Leg Aids

I waltzed into my dressage lesson on Echo and my instructor immediately said "Stop!  We've got to fix those legs of yours."  Really?  What is wrong with my legs?  I've got my heel down, my heels are in line with my hip, and I feel super secure.  What's there to fix?


Well...


"Your toes are turned out, and the back of your calf is on.  I want you to turn your toe in so that it is pointing to the front, your foot is parallel with your horse, and if you need to use your calf, you use the inside part of your calf."  Ok.


No, not ok, my horse is not responding to my inner calf.


"Aha ... remember your horse can feel a fly sit on him.  So your horse is not responsive enough.  Use your whip until your horse learns to respond to the feel of your inner calf."  And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the solution to about 80% of all your riding problems.


When the horse doesn't respond to the "feel of the inner calf" us riders resort to using the back of our calf.  Then we draw up our heel and use our heel.  When that doesn't work well enough we resort to using our hands to compensate.  Yes!  Using our hands.  Except that this actually tucks the horse's head in, and puts him on the forehand.  Then, some horses pigroot and we complain.  Or get scared.  Or both.


What really came home to me during this lesson is that we don't ride with our hands.  Our hands just mostly sit there.  Allow me to rephrase that.  The rider's hands are held upright, as though they are holding one glass of champagne each, slightly in front of the pommel of the saddle.  That is pretty much all.


It is the legs - and the lightest touch of the inner calf - that drive the horse forwards and sideways.

Echoes of Crownie

Crownie was a very special horse in our lives.  When she was in full health I used to explore all the plantations and state forest near our farm.  I used to ride for hours no matter what the weather, exploring new tracks, nooks and crannies.  Galloping wildly.  Walking on a loose rein.  Sometimes I would cover 30km in 3 hours.  We were a team, Crownie and I.


When she started showing signs of wear and tear I semi-retired her.  I didn't ride her any more, but I would listen to squeals of delight as friends rode her on trail rides, and I would smile to myself.  But, eventually, Crownie was gone, and we kept reminiscing how nice it would be to own another horse like Crownie.


When Echo arrived - being the same colour and height (although he wasn't quite as long - thank goodness) - we unintentionally started making comparisons.  I like to take each horse on it's own merits, but the similarities were just too frequent and too many and we couldn't help ourselves.


He could spend hours at the hitching rail being brushed and patted - just like Crownie.  He is easy going and understanding, just like Crownie.  He seems to prefer people company to horse company.  If Echo has been put in the yard and you can't see him, then he's bound to be in the stable - just like Crownie.  And when a boot drops down too far over his coronet, he will try to kick the boot off, just like Crownie.


And so, I like to think that our wish for "another horse like Crownie" has come true.

What I learnt at my last dressage competition

I took Dingo to a dressage competition - an unofficial EA event. It was one of those magical moments, when the score didn't matter at all. It was all about making amazing discoveries, and those alone making the effort more than worthwhile.

So what did I learn?

1. The competition arena can be a whole new ball game. The competition venue had a huge sand arena with the competition arenas setup with plastic borders. As a horse went trotting next to the plastic border, the sand would get picked up by the horse's shoes and flung at the plastic, making a sound a bit similar to someone shooting (although not as loud). The minute Dingo heard this shooting, all relaxation and swing left him. So, our work on the circle wasn't too bad, but our work on the track was a waste of everyone's time. The lesson? While you can't actually warm up inside the arena, you can warm up sufficiently close to it that you can get your horse used to the sound and relaxed with the concept. At least "relaxed enough" to get a good test. I did this in my second test, and it worked.

2. There are a lot of distractions outdoors. At this particualar competition, there was an indoor arena for the majority of the warm-up. Dingo went brilliantly in there! Then we went oustide for the final part of the warm-up and all of a sudden his attention went everywhere. Everything was worth looking at. Normally, I work Dingo outside. But I never realised that I am competing for his attention with so many distractions. It was a real eye opener for me because it made me realise that I need to work harder to keep his focus on me.

3. Smile. We all kind of know this, but we don't really understand it deep down. For my last dressage test I rode up to the judge with a huge smile, because she had been really nice and friendly towards my daughter earlier on. The judge loved my smile, and said "If you ride with a smile like that you can be sure to have a great test". I took it on board as the judge's advice for the day, and got on with my test. I will add here that I spent around 15 years on stage as an amateur singer and dancer, and at the beginning of a performance you plastered a smile on your face, and you kept that smile there until well after the curtain closed for the last time. So, I'm practiced at performing with a smile. As I rode my test Dingo and I had the odd tussle, but the minute I felt things were back in check I would ask myself "and how is that smile?" and I would take the smile that was still firmly on my lips, and take it right down into my innermost feelings. And when that smile hit my belly I could feel the pony relax. That smile really made a difference.

The bonus? Dingo came 6th in a quality field. Go the little red pony!