Teddy at Centerline

Relax your butt and sit on it

 

Today, Teddy and I had our first lesson since his injury in late October. It was good to go back to work.

"Forward" was his mantra. "Relax your butt and sit on it," was mine. We chanted these phrases together (I wish) as we whipped smartly (I wish) around the arena. It was so early that we woke the birds, who worked themselves in to a deafening frenzy. With all the noise, we were still able to concentrate (I wish). Even the tractor did not distract (well, maybe after I lunged Ted, it was no trouble).

In mid-December, I got the go ahead from Teddy's vet  to begin cantering. At first this was no more than 3 minutes total for both directions. It was fun trying to time this with a watch. It was also increasingly harder to ride him as it began to rain and riders from across our large complex began to fill the arena.

Ted finally began to melt down. He began to buck and bolt with no real control at the end of December. This happened just as we increased the time for canter to 5 minutes. I got bucked off even though he was given a long-term tranquilizer. My trainer felt we had to press ahead to get him back to normal work and I finally had to let a more experienced rider take over.For a week and a half, she worked to get him under control and more mentally stable.

Finally, the weather broke and he calmed down. I began to ride again, but with some trepidation and a little bit of pain (the last buck-off has put my hip out of whack). I had to keep him forward and let him go forward and not lose control. I am not a brave rider, so this was a real test.

I tried to do most of my riding early in the morning to avoid the crowd, but not so early that I was riding alone. Steadily we increased the time for canter. Soon we were up to 10 minutes.

Finally, mid-January my trainer suggested we begin lateral work. This appeared to be no trouble for him, so I increased the time for all work. I also continued with long walk breaks.

Last week, I asked if we could take a lesson. I signed up and got ready. I practiced sitting the trot again (ouch). I also asked him to pick up the pace, which he resisted. I could see that we both were getting back to our old habits, so I tried to stay aware of what I was doing. I got quiet. I got relaxed. I worked hard to keep him in front of my leg without overworking (fusing with my hands and kicking, kicking, kicking).

We are not back to square one. We may be on square two (when I'd like to be on square 10). But I got my boy back to work and things are looking up again.

Editor's note: I wanted to show the before and after film of Teddy's break, but I found the CD my vet gave me only had the before pictures, one of which you can see here. This is an old competition picture of Teddy shot by Ruth Lake.

Get her in front of your leg!

Riding in the winter is no fun. There are more riders than usual in the indoor ring. Tractors and birds distract. Mirage is a 12-year-old Holsteiner mare. She's been getting behind the leg lately. Third level in dressage is hard work. Organizing the half pass and achieving a flying change with a horse behind the leg is difficult. All of these factors together makes for a hard lesson for my friend Wendy.

Valentino doesn't like tractors

Riding early in the morning in an arena filled with shadows, Valentino,  a seven-year-old Dutch horse, and Stacy Zwergel, assistant trainer, work on fourth level moves.  Valentino is a level-headed horse,who can be behind the leg, except when there is a tractor in an adjacent arena.

Teddy fractures a bone

I had one of those mind-numbing jobs that seemed to take up all of my time. It also left me without the ability to ride much or even take a lesson. It paid so little that I took a second job and wound up working seven days a week. Despite this, I still managed to qualify for the state championships --  a first for me. I did this without having more than six lessons the whole year. In the end, I swore to myself that I would never take another job that interfered with riding. In the end, I was happy that the job was lost. I was looking forward to taking the time to ride. I was looking forward to lessons. I was making plans for the 2010 competition season. One week later, a swelling appeared on the inside of Teddy's left front leg. He was sound, so I continued to ride him. I called the vet. He diagnosed a fractured splint bone. Fortunately, I have insurance coverage for Ted. We discussed surgery to remove the bone. While this is the optimum treatment, laying Teddy off from work has proved difficult in the past because of his fitness level. So instead of surgery, I chose to use shock wave therapy to promote the re-fusing of the bone. With shock wave, I would still have the opportunity to keep Teddy physically active and thus maintain his mental health. We have one more shock wave session to go. I am walking and trotting Ted under saddle six days a week. Each session includes at least 20 minutes of trotting with another 25 minutes of walking. And when I say walk, I try to keep Teddy in a forward march. But as the temperatures have dipped into the low 30s and time goes by without any turnout, Teddy has turned a bit fractious. The vet put him on a long-term tranquilizer, so I don't get hurt and he doesn't hurt himself.  Hopefully, he will maintain a cool head until the vet gives him clearance to begin real work again.

Developing more feel and subtly as a rider

This year I went to the California Dressage Society/USDF state championships.  I found the competition was very stiff. The were a lot of great riders with terrific horses at first level. The biggest barrier to placing was my inability to remember the tests. Of the four tests I took, I made at least one error, if not two -- that dropped my score a lot. The judges who watched my rides also suggested that an independent seat would increase my score (and make me a better rider).

At age 55, I am not completely brittle, but I not particularly flexible.  My underlying fear of going to fast on anything, plus a terror of hitting the ground, shows. I grip with my thighs and balance with my hands. This is a problem I must solve if I ever hope to rise through the dressage levels.

Since I started riding as an adult (age 40), I have never had a real "feel" for sitting on a horse -- not like a rider develops as a youngster.  I am also not athletic and my aids are quite crude. I yank, kick and can move with a rhythmic spasticity that sometimes alarms my trainer.

I decided to do my horse and myself a favor by taking lunge lessons in an attempt to develop more feel and hopefully more subtly as a rider.

I thought that those who are in the same situation might like to see the process. The horse in this video is a 20-year-old thoroughbred. His name is Beau.  The scariest part of this lesson, I chose not to show. My trainer asked me to close my eyes with reins and then without stirrups as well.  The sound level is low on this video, so crank up your volume.

Axel Steiner Clinic

Axel Steiner is a very quiet clinician. While many popular teachers will keep up a running patter during a lesson, Steiner watches quietly and then offers a few words to help the rider improve the horse. The rider is Christine Rivlin. The horse is a12-year-old Holsteiner mare, Larissa's JAZ. She was ridden by Chris to Prix St. Georges last year.

Sounds like a Russian novel

 Right in the middle of my lesson last week, my trainer said the most astonishing thing to me.

"I knew you would win the championship."

"What?" I said. "How did you know that?"

"The only thing between you and winning is your mind," she said casually. "You've got to get used to showing until it doesn't bother you. Why not come to the show this weekend and try again?"

My initial response was that showing the coming weekend was impossible. I hadn't had time to ruminate on another show. I hadn't improved the forward. I hadn't even ridden First Level Test 3 yet!

"Come on, someone has scratched, take their place," she coaxed.

So I found myself heading to a show Sunday morning with no idea what ride times I had or if I would show First Level 3 at all. There was too much left to chance......scary!

As I drove to the show grounds, my stomach knotted up. My stress response was not news to me. As a youngster I had a difficult time performing in front of an audience. Every time I was given the opportunity to dance, sing or act in front of a group of people, I would hyperventilate and not be able to go on stage. 

When I ran in track in middle school, I was fast enough to pick any position I wanted on a relay team. I made sure that I was the anchor, so I could run last. When I crossed the finish line, even if I helped win the race, I disappeared into the nearest building to be alone.

At age 13, I decided to try out for a cheerleader position just to see if I could do it. When I was chosen to be on the squad, I made sure that I was placed as a wrestling cheerleader. I knew that because of the nature of wrestling bouts there were no halftimes when the cheerleaders had to get up in front of the crowd and lead cheers.

As an adult, I wrote and performed a one-woman show in a Berkeley experimental theater. I was, after all, a theater major in undergraduate school. The opening night the theater was packed, I got half way though my monologue and left the stage, unexpectedly. I surprised myself with this one, I woke up several minutes later in a coffee house wondering what had happened. The audience waited 30 minutes for me to come back. I never returned and have never performed since.

When I began showing horses, I wasn't surprised by my immediate stress response. I had hoped that the symptoms would subside. What happens to me is variable. I get tense and cry. I get tense. Teddy gets tense. I can't get him forward. I get angry. The symptoms are unpleasant and no one wants to be around me when I am having a melt down.

My trainer's challenge to get over it was very mild compared to what she said to me after my first ride at the championship show. I left the arena swearing loudly that the whole show was a complete waste of time and Teddy was the worst horse ever. She very quietly but firmly told me to "Stop it or I will take you and Teddy home now."

So here are some observations from this weekend of showing. My internal monologue sounds like a Russian novel. In the warm up arena I concluded that I lacked skill, grace and coordination to ride. I should not be allowed to ride a horse. Everyone in the warm up was better qualified to ride than I. I should just commit suicide before the test and get the pain out of the way. But after several minutes, I dared to look around at the others warming up their horses and decided that there was no problem with my riding at all.

In the arena, I was sure that I could hear the judge marking my ride down. As my ride progressed, all I could see was what was wrong with the test. Teddy took a step backwards after the first halt rather than going forward to the next movement. My leg yields were not parallel to the wall. My canter did not extend enough. It piled up. I left the arena thinking we would be doing well if we got a 60 percent.

In reality, the leg yield right got us a 6 because it was "a little restricted," according to the judge. Not great, but not a disaster. The leg yield left got us a score of 7. "A little tight in the neck but even sideways," commented the judge.

I was right about the canter work. According to the judge much of it was not forward enough, but we still got a 7 in the first lengthen stride. Where we fell down was the working canter one loop. The first score was a 5 with the comment, "clearly avoids difficulty." I was actually happy with this figure because he did not fall out of the canter as I had been allowing him to do in our practice sessions.

The final comments included a "well done" written across the collective marks. I received a 7 for rider position and seat. We won the small class with a 64.7 percent for First Level Test 4. This was a qualifying score for the California Dressage Society's annual show.

Because my second ride was five minutes later, I didn't know I had done so well on the first test.

When we were finally allowed to enter the arena, I could feel that Teddy and I had lost a tremendous amount of energy. It was hot. It was after 1 pm and I had not eaten since 6 am because I was too stressed. I tried to get Teddy forward and then to bring him back, but the only way to do that seemed to be in the in the rising trot and as the First Level tests are ridden only in sitting trot this was impossible.

When the bell was rung and Teddy and I entered the arena, my worst fears were realized. I could not keep him forward. I tried a tactful whack with the whip, nothing. I tried raking him with my spurs (rollers), nothing. This was going to be a slow, plodding test, I said to myself as a dribble of sweat rolled down my face and partially obscured my vision.

So, if it was going to be slow, could I keep my cool and keep it smooth? I tried, but lost all composure when I went off course on the walk portion of the test.Crap!

Now I was sure we were moving down in the percentage points below 60. I was sure I could hear the judge giving us 2s and 3s. I tightened  my knees and hands because I was having trouble balancing in the saddle. We slowed down even more. By the time we came down the centerline for our last halt I was sure we were creeping.

But the result was far from what I had expected. Again we had received a 64.2 (a loss of a few percentage points for the error) and the comments "good horse, needs to be ridden forward. Some good work. Improve suppleness and steadiness in seat and hands to increase effectiveness of your aids."

I was astonished by the score and asked the show secretary if the judge was know to be an "easy scorer?" Her response was to say that most people felt that she was "extremely honest" and there was no "easy pass" with her. "Many people won't ride in front of her because she is so hard," the secretary said.

Well, so much for the internal monologue. Hopefully, this has given me enough feedback to still the overly critical voice and allow me to concentrate on riding.

The photos are of Artisan, a coming five-year-old Swedish Warmblood. His sire is Puritano (Westfalen) and his dam is Afrika (SWB). His damsire is Callaghan (SWB) He is ridden at Training 3 and 4 by assistant trainer Stacy Zwergel. In this show he received a 67 percent for Training 3 and a 70 percent in Training 4. He is owned by assistant trainer Erin King. He has been under saddle for one year.

Rapallo learns the canter piouette

Rapallo, an eight-year-old Hanoverian, is ridden by his amateur rider, Michelle, as they work through the mechanics of the canter pirouette. Michelle is an amateur rider. She and Rapallo are showing at the fourth level in dressage. The voice on the video is that of trainer Christine Rivlin.

Calamity Jane shows to win

The only thing you can count on at a horse show is that the experience will be different every time. At one show your horse may be low-key and relaxed; at another he might be a nut case. Let's face it, as riders we are never the same at each show either.

The Northern California Regional Adult Amateur Championship (California Dressage Society) tested my physical abilities as well as my mental toughness. It was a hot and dusty. I did not do well at the two attempts I made to move up a level. But in the end it held a huge reward and the hope that I would be able to move up in the future.

The show took place at the Santa Rosa Equestrian Center and I was looking forward to it until we arrived on the grounds. I am never comfortable in new places and the set up made my heart race. The arenas were situated looking out over open pasture land with cows grazing nearby.

Open land gets horses excited. Cows too can be a strange sight to those horses that do not live with them. The only thing that Teddy did not look at was the heavy equipment shuttling around the property. We have plenty of tractors, end loaders and bulldozers at our own barn.

The cows definitely got his attention. They appeared in their pasture just before we were to enter our first class. His head went up and we backed up. But by the time we were ready to go in, I had his attention.

This was our first try at the First Level 4 test. It went reasonably well up until the working canter at F (movement 19) where we had a few trot steps (when we should have been cantering) and then we took up the incorrect lead at the canter. We counter cantered through the next two movements. These errors cost us a lot of points and the collective marks were also low. I was disappointed, but moving up to a new level is a challenge.

By Saturday the new show ground experience was gone. Teddy was once again a solid citizen and I was focused on getting the true canter during our second test of the weekend. I had real hopes that we would do well and get a descent score. But it was not to be.

At our first canter depart (movement 12), we executed a 15 meter canter circle at A and then Teddy very smoothly exited the arena. The movement was so smooth that I did not realize we were out until the judge rang the bell.  And although I was allowed to school the movement again, I am afraid I was so angry with him that I could not get him to canter at all. It was not a pretty display and it ruined the weekend. It was a huge rider error and we were eliminated. At this point I felt more like Calamity Jane than a dressage rider.

On Sunday it was just plain hot. The temperature gauge said 90 degrees by 9 am and our ride time was not until 2 pm. I was worried about the heat. Not the most forward horse at anytime, the heat seemed to plague Teddy, slowing him even more.

On such a hot day, it is hard to know how much to warm up. I walked Teddy for 10 minutes and then asked for canter and trot. After another 10 minutes, we were definitely ready to go, but we still had 20 minutes left. Thankfully, the coolest spot at the show was the covered warm-up arena.

As we walked to the arena, Teddy's head hung low and he was reluctant to go forward. I was also tired and had begun shaking. Although the judges were allowing competitors to go without jackets, I felt it would look better if I wore my coat  -- after all it was a championship show.

We walked into the arena and I tried to forget everything. The bell rang and we were off. I was concentrating hard on riding the 'perfect test'. Teddy was listening. There were a few small mistakes, but nothing heinous. Then we were done.

When the class was called, I hoped we had done well. There were only five competitors, so I knew we would be in the ribbons. When my trainer and one of my best friends came out into the arena holding the RAAC banner, my heart leapt. Yes, despite the Calamity Jane moments, we had come out on top.

Teddy and I won the Novice Training Level 4 class with 67.4 percentage points. We also won novice high point of the championship, and we won the over age 50 high point for the entire show.

The video of my winning test was shot by Ruth Lake of Lake Web Design.

Big boy's got go

Mar'so is an eight-year-old Danish Warmblood gelding. He was imported by Northwest Dressage in 2006. He is over 17 hands and is well proportioned. He is sensitive, but not spooky. Here is his warm up and a short portion of his second level 4 test from the June 5 dressage show at Yarra Yarra Ranch. Trainer Christine Rivlin is riding. The score on this test was 67 percent. He is owned by Laurel Brown who expects to take him up through the levels in the future.

I used FlipVideo for this series and I am not happy with the quality of the image in low light and the zoom leaves something to be desired. I am currently searching for a video camera I can afford. If you have suggestions, let me know.