Why Not to Give Up

Oh, Tuesday. I had Rebel, we were outside, there was a massive puddle between E and C, and he had decided that it had my name on it.

He was spooking at a teeny tiny one between C and M, and in open order, I kept going back over it, to get him to look at it, ‘It’s just a teeny tiny puddle, dude!’ … with no great success.

He was fighting me for the bit, and when it came to the jumps, I kept him in trot, because we were coming from the A end, and I knew he’d do that dropping-the-shoulder-thing to get me off, and wet.

We managed, although it was a battle after every recovery to get him back on track, to get him back into trot, to get him away from that damned puddle. I lost my balance a fair few times, he refused a fence a split second after I realised he was going to do so [and off I came, but it was dry under the crosspoles] and the whole lesson was a war, but nobody else but me noticed. Well, apart from the falling. [I haven't fallen in ages, and this was a good one, flying right over his head; I still had the reins in my left hand when I landed.]

The turns after the landings were controlled entirely by him, and down went that shoulder, but I did the belly button thing, as scary as it was at the time, and I felt him have to get control of his balance. So score one for me.

I was determined to have him again on Thursday. He’s always better on his own [mostly] and my stubbornness was back.

I Know It’s Getting Better

BECAUSE IT FEELS BETTER The last few jumps on Thursday were over an oxer. I seek to use the correct terms, and I suppose an oxer is an oxer is an oxer, but this was, maybe, if I was pushing it, eighteen inches wide. [There had been some sort of crazy series of fences set up, and the first two were too close together to be a bounce, so it had to be an oxer, and it was DEEP.]

Anyway, we took it in the trot, and it was mostly kind of lacklustre, until the last one: I stopped thinking, and we made a good run for it, and I felt it, perfectly, I folded and rose with Rebel, as he powerfully rose up over the poles, I felt myself meet him, perfectly, and land, perfectly, together.

Over the fence, I was unthinkingly aware, in the instant, of everything being right, of my arms moving up just so, of my hands staying steady, of my shoulders going forward, of the feeling that the two of us were in perfect harmony, that I knew it looked right, because it felt right. I didn’t need the ‘Goooood!’ hollered from the ground, but it was lovely to hear, all the same.

This Makes Sense to Me

Thing are much better in the jumping department. The thing is, I’m back to not thinking about it again. I’m convinced that I had been doing so badly for the previous six months because I had been thinking about it so much. But I suppose I had to think about it to be able to, eventually, forget about it. If I hadn’t been thinking about it, all the bits of it — the legs, the position, my hands — then I wouldn’t be able to not think about it, which I am doing now. Meaning that now my body just knows things. And even if I am coming up the long side, looking at the fence, and in my head I’m reminding myself to keep my leg on and not grab with my knees, for example, the awareness of the need to adjust doesn’t come from my brain. And if there’s a running monologue, it’s in my body; my body’s awareness is reminding me to look up, to wait, wait, wait, fold, and sit up. I’m able to forget about all of it because the processing is shared out evenly between my mind and my body, and this essentially allows me to get out of my own way.

Oh, you know what I mean…

It Doesn’t Get Much Better Than This…

Last Tuesday was great. Perfectly sunny, perfect blue sky, and we went up to the upper arena to jump.

I had Amigo, and I think he likes it up there. I sure do. It’s the perfect balance between being outside and being up in the mountains. I’m still a bit leery of the highest hill, and suppose at some stage will be back up it, but for now, the upper arena is an excellent compromise.

You can see for miles. You can see the miles and miles away to where I live. The whole of Dublin Bay is below, and you can see out over the Irish Sea. The hills flow down to the water — it feels as though the entire east coast of Ireland is at your feet. You jump and jump, and stop, and look out, and being up on the back of a horse makes it all the more glorious.

We got some good jumps in, too, I’m feeling Amigo’s approach better, and only fell behind on one fence. He seemed less… unsure of the fences, maybe it’s all that air and space. Once I could kind of forget about him, and what I thought he was gonna do or not do, I just let him do it, and we went really well…

But then came the pony parade…

And On That Note

The last jump of 2008 was rather eventful.

Bum Rush

I’m really getting this ‘pushing with your seat’ lark.

I had Paul for my last private lesson of 2008, and when you have Paul, you just go until your whole body feels broken, much less your legs, in a good way of course.

We did two fences, one at B and a straight at X, and Reb was working really well, much better than usual for a Thursday morning, and/or I was more awake than usual – whatever, the stars had aligned themselves and we were in good synch.

And we always go better when I’ve got something, like an second fence, to think about.

So, the thing was, we landed after the crosspoles and we got the canter immediately, and I had my eye on the second jump, and I could feel him starting to flag, just that little bit -

And I pushed with my seat, like, consciously, and he didn’t lose pace [er, not much] and we took it, and he didn’t act the maggot and try to swerve in such a way that I would end up in the dirt.

I could have done that all day long. As it was, I missed the 63, which is always a buzz kill, and I certainly didn’t need the 20 minute walk to the 44.

It was worth it. Any time you ask if you can go again, and you’re let, even if you miss the bus, it’s so totally worth it.

Frisky

It’s gotten to be a habit: every Tuesday before the lesson, I pick out Rebel’s feet and give him an auld combover. He was in a mood this past week; he’s mostly stopped farting in my face when I lift his near hind hoof, but he came up with some new tricks.

As I clawed at the mud and poo in cupped in his shoe, he leaned down, and peeled open the velcro closure at the top of my half chaps. Scccccrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrritch, and he snorted.

‘Very funny, dude,’ I said. It really was.

I leant back over his foot, and he bit me on the arse.

Not a big bite, but not a nudge or a nibble either. I took it to mean, ‘Thanks.’

It’s nice when’s he’s playful, because his other mood is sheer cussedness. He was kind of mental on Saturday, but once we got working he relaxed. My posture is much better, too, which is making it easier on him.

After his little games in the barn, he was pretty much gold in the arena. He’s been throwing his head down in the canter and verging on gallop, but with my improved posture, I don’t panic so much.

We’ve been jumping better, mostly because I’ve started thinking about it. No, let me rephrase that: I have been thinking about jumping a lot lately, because my instructors have deemed it so, so I was really, really crap for a while, but now I’m maybe improving again.

So: lately the jumping hasn’t been too crap, so some of the stuff they’ve made me think about is maybe sinking in.

But no matter what, if he’s not into it, it just makes it that much harder. If he’s dragging his feet [literally], or is low energy, or if we’re not meshing on the day, then I can keep my leg on til the cows come home, and he’s not going to go for it.

So he can bite my bum as much as he wants — I’ll take it to bode well for the next hour.

How’d I Do That?

Since I’m supposed to be revising for that exam, I thought I’d post.

The outdoor was basically a mud puddle. I remembered falling off into that wet sand about a year ago… or less… and immediately suppressed the memory. It wasn’t going to happen again.

We were jumping, a double, and then a fence at X. I love doing that, except for the fact that all the horses, not just Rebel, tend to motorbike around the turn after the diagonal jump.

I’ve gotten my mojo back, jumping Reb, as I’ve mentioned. So I wasn’t too worried; we’d done this very same thing last week, and it was great.

Except that Rebel gets a teensy bit dainty when the sand is sucking at his hooves. He expresses this daintiness by being especially bouncy.

Off we went, over the first, and I was preparing for the second, when something happened, and all of a sudden we were going over the fence sooner than I thought we ought to be, and I was just getting into my jumping position — but we were jumping.

Uh. Well. I was thrown that bit too far forward, and wobbled, but I didn’t fall. I didn’t fall, and I sat back, and managed to get him into a canter for the diagonal straight, and everybody was making impressed noises, they seemed to be really loud, for some reason, and we approached the third fence, and Reb seemed to be going faster, and we took the fence, and he did that thing, that thing that he does when he knows the sand is wet and disgusting: he swerved to the left, then quickly to the right —

But I didn’t fall off. And everybody was really loud now, in an affirmative way, and I turned him around, and I don’t know how I didn’t take a tumble.

I guess my balance has finally improved notably. I was, I admit, balancing too much on the reins on the recovery for that last fence, but frankly, if he’s going to mess with me, I’ve got to do what I can to keep in the saddle. Until my balance improves even further.

Barbara said that instead of taking the three strides I expected, he took two and a half, which was why I got caught out. I felt myself shifting all over the place — but I didn’t fall off.

And, I’m hoping, that it was pure instinct, reflex, that sent me back in my seat and around that turn to the fence at X. ‘Cause… I don’t know how I did it, only that I did do it.

I kind of didn’t want to try that again, but I kind of did, but the lesson was over. Bummer.

Not a bummer: sitting on the buses home with a sandy bum. That always makes for an excellent day.

Return of Mojo

I think I may have my seat back over the fences, as far as Rebel is concerned.

We took some low ones on Saturday: the first was so low that he just stepped over it. The others that followed were a little higher, but the exercise we were doing required that we take the fence, then get a line in to trot or canter over a pole on the ground, parallel to the fence.

So, we had to look ahead, and think.

Wibbly Wobbly Wonder

NOT SURE WHAT THAT IS, IS IT ICE CREAM? I was kinda crap on Thursday, and though it might have been, I don’t know, being rusty, couldn’t keep my balance at all, but I had had Rebel on Tuesday and even though we had an ongoing battle for the bit, it was a good night, and, so, was I losing it, was I just crap, crap at horseriding, and I should just quit?!?!