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.
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