Breaking the Law: Every Action Does Not Need to Have an Equal and Opposite Reaction

When I taught, managing large classes was not always my strongest suite.  The class would get loud, rowdy, and I would get frustrated.  My knee jerk reaction was to use a louder, angry voice, subconsciously trying to match the energy level of the classroom.  Let me tell you how ineffective that is!  Believe it or not, the middle school teacher would approach this problem by whispering or saying nothing at all.  Surprisingly enough, most students would settle down when they realized that they weren't getting a reaction and were missing out on information.

Sometimes, riding an atomic mare requires meeting her dramatic moments with only the most subtle of aids or silence.  When I don't engage with her moments and stay centered, focusing myself on the task at hand, we are successful.  When all hope seemed lost in getting the left lead canter, keeping my hips and shoulders pointed in the right direction while staying calm was the final piece to teaching her she could stay balanced and pick up that lead.  Unfortunately, learning requires a lot of repetition, so it has been a struggle to make the non-reaction my response.

Finally, at Hitching Post Farm's schooling horse trial this weekend, I was able to mindfully apply the non reaction to jumping in a competition setting.  She was incredibly relaxed during jump warm up*, cantering easily to fences on a looped rein.  So I thought, "what the heck, I'm not going to touch my reins unless I have to."  As it turns out, I had no need to until an in and out that we in-ed and grazed off the B of... But, I can't blame her, we have schooled a bit angling in and out of elements of a combination without working on combinations this year.  She was fantastic once we went through the second time and I was clear with my directions.  As a result, I picked up the reins a bit and found the "too much" end of the spectrum.  She was a bit reactive to that, getting a bit squirrelly during the last bending line.  However, letting her be and focusing on finishing the course resulted in a completed course and a horse happy to start XC.

Suki was a bit all over the place when starting XC.  She had her eyes on everything, not just the jumps with the yellow flags.  Luckily, Hitching Post Farm has a great feel for what is appropriate for a schooling cross country course.  The first four fences were low, welcoming, and rounded, very unthreatening to a horse that didn't quite check in until the last minute.  Suki did not have an opportunity to formally school cross country before the event, so I considered the first few fences a means to jog her memory and find a rhythm.  I gave her a loose rein and sent her along where appropriate.  By giving her her freedom, unlike last year, I had a horse more inclined to respect my aids, such as when I asked her to walk off the down bank so she wouldn't get too aggressive.**

Jumping Fence 8
Nick Goldsmith Photography (used with permission)

The real test was the approach to fence eight.  I knew this could be a tricky fence as the approach turned toward the start box.  When I walked the course, I noted she could very easily try to run through her left shoulder and try to head for the start before noticing we were aiming for another fence set on a slanted uphill approach.  What do you know, she got going toward the start and threw a little bit of a fit about being blocked by my outside aids.  It took everything in my power to not get into it with her and make her go where I wanted.  Instead, I let go of her a bit, kept my shoulders and hips pointed toward the fence, and looked toward the approach to fence 9.  Low and behold, she came right out of her drama queen moment and jumped the fence beautifully.





* This may or may not have been related to the hack up a substantial hill the day before or the 45 minutes of dressage warm up.  If I have learned nothing else from Suki in the past year, it is that she functions better when she is just a little bit tired.

** Suki has a history of getting a little too game up and down banks.

Learning from Competitions

Ready to go to GMHA... and still clean!

This weekend, I headed off to GMHA not quite knowing what to expect.  Six weeks earlier, I sent in my entry for Suki’s first recognized event.  Already, the year had not started ideally; but, I was determined to meet my goals.  Hand surgery?  Psh.  Horse with an abscessed heal… icthamol.  Horse that pulls shoe off of the foot with the heel abscess?  My awesome farrier for putting the shoe back on ASAP.  What’s a total of two weeks off, really…

And then there was the jumping issue.  Or, rather, the lack of jumping.  We did have two very productive, back–to–back jump schools with Denny the weekend before.  However, that is not exactly enough for a green horse and a rusty jump rider.  Despite my horse’s innate ability to jump, the situation did affected my confidence going into the event.

I was very honest about how this altered my approach to the event with myself for about five minutes when I explained to Denny my goal was to go Beginner Novice; but, if things weren’t working out after dressage, I would withdraw.  Then, I went back to acting like everything was totally normal, despite all the pot holes along the way.

For once, I was very organized about how I packed for the event.  Generally a last minute, cram everything I own into the trailer and try to scrub it all the night before type of person, I paced out my cleaning and packing.  I made myself a morning of time table I followed strictly.  My horse was fabulously clean, thanks to some grooming tips from a coworker of mine.

In terms of time management and preparation, the bar was set for the season. 

In terms of competing itself, it turns out Suki and I have a bit of work to do.  My previous serious competition horse left me a little spoiled.  He would start the season were he left off the season before.  Our least season together, he spent a summer in the indoor, went down to Southern Pines, and schooled XC like he’d never had a break from it.  What I had forgotten was the amount of work I had put in the first years I had him to get him to that point.  It’s amazing how easy that is to forget.  So, I hopped on Suki, at least having the foresight to have a good friend of mine, Sarah, head her. After a snit–fit, she headed toward dressage.  She determined the bridge to the Upway rings was just terrifying, ignoring she had clambered across it like a school master the previous fall.  A kind young lady and her handsome grey horse gave us a lead across.  All the drama cut into our warm–up and that lead to… Lesson number one:  Suki needs more than a half hour schedule for warm up.  Not because she needs to be “tired out,” but to give her enough time to just digest (read: claim her domain over) new surroundings.

The extra time may have helped avoid something I never considered happening:  I was eliminated in dressage.

And no, to answer the ever present question, we did not leave the arena.  It turns out your horse is not allowed to decide to try to rewind and do the first part of their test backwards while you attempt to redirect them forward.  Who knew?  All because the corner by M became LAVA after the downward transition from the left lead canter.  Our “bad” lead.  Which we nailed, causing me to be very hopefully about how wonderful the rest of our test was going to be… for all of two seconds.

I determined she still had to do a little bit of work after we were graciously given the boot from the arena.  That flat work was lovely.  She always does best after elimination.  Or maybe her rider things eh, whatever, relaxes, and rides better.  Maybe.  Just maybe.

Lucky for me, another friend showed up to watch my show jump round.  And she reminded me that although I could not compete, that did not mean that Suki could not gain some invaluable warm–up ring experience.  So, off we went to show jump warm up.  Which, off all things at an event, is the thing I find the most nerve wracking.  We walked, we trotted, we cantered, she refused to go right past the in gate area, we discussed going where instructed, we had a melt down or three, and I became very glad that we were not allowed to jump.  However, I was equally glad I had a friend that reminded me that there was a schooling opportunity to take advantage of.  She goaded me into making figures and not worry so much about getting in other people’s ways.  That was an invaluable rider schooling experience.  And my little atomic mare, despite her explosions, became reacquainted with the idea that she can work in a chaotic environment.  Maybe next event, we can get back to where we left off last year: falling asleep after a relaxed warm–up until the ring steward lets us in for our round.  Another lesson: you can’t expect to pick up where you left off if where you left off wasn’t quite habit yet.  That takes repetition.

Decisions, Decisions

Suki Free Jumping 4' Winter 2014
Working toward a solid foundation with flexibility

IIt seems sort of strange to be creating a rough outline of my season when I have been recuperating from hand surgery for the past four weeks.  In other words, I have not ridden since February, per order of my surgeon.  And yes, I listened, if for no other reason than I didn’t want to have surgery a second time if the screws snapped before the bone fused. 

Anyway, here I am, finally able to type without some ridiculous brace on my hand, and I am doing what any good eventer does… dreaming of the first Opening Day of my season!

Which, retrospectively, might actually be the second opening day of my season.  I have been fixated on Suki’s recognized début, which I hope to have at GMHA’s June event; this assumes, 1. we are ready, and 2. we get in.  The first opening day will more likely be Hitching Post’s Schooling Horse Trials.  This is all a big change from the 15–mile Mud Ride I wanted to start the season off with, that is, until I realized I wouldn’t be reevaluated to ride until 11 days before.  

Then, there is where to go after that!  For me, that depends a lot on how GMHA goes.  I have dreams of where my season will go; but, they depend a on how things start out.  Eventing a young horse must be done carefully, building success upon success.  It is best to build in room for error and time for reevaluation; considering what is done now builds a base for seasons to come.  So, I do not know what I will do after GMHA.  I have my eye on the entire season, mixing in some schooling events, working with my trainers, and trying to move up to Novice at some point.  What I do know about the season is that it is subject to change and no decision is final, at least not until we commit to a fence.

...You Get What You Need

The fantastic group of friends and family Ben (laying down) and I had in our wedding party.  

"Life is a collaboration, we don't do it alone." - Tim Gunn

A lot of my life I have spent in my own head.  It's just the sort of person I am--hyperanalytical, a perfectionist and perhaps a little bit self conscious.  The last two years, particularly the last year, have blown all of that out of the water.  And while this entry has been sitting, half written, for some time, it seems a particularly relevant topic given my current state.  I am crashed out on my couch, reading, with a cryo cuff wrapped around my finger.  Two freshly placed screws are holding most of a knuckle together, and I am happy for the ice cold water dampening the throbbing.  Needless to say, with two fragile screws in my hand post-surgery, I am not supposed to go near any horses.  

Even two years ago, had I been in this position, I would have had no idea what to do.  Part of an existence buried in my own head is a difficulty accepting that other people want anything to do with me beyond passing interactions.  When I read Denny Emerson's How Good Riders Get Good and hit the part about support groups, my first thought was, "shit, I don't have that...Maybe, maybe, I can do without that," because the thought of both putting myself out there maybe asking for help, and perhaps accepting help if any one was crazy enough to offer it, made me nauseous.

So much has happened between then and now to challenge and change how I interact with other people. First of all, moving to Vermont and living with a Vermonter has been a conflict with how I was raised; my family being obsessed with "what is acceptable," and how my new family did things. Ben's friends and family like to just show up and hang out because they wanted to see him or us. And as strange as this may seem, it totally took me aback and overwhelmed me.  Then, when Ben and I had some troubles with our housing situation and neighbors gave us a place to put the horses while trying to find a new home, it became clear there are people willing to help just because they can.  I appreciate it a lot more now and have accepted that people care without ulterior motives and might just want to be around me.  It sounds silly, but that has been hard for me.  

Last year, I bought a house and got married.  The hope was to have the wedding at the house. However, when you have property divided up by two streams and a pond with a wedding date inconveniently set after two moths of rain, it starts to look more like you'll be inviting people to go mudding rather than to a wedding.  So, Ann Kitchel at Huntington Farm, where I was (am) boarding, convinced me to get married at the farm.  I am very grateful for her generosity!  Between that and Denny forgiving me for spacing entirely about what day my lesson was on the week of my wedding, I was starting to realize that some folks just wanted to help me because... just because.  

And, it is important to note somewhere in here, even the support you receive that isn't directly related to horses,counts as support in equine pursuits.  While things like my mother-in-law hosting an awesome rehearsal dinner may seem unrelated to the horses, Ben's family's acceptance when I'm late because I was wrapping a hoof for someone else is more than I could ask.  It was also awesome to have so many horse people come help me celebrate.  One long term horse friend even flew in from California to be my bridesmaid, after I had done the same for her the year before.

Beyond accepting that people genuinely want to help me as much as I want to help them, these past few years I have been making horse friends in the area.  Somewhere along the line I abandoned hope on trying to have many non-horse friends (with a few exceptions).  It's not to bash non-horse folks, but after a particularly rough blow out with a long non-horse friend several years ago that ended with something along the lines of "no matter what, you always end up putting the barn first," something I didn't see the issue with, and I gave up.  And, being fairly introverted, this friends thing is hard.  However, circumstances have led me to meeting some amazing people in the area.  They are people I enjoy being around in the barn, without competitive pressure (a big one for me) and I can go grab a beer or text when something awesome (or awful, or silly) just happened.  Heck, I'm waiting for one now to send me the "he's on his way" text so I can see my new pseudo-nephew.  

The last major support related change I have made in the past few years: admitting when I need help.  This became a huge mountain for me, one that I climbed when deciding to resign as a high school teacher (huge for me because, well, I had to admit it wasn't a role I was ready for and I was overfaced).  I have a huge fear of failure and am petrified I will be judged as not good enough if I ask for help.  The summer before, after a mentally taxing lesson, Denny pointed out to me that no one else cares if I make a mistake.  And, like so many things he says, he moved on while I chewed on it.  He was right.  For a million reasons, I needed help when I decided to revisit pursuing horses, recovering from my job as a classroom teacher (seriously, thank your kids teachers... it takes so much more than you know), and revamping my life.  And, for once, I asked for that help. The people around me supported my decision.  My husband was relieved to help get the woman he married back, a new friend who had gone through a similar experience lent her support, and many others lent an ear.  Then, I found an awesome job and those employers have been amazing, even going out of there way to make sure I am taken care of while recuperating from my injury.

Full circle back to being injured.  I don't know what I would have done with my horses a few years ago in this predicament.  Now, I have people in my life I can trust to help.  I'll admit, I was nervous to ask for that help.  But, I couldn't be happier knowing what gentle hands my big gelding is in and what an understanding rider the atomic mare has working her.  I am also completely blown away by the help I have gotten from the community, right down to the persistent woman who made sure I saw an orthopedist (yes, I may have otherwise just let the mess I made of my hand stay, well, a mess... I am stubborn) and sat by my side as I zonked out and came-to from surgery.  

Support for riding comes in so many forms, some of it seemingly unrelated at first.  Everything is connected however, and without being mutually supported as well as supporting of others, life is a treacherous journey not lived to it's fullest.

PostScript: 
I also cannot emphasize enough how lucky I am to have an incredibly supportive husband I have. He helps me work toward my dreams and I try to help him with his.  He is the keystone to my support system.

My parents have also always been supportive, one way or another, whether they understand why I'd rather ride and live in the middle of no where or not.  Thankfully, they have recently come to grips with their stubborn child's career choice.

What's the Rush?

Schooling gymnastics on Suki with Denny
(Photo: May)

Fact 1: Most of us have ridden a horse that rushes fences.

Fact 2: Trotting fences is one of the primary exercises used to torture riders, second only to sitting trot, no stirrups, on the bounciest horse in the barn.

Unavoidable fact that we all try to ignore because of the first two unavoidable truths: trotting fences on a rushing horse, on a loose rein, until the horse jumps consistently from a relaxed trot without catapulting or bolting afterwards is the best way to condition a horse to not rush.  This is something you probably already know, and if you don’t already know it, you do now and have no excuse for ignorance.

Now, I am a rider that has a strong desire to know why something fixes a problem so that I can own it and tinker with it.*  So, why do horses rush?  Anxiety.  Horses that are anxious about jumping have two primary responses at their disposal, stopping or rushing, with variations there of.  Rushing can occur to the fence or bolting after fences.  Stopping, when it really comes down to it, tends to be followed by a horse trying to "get out of Dodge" or shutting down, using the tried and true, "if I don't acknowledge it, it isn't there" also often seen with the "reluctant loader," and for similar physiological reasons.

The primary structure in the brain responsible for anxiety is the amygdala, home of the infamous "fight or flight" response.  This center releases hormones, molecules used to signal the whole body it needs to react in each part's assigned way.  Anxiety can be a very useful response.  For a horse, it would save them from the infamous catamount lurking in the dark.  For a modern human, it is that call to action during an emergency.  However, for all parties involved in riding, the same hormones that send you from the start box like a cavalry charging to battle can cause your horse to panic, jump you right out of the tack, and land bolting across the field… causing a whole new kind of start box anxiety the next time out.

What all of this means is that as a rider, you need to condition your horse to experience commonplace situations without anxiety.  This requires a lot of patience and repetition.  In terms of rushing fences, this means the tried and true hop–and–plop exercise, repeated until a horse’s automatic response to approaching a fence is “oh, I need to get from here to there, no big deal, no rush” rather than “ahhhh, if I get it done it’s over, then maybe my rider will quit asking me to do this scary thing.”  The anxiety can be further heightened by a rider that clamps up approaching a fence, nit picks, holds, or catches a horse in the mouth over the fence.

So, don’t do that.

And how do you, dear rider, just not do that?  There are many ways, most of which require… you guessed it… practice.  Now, we have two parties that both need to practice the same thing.  How?  Set all your fences to small heights, it’s okay, no one is judging (and if they are, they aren’t worth having around).  Acquire a neck strap, a belt or stirrup leather will do, you don’t need to use it over every fence, but they are very useful to have just in case.  Now, pick up a trot and keep your hands at the very start of where the rubber of the reins meets the leather.  Yes, I mean loop your reins.  No matter what.  And yes, it might make you feel completely crazy, out of control, and get that little bit of anxiety going in your own stomach.  You’ll thank me.

If you have to, start trotting poles on the ground until the rhythm does not change.  How do you keep it from changing?  Think about the rise and fall in the trot as sinking and gently bumping up.  Let your hips loosen, your shoulder blades slight down your back, and, for goodness sake, let all the tension in your elbows go.  When you’re ready, continue onto small fences.  Go until you horse can reliably trot to a fence, hop over it, and depart in a quiet, relaxed manner.  If your horse takes a mega–leap over an itty, bitty fence, he earns himself several more jumps. 

Amazingly enough, I found that the more I did this, the more I was conditioning myself to relax in front of fences.**  Why?  Humans are animals, when you get right down to it, and do not always have logical response to situations.  Sometimes, your anxiety (or your horse’s anxiety) level may start high for unrelated reasons and be raised by the activity at hand.  Conditioning yourself to respond to anxiety inducing situations in a relaxed manner will improve not only your riding, but if you take it a step further, your life.

For example, I have had a habit of mentally reiterating my to–do list until needing to get everything done has me so anxious that I am unable to fully focus on anything or accept changes to my plan.  This is a similar situation to a horse rushing fences to get it over with… I needed to condition myself to approach each task as its own element, do my best with it, and proceed to the next task.  It is tough, I still rush tasks, but writing my lists down, establishing reasonable time frames, and not over scheduling myself has allowed me to stop rushing.  With lessened anxiety, I am able to get more done and respond better to change, just as a calm horse can be more adjustable on course.

*  Lila Gendal wrote an article for Eventing Nation on this: Exploring the Why

**Denny prompted me to do this… over… and over… and it has subsequently occurred to me he was forcing me to relax more than my horse.

Reflections in the Snow

Recently, we had a snow storm in Vermont.  No, not that one, the one before that.  I decided to work just one more horse because the snow didn't seem to be building up *that* fast when I turned out my big guy.  On my way back into the barn, I pause for a minute, stood still, and drew in the cool air.  For a minute all I heard was the pat of flakes, the crunch of it under hooves, and the faint babble of the creak running on the far side of the barn.  Exhale.

This is something I have been finding myself doing more lately, pausing to take in where I am.  When I worked for Sue, I used to do this- pause a second to look at Mount Ascutney.  There was one tree, maybe midway up, that turned a brilliant yellow.  Or I'd watch the morning mist rise feeding breakfast, enjoying the quiet alone with the horses.  These are the moments we rush through to get to the next thing and the next.... Until?

Until what?

New Years inspires a lot of reflection.  But, in reality, life might be better lived if shorter, more frequent moments of reflection took place.  2013 was a whirl wind for me: got a (more than) full time teaching job (well, that was fall of 2012); bought a house in January; got married in July; and finished a Masters degree with a 4.0, with three extra credits earned via another program to boot.  I could have used more moments to stop and appreciate where I was, but I really just... kept... going.  Except for the occasion when I'd spy my husband on the back porch, gazing at the pond, and I would join him.  Even then, I could not quite slow down all the coulda, woulda, shoulda, in my brain.  The weight of all I needed to get done dragged behind me because I let it hold me down.

And now there is 2014, the Year of the Horse.  I did not realize the coincidence until January 1st, but here it is.  And I am not really one for Chinese astrology, other than remembering Rats and Horses can have a tendency to head butt.  I am a Rat.  My mom is a Horse.  And this is the year, in all the jumble of deciding to resign from my teaching position and finishing my Masters, she finally came to the conclusion I came to when I first moved to Vermont: horses are part of who I am, an unavoidable passion of mine.  A friend of mine once noted that my internal monologue was pretty much just, "pony pony pony pony..." And they aren't far off.  I wake up and check out OTTBs that have been sent to me, I wander way too frequently to sales pages just to stare at photos and pedigrees.  If I'm not riding, I'm trying to figure out when I can... 

So, here I am, jumping off a large cliff, and trying to make horses work.  That is my 2014: horses, and whatever other jobs I need to piece together to make it (if anyone needs a fun cake made, I may be your gal).  With any luck, I can tutor as well.  I do like educating, both animals and people, as all parties involved learn something, myself included.

I feel a little crazy; but, no matter what I do, it comes back the hopes of a young me, living in Boston, imagining a life out west with my very own cow pony and the teenager, fascinated by the long-format, staring at TRF listings and dreaming Fair Hill dreams.

Little does Suki know, I may be looking for a way to signed her up for working cows.