Lil's lesson with Ron

Windsor Farm organised Ron Patterson to come out for a couple of days, and I grabbed the opportunity to have a Dressage lesson on Lil.

I walked into the arena, and from the time that he shook my hand I knew we were going to get on like a house on fire.

There were a few things that stood out about Ron.  Firstly, he was prepared.  All sorts of poles and blocks were lying on the ground, setting out a multitude of different exercises.  Secondly, he explained the training scale he works with - not in so much detail that you start yawning - and pointed out where on that scale we were.  Finally, he made it clear what the rider's body needs to do.

What I really liked is the exercises.  We were never on the track.  We were never on a 20m circle at A, we were never doing a serpentine, or a change across the long diagonal.  It made me realise just how boring and limited my daily training is!

He had us doing straight lines, and gentle curves, he had as circling around a pole, and between poles, he had us changing rein from one pole to the next, or from one block to the next.  It kept our minds very active.

Ron had a great focus on the rider's position.  He was mindful that you were able to move bits of your body independently.  He wanted you to be as skillful on the left as you were on the right.  And, best of all, when your horse wasn't travelling well, he would ask you to shift your body in some way, and all of a sudden, presto, there was a lot more fluidity in your horse's movement.

He was the first Dressage instructor to tell me to lean forward - and this was probably my favourite "take away" from the lesson.  At the time, Lil was trotting very slowly.  I was pushing with the leg, but it felt like getting blood from a stone.  Then Ron said "lean forward".  Catiously, I leant forward a hair.  "Lean forward", called Ron.  I leant forward another little bit.  "Really lean forward", called Ron.  Ok, I leant forward, pretty much going into forward seat.  Lil surged forward with alactrity.  "See, you'd got behind the horse, and you felt very heavy to her.  Now you're over her centre of gravity, and she can go forward again.  Good", commented Ron.  Wow.  "Ah-ha" moment.  It's not so much about getting your shoulders forward, but getting your seat forward in the saddle.  Ron calls it "sitting on the edge of your seat".  Nice.

I just loved the lesson, and felt very happy with my horse's progress, I felt I had learnt a lot, and best of all, I felt I could go home and I knew what to practice.  I can't wait for Ron to come back again.

Showjumping clinic

I took Dingo to a showjumping clinic today.  It was supposed to be a cross country clinic, but either due to lack of interest, or wetness of the cross country course, it ended up being a showjumping clinic.  Never mind.  If the pony is to compete, then any clinic is a good clinic.

Well we arrived without any issues, I saddled up and then I looked at our arena.  It was indoors.  Dingo had never been in an indoor before.  (Well, he actually had.  Back in February when I took him to a dressage day.  But we only did a short warm up in there.)  He took it all in his stride, though.

The instructor made some interesting points in the lesson.  Some to which I nodded wisely, and some which were quite new. 

Firstly - confidence is everything.

Secondly - if you feel things are not going right, and you do nothing, then your worst fears will come true.  Do something.  As long as you do something, chances are you will change the situation for better.  But, never, ever, do nothing.

Thirdly (and this was the new one to me, and my favourite) - do not jump from a standstill.  If your horse stops at a jump then show your displeasure, then take him around again and make him do it from canter, and make him jump it.  In fact, the coach went as far as saying that you don't jump from a trot either.  Nor from a walk.  The reasoning being that in a competition you will be jumping from a canter, so train your horse to jump from the canter always.  If they sometimes stop, then you will never know whether they will stop or whether they will jump, and so you can't be confident.  See first point.

Fourthly - if something goes wrong, then it's your horse's fault.  But you have to correct it.  Which might not look pretty.  When you've finished your jumping round, you might want realise that it was actually your fault, and you might want to apologise to your horse.  But while you're jumping - it's your horse's fault.

We jumped a warmup jump.  Then we did a little course - a mixture of grade 5 and 4.  Then he added a second part of the course at grade 3.  Dingo did the first part of the course, and we had fun doing it.  He did a great job of it.

I skipped the grade 3 part though.  I have every confidence that Dingo can do the height.  But to me, he just wasn't travelling well enough on the day.  And I kept thinking that if he jumps funny, then there is just not enough neck to land on.

It took me all afternoon to work out that what I should have done is sat back more, and looked up more and treated the upcoming grade 3 jump as though it was a grade 1 jump.  Next time.

The instructor was really happy with Dingo and with my riding.  He really thought I should have done the second part of the course.

Sit still

Gally is now back in work, and today he highlighted to me the importance of sitting still.

I like to get my horses doing lots of turn on the forehand and turn on the hind quarters. It doesn't have to be perfect, the idea is to get the horse moving off my leg. When I was doing the turn on the forehand Gally was ok, but not super responsive. But when I tried a turn on the hind quarters, I brought my leg a smigin forward of the girth and boy did I get an instant reaction. That was fabulous.

I took my leg off and relaxed. Reward for the horse, thinking time for me. Why is Gally not that reactive behind the girth? Because my leg sits there the whole time, and I dig my spur in sometimes intentionally, sometimes in frustration, sometimes because it just dangles.

So I went back to my walk and trot work, paying exceptional attention to keep my leg and my hands very still. Hey presto. Magic. I got much better quality work. Oddly enough I got a better, more active trot, using less spur.

Now I will be the first to admit that coaches have told me this before - plenty of times. It took a horse to show me just how important it really is.

Sweet spot

We're off for holidays today, and while the horses are enjoying lovely weather in the 20 acre paddock, I am writing about the sweet spot.

This is a spot on the horse's back, where I believe, the horse wants you to sit. I have been placed there by Gally himself. I first discovered it in canter. With Gally, you have to maintain quite a lot of drive. Especially in canter. Otherwise he starts humping. (Like bucking, but very very tiny. Almost laughable.) And as I was driving, and he relaxed in canter, I would always end up in this particular spot on his back. A lot more forward in the saddle than I expected. Almost on the whither. But it felt ... well ... perfect. And every time I would be in this sweet spot, the canter would improve.

The best way I can describe the concept of the sweet spot is imagine riding bareback up a very very steep hill. Now, don't hold onto the mane. What will happen? Will you start slipping down the horse's back, towards the tail? Yes?

If you're in the sweet spot, you won't slip back. When you're in the sweet spot your legs hang just in front of the horse's belly, and the power of your legs keeps them there. The belly prevents your legs from slipping back, the shoulder prevents your legs from slipping too far forwards.

Like I said, I found the sweet spot in canter. I then had to work backwards into walk and trot. Finding the sweet spot in walk was simple, but trot ... well, I'm still looking for it. I suspect that when my ankles stop bouncing in trot, then I've found it.

The sweet spot is not just a point on the horse where you sit. It is also the ability to keep yourself there as the horse moves. And this requires strength! But when you've got the feeling once, just once, you will go to all efforts of strength to keep yourself there. Why? Because once you're in the sweet spot you feel safe and secure, and like you "belong" on the horse.

And, it goes without saying, that if you're in the sweet spot when jumping it feels like flying.

I feel better

Ok, I feel better now. And I'm still going to pursue my dream of flawlessly galloping across country over scary obstacles.

Yesterday, I really was ready to give up. But, I know it's useless. I've been there before. Trying to give up the horse dream. And it just doesn't work. I mean ... if I'm not going to ride, then I may as well not live. So back into it. As someone once said "There's no failure, only feedback." Gally's sore back was my feedback. I know that I'm not sitting right. There are saddles that force you to sit correctly. Gally's previous owners' saddle made you do that. In fact, I liked their saddle so much I almost bought the saddle, not the horse.

So if I am not dilligent enough to sit correctly in my current saddle, then I should get myself a saddle which forces me to sit correctly. Or ride bareback. I have always found that I rode much better bareback, or without stirrups. I've had coaches who would force me to jump without stirrups for that exact reason.

The core of the problem

I haven't resolved the problem, but I keep working my horse.

I know that I don't have the most stable hands, so I glue them to the saddle blanket, and let Gally wander around the round yard. I ask for trot, the ears go back. Obviously, hands are not the problem.

Since he seems comfortable enough in the walk, I take him on a tour of the haying paddock. He tries really hard as we walk up the hill, and stays totally calm as we take in the awesome view from the top gate.

When we are finished I unsaddle him at the hitching rail as normal. And just out of curiosity, I run my hand along his back on the left side. All good. I do same on the right. Ouch! The ears dart back, the back dips. There's my problem.

I think about how the horse felt before I bought him. There could have been a mild stiffness there, but he wasn't sore. Not like this. This is a problem I created. Great!

I write myself off as a hopeless rider and trainer. I don't know why I'm still bothering. All my dreams fall in a heap at my feet. I am ready to give up and throw in the towel. But wait. Wait. If I am sitting wrong, then that saddle is "allowing" me to sit wrong. And maybe that saddle doesn't fit as well as I initially thought? But if I was a really good rider, I could ride well in any saddle. So, I am just hopeless at this, and should give up now before I do more damage.

The half halt

The half halt is almost like a legend to horse riders. All coaches swear by it, and request it, while all riders wonder whether it really exists. The aim of the half halt is to slow the horse down instantaneously. It can be followed by a change of gait, or simply to get the horse's attention.

Last weekend's jumping got me thinking. Why wasn't my horse jumping initially? Why was she almost running out and refusing? Well, to cut the long story short, I was riding in a permanent half halt. I feel very sheepish saying this, but all my coaches should feel more sheepish for not picking this up. Or, for not being able to explain it to me. Whichever. I've been thinking about this all week, and today, as we ride out into the forest, I open my body up and ride at the walk in the same manner that I "drive" the horse in canter towards a jump.

By "open my body up" I literally mean feeling like your legs are rotating outwards at the hip, like your knees are rotated outwards, and like you are really sitting on your two seat bones. You heel forms a "claw" like movement together with your buttock. In this position you automatically sit up. If you close up this position, you get the half halt. When you open up again, you get the drive.

Of course I have to verify all this with my coach, Anna. But, as Crownie warms up, I ask for more and more engagement. The head comes up, and I actually feel the legs stepping under. It feels great. And she's not rushing forward. She has the lightest contact on the reins. Can't be too far from "correct".

The drive

I am training Crownie over jumps. Cross rails actually. And it's not going well. Approaching each jump I aim straight for the middle, with my legs around the horse, as opposed to on the horse. And the horse is looking to run out.

I know that Crownie is a brave horse, so why is she looking to run out?

I put my legs on, sit stronger, straighter and further back in the saddle, and come around again. No hesitation, no running out. Pop.

The penny drops. If you just amble towards the jump, the horse is not engaged enough, and they will have trouble jumping. And so they will not want to jump. If you are strong in your seat and leg, but in a "half-halt" position, then your horse will also have trouble jumping. But if you're using a driving seat, and truly engaging the hindquarters then you will get a nice forward jump.

If the horse is looking at the jump and feeling worried about it, you will need a stronger driving seat, to generate more energy, to conquer the fear and get a jump.

Engaging the hindquarters

I bring Crownie for a lesson with Anna. Anna studies the horse intently as I saddle up. Finally she hands me a pair of scissors "Here, if you're going to make her that pretty, then you may as well trim her tail. If it's too long it actually does get in the way."

Crownie works well in walk and trot. Anna gets me to do these tiny circles on her, for ever engaging the hind quarters more and more.

Then in the canter it all falls apart. On the left canter she just falls out and the circles become huge oblongs. I work really hard at trying to contain it all. In the end both the horse and I come back to walk in a puffing mess.

On the right canter she's stiff. She can hold the circle, but it's a battle to keep her going, and there's no softness. Once she comes back to trot, I can't seem to get another canter.

"You're still trying to get the horse collected from your hand, not from your leg", says Anna with impatience. "You need to be like the horse. You need to use your legs to engage the horse's legs."

Spot on. Plus physical intelligence and strength.

I think about the way I push a wheelbarrow, the way I carry a backpack while hiking, and the way I run down a steep hill with my daughter. A year ago I used to do these tasks relying purely on the strength of my shoulders. (Correction. A year ago I didn't run down the hill.) The bones provided the supportive structure, like one wooden block piled on top of another. But the muscles did relatively little. They stopped the structure from falling apart. That's all.

Now, thanks to a year of training with Anna, and three months of pilates (once per week) the muscles do a lot more. When I push the wheelbarrow I actually feel the strength coming from my torso. From my legs. I can actually run down the hill with my daughter. It's a great feeling to be able to run down the hill, feeling every muscle in your leg providing support, while your joints bend and flex without pressure.

But. It's not enough. Not yet. It's a long road. Enjoy the journey.

One step forward

I have spent all week sweating over it. The jumping. All week I have sat there pulling apart my position and they way the horse jumps, and then putting it back together again. Of course, I've only done it in my mind. Today we get to practice.

I reset the jumps so that I have a couple of nice cross rails and one vertical, and many related lines in between. The cross rails are so small that I know the horse can just walk over them. In fact I know that the horse could pretty much walk over the vertical too. Then I start putting it all back together.

First, my position must be correct, I must be looking up and sitting up. Second, the horse has to be in control and travelling slowly. Period. That's all there is to it.

I go over the first cross rail, looking up. The penny drops. The rider never gets to see the jump. They have to feel it. There is no other way. The rider gets to see the jump two strides out. From there on they ride. They jump comes. The rider must perfectly stay with the motion of the horse. Then the horse's effort in the jump forces the rider to fold. It's bizzarre, it's amazing, it's like riding blind.

I keep trying this concept over the other jumps, time and time again. I try related lines. Once, just once, Princess goes too fast from one jump to the next. And it all feels like it's falling apart again. I take control, I reprimand, the next related line is much slower.

I took it apart, and put it all back together again, and it worked.

Two steps back

I wasn't happy with my or Princess' jumping during our recent cross country lesson. So, today is the time to practice.

I do a normal dressage warmup, then eye the jumps. I've lost my confidence. I go over the cross rail a couple of times. It doesn't feel right. It feels like something has fallen apart, and needs to be put back together again. But what?

I think the horse is jumping more or less the same as ever. But to me the whole exercise seems all over the place. The approach is rushed, the jump is flat, the landing is hard, and the travel lacks bounce.

I focus on my position and do the barrells. Awful. I am trying to sit up and look up more than ever, and I just seem to catch myself looking down on landing all the time!

I quit while I'm ahead.

Cross country lesson

Will arrives, and I follow him into the massive paddock that is "Little Wandin". We circle Thomas the tank engine for warm up. Thomas doesn't blow a puff, but Princess regards him with considerable suspicion. "All right", calls out Will. Nothing quiet about this guy when he's teaching. "Sit up! Look up! Sit UP!!!". We go over the logs that are Thomas's carriages: grade 5, grade 4, grade 3. "I want you to look up more. You tend to look down on landing and it crushes you. Look up!"

We go onto a little picket fence, garden bed in front of it, going downhill. Wow, all levels of difficulty built into the single jump. The jumping space is actually flat, but the approach is down hill. Princess stops, and I turn her immediately away. "Wait!" calls out Will. "If they refuse, let them just sit there. This is so small she can walk over it." "Sorry Will", I circle up the hill then come at it again. Princess stops, jumps, and I land a bit funny on her back. "Look up!" I could have predicted it. Subsequent tries go smoothly.

We do a bank up. Then a bank down. "Just walk to it", calls Will. "And lean back". The horse slinks gently down the bank. Wow! Feels good. "Ok, now do that again, then onto the log." I shake in my boots, but it's actually a lot easier than I expected. Doing it from walk is definitely a good idea. No need for any faster. Cool stuff.

Then onto the ditch. Grade 5, grade 4, grade 3. The grade 3 ditch is followed by a solid double bar jump. Princess is so focussed on the ditch, she gets a huge surprise when she sees the double bar. I am determined that she won't stop. The front legs go over. For a second or two we're suspended, the horse's belly sitting on the fence. The hind legs go over. "Go again. Look up!". I keep my legs on. Ditch. Two strides. Jump. Huge. I get unseated and land on the neck. I can't manage to grab on anything useful and end up on the ground. Damn. There goes a bottle of champagne. I get back on. "This time really look up!", cries Will. "See those power lines, I want you to keep looking at them no matter what happens!!!". I follow instructions to the letter and feel a huge impact of the massive leap on landing. But I'm good. I'm looking up. We travel.

Next up - ski jump. "I want you to trot into it", calls Will. "Remember, you are in control. You make her trot." The ski jump goes well, but the take off and landing are on the verge of out of control. "You can't let her take off", explains Will. "It's good that she feels confident over some jumps, but if she gets worried you will come unstuck. You must be in control. All these jumps can be done from a standstill. Go slow. Make her listen." He couldn't be any more clear. This is exactly what Anna has been telling me too.

"She's a bit of a doer", calls Will, "not a thinker. She just wants to do it. She's not thinking of what's coming until she's on top of it. Then she reconsiders, then she thinks. That's too late. She needs to think about it earlier. When you take control and slow her down, she'll start thinking a bit more. You must always be in control." He nails it.

We do a few more logs. Will is keen to continue, but I'm getting weary. More emotionally weary, than physically. Although I have every right to be physically weary. "How old did you say this horse was?!", he calls out as Princess and I canter up the hill. "18!" "Can't see it one bit!", he shouts back. "Ok, lets go and do water."

Water. Spectator's delight, competitor's fright. "Just walk her into it", says Will. She walks in without hesitation. "Ok, now trot". Good as gold. "Too easy! Do it a couple more times. That's all there is to it. Grade 5 just walk in and out. Grade 4 just jump down this little bank. You're good."

We walk back to the car, catching up on family gossip. One thing becomes really clear in my mind. I am just as out of control as all those other adult riders. And this is just not the way to do cross country.

Too much formula

I have been sitting at work all week, dying to re-apply my "seat to pommel" formula. So when I hit the arena this morning I am just too keen.

For starters, my muscles aren't used to the "seat to pommel" yoga type pose. So when I hop on Princess, I can't seem to quite get it right. On top of that, she's had four days in the paddock to think about it. And she thinks it may be all too hard for her. I get a bit of head tossing, but mainly I struggle to stay "seat to pommel" for more than a couple of strides. It's dissapointing.

Crownie on the other hand, my trainable horse, is compliant. Somehow, I manage to hold the "seat to pommel" pose with shoulders back and open chest. She goes down nicely on the bit, and engages well. After 20 minutes I feel that this might be enough. Surely not? It's only 20 minutes! I change rein in the walk, Crownie drops a leg and pulls a back muscle. I try a trot but she is most visibly lame. Damn! I've broken my horse.

Quickly I jump off and go into recovery mode. Good rub down to get the blood flowing, then a canvas blanket with felt underlay to keep the area warm.

Seat to pommel at home

Time to apply my new formula to work at home, and to different horses.

I put Princess in the round yard and hop on. (The benefit of working in the round yard is that I don't have to worry about the reins at all, except possibly to slow down or stop). Seat to pommel, shoulders back, open the chest. It feels great. I test this out in both walk and trot and the horse goes better than ever, even though I am not holding a contact on the reins.

I test the formula on Crownie. The change in her is amazing. She's like a totally new horse. She feels very engaged in the hind quarters and much happier in her work.

Seat to pommel

I have a lesson with Anna. Due to the fires I had to skip last month, and now I am lesson hungry.

I breathe in every word she says. "Try and get your seat bones closer to the pommel", she says. I tuck my seat in. "Closer to the pommel", she repeats. My brain screams "rediculous!", but somehow I manage to assume this yoga type pose. "And streighten your legs, down and back", she comments. I get a cramp that's killing me, but I don't tell her. I grind my teeth together and ride on. "Seatbones to pommel", she repeats. I shift again. "And straighten in the shoulders, feel like you're opening your chest up, like you're taking a huge breath." I follow the instructions, including actually taking the big breath. For good measure.

"Seat to pommel", she repeats again. Obviously, the big breath has shifted me out of position. "Straighten up". "Seat to pommel". "Seat to pommel". "Straighten up". "Seat to pommel". "And now, ...drive." I feel it. The interconnectedness of my back, my seat, my elbows and my hands with the horse. And I drive. And the horse responds with a tremendous walk. She chomps on the bit, she steps under, she arches her neck, and I'm in control.

Inside my mind, my brain triumphantly waves a piece of paper with the secret formula. Eureka!

(I also note that my "tuck the seat in" was the first step of this process, and I give myself a little pat on the back.)

Physical Intelligence and the Coach

So how does one identify a good coach for the upper body physically intelligent horse rider? What does such a coach need to do that may be different to other coaches of horse riding?

The rider needs to develop physical intelligence in the lower body. This does not happen overnight. Nor does it happen in a single step. That is, physical intelligence will develop in various constituents of the lower body - hips, thighs, knees, calves, ankles and feet - at different rates. A supportive coach needs to understand this, and not punish the rider for developing physical intelligence faster in the knees and slower in the ankles and feet. Rather, the coach needs to encourage physical intelligence to develop in the other areas.

Have you ever heard the term "you're gripping with the knees" or "you're gripping with the thigh" barked in a lesson? The coach is correct in what they notice. What they need to realise is that physical intelligence has just developed in the knees or the thighs, but it hasn't developed in the ankles or the calves yet, so we need to focus on that.

Another thing the coach needs to be aware of, is that a lot of upper body problems stem from lack of physical intelligence in the lower body. So while the upper body position should be corrected, the problem will not go away until sufficient physical intelligence in the lower body is learnt. If the rider is hunching forwards, you can tell them to sit up straight. But sooner or later they will be hunched again. The coach needs to focus on building the rider's core strength and leg strength, as well as correcting upper body problems.

Introduction to Impulsion

Overview

The entry is about what I have learnt at Anna Auer's over the past 7 or 8 months, which I believe to be the "Introduction to Impulsion". It is aimed at the rider who can ride, but who is not getting optimum performance from their horse. Some of the problems the horse can exhibit are - rushing, not stopping, being tense in the jaw, leaning on the bit, head tossing, working above the bit, bucking, plus many others.

The key to Impulsion is that it comes from behind. It is energy that starts at the back of the horse. Then it moves forwards, and as riders we can either block it, or channel it. We need to learn to channel it. To shape it as it moves forwards.

The Hind Leg

The horse moves from halt to walk by first moving one of the hind legs. The hind leg needs to come underneath the horse. The horse, under the guidance of the rider, needs to learn to do this, one leg at a time.

Bringing the leg underneath is actually hard for the horse, and its initial reaction is either to run away from it (go faster), or to get rid of the cause (buck). The key is not to ask too much, to not allow the horse to run away, and to make the horse comfortable when it does the correct thing.

The exercises for the novice horse are: shoulder in on the circle, shoulder in and quarters in.

The Back

Once the leg comes underneath, the horse needs to arch and use his back. The horse's back needs to arch in a similar way a cat arches his back. The horse cannot do this if the rider is sitting in the wrong spot, or in the wrong way.

The Rider

The rider needs to feel like they are perched on the wither. When looking at the rider, there will be a straight line from ear to hip to heel, and this line will be perpendicular to the ground. However, to the rider, this is totally irrelevant as it doesn't describe how it feels! Your leg feels like you're kneeling. And your body feels more like you're standing rather than sitting. You are suspended in the saddle by a strong thigh, and a strong calf. Your heels are down, but only in a dressage kind of way. If you compare it to showjumping, they heels actually feel like they are up. Most importantly, your body is close to the pommel, and far away from the cantle. Simple. Just do it. Walk, trot AND canter!

Hands and Reins

Hands must be soft. Arms must be soft. If the horse is correctly stepping under with the inside leg, then he should seek contact with the outside rein. That rein must support the horse and not let him fall out. It must control the speed. But there must still be softness in the hand and through the entire arm. The inside rein just asks for more or less flexion (bend). The smaller the circle, the more bend is required. This hand and arm is very soft, and the touch on the rein very slight.

The Neck

When the horse's hind leg comes underneath itself, AND he learns to accept this, the neck will arch. Period. Job done. That simple. You're not quite getting this result? If the horse hasn't been using itself correctly, and all of a sudden you ask for this, and you actually get it right, your horse will probably start head tossing in protest. (Or it may buck, or run, or something else nasty). "Ouch! I'm not used to this. It hurts!" If the horse isn't used to this way of moving, then it just doesn't have the muscle to do it. If you get head tossing, persist. You're asking at the right level. But persist for 10 minutes at a time. If you get bucking, then you're asking too much. Do the same thing, but ask for half that. Aim for the head tossing level. Then train at this level.

Time

Once you start working your horse correctly, it still takes time for the horse to build up the right muscles. If you ride your horse twice a week (like I do), and are still learning what to do and how to do it (like me), it takes probably about three or four months. A lot depends on how troubled your horse is to start off with.

Strength

For the past six months I've being toying with the concept of strength. Does one need to be strong to ride and handle a horse? How strong?

In all the available literature it constantly stresses that it's all about technique, in some languages there are proverbs along the lines of "if the horse knew his own strength then no one would ride him" implying that riding horses is not all about strength.

Now, I do agree, that muscle for muscle, the horse is stronger. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be so useful. But I think when we are constantly bombarded with "it's technique and not strength", we forget that once you get the technique right, you still need strength. It takes strength to groom a horse, to saddle a horse, to clean out his feet, to get on, to balance during riding, and then to issue commands with your seat and legs while balancing.

Let's compare it to riding in a train carriage, or in a tram. Imagine you have to stand in the middle of the carriage, without holding onto anything, while it's taking off, going around corners, bumping across track changes, and then stopping at a station. There is the technique - legs shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent, one foot forward, one foot back, feet at right angles - yes, this is how I practice. But then, as the train corners and bumps, strength starts to play a very big part. Your feet feel like they have claws that grip the floor, your quads tense to absorb the changes in momentum, your knees become shock absorbers and your calves flex. And then, if you dont have a handbag and two books, you can use your upper body too. After five minutes, you're about ready to hold the rail!

This is exactly what you need to do on a horse. In fact, you need to do more. Because while you're desperately trying to maintain that balance, you need to also indicate go left, go right, bend this way, move this leg (yes, it can get that precise). So you need strength. Lots and lots of strength. Yoga kind of strenght - I'm not moving much, but I can't be pushed over.

Don't Relax

I'm having a lesson at Anna's and it's going quite well. Anna's lessons are pretty intense, and once or twice during the lesson Anna likes to give the horse a little break. Time to stretch it's neck, and just relax.

We're trotting, and Anna asks for a small circle. "Then, once she's ready, back to walk", instructs Anna. "And allow her to take a loose rein, and relax". I breathe a sigh of relief, and flop back in my saddle, relaxed, ready for a beer. "Not you!", shrieks Anna. I sit up, jolted. "It's time for the horse to relax. You have to sit up and go with her, otherwise she can't relax!"

Position, position, position

There was another thing that Anna pointed out in yesterday's lesson, but it really merits a separate entry.

How important is position? The way you sit on the horse? That imaginary ear-hip-heel line? (I am not a big fan of the whole ear-hip-heel thing, but that's another topic in itself.)
Well, truth be told, position is everything.

When a rider is in the correct position they are able to control the horse, change gait, slow down, speed up, with relative ease. The reason for this, is that the correct position is comfortable for the horse. The horse is actually able to work together with the correct position, and respect it. A correct position renders the horse and rider a "team".

When you deviate from the correct position by leaning forward, it usually means that you are using your hands too much, and your seat not enough. (By leaning forward, I do not mean going into forward seat. I mean that you start slouching with your shoulders.) The effect to the horse is that you are hanging off their mouth. So, firstly they avoid contact. If you force them into the contact, then they may lean on the bit, start rushing forward, get stiff in the neck or the jaw, or all of the above.

When you deviate from the correct position by slouching backwards, you become like a sack of potatoes. Imagine (or better still actually do this) that you are carrying a 15kg hiking pack. Get the harness nice and tight - you should be able to feel the weight of the pack, but it should move with you. Now loosen the harness right off. The pack should feel heavier, and as you move left or right it probably feels like it's a burden. Now try trotting. That's what the backward slouching rider feels like to the horse. The effect is a horse that stiff through the back, rushing, bucking, an unbalanced horse, leaning on the bit, or all of the above.

Now for the bad news. It is actually possible to be slouching backwards and forwards at the same time!!!