"THAT'S how you ride a line!"

Words cannot express my excitement and joy right now!  Tubby and I had a lesson on Wednesday, we worked hard, and we got it right.  The title of today's post is actually the words of my trainer following our last line of the afternoon; I put emphasis on trainer because I'm extremely proud that she said them and they weren't just something I said to myself in my head.  Many equestrians can tell you, when your trainer compliments you, it means the whole world...

Jessica was teaching another lesson when I arrived at the barn so I watched for a few minutes before I got my own steed from his stall.  The girl riding seemed to be around teen-age and was riding Rio around the course as I chatted with her mother.  Something I noticed right away was just how good Rio looked in that girl's care.  I was very impressed with her riding and his composure: they made a beautiful team.  I secretly wished in my heart, "O Rio, teach me how to ride like that!" I watched a few more minutes then went back inside to get Tubby brushed up and tacked.

I approached Tubby's stall and he peeked out at me--- it was love all over again!  I posted to the Sonata Equestrian Facebook page that I thought Rio was a nice horse but that I couldn't hide my horsey crush for Tubby-- and that's the truth.  I brushed, tacked, and led him into the indoor arena where I adjusted his saddle and mounted up.  From the start, Tubby was ready to go-- he wasn't interested in standing still and letting Jessica and I make our adjustments.  As we walked outside to the outdoor course, he wasn't interested in taking it slow, either.  He jigged into a trot when he thought I wouldn't notice and would stomp around if I made him walk.  The weather was beautiful, and the air was cooler, so Tubby was in a good mood and eager to jump mountains.  When we got to the course, he couldn't keep his excitement contained-- like it or not, we were off and trotting.

Jessica smoothly coached us into a focused, collected pattern.  We started in small circles, as was Tubby's initial inclination.  As he relaxed, we made larger circles, Figure-8's, and eventually trotted straight on the rail.  This is where the Magic of the Outside Rein was discovered.

The Magic of the Outside Rein was a myth I'd often heard of, and that I'd often tried to invoke, without much success.  It seemed very counterintuitive to pull back on a right rein while turning left.  Or to pull back on one rein while trying to go straight.  Or to pull on a rein at all when it seemed like he could possibly halt at any minute.  The logic completely escaped me, no matter how many times my trainer told me so, or how often even the little voice in my head said, "She said the outside rein in these situations!  Pull back on the outside rein!"  The result was always a horse bent like a wreath and jigging to escape me as instinct had me trying out weird new neck-reining techniques and developing too strong hands for the job.

Jessica would say, "Outside rein!"

My brain would say, "Outside rein!"

My hands would reply, "Are you nuts?!  That hillbilly at summer camp when you went for your first pony ride as a kid was very clear in his instructions that right rein turns right, left rein turns left, and two reins together means stop.  Period!"

Well.  Not that the hillbilly was wrong... But on that day all three of us (Jessica, my brain, and Tubby) overcame my hands to reveal to me the Magic of the Outside Rein.  That--stuff--WORKS.  If you're a rider and your trainer suggests "outside rein," don't even ask your hands, just do it.  Do it and be amazed.

From this point in the lesson, things just got better and better.  Suddenly, Tubby and I could try-- and successfully achieve-- leg-yields through our Figure-8's; we could make more even and upright turns; we could maintain straightness; we had better control of our pace and length of stride.  This isn't to say I've never leg-yielded before, or that our speed, turns, and straightness have always been horrendous up to this point-- we've figured out how to do all of these things in other ways-- but it is SO much easier when you know how to make your outside rein work for you.

The cooler weather allowed me to work harder for longer rather than becoming exhausted before the end of my lesson.  The last two lessons I'd had were in very warm weather and my brain and body had just gotten lazy before I could really stop; this lesson, I was ready to keep going.  We took to jumping cross rails, navigating in-between jumps on the course to come over a single cross rail jump, and were met with success.  From there, we took to jumping an outside line of two cross rail jumps, and that is where the title of today's post was born-- I'm so proud, I can't contain it.

There's my good boy-- my hero, my steed, my partner with the beautiful heart...  He makes me feel like such a young girl with her first pony crush!

More or Less... Lessons

So after three out-of-this-world, dream-accomplishing lessons...  I suppose I was due for a little disappointment.  "You win some, you lose some."  In both of my last lessons, I made some new victories and accomplished more of my goals, but I struggled with some of the things that I'd already "gotten over" recently.  These are the moments when I have to remember that doing something well once or twice doesn't cement it into my skillset; sometimes you have to keep working at it for a hundred times before it becomes "easy."  The flipside of that coin is that you can't bog yourself down with feelings like "I can't do anything right!" when things don't progress according to plan--  clearly, I did some things right after all-- the first and foremost being that I showed up.

My lesson two weeks ago-- the one right after my last blog post-- found me and Tubby working together in some seriously blazing heat.  We were sweaty and tired, but most of the lesson went pretty well.  I even sat his very springy trot with no stirrups and did Figure 8's-- something I could not do before!  Things were moving along pretty splendidly... Until we hit a wall.

No, not a literal wall (thank God!).  A figurative one.

After our trotting success, we picked up the canter, did a few circles, and then started over a ground pole.  After clearing the ground pole (sometimes I kept nice equitation, other times, not so nice), however, I'd take a deep "We made it!" breath, and Tubby would take his cue to stop.  Whoops.

Come at it again, clear it, take a deep breath, stop.  I was turning this into a habit (unintentionally, of course, but a habit all the same).  I was pretty disappointed in myself but I couldn't seem to stop.  My trainer helped us find a way to turn around our lesson to end on a positive note but it still lurked in the back of my mind; I really hate it when I don't manage to "get it together" in a lesson.

I thought about it all week.  I was absolutely thrilled by the progress we made but also so disappointed by the step backward we'd also taken.  I thought about what I should have done and looked for the explanation for why I didn't do it.  I thought maybe it was a combination of the heat, feeling sluggish and sleepy, and just not putting my whole head into the game.

The next lesson, I rode Rio, who I'd ridden before and who'd "made me look a fool with his automatic lead changes" (my own words) in my prior lesson.  That's not to say that Rio is in any way unrideable, pig-headed, or that he intimidates me; if anything it is a compliment to his sensitivity and his awareness of the rider's body.  If your body barely asks Rio for something, you've got it.  This comes in handy if you're a rider who is perfectly aware of her aids and quiet in the saddle.  When I've been on him and had it together, I can really feel the difference of "doing it right."  He keeps a beautiful frame, we go along like everything in the world is in peace and balance...  it's all butterflies and rainbows.  When I'm a little out-of-sorts and stiff... it's not so pretty.  We kind of meander left and right; bend one way, then the next; he speeds up, he slows down; his ears look back at me as though to say, "What on Earth are you doing?!"

This lesson was another mix of "more" and "less."  In the "more" category, this was my first lesson outdoors in years; outside is a completely different experience than inside.  I can also say that we were able to perform a few of those "butterflies and rainbows" moments as we went through our trot work.  It wasn't all perfect, but what we did right felt very right.  It was fun!

The "less" column includes some more of those fried-out, scrambled-up moments like my last ride with Tubby.  Go ahead and re-read my description of riding with Rio for a clearer picture of what that was like.  We were weaving, speeding, slowing, bending, turning away, and at one point I'm pretty sure Rio thought to himself that if I wasn't going to do it right, he was going to go wait for me in the barn.  My trainer may or may not have had the same idea but she hid it pretty well with her positive reinforcement.  Like the good parts in the "more" column, the bad parts of the "less" column weren't all a disaster, but what was wrong was very wrong.

First of the "very wrongs" were my hands, I'm ashamed to say.  My upper back and shoulders were stiff and I was having a hard time keeping my hands quiet.  I dropped down onto the reins, I picked them up too high, I opened a rein, I crossed a rein, I performed each bad reining habit ever invented at least once.  Bad hands!  Ugh, it disgusts me to think about it.

Another "very wrong" was my leg aid, which was a little bit everywhere; which is how we really cemented the strange right/left/right/left line on the long side of the arena, the awkward pace changes, and the rather interesting bend/counterbend-- at one point, he may have even given me a shoulder-in to prove that he knew what he was doing better than I did.  The lack of coordination between my legs and hands was pretty dismal at times, was slightly dismal most of the time, and was very nice once in a while.  I've been replaying and rehashing every moment trying to figure out where my head was and what I could have done better.

It's important to remember that the most important part of a lesson is not doing everything right and getting lavished with praise from my trainer; it's learning.  Sometimes I learn from doing it right, sometimes I have to learn from mistakes.  As much as I hate making mistakes and feeling as though I wasted precious minutes with my trainer, I have to always think that time is never wasted if I learned from it.  If I had one key note to give to all of my readers, it would be this:

"Don't sweat it if your lessons don't go off as perfect performances.  Always try your best and learn in your lesson.  If you keep trying and learning, perfect performances will eventually happen along the way."

Here's a cute, however blurry, picture of Rio after his shower.  His face says it all.  I hope I get to ride him again very soon so that I can learn more about coordinating my aids.  As often as I felt like a disaster, there were equal moments when I felt like this boy could really take me further in my training.

"That was neither loose nor slinky."

I have had two "breakthrough" lessons in a row with Tubby.  This was the horse who I could barely canter more than two strides with before; whose trot I couldn't sit no matter how I tried.  I took about a month off for arthroscopic surgery on my knee, I rode Evan in a wonderful success of a First Ride Back, and then, suddenly, I could canter Tubby all around the arena. As the title of this blogpost implies, it hasn't been perfect, but the steps forward greatly outnumber the steps backward.  I'd have to say that the biggest step forward has been the progression of my thoughts while riding from things like, "Heels down, feet back, think about your position..." to such classic gems as "That was neither loose nor slinky."

To anyone else, the phrase probably doesn't make any sense at all.  But to me, it is a change from worrying about major and basic technical concepts in riding to some of the more abstract and finer concepts.  Suddenly, I don't constantly harass myself with worries about my feet because I know that they are already in a good position; I can move on.  As we all know, GOSH, it feels great to move on!!

Aside from that, I have a confession: I have the hugest horsey crush on Tubby.  God bless his cute face and his huggable body.  I love the way his ears tilt back and he comes almost to a dead stop when I make a mistake (which is Tubbyspeak for, "Seriously?  That's not what she said to do...").  I love the way he struts his stuff when he knows we just did something well.  I love the way he's a total Pocket Pony (but in a very well behaved way!) on the ground.  I think he's happy that I'm finally "getting it" with the things he's teaching me, and I couldn't be happier with how we're working together.

I feel like I've had the rides of my life lately, and I can't wait to keep going.