Sneaky C: Artful Evasions

Oh, C. Why must you be so sneaky?

Yesterday was another helpful lesson with N– my first time jumping in a month and 8th time total with C (yep, you read that right, discounting the occasional single crossrail I’ve only jumped C 8 times since I bought him). Needless to say, it took a couple crossrails to get me feeling like I had any knowledge whatsoever of jumping.

r my heels ok?/??

We did a lot of trot in – canter out crossrails and a couple verticals, and a 2′ oxer (whee!). Most importantly, we nailed down how C’s been evading trotwork with ninja kicks. He strikes out sideways with his hind legs, effectively swinging his butt across to the side, and I didn’t quite realize what an impact it was having. Thank the lord for attentive trainers; N noticed right away that what C was doing was displacing me, pitching me forward with his booty bumps and erasing any collection or contact I had prior, reverting us back to long and flat and horrible. So N gave me a couple ideas to keep me in position when he’s gearing up to kick out– get stronger and taller through my core, keep my elbows flexing but at my sides, and maintain the aids so he can’t effectively blast through them.

And it worked! Obviously, Rome wasn’t built in a day and C won’t stop booty bumping me out of the contact in one lesson, but it’s good to know what I can do to get more genuine work out of him for our flatwork days, and push through the evasions.

Once we had that figured out, it was only some of my more pressing flaws. I have a bad tendency to keep my ankles, elbows, and wrists pretty stiff. My elbows and wrists should be flexing and ‘giving’ with C’s movement, while I should be sinking into my heels and letting my ankles flex, too. N repeated this mantra (very patiently) over most of the fences and by the end of it I felt like my heels were ten times better than the start. I’ve always had problems with my elbows in riding, so it was good to get another set of eyes on it again and start re-encouraging me to flex them, but not to give completely to C getting heavy in my hands (remember ZAS? Yeah, that). The last topic we broached was my release, or lack thereof, but all that took was a reminder to grab a bit of mane and it pretty much stuck (mostly because the difference was astounding immediately, so I think the importance of it kinda pressed on me).

Precious little horse

C’s job for this lesson was trotting in at an even tempo (assisted, of course, with my posting), staying in front of my leg, and putting in an ounce or two of effort over the jumps. He did pretty well overall! N put down a pole in front of the trotted jumps to give a guideline for finding the distance and staying organized instead of rushing. C was definitely excited to be jumping again and I did quite a few circles to remedy this, and ensure he wasn’t rewarded for taking off towards them.  For the most part, we wanted to trot the jumps, but N told me the most important part was the rhythm. Either we had to approach at a bouncy, forward trot (tic, toc, tic, toc) or approach at a bouncy forward canter (one and two and one) but never rushing and never disorganized.

For the most part, I wanted to approach at the trot as it’s easier to regulate rhythm and remind C not to rush. After the lesson was nearly finished, though, N directed us to canter a vertical fence with fill and it went like a dream. C was more relaxed than at the start, responsive to my half-halts, and didn’t throw me out of the saddle; my ankles were flexed and my heels down, and my hands were forward and in his mane for the release. It felt monumentally better than the first couple sort-of awkward fences, and I couldn’t be happier with the lesson. I felt as though I learned so much in that one span– obviously it’s not permanently fixing everything N brought up, but it’s a good start.

Also, I’m a bad person and the sports psychology post isn’t finished. Also I have no new photos. Love me!

— M

Holy Athleticism, Batman!

I really wish I had video for you guys! Unfortunately I don’t, so my words and more pictures of C’s schnoz will have to suffice.

and you know my supply is unlimited

Sunday I hopped on C and he was even more of a terror than the previous rides. So rather than sitting through it as I had a couple rides prior, I texted the barn’s resident sticky-seat kid, who rode C when he first came to the barn. At first I was worried the naughtiness was all in my head, but when he started the same things with her, I could see it from the ground. Cue simultaneous horror/relief! Anyway, she schooled him for a good twenty minutes. The basis of it was showing him how hard his life could be if he kept being naughty, and thereby demonstrating just how easy it could be if he cooperated. By the end he was behaving himself a bit better, and she popped him over a jump or two. Ever since he nearby faceplanted over a crossrail in the clinic (he was too busy squabbling with me to notice there was a jump under his feet), C has been very careful about jumps, even crossrails.

Still, he overjumped the crossrails by a good two feet with her! And I hadn’t really seen him jump from the ground before, so I was a little in awe. My pony has hops, guys. Even when he’s being a total ass.

Anyway, they finished on a little 2′ vertical and I called it quits. He was good over them, so I figured better to end it there than have me get on and ruin all the work. Besides, he was getting tired (consequences!) so I tossed him in his stall with a half gram of bute. When I came in the morning yesterday, he was being a ground-manners monstrosity so I sort of assumed he’d be the same under saddle.

But wait. No. He was awesome. I think Miss Sticky-Seat put the fear of Hell (a.k.a. actual hard work) into him and he decided to don his halo once more. We had a few baby moments of “Nyeeeeeuuurgh I don’t want to hold myself up!” but otherwise he was a doll for warmup, despite the rain hammering on the roof of the indoor. T was optimistic, having heard a full recounting of the schooling the day prior, that he mulled it over and decided naughty wasn’t worth the effort. Hallelujah.

 

We had a little crossrails lesson that involved a lot of transitions. Do a triple line with one stride between (the 1’s were on the longer side, imo, but oh well) and trot before the wall. Trot in, canter through, trot out immediately after the last jump. We did a little 2′ vertical near the end though he was getting tired and flat by that point and knocked it down. Honestly, it was fine– he was listening much better, and after a brief argument about sitting on his butt before the jumps instead of hanging out on that forehand, he was pretty easy to work with.

Ahh, my cooperative baby horse returns! … although he does look a little different now.

Sep 2015

Jan 2016

Tomorrow I leave for England, so I’ll run something by you all– since I won’t be riding C (or any horse, probably), I’m hoping to get a few riding theory/analysis sort of posts out, a bit like the Sitting Versus a Softer Seat post I did a week-ish ago. I’m getting pretty interested in a couple aspects of dressage and specifically how to relate them back to jumping. I also watched a really incredible, informative Beezie Madden demo that I’d be interested in looking a little deeper at. Let me know your thoughts, and if there’re none I’ll spam you with pictures of C– I already miss my little monster.

a picture of innocence

— M

2016 Resolutions and Goals

At the bottom is my 2015 in review— since this blog is only 3 months old, there isn’t much to it, but it’s there if you’re interested! This post will mainly be about my goals for C, myself, and my riding.  I decided to take a page from Megan at A Enter Spooking’s book and do quarterly goals. Because C is so young, I expect we’ll run into snafus, or even exceed expectations, so I’ll review this again in early April and adjust as necessary!

Goals for C, late Winter/early Spring 2016

1. Grow up and into those legs. This will improve coordination and his ability to do the things we’ve been struggling with such as leads, better transitions, etc. After that judge’s comments (“Lovely prospect, just a little gangly/uncoordinated right now”) I’m excited for this to happen.
2. Build more booty muscle. It’ll make it easier for him to pick up and hold the canter, as well as make jumping a bit easier/smoother.
3. Nail down longe commands. This is on me, too. Right now his longe manners leave something to be desired.
4. Small collections/adjustability. Something that’ll really come in handy when we jump, since right now he gets excited and flat, and sorta rushes/drags me after the jump.
5. Tolerate braiding. Seriously dude. Stop head bobbing.

Goals for M, late Winter/early Spring 2016

1. More effort/thought into exercises. Keeping flatwork fresh and interesting is a bit of a trial, and sometimes I should just go in and set up a few pole exercises for us to go through.
2. Listen to more podcasts/riding theory, purchase a couple books. These resources are so invaluable and I need to take better advantage of them!
3. Pilates! I have a membership in my hometown for a wonderful fitness center that offers classes. I want to strengthen my core on and off C
4. Audit a clinic or two. I’m kind of curious if the clinic I participated in was an anomaly or if that teaching style is the ‘norm’ for many clinicians– basically, if I need to grow thicker skin or if that teaching style didn’t suit me. Plus, education!
5. Get more social. Right now most of my friends are barn friends. Nothing wrong with that, but I could do with more of them!
6. Practice braiding. I can do tails ez pz, but my button braids are mediocre on a good day.
7. Find a way to combine something I love with something that pays the bills. Lord help me.

Goals for riding, late Winter/early Spring 2016

1. Develop a more independent seat. Bareback work, no stirrups dressage, build up that core!
2. Get on a lot of different horses, if possible. I’d like to develop my riding skills and make myself more adjustable, to fit the ride rather than trying to make the ride fit me.
3. More dressage! And I’m talking valuable dressage that will help C get rounder, improve his topline, and make him a more supple, responsive horse. I’d also like to work on baby leg yields to work on leg aids with him, and find a specific way to ask for canter that doesn’t confuse him.
4. School Intro when the season begins. To work on how he sees XC, and better channel his energy out there. Right now his misbehavior means a lot of circling, saving the reward (the jump) for when he’s actively listening.

Goals for the year, 2016:

1. Compete at one H/J Show at 2′. Because I hate crossrails and so does C (Okay, not really. It’s just me. I really hate crossrails despite how great they are for learning and schooling. Don’t judge me).
2. Compete at one USEF Dressage show at BN. Because after writing Falling In & Falling Short after our last dressage show, I’m determined to redeem us!
3. Compete in one event at Intro. For the experience! Plus we’ll nail the W/T dressage test.
4. All pink, everything. Self explanatory, and I’m well on my way 😉

my tack trunk. muahahah

 

2015 In Review

October, 2015: I bought C on October 6th, the day before my birthday! After a period of “I-can’t-believe-this-is-real”, we had a wonderful little jumping lesson and started preparing for our first ‘show’, a little local derby. I wrote my first ‘theory’ post about expectations in baby horsedom, which I think I’ll be turning into a series this year! We had an excellent dressage test and a wonderful jumping round and came in 3rd at our first show!

November, 2015: We had our first brush with saddle fitting issues (and unfortunately, not the last) and I realized my horse is supremely passive-aggressive. I did my first bloghop (haikus for Zen and the Art of Baby Horse Management) wrote about dressage struggles and fear of the upcoming local dressage show at BN. Just in time for December, I compiled a post of my horse’s grossest facial expressions for your enjoyment.

December, 2015: I kicked off the month with another theory post on communication with our equine partners, cried a lot after a tough clinic, and fretted about how well my future and C’s align. I opened the best Secret Santa gifts from the Graduated Equestrian (successfully further pink-ifying C’s life). I also wrote a post that started a super interesting discussion about stadium jumping in a deep or forward seat. On New Year’s C popped out with some mystery hives and we may have found a saddle that fits– plus some analytical stuff about his little misbehaviors!!

In January, I’m hoping to keep the blog updated as regularly as possible, and start a number of new discussions that all riders can benefit from. Happy New Year’s to all from M&C at Canter & Candor!

sometimes we’re cute-ish, especially when blurry

— M

Baby Horse Bravado

First off, happy new year everyone! I’ll get a post up later with some resolutions and updated goals and all that jazz.

As C is building muscle, he’s becoming increasingly confident, bordering on cocky. No, wait, really cocky. On Tuesday we had an excellent dressage lesson. He was lifting through his body, pushing with power from behind, accepting contact, the whole nine yards. I have never felt more in tune with him than in that lesson– T commented on how we really looked like a team, and how he’s made me a much better rider (which is very true). I left the lesson feeling absolutely elated, confident, and incredibly proud of my increasingly intelligent, adjustable, and responsive baby horse.

And the cooldown walk at sunset wasn’t too shabby either

And then Wednesday morning rolled around. He was pretty naughty, which I chalked up to something new I was trying with a saddle, so I cut the ride short to preserve some of that happiness from the day prior. And yesterday? He was a nightmare.

C says “pbbbttthh, mom, sucks to be you”

Usually his naughtiness is in the form of little behaviors like booty bumps, little kicks out, nothing unbearable and definitely nothing that could unseat me (I’m pretty sticky). This one I got on and the second I asked for a trot he was not having it. The little behaviors started earlier than usual, since they typically start once we do canter work– and I can kind of understand little expressions of frustration, as when I ask him to develop newer muscles it’s difficult for him. But this was pretty unacceptable, and only got worse when I asked for canter. Since I’d prefer not to be riding a nutcase baby for a jump lesson, we threw him on the longe for a bit. Baby horse turned into a bronco, and T told me when she rode him a few days ago she had to longe him for quite a while before he simmered down and stopped rearing/bucking/kicking.

Once we brought him in, I hopped on again, ran through a one stride ground pole to crossrail line, and he lost all that glorious brain I was so proud of. He grabbed the bit and went. I was taken a little by surprise because while we’ve had to ‘reinstall’ his brakes a few times, he’s not usually at that degree of misbehavior. We tried a few things– lots of transitions, and not allowing him to jump (as the jump is the reward for behaving) until he settled back, but just when things would start to calm down he’d get rushy and unbalanced again.

T said, if he has the energy to be running off with you, he has the energy to longe again. So back on the line he went. She palpated his back a little and noticed he was sore (likely from A. being a douche on the longe line, B. because of the new saddle fit thing I tried Wednesday, and C. from the solid work we did Tuesday) so we sent him off to let him stretch out a little. Stretch he did! He actually had his nose so close to the ground stretching out his back muscles that he kicked himself in the face. It was all well and good until I brought him in to switch directions and noticed…

WHAT

Hives. HIVES. All over his back where T had palpated him.

We’re not talking a spot here and there, like his whole back was rippling with hives. T and I were stumped. She went through a mental list of things she’d had on her hands and couldn’t think of a thing that would’ve caused a reaction. And trust me– these hives weren’t there when I first sent him out on the longe the second time around, and only appeared when I brought him in.

Naturally the lesson was well-cancelled by this point, but could it get weirder? I went in, washed off the hive-y area, put some liniment on, tossed bute in his grain and spent the evening puzzling over what the heck could’ve happened.

I’m also praying the naughty was brought on by the soreness and not C just being a jackass. What he was doing… well, I don’t mind misbehaviors and I can sit through most of them, but he wasn’t responding to downward transitions through seat, so I had to get very handsy with him. It was incredibly unpleasant for all parties, and I kind of hope he learns from this one experience so neither of us have to repeat it. All over a very blah day.

But! If I blot the last two days from memory, I feel better.

Saddle?! Maybe?!

Also, I may have found a saddle that fits– see above?! What?? Obviously I need to jump in it before I make a decision (hence the attempted/failed jump lesson) but keep your fingers crossed for me! The flaps aren’t as forward as I tend to prefer, buuuut… if it fits (the horse), I sits.

— M

Sitting versus a Softer Seat

Since I have been home for the holidays, I haven’t been on C in about a week, but as per usual I am doing a lot of thinking about my position and how it will affect him, so I have more to think about when I get back out there.

Lately I’ve been googling the heck out of using a proper seat depending on the occasion. With C, since we are focusing on flatwork and dressage (I checked my notes and I’ve only jumped him 6 times total since I bought him!), I have been sitting his canter. Thankfully it’s comfortable so I don’t mind so much, plus it’s given me pretty good ‘following’ hips. I do have to check myself sometimes and make sure I’m not driving, leaving C behind my leg and on the forehand.

As such, he sometimes gets a little confused when I two-point, and breaks to the trot. I really don’t think it’ll be an issue cross-country, because he is never lacking in energy out there, but I was curious as to what you fellow jumpers prefer for stadium. A (assistant trainer) has told me and many other students to ‘dressage between the jumps’ which I had always imagined (and executed) to be seated or lightly-seated canter. However, after some research the consensus seemed to be “to approach and depart the jumps in … a light three-point” (source).

But consider the video below of our eventing demigod, Michael Jung from 2010.

I watched it through several times and for much of it he seemed to be sitting as such in dressage, more upright, in a deeper seat than other riders (or what is professed to be ‘the correct way’). Also, William Fox-Pitt in 2014 seemed privy to the same seat, sitting between the jumps. In both, though, I see each rider utilizing three-point in specific situations, namely on turns and longer stretches between the jumps (left) and sitting deeper upon approach (right).

between jumps

approaching

I notice, too, that the horse’s own body and neck seem to reflect the rider’s position– forward and long on the left, and upright and vertical on the right. This makes a lot of sense, all things considered.

It seems common sense to say “fit your riding to the horse” and I do think right now C prefers the security and presence a sitting canter provides (though I don’t pretend to know what goes through his noodle brain). I also think it makes it easier for me to adjust him, and having the steadiness of a swinging canter makes it less confusing to ask for other things, such as bend or better contact.

After watching more videos of Jung and Fox-Pitt, I realized that a deep or three-point seat have their places in stadium. I can see how, where more speed or agility is required, it’s important to get off the horse’s back and allow them to gather themselves in the center (this visual makes sense to me). But on the approach to  jumps and between jumps in a line, they seem to prefer seated, perhaps for adjustability and ‘feeling’ the stride.

I know that every seat has its proper place, and I definitely plan on experimenting more and not settling into the comfort I find in a deeper seat. As we know, it’s never a good thing to be complacent in our riding, and I may find the solution to some ongoing problems by riding in a two- or three-point more often, where lightness and speed are required, and also so C gets used to being responsible for his own legs without as much of my assistance.

I think this to be a lighter three-point to an oxer (on a friend’s horse)

I’m curious as to what seat you all prefer during your stadium rounds, in what situations, and why. Feel free to comment with thoughts to add to my reading– I’m all ears!

— M

Equine Linguistics

Thanksgiving week came and went, so I hadn’t ridden C in five days, and I’d just scheduled a jump lesson.

What sort of madwoman thought that was a good idea?

Thankfully, T did three training rides this week, so it wasn’t as though he’d be crazy, right? It wasn’t like he’d go nuts, because he’d been worked a few times. Besides, he’s a pretty quiet guy! He’d never, ever–

Hello, chilly day, and hello, acrobatics, the likes of which I have never seen (or felt) out of C before. Perhaps not to the same degree as Nicole’s horse Murray (or even, really, on the same spectrum), but in a definitively un-C-like manner.

At the trot, he’d flip his head and break to a canter, over and over. On the bright side, he’d get the correct lead. On the less bright side, he was cantering through my posting, and kept tossing his head and pinning his ears. Once I finally got him to a trot and made him wait for me to ask, and then asked, he ninja-kicked to the outside. To his credit, he still got the correct lead, thereby prompting a simultaneously jubilant and irritated sort-of-strangled pterodactyl cry from me.

Jumping was wonderful. He was responsive to my half-halts and seat, took the fences without stopping or peeking, and we only demolished one jump on the whole course! Besides that, we were in matching pink. Evidence below.

I sort of assumed he was just a little sore from the training rides. I’ll excuse the behavior, I thought, because he must be sore behind. I got off after walking him out, untacked him, and checked his back. No response. And his butt? Not so much as a twitch. So why, dear little C, were you complaining so much today?

I think the answer is equine linguistics.

What was C trying to communicate when he pinned his ears and started bobbing in a weird up-and-down half-canter trottamajig? It wasn’t back pain– the saddle fits and he wasn’t sore. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it was a product of my own doing. Lately to fix the canter leads, we canter and if he’s got the wrong lead, we trot and then canter again straight away (rinse and repeat if we miss it again). Was he simply making the connection that trot served only as a transition from walk to canter? If that’s the case, making him trot on my terms was the solution. So why was he kicking out when I finally said, “Okay, let’s canter.”?

I think, honestly, it was a combination of the weather and a baby horse tantrum.

Still, this situation made me think back to other situations where C had misinterpreted my cues. I feel as though the saying “When you get on a green horse, you are either training or untraining them” really applies here. A while ago I was wondering why C was interpreting my left leg as pressure to give to (as he’s meant to) and why he was interpreting the right leg as a ‘go’ button. And I realized that I did something that taught him that, because he sure as hell didn’t learn it on his own. I imagine that, being right-leg dominant, when I asked for transitions I simply squeezed a little tighter with my right leg, thus telling him (unintentionally) that right leg means upward transition, or ‘go’.

This translates to: I want my grain

and this translates to: I REALLY want my grain

I wonder how many other gaps I have unintentionally caused. For his leads, have I reinforced cantering on the wrong lead by leaning a certain way, or taking too long to remedy it? Did I teach him to jump strung-out and flat by asking for a long spot in our last lesson? Have I unwittingly installed bad, or just unusual, habits into my green horse?

I feel the longer I ponder this, the more I’ll fret. So for now, I’ll try to identify what I can fix about myself and my position to more clearly tell C what I want from him, and be patient when he doesn’t respond the way I want.

I need to remember that while I’m trying to learn his language (loosely: ears, body, and reactions), he’s also trying to learn mine (seat, leg, hands, and reactions). As far as equine linguistics go, I’ll try to interpret them as they come.

And this translates to: cutest jerk ever.

— M

Jumping Green Beans (Derby Post 2/2)

Approximately 30 minutes stood between calm dressage pony and what I hoped would be a little more of a spicy ride.

This isn’t to say I don’t appreciate C’s level head, because I totally do! It’s just that, at least for jumping, I like to have the energy and shape it rather than having to create it. Luckily, C tends to get pretty stoked about jumping.

A little background: we had a small practice lesson in jumping with T the day before the event, mainly because I’ve only jumped him once since I bought him (and not at all for 3 weeks prior). He was a little sore, a little poky, and oh good lord. We knocked nearly every rail on every jump we went over that morning. I was drowning in nightmare visions of the same thing happening at the show (a product of show nerves and disappointment).

Turns out, mister C really enjoys being away from home on nice grassy fields to jump.

Miserable horse, clearly

Honestly, the whole thing is a bit of a blur. We had some steering trouble coming in to the first fence, as he popped through my right leg with his shoulder, and I sort of less-than-gracefully pony kicked him straight. After that, though? Smooth sailing. He was so excited, and kept locking on to any jump in the vicinity. That 2’3″ vertical for BN? Yes! That 3′ rolltop for Novice? Let’s do it!

Methinks this bodes well for the future.

It wasn’t gorgeous; I let him have fun with it and supported when I needed to, but mostly I wanted it to be a learning experience. So even if we were a little strung out and flat, we

A. went clear.

B. didn’t jump things we weren’t supposed to.

C. had fun!

And that’s all I wanted. But even better, after jumping for Intro had finished, BBS and I went to fetch our final scores and see if we placed…

Displaying his winnings

THIRD!

Third.

We honestly, forreal, got 3rd at our first show. It was a lot of firsts– my first dressage test, his first official show, our first show together– so I was truly surprised (pleasantly!) that we placed at all! BBS got 4th with only .4 difference in our dressage so I think we both earned third.

That wrapped up the show! I gave C two days off to recover from the mental overload and hopped on tonight for a little flatwork. Guess who was a total booger.

Who, me? ft. my very average braiding skills

I’ll tame the beast tomorrow. For today, I just did a little walk/trot/canter, popped one crossrail in the hopes a little jumping would garner some cooperation and/or excitement about work, and immediately gave up. Midterms week is just too stressful without the additional stress of frisky ponies!

More to come on this week, I’m sure, if his high energy continues… Tomorrow I plan to integrate a crop into my riding toolkit. We’ll see how the princess reacts to a gentle reminder that his shoulder should not be rocketing into another galaxy!

— M

Sense & Sensibility

Guess whose princess pony was an excellent baby horse for jumping?

If you didn’t guess mine, you were wrong.

C was really, really, really good yesterday! I think my opinion that he loves jumping was confirmed, too—T said when she lunged him in the AM he dragged her on the lead line to jump a crossrail to the edge of the circle. Naughty pony, but also a good thing he likes it so much, because jumping is what I like best, too!

He behaved so nicely in warmup, and I really took the time to set him up correctly every time I asked for canter. We nailed pretty much every lead, which makes me happier than I can possibly express because that’s what we’ve been working on so hard in our flatwork. I would give us an 85% overall score on leads because we did miss a few, but I’m also going to curve it to 95% because baby horse! And success!

The jumping itself was awesome. C is so freakin’ honest that it blows my mind. We had a little crossrail to white gate line (T: This should be 3 strides! C: *gets 2 every time*) that, on the first attempt, I totally botched. This was due in part to the Magnetic-Gate theorem; we came in at an awkward angle to the crossrail, and of course, my natural reaction was to stare directly, straight down, at the white gate.

C was an angel and hauled my ass over it despite the fact I completely lost my eyes and my left leg (this is the one he presses out through, so is extra important to keep on).

He really likes to veer left, so something I need to work on is keeping him straight not just before the jump, but right after it, too. If I let him, he’ll swerve at a 90 degree angle left after the jumps. It may be great to know he’s got the balance for sharp turns in case of future fancy jumper rounds, but it’s not a great habit if I’m not asking for it.

Other things I need to be aware of: lift the eyes, bend at the hips. No pelvic thrusting. I don’t think I’m flinging myself at the jumps but I’ve been caught off balance once or twice, so I want to be particularly careful to avoid developing the habit. Eyes have always been my nemesis so I just need to pick a point in the distance and focus on it.

Things I was good about: my elbows were more relaxed than usual, my heels stayed down, and I mostly counted out the strides, which helped us find the distances. Obviously they weren’t all perfect, but I noticed the ones I counted to felt a lot smoother than those I forgot.

Also, we have a new log nemesis. The stacked logs jump at our barn is fine with a pole over it, but as soon as the pole is removed and only the logs are left, my brain says “That is a not-jump that we are trying to jump. How to equestrian…?” Which is obviously not the best course of action when jumping a baby horse. T said to pick a point in the distance and let C do the jumping part, since I’m apparently incapable of finding distances to weird log stacks. She didn’t use those particular words but the sentiment remains the same.

Thankfully, C is a very sensible baby horse and can pick up the slack a little when I drop it.

Majestic AND sensible

In other news, the C-man and I are officially signed up for our first show! Cue relentless, pointless nervousness disguising itself as high-pitched excitement. Mmhm.

In short, I have the best baby horse, and today we jumped things with relative success.

Huzzah!

— M