Who's Got the Spooks?

Winter riding in New England is not for the faint of heart or weak of core.  Holy shit.  Two days ago, I sat the biggest spook Princess has ever produced. I swear we were coming around the corner at K, a drop of condensation fell into the two-inch square of Princess's back where the quarter sheet had slipped back behind the saddle enough to expose her poor, naked back to the elements, and, suddenly, we were somewhere Northeast of X.  Whether it's due to luck, the connection I had between her mouth and my back, or my new Custom Icon Flight, I'll never know, but I stayed on and barely moved.  As a matter of fact, we turned to the right and did that corner again, without incident.

At this point in time, before we ride, we have to despook.  We walk into the scary corners, both of us on our feet, and have a treat and a chat.  Then we lunge into the spooky corners and on the track by the spooky door, both at the walk and the trot.  Then we have another treat. Then we move out into the indoor and begin to work in a relaxed trot, which is developing more and more lift through the body.  After we've cantered both ways on the lunge line, halt on the circle without turning in, we get another treat, and head for the mounting block. At the mounting block (we're facing the scary door and the scary corner), we worry.  Yes, oh, my god, we're going to have to walk that track from the scary door through the scary corner in a matter of minutes.  Nonetheless, I get on, Princess holds still, and then we have a conversation that goes something like this:

"But, Scot, I can't put my head down and look at the scary door at the same time."

"Yes, you can."

"Uh, no.  No, I really don't think I can."

Yes, you can."

"Uh...let me grab the bit and pull really hard, then I get all the control."

"Let me have the bit."

"Let me have the bit."

"Ha, ha.  I win."  (That's Scot talking.)

"Can we go now? What's the hold up?" (That's Princess talking.)

Today, my friend Melinda and I decided that the continued spook in the K corner was now an act of either habit or disobedience, and it was time to deal with it.  Of course, that's a much easier decision to make when you're standing on the ground, as opposed to the helmeted body of aging bones on top of the 1300 pounds of resistance. Nonetheless, we approached the fated corner at a solid working trot. I squeezed with my calves and insisted we keep moving forward. Princess slowed to pre-passage and began listing to the left.  I put her into a shoulder in position and moved her closer to the wall. She tried to stop.  I engaged la dressage whip. She said, "Now, why did you do that?"  While she was thinking about it, I lifted her forward and we were around the corner.  

"Good girl!  GOOD girl!" (That was me again.)

"Is that all you wanted?  Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

We did a 10 meter circle and headed back into the corner.  Again, she thought about it just a second too long, so la dressage whip.  We were around the corner. By the time we were cantering, there was no more issue with the corner.  My guess is, however, that tomorrow, we'll have to have another conversation about it.

The Imperfect Rider

I have a book, Dressage for the Not-So-Perfect Horse. There should be a book titled, Dressage for the Not-So-Perfect Rider!

Most of my life, I've given myself excuses, such as, "when I lose weight", "when I the kids don't need so much attention", or "when we have a little extra money."  And so on.  This time, I just sucked it up and got on the horse.  And, that's really my mantra for when it's too cold, or I'm too tired or feeling a little sick or hungover:  "Suck it up and get on your horse, Scot."

Actually, I don't think I call myself "Scot".  I think I call myself either "asshole" or "you".

And, most of the time, I don't really know what I'm doing.  It's one thing to read about an exercise or have someone on the ground explain the aids for a movement, and it's a completely different thing to be bouncing around in a sitting trot on a1300-pound, opinionated mare, trying to keep me balanced, her balanced, and maintain the perfect geometry of a 20 meter circle. Plus, maintain impulsion, an elastic contact, and proper bend.

"Inside leg to outside rein."

"I said, inside leg to outside rein."

Oh, yeah.  That concept.  Intellectually, I get it.  As a matter of fact, I "get" a lot of concepts; my brain is much more developed than my physical experience in the saddle.

And I'm stubborn and self-loathing.  In the same thought pattern I can experience, "I'm going to get this if it kills me" and (having just passed the mirror) "Who is that fat fool bouncing around on the beautiful horse?"

Then, there are times when someone will say something positive about my riding and the way Princess and I are working together, and I don't know whether to thank them for their kindness, but know in my heart that it is really just kindness, or to offer them compensation to say it again, only louder and while I have my phone on record.

I have a John Irving quotation written above my grain and breeding white board in the barn: "Take your lack of talent seriously."

I love this quotation.  It doesn't imply that you can't do something; it realistically points out that you probably and perfectly suited for the desired task, but you can do something about it and still succeed.  That's where I'm at.

Some of my happiest moments in the past two years have been when Princess and I have a break-through, or even just a nice moment together. Progress in dressage is slow.  You really have to enjoy the relationship with your horse and absolutely cherish and celebrate the little victories.

Random thoughts.  I know.  It's a blog.

Project Shadbelly

During the six months of chemo and additional months of secondary surgery recovery, I had a lot of time to think about my life and the choices that had led me through the first 50 years of my life.  Many people will tell you Cancer is a terrible, scary disease, and, it is, but, for me, finding out I had Colon Cancer and dealing with the resulting treatments gave me the opportunity to slow down and really look at who I had become and, more importantly, who I wanted to be and what I wanted to accomplish in the second half of my life.

I love horses.  I spend a hugely disproportionate amount of time thinking about breeding picks, program goals, strengths and weaknesses of our mare base, etc., etc.  Although I've always been interested in breeding and genetics, other than a two-and-a-half year period of time during grad school, I have always ridden.  One of our primary reasons for starting our Warmblood breeding program was to breed me a horse of the quality we couldn't afford to buy 25 years ago.  Well, over the last couple of decades we have bred some of the best KWPN horses in North America; however, until Colon Cancer gave me the opportunity to refocus, I wasn't pursuing my original goals of partnering with one of our gorgeous creations to start working up the levels.  Well, in August of 2011, two weeks before I was cleared to start exercising or causing myself much physical strain, I started riding again.

Princess:  ZaVita SSF (Contango x Elcaro x Belisar).  My wife gave me a breeding to Contango to use on LaVita, my favorite mare, with the stipulation I would keep the resulting foal as my riding horse.  That was Father's Day, 2003.  Princess was born in late May of 2014.  Literally, she was born on my feet.  I came home from teaching school during my prep block because I knew LaVita was close to foaling.  When I got to the pasture behind the barn, I found her pacing back and forth, wanting to come in.  I opened the gate, and she went directly into the barn.  She was clearly in labor.  She went into her stall and started pawing.  Within moments, she lay down in the straw and started to deliver.  When I saw the white bag, I went in, broke it open to clear the feet, and added a little pull when she pushed.  Moments later, Princess was lying on my feet. Of course, I fell in love immediately.  She was up and nursing in under and hour, and I was back at work in time for my next class. That fall, she was first premium and top foal in New England.

We had Princess started by Joe Forrest when she was three.  Joe's comments almost broke my heart.

"She's a nice horse. Nothing too special.  Just a plain, simple, safe riding horse."

The KWPN-NA jury seemed to agree with Joe.  Although she went ster, the jury thought she didn't lift enough in her movement to be keur-eligible.  I was, and am, stubbornly convinced that this mare is more special than people were seeing, so we both sent her for more dressage training and bred her. Long story short, by the time I was finishing chemo and surgeries, Jane Hannigan had graciously taken Princess into training to get her ready for me to start riding.  Princess and I spent the next two years with Jane. Eventually, the hour-and-a-half drive to Littleton, MA, just became too much for me to manage.  Every time I rode, I had to set aside a five-hour block of time, and I was riding between four and six days per week.  So, we moved Princess home.

I'm now almost five months into riding in my "own program."  It is a work in progress.  I'm starting this blog to chronicle my crazy adventure.  Not that I really know, because I've never trained a horse this far up the training scale, but I think Prix St. George is within our realistic grasp in the next year to year and a half.  Welcome to the journey!