>Breakthrough

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Alicia and I have a habit of closing down restaurants. They are usually putting the chairs upside down on the tables or mopping the floor by the time we look around and realize we should probably go, and have been talking horses for a solid couple of hours. In one of these many talks, all of which I cherish of course, Alicia told me that when she takes lessons with Anne Kursinski, sometimes things that Anne tells her won’t click until months later, and then she’ll realize what Anne was talking about in the middle of a ride. When Alicia told me this, I thought, “Gosh I wish that would happen. More often than not I feel like things are sailing over my head, barely sinking in, or getting lost in translation. But last night I had one of those moments, for the first time.

The advice was this: “You need to make a place for yourself to sit on your horse.” When I first heard this from Alicia, I had a vague sense of what she meant but no sense of how that would feel or how it would be accomplished. Last night I got the feeling and thought “Oh! I get it!” I was perfectly centered in the middle of my horse, comfortably sitting with his stride, balanced, secure and relaxed. And it wasn’t a fleeting feeling. It lasted. And it was good.

Here is how it came about. We warmed up at the walk and he felt good. No gadgets, no gimicks, because I wanted a true sense of how his adjustment had changed his way of going. It definitely made a difference — no more head tilt for starters. When we moved into the trot, he was forward and relaxed but he wasn’t quite balanced. I started doing some big serpentines and he tripped twice behind, which is like a giant neon flashing light that reads: “Your horse is on his forehand and his hind end is actually about a mile behind you doing absolutely nothing. Would you care to fix this before both of you topple over?”

Ah, yes. Perhaps I should do something about this, before, as the sign says, we topple over. So I went back down to the walk. I remembered that one day this summer we had a lesson out in the grass field and Alicia had me work on halting using only my seat and leg, sending him forward if he tried to balance off my hand for the halt, and then asking again. So I went back to this. This time he caught on very quickly (he is after all a Wunderkind) so a couple of times I asked him to back softly after he halted, using a lot of seat and leg. The first few times he wanted to swing his hind end to the left or right as he backed up. I straightened him out slowly and asked for another couple of steps of backing. When he backed up straight, lots of praise.

When I had a really balanced walk, pushing off from his hind end, I went back to a sitting trot. And what a sitting trot it was. I thought about pulling my knee away from the saddle, sinking into my heel, sitting evenly on both seat bones, and stretching tall through my shoulders (the shoulders may have only been partially accomplished. It’s a weakness).

For the transition to the canter I stretched tall, lifted my hand, kept a firm contact on my outside rein, and asked him to canter with support from my inside leg. Excellent departure, and beautiful canter. And then suddenly I felt it — I had made a place for myself to sit. My legs felt like they were just wrapped around him (nevermind they come halfway down his sides). I could feel his back lift beneath me and his hind end become completely engaged. I was using my inside calf muscle to balance him in my canter circles — and he was responding and holding his bend! I lifted my hand and sat deeper down the long sides of the arena and his canter stride stayed the same length. I never got displaced from where I was sitting. I felt like I was six feet tall and had the grace and strength of a ballerina. It was amazing.

Then the moment came when a choir of angels began to sing. I had this awesome canter and I really thought about my downward transition. I thought — just ask for it the same way you asked for the halt. Seat and leg: stretch tall and sit deep, use your inner thighs. And it worked! There was no herky-jerky emergency-break style downward transition. It was light as a feather, and his trot was big and bouncy and soft. It felt so good I almost quit on that, but I wanted to see if I could make it happen in the other direction.

And the best part is — I did! His right lead canter is always easier so I was optimistic. I centered myself again, asked for the upward transition with an elevated hand, firm contact on the left rein and supporting right leg. Another beautiful transition, into the same uphill soft canter. I had a place to sit. I had a moment where I thought — now don’t get too discouraged if you can’t repeat the downward transition. This will still be a fantastic ride. But I thought about my halt transitions, asked the same way, and got the same soft downward transition. I actually said out loud: “I get it! Tucker! I totally get it!”

I quit on that note and gave him all kinds of praise and affection. And he knew he was good too. You could see it written all over his face while I was cooling him out: “I am the MAN.”

How lucky are we, horse people? Do you ever stop and think about it? On a regular old Wednesday night, I got to do something that made me feel thoroughly satisfied and completely elated. Do you ever think about the fact that people who don’t ride must get that feeling so much less frequently? Sure, they have other things that make them happy, but that walking-on-air, everything-is-right-with-the-universe feeling that we get after a good ride must be so hard to replicate in a life without horses. I am so grateful that a few nights a week I get to see this face and know that my life has meaning. This horse is such a blessing.

>Magic

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So Tucker and I had a great lesson on Saturday. (I realize it’s currently Thursday, but it’s been a busy week.) We tried a new gadget, called an Irish martingale. This is another one of Anne Kursinski’s brain storms. Anne is sponsored by Arc de Triomphe, so the Irish Martingale we have is made by them and I’m guessing will be available at Smartpak soon like the rest of Anne’s gadgets. Since Alicia rides with Anne, we sometimes get things early, like the layered reins and the instant gag. I know I’ve already explained all about the instant gag and its benefits for Tucker. Though of course, like any gadget, overuse is counterproductive, so we don’t use anything on Tucker all the time.

We are currently using both the layered reins and the Irish Martingale. The Irish martingale you see to the right. From what I’ve read, it’s very popular in European racing. I love it because it helps me keep even pressure on both reins and seems to prevent Tucker from bulging through my outside rein contact. It’s very subtle, it doesn’t seem to come into play too often but it’s definitely there when you need it.

The layered reins have also been really effective for us. If you click the link above, you’ll see there are loops in the reins through which you put your hands. It has the dual purpose of teaching you the feeling of having your reins short enough all around a course and teaching your horse not to root the reins or yank them out of your hands. Tucker isn’t generally a horse that pulls you around, but since he is used to his mother riding with her reins too long, and since he is much more comfortable with a big stride, he sometimes protests the contact and roots the reins to buy himself another foot of stride or so. But the layered reins have really helped him learn not to do that. We used them in the winter, switched back to regular reins, and for the past few weeks have been using them again. This time, Tucker is far more understanding and accepting of the contact. Progress!

So our lesson on Saturday was really great. We were in the indoor due to the rain (ugh) but it was really nice to see how Tucker is so much more balanced and jumping a course in the indoor was a lot easier for him now. We did a verticle on the outside to an oxer on the diagonal, to a 4 stride line on the other outside. Sounds simple, I know, but sometimes the simplest exercises can teach you so much.

For one, I learned that I really truly can just trust Tucker to find his own distance. He comes out of the corner and locks on to the fence like one of those radar guns you see on fighter jets in movies. I learned that once he does that, I need to just kind of follow along and not break his concentration. As Alicia put it, chances are, the decision he made is the right one. I also learned that when the jumps go up to 3 feet, I think I need more canter. I don’t. When I just keep the same rhythm I had when it was 2’6″, he jumps it right out of stride.

Tucker also seems to have learned from the gymnastics. The 4 stride line was set 3′ short, so we had to jump in quietly and stay collected. He jumped in quietly and was so good about landing and staying collected that I actually had to soften and follow down the line to have it work out nicely in four. This is huge for us! It seems we have finally conquered the huge stride problem. He really understands now about jumping in quietly and then keeping that same collected, balanced canter when he lands from the jump. I think fixing my position has helped a lot with that too. Alicia has jacked my stirrups up to my eyeballs (I type lovingly) which has really helped me keep my leg underneath me and thus keep myself balanced and in the middle of the horse (rather than lounging somewhere on his neck and having to peel myself off of him upon landing). When I stay in the middle, he lands balanced, instead of landing on his forehand and then us having to regroup.

I had this great feeling at the end of the lesson. We jumped the diagonal oxer one last time, and I just came out of the corner, lifted my eye, and exhaled. My contact was there but soft, my leg was supporting but not chasing, my shoulder stayed back, and then he just casually, gracefully, artfully jumped this 3′ oxer like it was no big deal, landed on his right lead, cantered softly around the corner, and that’s the note we quit on. All I could think was: “Wow. Magic.” Even now, I get chills just thinking about it.

It’s amazing how far we’ve come. When I think back to the struggles we had a year ago, to being able to comfortably jump around a 3′ course, it really does seem like magic. And despite all the troubles in my life right now, for that brief moment, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

>New gadget

>First: update on that apartment. There is a train that runs basically through the backyard. At 4 a.m. Every morning. So, maybe not “anything” for my equines. But I did decide to keep an eye out for other apartments in the area. Down-sizing wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.

Before we begin, I know there are some DQ’s* following this blog, and based on the little amount that I know about dressage, I know you may not like this post that much. A brief digression into the “little that I know” about dressage. When I was in high school, I was the captain of our school’s riding team. As captain, I was required to compete in at least one event in each discipline. So, I entered the lovely little mare that I was showing in the children’s hunters in a few dressage shows that were hosted by our school. The poor thing. I can just imagine what went through her pretty little head: “Uh, where are the jumps? Don’t tell me I am supposed to jump those little white things? Why am I the only horse in this hack? Another circle? Seriously? There’s no one in front of us.” I remember one test in particular which I thought was lovely but received rather thinly veiled insults from the judge. At one point, she told me that I needed to work on getting my mare to use her hind end more and reach under herself, which was true. So I agreed, and said I had been flatting her in draw reins once a week to help with that. The judge smiled up at me and said “Why don’t you just give her a lobotomy?”

So, I’ve gotten the impression that dressage folks aren’t too keen on our hunter/jumper tools and gadgets. Let me be careful to say that I do not agree with the program where a horse “lives in draw reins” or has so many complicated pieces of hardware on his face that he looks like Edward Scissor Pony. At some point, it just becomes counter-productive. But I do think gadgets have their place in a training program, when used with discretion and common sense. So… hopefully the DQ’s won’t turn away from your computers in horror, and may simply be wagging your fingers at me admonishingly or shaking your heads in pity… but here we go.

The bit we are currently using is called a double-jointed rotary. It looks like this:

The rotary link allows both sides to work independently of each other. You can purchase one at http://www.horseloverz.com/, which is one of my favorite online equine shopping destinations because they always have great sales and discounts (I am mildly infatuated with not paying full price for anything. I love the thrill). Tucker has a pretty soft mouth, but he tends to lock up on the left side through his jaw. The beauty of this bit is that for a horse like Tucker, somehow this bit keeps him more even on both sides and makes him stay soft regardless of which direction he is bent in. It also makes the transition smoother when he changes his bend. I’m not 100% sure why, but it works.

The gadget that I want to tell you all about today is one developed by Anne Kursinski, called the instant gag. It’s available here, if anyone is interested. It works with your regular snaffle bridle, and gets attached to a second set of reins. Here’s a close up of how it sits with Tucker’s full cheek.

The biggest benefit I’ve found with the instant gag is that Tucker self-corrects. Since my snaffle rein is still attached, the gag rein really only comes into play when he tries to lean or (worse) root the reins out of my hands. He’s typically good about contact, but sometimes it gets kind of hard keeping his extra long package together and he’ll protest. The instant gag also works similar to a poll rein, in that if he tries to come above the contact, he feels pressure on his poll. This typically only happens when he’s “stargazing” (to steal a phrase from Jeff Cook), but the instant gag gives him a nice reminder to come back down to earth.

What’s great about the self-correction is that it avoids the overreaction to being corrected by the rider. The upside to having an over-acheiver is, well, he’s an over-acheiver. He’s a trier. Big time. The downside is that he’s like a little kid that never gets yelled at, who burst into tears when he does. (I might have been that kind of child and I might have raised a horse that is exactly like me. But that’s a whole nother can of worms better suited for a therapist to deal with than my trainer.)

So when Tucker roots the reins out of your hands, and you half halt to correct him, the head flies in the air, his body goes tense, panic ensues, and he generally gives you the “WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME??!?!?!” reaction. Poor guy. He so wants to be good. Such a sensitive soul. The great thing about the instant gag is he leans, feels pressure, comes back to where you want him. “Huh, I guess I shouldn’t do that” instead of “OH DEAR LORD PLEASE DON’T HURT ME I DIDN’T MEAN IT I SWEAR.” Calm down Tucker dear, please, just canter. There’s a good boy. Mommy loves you. You can see how this is mildly amusing at first but becomes kind of terrifying in the middle of a five-stride line. We’re working on getting him to just take a deep breath and get over himself. The biggest obstacle in the way of that goal is that I need to just take a deep breath and get over myself. This is not at easy as it sounds. As many of you know.

Anyway, I have ridden in the instant gag twice and I am loving the softness. It’s also teaching me to be really soft with my hands to avoid him over-flexing at the poll, which is a really good thing.

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*DQ = Dressage Queen, for the unequestrian reader. And it’s not an insult, I mean it with love.