to a little table with a pretty straight line to another bigger table. Loop awkwardly way left and then tight right to go through the water complex, then turn around the judge's mound for a turquoise stadium fence and another tight left to jump the Fence-3 rolltop in the other direction for the final fence.

It looks like a nice mix of fences, and I'll actually have some room in places to let Pandora move out a little. Some of the turns suck, but most of it should ride nicely.

My only concern is the footing. I'm not sure if you picked up on this, but everything out there is pretty darn soggy. Before my division goes, the turf has to withstand divisions of Prelim, Training, and Novice, most of them with studs. I can't stud because Pandora's not shod on hind, and you don't want to have more traction in front than in back. Barefoot should be okay, I just don't want her to slip and get anxious in the mud.

Anyway.

I make the long slow return to the tent and again change into breeches and half chaps to save my poor wet legs. Isn't it summer yet? Thankfully, breakfast is equally good as dinner: leftover pork chop in scrambled eggs. Yummmm. Delicious.

Then we need to scurry, because Prelim XC is from 10 - 10:15 and we want to see the big jumps! As expected, it's exciting and fun to watch. There are only three of them, and one accidentally jumps the (bigger) Intermediate trakehner instead of the Prelim one. The big E for her after she jumps her next fence, but cool to see.

So we head back, take care of some chores, check on the horse, and the like. My dressage ride time is at 1:12 and now, at last, I get to take a nap. Once again the sleeping bag is very comfortingly dry.

I wake up to the most welcome voices I have ever heard. My father has arrived in his shining white armor - okay, maybe more like a white t-shirt - with, praise the lords of Eventing, dry sweatpants and my rubber boots. And food, more food. I am thrilled beyond words. I am now warm, dry, and immune from the ever-present tall wet grass. My day has suddenly become several orders of magnitude better.

Just in time for me to tack up, of course, but it's the peace of mind that counts.

Pandora dislikes being tied to the trailer away from all other horses. She commences dancing around like an idiot, eyes wide and rolling, ears flicking all over the place, ignoring her hay bag. I get that familiar feeling that sits somewhere in the belly and goes "Oh, well, this ride is going to be fun." I tack up anyway, of course. After taking a moment to admire the vast expanse of white that is my brand-new dressage saddle pad, I mount up and head off to the [soggy, squishy, grass] warm-up area.

Happily, Pandora mellows out once I'm in the saddle. (Highly preferable to the opposite situation.) Our warm-up is, one might venture to say, nice. She relaxes and stretches into my hands. We have bend, we have transitions, we have obedience even in the slippery grass. How exciting.

Naturally, this all goes out the window once we get to the actual dressage court. Our test is tense. The 20-meter circle at A has been thoroughly pounded by all previous divisions and is not squishy but hard mud and therefore very slick. Pandora, who is paying more attention to the judge and letters than me or where she's putting her feet, has several minor slips until she's so nervous about the footing that her canter is short-strided and incredibly tense. We survive the test without any major mishaps and exit.

Oh well. At least the warm-up was good.

I never check my dressage score, but if I had, it would have been a 46.2 and we are in 6th place out of 9 or 10.

So we put the horse away, settle down for some food, etc. It has now progressed past cold and wet, through warm and wet, and everything is growing decidedly drier. It's a pleasant idea.

Anyway, I trudge out to the course like a good little Pony Clubber to walk the course one more time. Much to my surprise, it's dried out. A lot. Still a little questionable in places, but for the most part, it reasonably resembles solid ground. This is a good thing and it makes me a lot more comfortable about my impending round.

So I go get tacked up and hack out to the course.

(This was actually taken on the way BACK from the course, but oh well)

Now, Pandora likes short jumping warm-ups. As in, walk around for three or four minutes, trot for a minute, canter a bit, jump three or four jumps, and go in. Grand total 10 minutes or so. Therefore, I check in as soon as I'm in the warm-up area.

Obviously this would be a good time for someone to fall off and hold the course for 40 minutes.

She was okay, or I wouldn't complain. But still. I end up hopping off, because Pandora hates being sat on for that long and I hate sitting on her for that long. I mount up with a few minutes to go, walk a lap, pick up a canter, jump an oxer, make a neat tight turn around to a vertical, and call it good.

We head out to the course.

She wavers before the first fence, a big red and white vertical with a lot of stuff going on near it (water complexes, big hill with permanent fences, judge's area, spectators). I growl just a little and we get over nicely. Left turn to the second stadium vertical which rides really nicely. We loop around to our first XC fence, a tiny rolltop, which rides well.

I pick too much to the purple stadium combination so it's a bit ugly, but we get through okay. I give her a strong ride to the fake trakehner, convinced she's going to want to put her nose down in that ditch, but to my surprise it rides super smoothly. A bit more aggressive on the uphill, push the speed a little, then over a barn and a tight left turn to go downhill. She slipped a little on that turn, the only place on course - probably my fault for turning too tight, but she let it go quickly. Back to a trot down the hill - my downhill horse, who wants to stick her nose in every ditch and pull me onto her neck, is probably not the best horse to canter downhill to a ditch - and over the little ditch with no problems.

Then a tight turn to the line of tables, which she nails with no problem. Awkward long loop to the water complex, and after a bit of drop-the-outside-shoulder-skitter-sideways, we plunge through. Around left past the judge again and over a turquoise vertical, which was super ugly because we just got a weird distance and I stopped riding, then a tight left turn to the first rolltop again. That one rode super nicely.

And we're done, clear, and according to my father the announcer called it 2:30, which was one second under optimum time. Go us!

Everyone packs up, heads out, and we load everything up. I decide to head over to check on my score. And, to make a long story short, they'd given me 7 time penalties which I knew was incorrect. After yet another trek to the XC course, all is straightened out, my time penalties are removed to make me one of two clear rounds, and in the end I move up 5 places to take 2nd place.

Victory (or close to it) is so sweet.

*Again, I shamelessly stole this post title from a book by Patrick McManus of the same name. He is an outdoorsman and hilarious. I don't hunt or fish or much of anything, but I am still in awe of his humor. Horse camping, much like hunting and fishing and regular camping, is indeed a fine and pleasant misery.

A Fine And Pleasant Misery*: Part I

Hey all: I'm going to post the story from the derby in a couple parts. Last time I posted something in two parts was the Inavale camp, and the second part was the story of my broken ankle. I promise nothing bad happens in the second part of the story this time :)

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Today is Friday evening, clinic day. We are camping in a tent at Inavale, and true to horse-camping form, everything has been a complete SNAFU. Except the food, but I'll get to that in a bit.

After going to my 10 - 11 Biology lecture like a good student, Mom and I had to rush around like maniacs trying to get together all the things we didn't get together earlier. The original plan was to arrive at Inavale a couple hours before my 3:00 clinic, set up the tent, unpack things, and the like. Now the plan was to actually get to Inavale with at least 10 minutes to tack up for the clinic.

We made it. Barely. I tacked up very quickly (after a momentary tangle when we accidentally switched reins onto the wrong bridle -- McKinna's bridle -- and had Pandora's lips pulled up to her ears) and headed out to the course.

Did I mention that it's been raining?

The course is wet. It is wet and squishy, and without the grace of fantastically maintained footing my horse and I would go slip-sliding away. I am in a clinic with four other people. I know one of them - good sign. Her horse is a bit wild but she's moving up to Novice and he's still looking pretty good. One going-crazy black horse with a too-tight martingale, the removal of which fixes one problem but leads to a bit of another. One slightly less-crazy black horse. One buckskin who was probably the nicest-behaved of the group. And me.

Pandora is relatively nice. I take a moment, in our long warmup, to rejoice in the fact that my horse now has a canter. Do you remember when she could barely canter? Because I can. She could barely hold it for a few strides, and even then her nose was practically on her feet if I didn't hold her up. No longer!

Jumping is reasonable. I smugly note that Pandora is the only one who will calmly trot over the placing pole and jump the little cross-rail we're using for warmup. We add a little table on a bending line. Pandora does not approve of going smoothly and calmly forth, especially when the foooting is wet and squishy and did I mention it rained earlier? Also, by now it is getting warm and muggy and even less pleasant. But I digress.

After many exhortations to KEEP YOUR SHOULDERS UP AND BACK, DON'T LET HER PULL YOU DOWN, we achieve some semblance of pretty jumping and move on to more fun things. Little courses, even.

I discover happily that if I remind myself that I do have abs, and if I pull my shoulder blades back so far they practically touch (I might exaggerate a little), I can actually keep her nose UP when we jump over ditches! And she'll actually jump over them, instead of pulling me down onto her neck and sort of oozing over! How exciting. Also, it helps if I don't look at the ditch. Eyes always up. Didn't I learn that in marching band somewhere?

Splashing through the water is plenty fun. She's quite willing, though she really prefers that we have a bit of momentum coming in. Canter up and through? No problem. Walking is a little more iffy but she'll do it if I insist.

We have a moment at the end of the XC course where we jump a bending line of two stadium verticals. Pandora is not pleased with the idea of going slow (my God, you idiot rider, we're on cross country, what the hell do you want me to slow down for??) and charges through, though she does politely leave the rails up. The instructor has me school her for a moment. Trot-halt. Walk, trot, halt. Trot, canter, halt, reinback. This makes Pandora more amenable to behaving, though I worry a bit about teaching her to back right after I halt. Bad habit in dressage. [I did test this on Saturday and have not installed a bad habit. Whew.]

So, tired and sweaty and mildly pleased with the whole experience, we head back.

NOW we get to set up the tent. And the canopy. And unload all our stuff. And set up the horse's corral. And feed the horse. And cook dinner. And go to the course walk at 7...and it is very wet. Also, the grass in the big field we are camping in in is about knee-height. Argh.

So we set up the corral, and set up the tent, and unload a little, and then it's time to go walk the course. Only to find - hooray - they haven't finished setting it up yet! So, we spend the next hour and a half dragging around standards and flags and numbers and getting our pants soaked halfway up to the knees. Which is all fine and good in the wonderful help everyone out attitude of eventing, but wasn't exactly what we were looking for since we haven't stopped to take a breath since early this morning.

Anyway.

Course walk is rescheduled for 8AM tomorrow. Awesome, since I hoped to sleep in till 8:30 or so, my ride time not being until afternoon. Oh well. Course walks are worth it.

So now we get back and have to figure out how to cook. My pants, both jeans and sweats, are soaked and therefore my attire of choice is breeches. With half chaps to keep my legs dry. We now discover that the nice big canopy, which we borrowed and planned to cook and hang out under, is conspicuously lacking in a rather important rainproof department: the roof.

So what do we do? The obvious answer: we move our camp chairs, portable table, lantern, and propane stove into the back of the trailer! The trailer now becomes our kitchen. Which is super convenient, because the trailer has a light, and one of our propane bottles is empty, so of the propane stove and propane lantern, we can only run one at a time.

But our 10PM dinner is very good. Pork chops and carrots and sweet potato. Mmm.

It is raining. Again. I am sure that by now I've mentioned that my current existence is very wet. Pandora is happily sheet-covered in her little corral, munching on her hay whilst getting rained on. She is wet too. She is a sea-horse, and I am her soggy rider.

Now a retreat to the tent, where the sleeping bag is dry and we have chocolate and horse magazines. We forgot the extra blanket to keep us warm, but Pandora's (clean and laundered, thank you) heavy blanket was in the trailer and serves as a nice replacement.

As I said...this is horse camping at its finest.

Next up: Saturday, the slightly less-wet day.


*I shamelessly stole this post title from a book by Patrick McManus of the same name. He is an outdoorsman and hilarious. I don't hunt or fish or much of anything, but I am still in awe of his humor. Horse camping, much like hunting and fishing and regular camping, is indeed a fine and pleasant misery.

My Summer - at a glance

This summer is shaping up to be a few months of immersion in horses.

The first weekend in June - AKA, immediately before finals - I am signed up for an eventing derby clinic on Friday, followed by the actual derby on Saturday. Derbies, if you'll recall from my post from last month, are a dressage test followed by a Stadium Jumping/Cross Country mix in a field. This will be our next eventing competition (other than the Hunter Pace I'm riding in tomorrow), and our second visit to Inavale. I'm excited to put all of our hard work to the test.

For five days, June 17 - 21, I will be at a Pony Club eventing camp down in Ashland. Talk about total immersion! Two riding sessions plus a horse management lesson per day. We will cover everything: dressage, gridwork, XC fences, roads & tracks (steeplechase/galloping), pacing, conditioning in general, care of your horse after riding, etc. I think after five days of that kind of intensity, two things will happen: one, I will be VERY ready for a break. And two, Pandora and I will have taken a big leap forward in our skill set!

After four short days to relax, I will be heading to the Inavale recognized HT. I will not be riding in it - that would be a lot to ask of Pandora, not to mention my checkbook - but I will be grooming for a friend. I am looking forward to getting the experience, learning how a recognized HT works, and getting a feel for the pacing and things. That way next year I will be more prepared when I ride in it!

Two weeks later, I will head off to the Inavale eventing camp for 3 days. This is the camp I had so much fun at last summer until I broke my ankle. Much of the same - two lessons a day, one SJ or dressage and one XC. At this camp, I am hoping to push my comfort levels, learn how to do some bigger and more complicated questions, and in general start taking us to the next level.

THEN, two weeks after that camp, I will head to a Pony Club Mega-Rating. I was really hoping to get my D3 at the club level so I could go for my C1 at this rating -- after all, I'll be coming off of two solid months of intense riding -- but the DC of my club doesn't sound like she wants to do that. It's frustrating for me and I will try to see what I can do, but I may be forced to get my D3 at this Mega-Rating and then go for my C1 in September. That is not as ideal because by September I'm already starting to wind down my riding in preparation for school, but you take what you can get, I guess. My Pony Club is pretty darn good, so I shouldn't complain.



As you can see, it's going to be an awesome summer jam-packed with eventing. Entering all these things sure sucked up a lot of money, but to me it's better to pay $200 for a five-day camp than to pay $200 for one show, which is what it would have cost to enter the Horse Trials.

I also plan to do plenty of low-cost rides, especially trail riding. And maybe sometime this summer I can figure out a way to take Pandora to the coast for a beach ride :)

Got any summer plans?

Combined Test

Phew, what a great day I had at that Combined Test. Not only did I have a fantastic day, I knocked out practically all of my May goals in one fell swoop.

A Combined Test is sort of quasi-eventing, I guess. It's a schooling show with an eventing dressage test and then a stadium course. So, eventing minus the fun part ;)

Our dressage test was mediocre. In warmup, Pandora was beautiful - relaxed, stretching into my contact, bending nicely, transitioning nicely, completely ignoring all other horses and the very colorful jumps set up in the outdoor arena we were riding in. Once we got to the indoor arena to perform our test, it wasn't quite as good. She is not a big fan of the judge's box in any way shape or form, which is unfortunate since it's the first thing you ride straight towards! This tells me we need practice riding straight towards scary things and ignoring them.

She was distracted so we lost more 'forward' than I was expecting, at two times actually breaking gait for a step (though the judge only caught one of them). Distraction aside, it's still the best test I've ever had, the previous two horses preferring giraffe and motorcycle impressions. We ended with a 40.5 (eventing dressage - it's like golf, not bowling), tied for 5th place.

We had a few hours until my stadium ride, so we camped out at the trailer in style. Pandora had a big ol' haybag and a bucket of water, and we were in the shade about 15 feet away. Dad brought a little propane BBQ so we had cheeseburgers. Yum! We also brought our young dog, who behaved wonderfully. He hung out at the trailer with us, respected the horses, and played fetch with blades of grass when he got bored. No, seriously. I actually threw pieces of grass and he would bring them back. We have it on video.

I got on a bit too early to warm up for stadium. Well, if they had been running on time it would have been fine, but they were about a half-hour behind schedule. Pandora, I've discovered, loves about a 5 - 10 minute warmup for jumping. Get in, w/t/c, jump a couple fences, and call it good. When you do it that way, she's light and soft and springy and fantastic. Unfortunately I was on her a little longer than she would prefer, but once I dismounted and stood with her, she stood patiently. I hopped back on just before my round and it worked fine.

Our jumping round was awesome! The fences at Inavale are both beautiful and spooky, so I was worried we'd have some 'forward' issues. Not a chance. She didn't hesitate at a single fence! None of our distances turned out particularly well, which is my fault - I have only practiced jumping once in the last month and a half, so I think I've just lost a bit of feel for pace. I could tell that I needed to have her moving with a little bit bigger steps so we made better distances, but overall we had a smooth pace and a good clean round. I was very pleased with her - she was soft, controllable, easy to steer, and honest about the fences.

We ended up with 4th place. Hooray!

Then we got to the fun part!!

I headed out to school some XC. I can tell we need more practice at rating in general on a cross-country course, but we definitely have a good baseline. I hopped over some low fences, then came to the water complex expecting to have to patiently insist for the next 40 minutes that she really could take a step into the water.

It took about 40 seconds.

After a brief and halfhearted protest, she went straight in and splashed straight out the other side. I trotted in, she trotted through. The next time I trotted in, she picked up a canter as she stepped into the water and cantered through. This water comes almost up to her chest.

I guess I have a water horse!

After that I practiced hopping over some little tiny ditches (no problem), then put together a couple short courses for myself. By the time I finished, I'd pushed myself to go over some larger fences, like the house you see me jumping in the picture in the last post (I'm jumping the larger house in the middle, not the coop that's nearest the camera). Those fences were either maxed-out Novice or tiny tiny Training, but my money's on novice. Either way, they were pretty big, and when I finally talked myself into letting Pandora have a decent pace coming in, we stopped chipping in and got a good distance.

Seeing a pattern here? Need more pace, need a longer stride, need to let her go a little more...it's a good lesson for me to learn.

Overall it was a fantastic day and I love this girl more all the time. On Monday we're riding in a fun Hunter Pace/Foxhunt Derby, where you ride in teams around a set course but get to choose which height of fence you jump (if you jump at all). That'll be great because we can start out at our level and then pick a couple fences at Novice or small Training to jump too.

I will post this weekend with an overview of my summer horse plans. It's going to be an awesome summer!

A Good Day

I'm too tired to write a real post.

But, I was at a Combined Test (dressage and stadium) at Inavale today. We ended up with 4th place out of 10ish, then I got to go school XC.

It was a good day.

Here's a preview.

A Constructive Mindset

Trotting at Karen O'Neal clinic, 4/19/09

I've been thinking a little bit about what you can do when you ride with a constructive mindset.

Tuesday evening, it was raining hard. In the arena, it sounds loud, no matter how lightly the rain is falling. Pandora had some extra 'go.'

Normally my warmup is pretty relaxed. Walk a little, trot a little, bend a little. This time I decided I needed something to focus on. We started walking serpentines. On the straightaway, I insisted on, well, straightness. Even weight in both reins, even feel between the legs: straight.

It was harder than it sounds.

It felt like she was a pinball going back and forth, almost bouncing between the reins. After a few loops, she understood, and settled in nicely straight. I requested a forward, marching walk -- come on, girl, let's act like we have somewhere to be!

When we picked up the trot, she was feeling the Thoroughbred half of her breeding. That is, she was Forward. More so than she usually is, and more so than I'm usually comfortable riding. I tend to be a little bit of a control freak, because I had so little in the way of half-halts and speed control on my first horse. With Pandora, simply because I can control her momentum with half-halts, I do it too much.

But this time I decided to work with what she gave me. I took that energy and said, "Okay -- let's go." I asked for a big, powerful trot, then asked her to come back to me and compress her stride. I insisted on correct bend. I would push her forward through the corner, accelerate, then come back. We did some leg yields. When we picked up the canter to the good direction, she powered right into it. To the left was still a bit unbalanced, but I'll take what I can get.

The most important part of this was that I came into the ride with a constructive mindset. Sure, she was a little hot, and maybe she wasn't too focused when I mounted up. But I took what I had and I decided I would do something with it -- so we had a really nice ride.

It's important to me to take some benefit out of every ride, no matter how many things didn't go as planned.



I applied the same concept to a clinic I rode in this weekend.

We ended up spending two and a half hours in the saddle - probably an hour and a half in the arena, then another hour on cross country. The arena is beach sand. Lovely and soft, sure. But have you ever gone running on sand? It's hard work.

So I was already stressed about the demands on Pandora's fitness. I know, I worry too much, she's half TB anyway. But that made me a little tense to start with.

Then we rode forever and ever and ever. The clinician was great and had some really good advice, but sometimes it was unclear when we could give our horses a break and when we should keep going.

THEN we went outside. Between struggling to keep a tired Pandora up off her forehand, fighting with her about adequate brakes, and a little confusion about what exercise we were doing, I got pretty frustrated. I did keep my mouth shut and do what I was told, because the way I see it, you go to a clinic to learn, not to argue. ESPECIALLY not to complain that you're tired and so is your horse.

So I kept at it. And you know what? I got some really valuable lessons out of it. Towards the middle of the XC session, I finally understood what she was trying to get me to do with my hands and seat at the base of the fence (I was dropping Pandora, again, sigh). When I started riding right, Pandora started going very very well, as usual.

I found that, even after 2 hours of hard riding in the heat, when I was exhausted and my horse was pretty tired, I could still get around a course of obstacles without Pandora falling on her forehand -- provided I rode correctly.

That is GOOD knowledge to have. That means that when we've been riding for an hour, I know better than to think 'Oh, she's so tired, it'll be impossible to jump without falling on the forehand!'

Nuh uh. I need to start asking more of her. This is a big weakness of mine. I just don't push hard enough.



Anyway, I just wanted to get that out there. There's always a valuable lesson out there, even if you're hot and sweaty and grumpy and tired ;)

Event Derby

Phew.

So you guys know there's a reason I love eventing, right?

Well Cross Country is it.

Don't get me wrong. I love Dressage - I love gymnastically developing my horse, deepening the connection and communication between us, and gradually learning to influence all parts of her while she's in motion. I love Stadium - the tight turns, the bright fences, the relative low risk.

Our dressage test was mediocre at best. Clearly I have been putting a little too much focus on our jumping work. She was a little nervous and looky, didn't really want to focus. She wasn't trying to take off, and she completed all movements, but was very stiff to the left and in general just kind of unresponsive. Time for more schooling.

But I love XC. I don't think I will ever find anything else that rivals the rush of galloping in an open field, coming up to (big) solid obstacles that I fully trust my horse to get us over. It's fantastic. I was grinning like an idiot the whole time. Mmmmmmmmmm it was amazing.

Pandora, for the record, was awesome. I've no idea how much actual XC experience she has. She was boarded at Inavale by a girl who evented her (they have a record for 1 recognized event), so I'm assuming she got plenty of schooling.

But still. It was my first time going XC with her. And she was fantastic.

Since it was an eventing derby, XC and Stadium were combined in a big field. The first several fences were stadium fences, and most of the rest were solid XC fences. She was not too sure about the stadium fences at first! But she went over, and by the time we hit the first big log, we were rockin' and rollin'. We weren't really galloping, but we had a big, forward canter. She figured out all the striding on her own. Sometimes it was a little tight, but oh well.

Her 'diving' tendency came back quite a bit- on the takeoff and landing side she had her head and forehand down as if looking at the fence. She used to do this a lot doing regular jumping in the ring, and it's gone away with miles and fitness, so I'm not too worried. Riding that course was definitely a challenge to her fitness, and we did it twice. We've simply never had the space to canter/gallop for long distances before. I am hoping to work more of it into our schedule if possible, and our long road hacks (once the weather lets up a little!) should help as well.

We had one stop. My first round, the second-to-last fence was a maxed-out coop. So it was 2'7 (I swear it was taller), probably 3' in depth, and it wasn't a super wide fence either. On an uphill. I could have forced her over it, but for some stupid reason I decided to wear gloves (because everyone else does??) and I couldn't get a good enough grip on my right rein to keep her straight. No big deal - circle around and we jumped it fine. The second round we were more confident and cruised over everything, though she was getting a little tired.

One of the fences was about 3', too -- hay bales. There was a lower option, because I think the taller option was for the level above us, but oh well. It rode really smoothly.

I was so proud of my girl. I'm going to a clinic next weekend at the same location - we'll spend the first half on dressage and the second on jumping, so I'm excited to get some good schooling done (for both of us). Now that I've got a baseline established and I know what she's like going around a course, I want a pair of eyes on me to make sure I'm not doing anything stupid with my position whilst caught up in the adrenaline rush.

I even sponged her legs, back, and chest down with a little liniment-water afterwards. She probably didn't need it. And it probably didn't really do anything. But dang, it made me feel good! And the spearmint smell is wonderful.


....you didn't think I'd leave you without a little video, did you?

Here you go. Hope your weekend was as awesome as mine!

Edit: the video was looking really weird and grainy, so I took it down for the moment. I'll get it back up tonight when I get home.


Here's a few things I see. I'm doing a pretty good job of not jumping ahead, though I still did it a little. This is the first habit I regress to when nervous or trying new things, so it's understandable.
I need to allow her to have a more forward pace in order to hit the fences in a good rhythm. This means I need to practice riding at speed more so I can get A. more comfortable and B. more aware of what speed is appropriate.
Steady, steady, steady is what we need. I think we can get it if we can just get some time riding outside somewhere.
I'm also going to install some lead changes sometime, or at least start asking her for them more over fences. I didn't want to fuss with her and make her do an interrupted (through the trot) change, so I either let her do a flying change on her own (which she did) or just go around on the wrong lead, which we also did. It got irritating though. So I think I'll start asking for leads over the fence or even asking for the change -- if I don't get it, no worries, but maybe I'll get some.

In a couple days, expect some more in-depth training posts. I've been thinking a lot lately. And when I think a lot, you get thoughtful posts ;)

And Then It All Went to Hell in a Handbasket

Here's a couple pictures from Friday:

Stadium, the morning lesson on Friday where I jumped my first bending line

Trotting through the water complex on XC

Saturday's events:

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I woke up to the pleasant sound of horses nickering and an espresso machine. Which, as I would find out Sunday morning, was being employed in the creation of some really, REALLY good vanilla lattes. But I digress.

About 45 minutes before my morning lesson, my mom and I went to get McKinna ready. Glancing up, I see the chestnut gelding of one of my group members absolutely freaking out as he's tied to the trailer. This gelding pulls back hard, goes up, hooks a foreleg over his leadrope, flails, and then his rider undid the quick release. The grey gelding tied to the trailer, who belongs to the third guy in my group, pulls back in the trademark TB Sympathy Panic, breaks the ring he's tied to, and both horses trot nervously into the corner of the pasture we're all parked in (only a few feet away, thankfully). By this time I was already over there.

Within seconds, we see the sight that makes any horse person's heart sink: blood starts dripping down onto the gelding's left hind leg. Fast. The grey's owner catches him and ties him now that he's settled down; the chestnut's owner catches him and tries to look at the injury. I come over to hold his head (the horse's name is Al, by the way) while his owner takes a look. Al settles down a little, and we can see that it's a nasty slice right on his stifle. It gapes open every time he takes a step, and blood is coming pretty fast. We locate some towels to hold on it, and until the vet arrives maybe 45 minutes later, Al settles down quite a bit and is holding still. I'm at his head petting him and holding him still, his owner's holding a series of blood-soaked towels to the injury.

Eventually the vet comes, sedates him, stitches it up, etc etc etc. All three of us skipped the morning lesson and let the trainer know. During lunch hour, me and the rider of the grey decided to go out for a lesson.

Our instructor takes us out to the XC field, where they've just spread a very very thin layer of fresh compost. We warm up at a trot on a nice big circle; McKinna's a little hot, but nothing major, and she's relaxing as I move her off my leg. When told to, we pick up the canter -- it's beautiful. A flawless, balanced transition (somewhat of a rarity for her!), and the first few steps are just lovely. Relaxed, an easy tempo.

And that was when everything went to hell in a handbasket.

We hadn't gone more than three strides when all of a sudden McKinna's forelegs were sliding crazily out from under her. Her nose must have only been a few inches off the ground -- all I registered was that I could see her foreleg out of the corner of my eye (I think she spread them out in opposite directions to try to regain balance), her forehand was going way down, and I was popping off over her shoulder. I landed on my right side, feet first, rolling down, saying "Please don't step on me, please don't step on me."

When we came to a halt, McKinna had managed to regain her balance. I'm laying on the ground on my right side. Her forelegs are on either side of my waist, and my whole lower body is under her body. She's standing dead still. After a brief second to breathe and realize she wasn't going to step on me, I said, "Ow."

And then a lot more ows, and I started crying, because my right ankle hurt really really bad. I couldn't use it to move myself, so the instructor carefully backed McKinna up and handed her to the other rider. I immediately took my boot and sock off, realized that there was no way I was going to be able to put weight on it, and said "I am going to be SO PISSED if this is broken."

We're maybe a half mile away from the camp (we are on a cross country course, after all!), so I get lifted up onto McKinna and ride her back, semi-hysterical the whole way. By the time I dismount and get into a chair, it's swollen to maybe the size of a baseball -- and I have small ankles.

Horse people being horse people, there are doctors and nurses and people with crutches and so on, so in a rather timely fashion I've got ice wrapped on it, which of course makes it hurt even more because it's not numb yet.


Anyway. What it came down to is, my ankle's broken. The doctor I saw that day said I couldn't put weight on it for 4 to 6 weeks; I go in to see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow, where I will find out more specifics and they will hopefully tell me that 1. I can keep it in a boot instead of a cast and 2. it's non-surgical.

Mostly I'm just really pissed that I can't ride. I was so excited to keep working with McKinna throughout the weekend -- I had JUST gotten the feeling for how to rate her gallop. I can still feel it now, which is good, because as soon as I'm able I'm going to go out there and try it out. I was loving the stadium lessons, because she's come so far (can hold a course together, finds her own distances, understands the concept of leads) and our group was so much fun. I'd just learned to do banks and things like that, and I couldn't wait till we did more complicated stuff.

Not to mention there are several upcoming things like clinics, schooling shows, etc that I can't do now.

On the plus side, I did stick around and watch other lessons. Thanks to that I really solidified my understanding of how to set up a horse for a fence on XC, and tied in to that, how to fix my position. I tend to jump ahead of the horse, a habit I acquired when Bailey used to rush all of his fences. It makes me more likely to come off if she stops, because I'm already ahead of the motion, and she has such a shorter neck than a TB that there's nothing there to catch myself on.

We've just moved to a new barn, too. McKinna is out in the giant mare pasture, cheerfully roaming all day, and she appears to have made friends with an adorable Shire cross. I met at least three people at the camp this weekend who live literally right next to this new barn -- so I have some new riding buddies, even though I can't ride! I'm excited to start riding with them once I can, though. One of them has a big field with some XC fences in it, and one of the ladies has a really sweet packer mare that she's offered to let my mom ride.

But here's what I've decided in light of my fall and what I've learned this weekend.

I am going to establish a really, REALLY solid position once I'm back in the saddle. That means I need to ride without stirrups, a lot. I need to get my mom to longe me so I can focus on me. I need to spend a lot of time in two-point strengthening those muscles. I need to go out into a really big field and practice going back and forth between galloping and setting back for a fence. I need to stop jumping ahead.

So, that's that. Since I won't be riding, you will be treated to all kinds of blogs that I've been meaning to write (talk at leadership camp et al), as well as reflections on training methods and so on. One of the things I've decided to work on is to have McKinna come reliably when called; I'm going to enlist my mom to help me with that, so I will post an update once we try it a little. It involves me learning how to whistle loudly, so I need to acquire that skill first!

Hope your weekend went a little better than mine :) Here's me arriving back at camp in my trainer's car after going to Urgent Care.

Home, Sweet Home

Well, I'm home!

I wrote blog posts as I was at camp -- no internet access, but I saved them in Microsoft Word. So you will get to read them as if it's happening that very day!

Here's Friday's post:

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Upon our arrival Thursday night, the first thing we did was get McKinna settled in. We picked a little corral (nice little things, 12x12 wood-pole deals, bedded with straw), parked the truck in a nice spot with some advice from some friendly riders (who were quite cheerful to direct us to a parking spot that didn’t block their view of neighboring vinyards), pitched the tent, unpacked some stuff, heated up our stew over the little propane barbeque. We watched, bemused, as a neighboring camper ran an extension cord all the way across the field we parked in: “You have electricity!” my mother remarks. “Oh yes,” says the lady, “it’s just for…the espresso machine…” and grins sheepishly as she realizes what she’s saying.

We horseback riders know how to do it in style, that’s for sure.

My first ride is Friday morning outside. A lovely outdoor arena, awesome footing, no idea exactly how big it is, but it’s big. I’m in a group with two guys (of the three total in the camp). After starting off with a warmup crossrail, we move right into gridwork, first with two fences, then three and four. I really enjoyed the gridwork because we’ve never had enough room to do it at home – but McKinna acted like she’d done it her whole life, just hopping right along through.

From there our instructor just kept building the course. Grid, diagonal, single. Then she added a bending line (my first ever!) and then another. The first time, McKinna practically blew through the bending line – getting a little strong was a bit of a problem for us. On my last round, though, I figured out how to ride it better, and she backed off a lot more when I was a little lighter in my hands (funny how that works). My group is officially awesome. It’s small, we’re all competent riders with competent horses, and we get to move along at a nice pace. I was so proud of McKinna! She finally understands her leads, I don’t fuss with her distances, she never hesitates at the fences, and she can put together a whole course. She truly has come a long way.

Lunch, enough time for a quick nap, and then off for my ‘indoor’ lesson, except that we did cross country. I had a BLAST. She was really really strong in the beginning as we trotted and cantered in a big circle, but settled down once we got to really cantering and jumping some low warmup fences. Then we headed out into the big field with the water complex!

Lots of firsts today: first time cantering down the hill, through the water, and back out again. First up bank, trotting and cantering; first down bank, just trotting. First ditch, both natural and revetted. My little mare was an absolute star for all of those! Up banks are way more fun than I thought they would be.

Our biggest problem with XC is McKinna wanting to charge forward. I don’t like it, and I want her to come back the instant I want, so I tend to half-halt really strongly, and it’s just messy. I started to find a rhythm towards the end, using the same riding style I did at the end of the first lesson – lighter in the hands, lighter in the seat, just gently rolling with the motion. When I did that, she relaxed and found a rhythm, and would come back to me before fences when I sat back and half-halted. I only started to get a feel for it towards the end, though, so I’m excited to see if I can recreate that feeling for the whole lesson tomorrow!

She also had one dirty stop at a red barn fence. I hate that fence, she’s never liked it, she’s refused it before. I should have ridden her stronger to it the first time, and/or dropped to a trot where we’re both more secure. The second and third times over it she was fine, but I should’ve seen it coming the first time.

Oh well – at least most of the time she is quite honest! I suppose I’ll just have to school it every time we’re here until I get over my irrational dislike of that fence.

We had a potluck dinner with everyone and it was quite enjoyable. I’m having an absolutely awesome time, probably the most fun I’ve ever had on a horse, and McKinna is doing so well! This whole weekend is going to be such a great experience for both of us, and I think it will take us a long way in terms of our comfort level in jumping. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Watching The Big Dogs

So yesterday, the whole group of ladies went to Inavale to watch their annual Horse Trials (HT). We went to watch the Intermediate level, which is one step below Advanced (the highest level). For some perspective, here's some of the specifications for the fences on XC:

• Optimum time should be 550 meters per minute (about 20 mph), so this is their average speed
  
• Fixed fences are a maximum of 3'9", brush fences max 4'5"
• The max depth (like an oxer) of the top of a fence is 5'3"
• Drops (jumping down off of a ledge) can be max 5'11"

So keep in mind that there's another level higher than this...

It was pretty damn impressive. When we first saw the riders, they were coming out of the woods. On a pretty steep downhill, they jumped three logs/drops in a row (a fence in front of a drop), then made a hard right turn to another fence and into the neighboring field.
We could walk around to see the neighboring field, where they'd jump a few fences, come around, go up a hill, jump two fences on top of the hill, go down, through water, jump up a bank out of the water, over a fence, hard left turn (almost 90 degrees) to a fence that was in front of a drop to the water (so they jump up, and land further down in the water), then out of the water and over a narrow fence and away.

It gave me chills. I think I actually teared up at some points, it was so intense. After they did the water complex and a few other fences, they came galloping past about 10 or 20 feet from us. There is so much power in those horses.

All of the people I ride with were going "Wow, that's amazing...they're crazy."

I was going "Wow, that's amazing...I want to do that."


I know McKinna doesn't have it in her to go Intermediate or probably even Prelim (next level down). But I'll take her as far as we can both go.

And boy, do I have big plans for future horses.