Not Quittin’ Time Yet

“That’s it.  I am through,” I stated angrily, loosening Gatsby’s girth and riding the stirrups up, a sure sign I was done riding for the day.  ”I am tired of not being able to do anything.”

“That’s fine.  Just let me tell you why he was acting up,” my trainer Jeannine replied,  then explained what I was doing wrong for Gatsby to canter in a serpentine down the side of the arena, changing leads unexpectedly.

“What am I thinking?” I said to myself.  ”If I leave now, I am through.  And what lesson is that, to give up because it’s been a rough patch?  I am not a quitter.”  So, I started to tighten the girth again and pulled down the stirrups.

“What are you doing?” Jeannine asked, surprised.

“Getting back on, of course.  I’m not leaving like this,” I mumbled.

I remounted Gatsby, trotted around the arena, then broke into a canter, successfully navigating the corners that that earlier thwarted us.  And not a surprise that when I kept my outside arm in as Jeannine suggested, Gatsby cantered smoothly around the corner.

I briefly thought I was finished, but then Jeannine directed my friend Colette and I around a course of strategically poles and then low jumps.  Not as easy as it looked, and what a sense of accomplishment to go from almost quitting and then jumping.

My legs are already sore after an hour of hard riding, but my mind is freer, knowing I completed what I thought I could not and that I made the decision to not stop.  You have to work through the difficult things–easy as they might seem to others–to move ahead.  

And I always say a day on a horse is ALWAYS better than a day on the ground.  C

 

Unforgiving Surfaces

My horse was careening out of control, galloping down the long side of the arena, and I could NOT figure out how to take my hands off his neck to stop him.  Normally responsive and docile, this was a surprise takeoff, probably brought on by MY reaction to the pony galloping in the pasture and the puppies chasing each other, and the other horses enjoying a spring morn.

As we turned in a circle, I removed my foot from one stirrup and dismounted into the dirt, avoiding flailing hooves and landing on my knees in the dirt.  Bodily not hurt,  my brain angry and frustrated and upset, the tears came.

But which was harder, the sandy red surface or my ego?  After a long chat, I eventually remounted the horse, walked, then trotted slowly around the arena with nary an issue.  Why do we do it?  Why can’t we stop?  Do we have horse blood in our souls?  Or just a portion of their souls in our hearts?

The ego wins, as I will return tomorrow for another ride.  Hopefully under my control, not his.  C

 

Small Steps, Huge Smiles

R. is an always-smiling 5-year old with beautiful light brown eyes, who cannot speak or walk or grasp things too tightly. R. is one of the children I volunteer with at Equestrian Connection, a marvelous place where we work with physically and/or mentally challenged people on horses, therapy called hippotherapy.

When R. wants his horse to walk forward, he smiles and grunts to the person leading the horse, and she, the therapist and I (the sidewalker) move forward.  Occasionally, he can grasp the reins, though he is easily distracted and drops them from his gnarled hands.   Today, after many weeks of working together, was the first time ever that the therapist and I removed our hands from his legs and the saddle, how we usually help prop him up. 

The look of joy on 5-year old R’s face was priceless, as he became an independent rider! He walked once around the arena mainly unaided–though our hands were only inches away, should he slip.  I have written this before, but I cannot comprehend the feeling of freedom and exhilaration he must have felt, for one who cannot use his legs to run and jump and climb.

Feeling tired after 2 hours of working with children, R.’s huge success was all I needed to see to know that my time there was worth every step around that arena.  C

 

Focus, Focus

It is unfathonable to me that when I flat my horse outside on a lovely summer afternoon I am usually surrounded by calm, but when I head out for a jumping lesson I seem to perfectly time it to when there are the more distractions than I can imagine.  The other day I needed an alien ship to land, to max out on possible diversions. 

As one counts petals for love, let me count the distractions: 1–not one but 3 adorable foals running free with their mamas in the paddocks on one side of me, chasing each other up and down the fencelines; 2–4 horses in their own pens whinnying, rolling in the sand; 3– Juan mowing the lawn surrounding the outdoor arena and emptying the grass bag into the railer right beside a jump; 4–how many semis can drive up the road?; 5–a trailer pulling up the driveway and unloading an uncooperative horse; 6–a cat or squirrel running through the abandonded standards and jumps in the woods, causing pieces to inadvertantly slide about.  Seven would be the mental somersaults spinning in my brain, as I tried to ignore everything around and focus on my ride and my instructor Sue.

Felix laughing, 2006

I was once again riding Felix, my favorite mount.  As we rode by each distraction the first-second-third time, I realized that the mental sprites that plagued me during the previous summers were today invisible. After our accident last year, it was at least 9 months until I rode Felix again, though I rode many others in between.  Now I realize why my instructors did that. Even though we have a great rapport, the cautions I was unknowingly transmitting to him were resulting in problem reactions. Now that the negative vibes are gone, I am calmer; he is more relaxed. We are now a stronger team than we were before.

Once we assessed and ignored the commotion around us, I was able to focus completely at the task at hand. We completed our course several times, building, modifying, growing as we went along.  Each jump was smooth and even, the approaches steady,  my confidence building as we worked in tandem.

I know from experience that one impeccable ride does not translate into tomorrow’s lesson, but as a wonderful memory, a confidence builder, and a learning experience I will keep it.   Sue voiced that she didn’t think I would have worked through all those jumps earlier this year with so much motion going on, and I agree. I think I have worked extremely hard to leave some trivial fears behind.  And that is better for me and whichever horse I ride. C

 

Frustrating, but a Lesson Learned

Last week I had a very difficult riding lesson, in which I felt I accomplished nothing.  The horse and I were not in sync; I could not get him to do the most basic of maneuvers for someone with many hours of riding experience.

I wanted to end the lesson, but when Jeannine agreed I could dismount, I declined so I could work through it.  After all, it was a gorgeous day out–and I would much rather be riding than sitting at my desk working. 

When my mentally-painful lesson was completed,  Jeannine said something I have been contemplating since then.

“You are a capable rider.  You just need to know that you are capable of doing this.”

Isn’t that the truth of it? There can be a wide berth between being capable of something and being aware of it, so we can act on it.  We all know people who think they are far more competent than they are in various tasks, and others who don’t know their capabilities and strengths.

I AM capable of doing many things on a horse–I just need to realize I have more skills than I envision.  Hard to do, after a bad fall and injury last year.  When Jeannine then pointed out that a couple years ago if a horse spooked and took off galloping I would have been thrown, last week we only went about 10 feet and he stopped (correction–I stopped him).  I had to take away the minor victories of the day. 

Today I rode my favorite horse Felix, who I haven’t ridden since my fall, and we had a beautiful time together.  I’m being taught to think like a horse, which is helping to better understand his responses. I need to realize I have the ability to do more than I have been doing and surpass what I am attempting.  I just know how hard that ground is, so I will take my time. C

 

The Inaugural Spring Ride

My favorite rites-of-spring passages:

1. Enjoying the first cocktail outside on the deck

2. The first 10 mile bike ride watching the children outside, people in their waiting-to-bloom gardens, dads washing their cars

3. My favorite–the first horseback ride outside

It’s been a long winter of riding in the dusty, sometimes dreary indoor arena with closed windows and open doors only letting frigid air in the aisles.  The outdoor arena has gone from a snow covered abyss to filled with giant muddy puddles, a lone sad jump knocked on its side.  Yesterday, however, as I drove up the long drive, the outdoor arena was set up for use.  Woo-hoo! 

I was excited to ride outside, this year more than I had been in a long time.  Last summer I had a horrific fall that resulted in several fractures and sprains in my hand, as well as a very bruised hip.  I didn’t get to ride during the fall, so this was my first time riding outside since the day I smashed into a jump instead of going over it.

I tacked up Dexter, a horse I had not ridden before but always looked very friendly, and we both enjoyed our inaugural spring ride together. There were several jumps in the arena set up with flower boxes, cavalleti poles along two sides of the arena, a mounting block, and a number of horses in the paddocks along side the arena.  

We started slowly, getting to know each other–and letting Dexter absorb his new surroundings.   We walked for 5 minues, then began trotting.  We worked circles, ground poles, serpentines, and just had fun.  We finished with a long, slow canter, picking up speed but not losing control as we finished our workout.

During our cool down, I was so fulfilled to have successfully completed my first outdoor ride–especially on a new horse.  Hopefully tomorrow we can try jumping.

It’s only April, so I know there will be more indoor days to come in the next two months, but I certainly look forward to more rides outside than in. And now I think I will open a crisp bottle of wine to enjoy on my deck…before the next raindrops come. C