In today's jump lesson, Willig did a few really cool things:
He took the lead and took care of the jumps, without me helping, and with me, frankly, in some places hindering.
He jumped a training level height fence. More than once. Probably he kept his eyes open.
He jumped a new "scary" fence without running out the first time at it.
What were the take aways?
I've become a complete and utter chicken. I barely peeped out one or two clucks at him, and my "aggressive" riding towards the fence was one or two pitiful leg twitches. My whip never moved. My mouth never opened.
Long version:
It was cold out. 20 maybe in the morning. I tried to get to the barn in time to lunge Willig, but like usual, ran out of time, so Shannon gave me a few extra minutes to finish lunging and warm him up. Despite being ridden twice yesterday (jumping with J, going over a piece of garland on a trot pole with me), and being lunged, once I got on him he wanted to shy at the bundle of jump pieces.
So we started with that. Leg yield past it. If he tries to look, ok to use my hand to bend him to the inside (and then release), and if he's a goof, make a small circle and go past it again.
Then Shannon set up two jumps on a circle - roughly 3:00 and 9:00, but angled on the circle instead of perpendicular to the walls. At first, it was a little cross rail with a couple of cones under it and a little vertical. Next it became a little vertical with the cones and a vertical with some small white poles angled, to kind of make a steeplechase, only not really anything like a steeplechase (I can't think of how else to describe it).
Shannon's message was: RIDE him to it and over it, which we did. Remarkably. (Remarkable that we did it, not remarkably well.)
Then we switched directions (and she switched the sides) and he did it again.
Then she made the cone fence taller, and he did just fine.
Then she made the cone fence enormous - training level height which is about the belts on your waist if you wear them like an old person (it looked like - well, frankly, it looked like the top of my car, even from tall Willig's back).
I did NOT want to do this fence, mostly because Willig, when he feels overmatched, will run out, quickly, and/or buck. Which is what he did the first time at it - ran out, tried to buck, but we ran into the corner. Not his worst behavior, by any stretch of the imagination, but enough to rattle me.
And so Shannon had us do it again. And he did it, gorgeously. I mean, when he jumps, he is fantastic. It is so easy to stay centered over him and we just FLOAT in the air. It's fabulous.
Only when we landed, I started to cry. Huge, sobbing, like a little kid crying. It was horrifyingly embarrassing.
And then Shannon told us to do it again and I ... couldn't.
So the next few times took a lot of extra laps, mostly because my left hand (the outside hand) was like "hell no we're not doing that again" and would, apparently, take us in a circle to the left (the jump was to the right). Like so much of its own volition, that I was sure Willig was doing it, despite Shannon (and the other rider) telling me they could see ME doing it.
But he did it. Gorgeous both times. The last time he came in a bit short, but managed to get over it pretty gracefully notwithstanding, and thank god Shannon didn't make us do it again.
I haven't ever ridden another horse that jumps like him. When there's actually a bit of height to the fence, he swells up underneath me - kind of like a wave - it's like those rare moments when we hit everything just right in the sitting trot and he collects and he's got impulsion from behind, and the sky opens up and angels sing and it's just ... amazing.
But. I was terrified. I was so proud that yesterday we walked, trotted, and cantered over a pole with garland on it that was maybe 3" off the ground. Today Shannon added 3' (though, thank god, without the garland).
So what to work on?
Well, all the basics. My heels, defensive lower leg, my hands being still and even, and clear, consistent aids and responses.
But then - helping him as we approach the fences - no pulling back, encouraging him with my leg, encouraging him with my voice and whip if I need to.
And being the boss. Willig is scared of the fences (and I'm scared of him) so I need to fake being doubly brave for both of us.
I don't know. Like my dressage lesson, Shannon was thrilled with Willig, and I left feeling like an empty sack of a rider. Not elated that we accomplished it, not excited about doing it again, just - deflated.
Charlie with the long sought after cooler
Spring NWEC 2013 Novice
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Good, but not good, dressage lesson
Today's dressage lesson was a little weird. Mike was really happy with some of it, and there were certainly moments of brilliance, but overall, I felt like I didn't really catch on technically to what we were doing, and like maybe I didn't have good enough understanding of the feel either, to repeat it. So we'll see what happens tomorrow when I try to do it by myself.
We started out on our transitions. (Also, within 5 minutes Mike had to tell me to put my heels down. And then he had to tell me at least 10 more times over the course of the 45 minute lesson. I HATE my heels.) From trot to canter, we have been increasingly slipping into this diving down thing, where Willig's nose goes towards the ground and I tilt forward - I usually bend in half a bit.
So Mike fixed that by watching us struggle for a while, then getting on himself, riding Willig for less than five minutes, putting me right back on him while it was fresh in Willig's head, and then doing it over and over until I got it right.
The interesting part was, while Mike was "poofing up" Willig's shoulder air bag (what makes him so delightful to ride after Mike has been on him, before I deflate him back down again), Willig did an ugly buck and donkey kick. Mike reacted near instantaneously, lifting both hands to lift Willig's head, and then smacking him with the whip. His reaction was so fast I had hardly processed what had happened, but the buck was quite impressive to see from the ground. No wonder he unseats me.
And it made me wonder - he's been naughty going on two months now. Maybe (probably wishful thinking) but maybe because he's having to work harder?
So, the steps for a correct transition up from trot to canter are:
Lean back; think firm core
Tickle with legs and hands
Ask with outside leg sliding up and back
And lift hands up
Do NOT let him rush forward or speed up
He should kind of "jump" up into the canter (it's very, very obvious when he does this)
And then immediately hold him there (thinking collected canter) rather than shove my hands forward and let him immediately nose dive
This work made Willig tired (although it also was hard for him to look at stuff and be spooky) and he got heavier and heavier and heavier in my hands.
When we got it right: sparkly brilliant.
But for the most part, I got it wrong. He'd pick up the wrong lead. He'd stumble a bit. He'd try to dive down. (That's not his fault, he's been diving for like 3 years now with me. Although he knows how to do it properly, I haven't been asking, so he needs to learn to do it proper now.)
Then, this sort of connected with the down transition (from canter to trot). I'd lift him up into my seat (I'd kind of squeeze with my leg and my inner thigh while kind of lifting with my hands, and his back kind of lifts up into my butt) 1-2-3 strides and then lean back just a bit for the down transition. A few of these were the floating ones that are easy to sit. For the most part, we'd go back to jarring around.
I let my reins go too loose (they are always sliding out) and so Mike said to stick between the 2nd and 3rd leather loop on the reins and hold it there. I think one reason why my hands felt "high" is because they're much further up on the reins than I'm used to.
And then we worked for a tiny bit on the sitting trot. I'm getting all stiff and bracing, and Mike was trying to get me to "bounce" on the ball on purpose, but this was really hard.
When we ended, he had us do the "impossible" 10 meter circle (from the jump lesson and the last lesson with him) and it was almost no big deal. A big difference from the last few lessons.
Mike says that I'm very close with the sitting trot, but we have let it slide a bit, and that I just need to "get" the movement. He had me watch J warming up for a bit, but all I can see is that she's pretty close to motionless but obviously doing something. (Just like whatever magic happens when Mike gets on Willig. I really, really, really want to learn how to make his shoulder balloons blow up.)
We started out on our transitions. (Also, within 5 minutes Mike had to tell me to put my heels down. And then he had to tell me at least 10 more times over the course of the 45 minute lesson. I HATE my heels.) From trot to canter, we have been increasingly slipping into this diving down thing, where Willig's nose goes towards the ground and I tilt forward - I usually bend in half a bit.
So Mike fixed that by watching us struggle for a while, then getting on himself, riding Willig for less than five minutes, putting me right back on him while it was fresh in Willig's head, and then doing it over and over until I got it right.
The interesting part was, while Mike was "poofing up" Willig's shoulder air bag (what makes him so delightful to ride after Mike has been on him, before I deflate him back down again), Willig did an ugly buck and donkey kick. Mike reacted near instantaneously, lifting both hands to lift Willig's head, and then smacking him with the whip. His reaction was so fast I had hardly processed what had happened, but the buck was quite impressive to see from the ground. No wonder he unseats me.
And it made me wonder - he's been naughty going on two months now. Maybe (probably wishful thinking) but maybe because he's having to work harder?
So, the steps for a correct transition up from trot to canter are:
Lean back; think firm core
Tickle with legs and hands
Ask with outside leg sliding up and back
And lift hands up
Do NOT let him rush forward or speed up
He should kind of "jump" up into the canter (it's very, very obvious when he does this)
And then immediately hold him there (thinking collected canter) rather than shove my hands forward and let him immediately nose dive
This work made Willig tired (although it also was hard for him to look at stuff and be spooky) and he got heavier and heavier and heavier in my hands.
When we got it right: sparkly brilliant.
But for the most part, I got it wrong. He'd pick up the wrong lead. He'd stumble a bit. He'd try to dive down. (That's not his fault, he's been diving for like 3 years now with me. Although he knows how to do it properly, I haven't been asking, so he needs to learn to do it proper now.)
Then, this sort of connected with the down transition (from canter to trot). I'd lift him up into my seat (I'd kind of squeeze with my leg and my inner thigh while kind of lifting with my hands, and his back kind of lifts up into my butt) 1-2-3 strides and then lean back just a bit for the down transition. A few of these were the floating ones that are easy to sit. For the most part, we'd go back to jarring around.
I let my reins go too loose (they are always sliding out) and so Mike said to stick between the 2nd and 3rd leather loop on the reins and hold it there. I think one reason why my hands felt "high" is because they're much further up on the reins than I'm used to.
And then we worked for a tiny bit on the sitting trot. I'm getting all stiff and bracing, and Mike was trying to get me to "bounce" on the ball on purpose, but this was really hard.
When we ended, he had us do the "impossible" 10 meter circle (from the jump lesson and the last lesson with him) and it was almost no big deal. A big difference from the last few lessons.
Mike says that I'm very close with the sitting trot, but we have let it slide a bit, and that I just need to "get" the movement. He had me watch J warming up for a bit, but all I can see is that she's pretty close to motionless but obviously doing something. (Just like whatever magic happens when Mike gets on Willig. I really, really, really want to learn how to make his shoulder balloons blow up.)
Friday, December 24, 2010
Cones are ho-hum, but jackets? Oh my!
Thank goodness I have had time and money for extra lessons this month, because Willig has been a handful. Today was my third jump lesson of the month, and we are now unafraid of the cone, but one of us (ahem, me) remains afraid of jackets.
With that ...
I thought Willig might be a bit mellow today, since he had a hard dressage lesson Wednesday, got ridden by me and J on Thursday, and then I got out there and was warming him up just a few minutes before the lesson. Oh, no. He was looking at the little jump, just trying to see what surprises were in store for him today.
Let me back up. J used his "box o' scary stuff" on Thursday to jump him and reported that he doesn't like to trot towards something new the first time and will try to get out of the approach, but that he'll walk towards it no problem, look at it, and then trot it fine the second time. Then I put out the giant Popeye we got (I'll have to take a picture and post it - he is enormous - like the size of a toddler) and Willig snorted the whole way into the arena, but being the crafty human, I thought ahead and brought sugar cubes and gave him random rewards for approaching Popeye. He couldn't get ENOUGH of Popeye after that.
But all of that was forgotten by this morning when we started warming up.
I had a couple "feel" questions for Shannon that I thought I got from my dressage lesson but then didn't seem to have when I rode the next day. Mostly, what is the difference between the body position that means "halt" and the one that means "half halt" (and thus, collect)? Shannon said the "hold". You "hold" until he halts (or does a down transition) but the half halt you ask-release-ask-release, usually while you're also using a leg aid.
She also pointed out that my description (which includes pushing down and tilting forward with my pelvis) could just maybe suggest that I shouldn't be doing it (just describing it makes me want to hollow MY back), and then noticed that my saddle is sitting a bit close on his withers and I should try riding with a gel pad.
This goes with an off-hand remark that one of her boarders/instructors/helpers made while going past us, about how much weight Willig has gained in the last year. And then she said something so obvious that I hadn't thought of it, "I bet that has made him kind of spunky."
Why, yes. Yes, it has. THAT'S why I could ride him two years ago. He was skinny and weak and I could "overpower" him. Now he is healthy and happy and glossy and, yes, spunky.
The two easy take-aways from today's lesson:
- On the flat: Quit riding with my hands and ride with my legs!
- Over fences: Ride towards the fence like I mean it!
The details:
Willig wanted to look to the outside while we warmed up on a 20 meter circle, and we got in this big fight with my hands where I try to crank his head back to the inside while Shannon says "use your leg!" and I use my leg and he ignores me so I crank his neck again. This is EXACTLY what we worked on with Mike and it worked (but nasty tricky Willig is always good and does it immediately and perfectly in front of Mike) so I think I need to master these aids at the halt and walk and then be consistent with them and retrain him away from my heavy hands.
This was to the point where Shannon had me hold onto the breastplate with my outside hand so I would stop using it.
I also ride around with them uneven, and slipping out, and she's constantly telling me to even them up and shorten the reins.
He was a bit frisky, so she had us ride harder than I would - canter, canter faster, trot, walk, canter, canter faster, until he was listening.
Next, we took the same old fence and he popped right over it from the trot.
Then she put out two ground lines, about 7' on either side of the fence (instead of the normal 9'). She asked us to make a 10 meter canter circle, to collect him up (also what we worked on with Mike two days ago) and just like with the bending, we couldn't get our act together. I got so frustrated I actually started to cry. I miss sweet, reliable Mercury. He wanted to look out the door or look at the fence or whatever was looking somewhere else and not working, and then because his head was looking around, I'd start wrastling with my hands like he was a gator and then Shannon would tell me to put my hands down and keep them still so we'd start drifting all over the place (I kept being afraid we were going to run her over) and then we finally got it together enough to go over the fence, which he did perfectly fine. Several times in a row.
Then we tried it the other direction and the fight got worse. He REALLY wanted to look outside, and I REALLY didn't want him to, but then his head would go up and my hands would go up and we'd just go crazy spasticy all over the place in this weird cantery-trotty circle that was nothing like the shape of a circle and at one point I even made a very frustrated "Arrgghhh!"
From this side, oddly, he wanted to put his head up and race towards the fence, which was hard to stop while I was trying to have him all collected up, AND while thinking about leaning back and keeping my heels kicked in front of me.
Plus, those 10 meter circles and the collected canter? Oh my lord. I'm panting and sweating. When I got to the gym an hour later, my shirt was still soaking wet. (Sorry, gross.)
So, the good part was that for all those fences, he just went towards it and he figured it out, and even when he came in funny on the collected ones, he sorted his legs out without just blasting through it. The hard part was the stupid collected canter we just did, just fine, two days ago. I don't know why it didn't work today. The second time he kept picking up the wrong lead over and over and over and over.
Then Shannon turned the jump onto the long line, turned it into a vertical, had us canter it. No big deal, other than the entire approach before we make the U-turn, I start (on the left lead) yanking on my right hand about five minutes ahead. Even when Shannon is yelling "stop pulling on your right hand!" it just keeps pulling and ignoring me.
Then she put the cone under it. No big deal.
Then she put the cone under it and added a diagonal rail. No big deal.
Then she put the cone under it and turned it into a little oxer. No big deal.
Then she put her jacket on it. YIKES! We went shooting off the right and so I ran him into the wall to make him stop.
We walked back to it, he sniffed it, we made a circle and he went over it.
We came around, came around the corner, and he ran out again. This time we came back to it and he jumped it.
So we did it AGAIN and he did it just fine.
And this part is where it turns out it's me. Shannon said he would have jumped it just fine the first time, but I saw the jacket, don't trust him, and so instead of ...
kicking him forward and riding him assertively and defensively to the fence ...
I started pulling back and tightening him up.
She said I need to get faster and more assertive with my corrections (stop being afraid to use the whip and use it at the moment I need to - we also worked on how to hold my reins both in one hand, like a bridge, so I can use the other hand for a quick smack), but if I want to be an eventer, I have to want to go over the jump.
It's become a huge mental block. I'll make these baby steps, like last week's lesson going over the fence kicking as soon as we round the corner and approaching it, but then the second he does something different (raise his head) I panic and revert to curled up, tipping forward.
Shannon said my lower leg has improved a lot this year, so I'm a lot more stable on him, and she concurs with Mike that I need to learn to ride this or accept that I'm going to be a ploddy-around rider the rest of my life.
It was a great lesson, but oh boy. I just want to learn fast and easy, not this long, difficult way.
With that ...
I thought Willig might be a bit mellow today, since he had a hard dressage lesson Wednesday, got ridden by me and J on Thursday, and then I got out there and was warming him up just a few minutes before the lesson. Oh, no. He was looking at the little jump, just trying to see what surprises were in store for him today.
Let me back up. J used his "box o' scary stuff" on Thursday to jump him and reported that he doesn't like to trot towards something new the first time and will try to get out of the approach, but that he'll walk towards it no problem, look at it, and then trot it fine the second time. Then I put out the giant Popeye we got (I'll have to take a picture and post it - he is enormous - like the size of a toddler) and Willig snorted the whole way into the arena, but being the crafty human, I thought ahead and brought sugar cubes and gave him random rewards for approaching Popeye. He couldn't get ENOUGH of Popeye after that.
But all of that was forgotten by this morning when we started warming up.
I had a couple "feel" questions for Shannon that I thought I got from my dressage lesson but then didn't seem to have when I rode the next day. Mostly, what is the difference between the body position that means "halt" and the one that means "half halt" (and thus, collect)? Shannon said the "hold". You "hold" until he halts (or does a down transition) but the half halt you ask-release-ask-release, usually while you're also using a leg aid.
She also pointed out that my description (which includes pushing down and tilting forward with my pelvis) could just maybe suggest that I shouldn't be doing it (just describing it makes me want to hollow MY back), and then noticed that my saddle is sitting a bit close on his withers and I should try riding with a gel pad.
This goes with an off-hand remark that one of her boarders/instructors/helpers made while going past us, about how much weight Willig has gained in the last year. And then she said something so obvious that I hadn't thought of it, "I bet that has made him kind of spunky."
Why, yes. Yes, it has. THAT'S why I could ride him two years ago. He was skinny and weak and I could "overpower" him. Now he is healthy and happy and glossy and, yes, spunky.
The two easy take-aways from today's lesson:
- On the flat: Quit riding with my hands and ride with my legs!
- Over fences: Ride towards the fence like I mean it!
The details:
Willig wanted to look to the outside while we warmed up on a 20 meter circle, and we got in this big fight with my hands where I try to crank his head back to the inside while Shannon says "use your leg!" and I use my leg and he ignores me so I crank his neck again. This is EXACTLY what we worked on with Mike and it worked (but nasty tricky Willig is always good and does it immediately and perfectly in front of Mike) so I think I need to master these aids at the halt and walk and then be consistent with them and retrain him away from my heavy hands.
This was to the point where Shannon had me hold onto the breastplate with my outside hand so I would stop using it.
I also ride around with them uneven, and slipping out, and she's constantly telling me to even them up and shorten the reins.
He was a bit frisky, so she had us ride harder than I would - canter, canter faster, trot, walk, canter, canter faster, until he was listening.
Next, we took the same old fence and he popped right over it from the trot.
Then she put out two ground lines, about 7' on either side of the fence (instead of the normal 9'). She asked us to make a 10 meter canter circle, to collect him up (also what we worked on with Mike two days ago) and just like with the bending, we couldn't get our act together. I got so frustrated I actually started to cry. I miss sweet, reliable Mercury. He wanted to look out the door or look at the fence or whatever was looking somewhere else and not working, and then because his head was looking around, I'd start wrastling with my hands like he was a gator and then Shannon would tell me to put my hands down and keep them still so we'd start drifting all over the place (I kept being afraid we were going to run her over) and then we finally got it together enough to go over the fence, which he did perfectly fine. Several times in a row.
Then we tried it the other direction and the fight got worse. He REALLY wanted to look outside, and I REALLY didn't want him to, but then his head would go up and my hands would go up and we'd just go crazy spasticy all over the place in this weird cantery-trotty circle that was nothing like the shape of a circle and at one point I even made a very frustrated "Arrgghhh!"
From this side, oddly, he wanted to put his head up and race towards the fence, which was hard to stop while I was trying to have him all collected up, AND while thinking about leaning back and keeping my heels kicked in front of me.
Plus, those 10 meter circles and the collected canter? Oh my lord. I'm panting and sweating. When I got to the gym an hour later, my shirt was still soaking wet. (Sorry, gross.)
So, the good part was that for all those fences, he just went towards it and he figured it out, and even when he came in funny on the collected ones, he sorted his legs out without just blasting through it. The hard part was the stupid collected canter we just did, just fine, two days ago. I don't know why it didn't work today. The second time he kept picking up the wrong lead over and over and over and over.
Then Shannon turned the jump onto the long line, turned it into a vertical, had us canter it. No big deal, other than the entire approach before we make the U-turn, I start (on the left lead) yanking on my right hand about five minutes ahead. Even when Shannon is yelling "stop pulling on your right hand!" it just keeps pulling and ignoring me.
Then she put the cone under it. No big deal.
Then she put the cone under it and added a diagonal rail. No big deal.
Then she put the cone under it and turned it into a little oxer. No big deal.
Then she put her jacket on it. YIKES! We went shooting off the right and so I ran him into the wall to make him stop.
We walked back to it, he sniffed it, we made a circle and he went over it.
We came around, came around the corner, and he ran out again. This time we came back to it and he jumped it.
So we did it AGAIN and he did it just fine.
And this part is where it turns out it's me. Shannon said he would have jumped it just fine the first time, but I saw the jacket, don't trust him, and so instead of ...
kicking him forward and riding him assertively and defensively to the fence ...
I started pulling back and tightening him up.
She said I need to get faster and more assertive with my corrections (stop being afraid to use the whip and use it at the moment I need to - we also worked on how to hold my reins both in one hand, like a bridge, so I can use the other hand for a quick smack), but if I want to be an eventer, I have to want to go over the jump.
It's become a huge mental block. I'll make these baby steps, like last week's lesson going over the fence kicking as soon as we round the corner and approaching it, but then the second he does something different (raise his head) I panic and revert to curled up, tipping forward.
Shannon said my lower leg has improved a lot this year, so I'm a lot more stable on him, and she concurs with Mike that I need to learn to ride this or accept that I'm going to be a ploddy-around rider the rest of my life.
It was a great lesson, but oh boy. I just want to learn fast and easy, not this long, difficult way.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Well behaved Willig = dressage progress
I got oddly wiped out at work, was dreading more misbehavior from Willig, and knew I had some spare time with the holidays this weekend, so Willig got Monday and Tuesday off and just 20 minutes of lunging before my dressage lesson.
I was sure that finally Mike would get to see him acting up, since it seems like every day it's been something, but noooo ... he was a perfect student the entire ride.
That meant I didn't get any more tools for naughty Willig, but it also meant that we got to go back to working on our 1st and 2nd level lessons.
We started working in the middle and working our way to the scary end, which Willig remained remarkably blase about, even though J was out riding her young horse. A quick look here, a little bit of not wanting to bend to the inside there, one or two ear flicks. That was it for Willig's displeasure and anxiety.
We started with moving off the inside leg.
Here are the steps: Quiver leg; open outside hand (and shoulder!) if needed; smack with whip if being ignored.
So if I want him to bend left and leg yield right, I am keeping my right leg on for "forward", I am quivering my left leg for just a moment, I am opening my right hand and shoulder if I am being grippy and tense, and I am smacking with the whip if he doesn't respond promptly.
We tried it at a standstill, walk, then walking down the long lines, then using it in the "U-turns" of the long lines, then on a 20 meter circle. Worked like a charm.
It was a good lesson in the "overwork" that I do. I don't ask-release. I assskkkkkkkkkk.
Then we worked on a 20 meter circle on the scary end and where to start to maintain the bend past the scary side. So the scary side is 6:00. I start asking with the quivery leg at noon! WAY earlier than I have been doing! When I do that, by the time we get to 6, he is well into his routine.
This sounds so simple, but it was all fairly remarkable. I am (very slowly) catching on with more finesse to a lot of the things Mike has been telling me for months.
Then we worked on the canter. We did some collection before the canter so that he doesn't run into the canter by hurrying and falling in, but lifts up into it. This is sitting, leaning back with shoulders, tightening my stomach, and doing a big quiver with both legs while at the same time lifting my hands. I do 1-2-3 like that, and then SLIDE my outside leg back like it is a pair of scissors that is going to kick my saddle pad, and if he doesn't lift right up into it - the whip! (Which is in my outside hand for canter and walk, but inside hand for trot.)
After just a few tries, Willig caught on. (Mike says he is obviously already trained in all this stuff. An untrained horse wouldn't take just a couple times.)
Then we worked on a canter on a 10 meter circle, where I gave a similar 1-2-3 then trot, so that we would float like a feather into trot instead of plummet like a brick. In the canter, the 1-2-3 with sitting deep, leaning back, tightening my core, and lifting my hands - makes Willig's back lift up. It's like a balloon blowing up. Mike says that's collection. It's the same feeling that is there after Mike rides him, which then deflates as my butt squishes around on his back. Mike says that once I know how to do it, I'll never allow a horse to ride without it again.
Those transitions were awkward and ugly for a while, but every once in a while brilliant.
We ended with a bit of leg yield, and Mike says we need to work a bit on the bend in Willig's neck, but we can do that next.
Take Aways:
- On the 20 meter circle, it helps me to think of it as 100 tiny little leg yields. Like a centa-gon.
- Transitions. The 1-2-3 aid needs to be more obedient and crisp. Leg back for canter. When we canter in a line, speed up, slow down for 3, speed up, make a circle. All of this is so Willig starts to learn that aid does not mean "shift to trot" but "pay attention, we are about to do something different" and that is a whole world of things that we are just peeking at.
- At the canter, my legs need to be long and loose.
- Don't make him do his first "hard" moves in the scary corner. It's ok to make him think and keep him distracted, but don't set him up to fail by overwhelming him.
- Finally, getting to see Mike ride the other day, and Shannon ride on Sunday - one thing I noticed they both had in common was when the horse tried to be naughty, they nipped it right in the bud. I asked Mike my suspicion - it's not that Willig is particularly bad or naughty (I know he's not), it's just that I never rode a difficult horse before (even though I thought I did!), and I need to learn how to do this for all the future horses I'll ride. I need to learn the quick reactions and confidence that Mike and Shannon have. Mike said that's why it's useful when kids learn to put them on the tougher horses instead of the easy ones. He says he has worked with me long enough that he knows I'd get bored with a horse that didn't have Willig's potential. While that's hard to believe right this moment, I made the choice (and I took a long time making it) to keep Willig, not sweet reliable Mercury.
I was sure that finally Mike would get to see him acting up, since it seems like every day it's been something, but noooo ... he was a perfect student the entire ride.
That meant I didn't get any more tools for naughty Willig, but it also meant that we got to go back to working on our 1st and 2nd level lessons.
We started working in the middle and working our way to the scary end, which Willig remained remarkably blase about, even though J was out riding her young horse. A quick look here, a little bit of not wanting to bend to the inside there, one or two ear flicks. That was it for Willig's displeasure and anxiety.
We started with moving off the inside leg.
Here are the steps: Quiver leg; open outside hand (and shoulder!) if needed; smack with whip if being ignored.
So if I want him to bend left and leg yield right, I am keeping my right leg on for "forward", I am quivering my left leg for just a moment, I am opening my right hand and shoulder if I am being grippy and tense, and I am smacking with the whip if he doesn't respond promptly.
We tried it at a standstill, walk, then walking down the long lines, then using it in the "U-turns" of the long lines, then on a 20 meter circle. Worked like a charm.
It was a good lesson in the "overwork" that I do. I don't ask-release. I assskkkkkkkkkk.
Then we worked on a 20 meter circle on the scary end and where to start to maintain the bend past the scary side. So the scary side is 6:00. I start asking with the quivery leg at noon! WAY earlier than I have been doing! When I do that, by the time we get to 6, he is well into his routine.
This sounds so simple, but it was all fairly remarkable. I am (very slowly) catching on with more finesse to a lot of the things Mike has been telling me for months.
Then we worked on the canter. We did some collection before the canter so that he doesn't run into the canter by hurrying and falling in, but lifts up into it. This is sitting, leaning back with shoulders, tightening my stomach, and doing a big quiver with both legs while at the same time lifting my hands. I do 1-2-3 like that, and then SLIDE my outside leg back like it is a pair of scissors that is going to kick my saddle pad, and if he doesn't lift right up into it - the whip! (Which is in my outside hand for canter and walk, but inside hand for trot.)
After just a few tries, Willig caught on. (Mike says he is obviously already trained in all this stuff. An untrained horse wouldn't take just a couple times.)
Then we worked on a canter on a 10 meter circle, where I gave a similar 1-2-3 then trot, so that we would float like a feather into trot instead of plummet like a brick. In the canter, the 1-2-3 with sitting deep, leaning back, tightening my core, and lifting my hands - makes Willig's back lift up. It's like a balloon blowing up. Mike says that's collection. It's the same feeling that is there after Mike rides him, which then deflates as my butt squishes around on his back. Mike says that once I know how to do it, I'll never allow a horse to ride without it again.
Those transitions were awkward and ugly for a while, but every once in a while brilliant.
We ended with a bit of leg yield, and Mike says we need to work a bit on the bend in Willig's neck, but we can do that next.
Take Aways:
- On the 20 meter circle, it helps me to think of it as 100 tiny little leg yields. Like a centa-gon.
- Transitions. The 1-2-3 aid needs to be more obedient and crisp. Leg back for canter. When we canter in a line, speed up, slow down for 3, speed up, make a circle. All of this is so Willig starts to learn that aid does not mean "shift to trot" but "pay attention, we are about to do something different" and that is a whole world of things that we are just peeking at.
- At the canter, my legs need to be long and loose.
- Don't make him do his first "hard" moves in the scary corner. It's ok to make him think and keep him distracted, but don't set him up to fail by overwhelming him.
- Finally, getting to see Mike ride the other day, and Shannon ride on Sunday - one thing I noticed they both had in common was when the horse tried to be naughty, they nipped it right in the bud. I asked Mike my suspicion - it's not that Willig is particularly bad or naughty (I know he's not), it's just that I never rode a difficult horse before (even though I thought I did!), and I need to learn how to do this for all the future horses I'll ride. I need to learn the quick reactions and confidence that Mike and Shannon have. Mike said that's why it's useful when kids learn to put them on the tougher horses instead of the easy ones. He says he has worked with me long enough that he knows I'd get bored with a horse that didn't have Willig's potential. While that's hard to believe right this moment, I made the choice (and I took a long time making it) to keep Willig, not sweet reliable Mercury.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Cone-jumping lesson #2
This morning we tackled the cones yet again. (This makes day #5, with the score Martha - 1, Willig - 3.)
Yesterday I didn't ride because I spent the last two days trying to hammer out a brief, and I wasn't looking forward to coming out and having cone fight #6. In fact, I was dreading it, and I was really, really glad I already had a lesson scheduled with Shannon so I could ride with her help.
I planned a bit of time for lunging, which Willig took full advantage of. He spent 40 minutes alternating between Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Let me give an example:
"Look at me, all handsome with impulsion and a nice working trot."
(30 seconds later)
"Eek! A cone! OMG! A leaf! EEEEEKKKKK!"
(30 seconds later)
"Would you like me to pick up the canter? Yes, ma'am."
(30 seconds later)
"Watch how much I can twist my back in the air while I'm bucking! It's like a horse somersault!"
Etc.
Etc.
We started the lesson a few minutes late because of that exuberance.
Shannon started us on the flat, where Willig strived mightily to spook at the cones while we worked on a 20 meter circle. This was the same old stuff I continue to work on - heels down, legs forward, sitting back, keeping my hands even (that pesky right hand!), prompt response to transition aids, keeping him bent to the inside.
Then Shannon set up cavelleti, which we walked over and then trotted over while going past ... the cones.
Then she set up just a single pole and we'd go over the 3-pole cavelleti, then make a different circle and canter over the single pole.
Then she spread the cavelleti into two, and we cantered through (past the cones), and then she turned them back into the 6" jump with the cone underneath.
All of this was fairly simple. He wanted to look at the cones, so I worked hard on moving him off my inside leg toward the cone, and making sure that I came in straight and kept him moving (not wiggling).
Then Shannon put her jacket on the fence. Oh, lord.
He tried to bolt, and she had told me what to do (STOP him, immediately), so I stuck him into the wall. Then we faced it and stood there, with his neck rigid like a giraffe. Then we took one step. And looked at it - him rigid and quivering. Took a step. He tried to weasel out to one side or the other - nope. Rigid and quivering. Took another step. Still rigid. Another step. Mr. Tense. Another step.
Oddly, as we got to it, he bent down to look at it and then just stepped right over it.
So we did that a few more times at the walk, then at the trot.
This led to today's big breakthrough:
When I get scared or nervous - like Willig has been being a total moron and we're coming around the corner towards a jacket that he thinks is going to rise up and disembowel him - I clench my hands. I am asking him to stop (and more, to run out to the right with that iron right hand), rather than encouraging him to go forward no matter what.
So Shannon had me hold onto the breastplate if I was nervous, and to come in with my legs in front of me, heels down (and oh man, that felt so nice and solid), leaning back, and then ... KICKING him to the jump when he hesitated.
It worked! When I encouraged him, even with my feeble, wimpy, scared kicking, he went over it. When I clamped my hands, he stops. Duh, Martha.
Then Shannon got the pitchfork, and at that moment, J and her mom arrived. Willig was busy looking at them coming in, not paying attention to what Shannon had done, so as we got to the fence, he was all "Holy crap! There's something new down there!" but by then we were on top of it, and so he leapt straight up into the air (what felt like 3') over it. It popped me way up out of the saddle and I kind of landed half on his neck, but stayed on, and provided a good laugh for everyone in the arena. And Shannon said that was a great response - instead of running or stopping or bucking or any of his bad habits, he went OVER it.
Which is lesson #2. PRAISE him when he gets over it, even if it's ugly. I'm slow and stingy with the praise.
Then she added the lunge line draped on it, and then a plastic bin, and then we changed directions, and then she made it a little vertical (from our 6" to 18"), and he handled all of that with his "ho-hum" attitude.
Lesson #3 is that the height is not a problem for Willig. It's the confidence and the scaredy-cat, so I went to Value Village and the Dollar Store and now every single time I ride for the rest of the winter, I am going to put something out and move it around and make him go past it and over it, and work on all this stuff on the flat (or over 18") until the lightbulb stays on that his job is to go over what I point him at.
I am so pleased that he made progress today. Lots of other horses were being silly later, and I was really, really feeling disheartened over how the last week went and what my goals were for him. Him catching on was something I really needed, as well as the tips on how to improve my riding. These are simple, easy fixes that I can see immediate results from, and I only hope that my tiny brain can retain them so we can continue to progress.
Yesterday I didn't ride because I spent the last two days trying to hammer out a brief, and I wasn't looking forward to coming out and having cone fight #6. In fact, I was dreading it, and I was really, really glad I already had a lesson scheduled with Shannon so I could ride with her help.
I planned a bit of time for lunging, which Willig took full advantage of. He spent 40 minutes alternating between Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Let me give an example:
"Look at me, all handsome with impulsion and a nice working trot."
(30 seconds later)
"Eek! A cone! OMG! A leaf! EEEEEKKKKK!"
(30 seconds later)
"Would you like me to pick up the canter? Yes, ma'am."
(30 seconds later)
"Watch how much I can twist my back in the air while I'm bucking! It's like a horse somersault!"
Etc.
Etc.
We started the lesson a few minutes late because of that exuberance.
Shannon started us on the flat, where Willig strived mightily to spook at the cones while we worked on a 20 meter circle. This was the same old stuff I continue to work on - heels down, legs forward, sitting back, keeping my hands even (that pesky right hand!), prompt response to transition aids, keeping him bent to the inside.
Then Shannon set up cavelleti, which we walked over and then trotted over while going past ... the cones.
Then she set up just a single pole and we'd go over the 3-pole cavelleti, then make a different circle and canter over the single pole.
Then she spread the cavelleti into two, and we cantered through (past the cones), and then she turned them back into the 6" jump with the cone underneath.
All of this was fairly simple. He wanted to look at the cones, so I worked hard on moving him off my inside leg toward the cone, and making sure that I came in straight and kept him moving (not wiggling).
Then Shannon put her jacket on the fence. Oh, lord.
He tried to bolt, and she had told me what to do (STOP him, immediately), so I stuck him into the wall. Then we faced it and stood there, with his neck rigid like a giraffe. Then we took one step. And looked at it - him rigid and quivering. Took a step. He tried to weasel out to one side or the other - nope. Rigid and quivering. Took another step. Still rigid. Another step. Mr. Tense. Another step.
Oddly, as we got to it, he bent down to look at it and then just stepped right over it.
So we did that a few more times at the walk, then at the trot.
This led to today's big breakthrough:
When I get scared or nervous - like Willig has been being a total moron and we're coming around the corner towards a jacket that he thinks is going to rise up and disembowel him - I clench my hands. I am asking him to stop (and more, to run out to the right with that iron right hand), rather than encouraging him to go forward no matter what.
So Shannon had me hold onto the breastplate if I was nervous, and to come in with my legs in front of me, heels down (and oh man, that felt so nice and solid), leaning back, and then ... KICKING him to the jump when he hesitated.
It worked! When I encouraged him, even with my feeble, wimpy, scared kicking, he went over it. When I clamped my hands, he stops. Duh, Martha.
Then Shannon got the pitchfork, and at that moment, J and her mom arrived. Willig was busy looking at them coming in, not paying attention to what Shannon had done, so as we got to the fence, he was all "Holy crap! There's something new down there!" but by then we were on top of it, and so he leapt straight up into the air (what felt like 3') over it. It popped me way up out of the saddle and I kind of landed half on his neck, but stayed on, and provided a good laugh for everyone in the arena. And Shannon said that was a great response - instead of running or stopping or bucking or any of his bad habits, he went OVER it.
Which is lesson #2. PRAISE him when he gets over it, even if it's ugly. I'm slow and stingy with the praise.
Then she added the lunge line draped on it, and then a plastic bin, and then we changed directions, and then she made it a little vertical (from our 6" to 18"), and he handled all of that with his "ho-hum" attitude.
Lesson #3 is that the height is not a problem for Willig. It's the confidence and the scaredy-cat, so I went to Value Village and the Dollar Store and now every single time I ride for the rest of the winter, I am going to put something out and move it around and make him go past it and over it, and work on all this stuff on the flat (or over 18") until the lightbulb stays on that his job is to go over what I point him at.
I am so pleased that he made progress today. Lots of other horses were being silly later, and I was really, really feeling disheartened over how the last week went and what my goals were for him. Him catching on was something I really needed, as well as the tips on how to improve my riding. These are simple, easy fixes that I can see immediate results from, and I only hope that my tiny brain can retain them so we can continue to progress.
In a dressage saddle, cones are no big deal
After our adventure last weekend with the cone-"jumping", I worked Willig one day on my own with cone-cavelleti, and then at my dressage lesson, told Mike about the cone excitement.
Mike wanted to see if he could Willig to continue to act up to help build my tool-kit on what to do in those situations, so we went past the cones on their perch on the wall, then past a cone on the ground, then past a cone on its side on the ground, then past two cones, the cones moved, the cones moved further out, we stopped at the cones, we trotted past the cones, we cantered past the cones, Mike moved away from the cones, and then Mike set up a jump and we jumped the cones - the exact same jump that Shannon made in my Saturday lesson.
"Ho-hum," said Willig.
Once, his ears sort of looked intently at a cone. Once.
Mike was disappointed, and I was a tiny bit, although also relieved that the cone horror had ended.
Or so I thought ...
We worked a bit more on bending to the inside, some counter canter (maintaining the bend! not switching to the other bend!), and I think that was pretty much it. Both Shannon and J came in towards the end of the lesson and marveled at well-behaved Willig (and backed me up that Saturday really was wild).
Then, J's ride was on Thursday, and he started it up all over again. She said that he did a 180 abruptly and without warning. Then he got scared of the far end after a horse walked by. Then she set up the cones and he did the same - came around the corner, saw it, and tried to bolt and buck. (Although she is modest, I doubt he gets as much away with it as he does with me.) She said it took most of the ride to get him to go over it "like a gentleman" which is the nicest way I've ever heard anyone describing a horse who is being a shit.
Fortunately for me, I have some extra time from work this month, so I am packing in the lessons. We'll see what next week holds in the dressage arena.
Mike wanted to see if he could Willig to continue to act up to help build my tool-kit on what to do in those situations, so we went past the cones on their perch on the wall, then past a cone on the ground, then past a cone on its side on the ground, then past two cones, the cones moved, the cones moved further out, we stopped at the cones, we trotted past the cones, we cantered past the cones, Mike moved away from the cones, and then Mike set up a jump and we jumped the cones - the exact same jump that Shannon made in my Saturday lesson.
"Ho-hum," said Willig.
Once, his ears sort of looked intently at a cone. Once.
Mike was disappointed, and I was a tiny bit, although also relieved that the cone horror had ended.
Or so I thought ...
We worked a bit more on bending to the inside, some counter canter (maintaining the bend! not switching to the other bend!), and I think that was pretty much it. Both Shannon and J came in towards the end of the lesson and marveled at well-behaved Willig (and backed me up that Saturday really was wild).
Then, J's ride was on Thursday, and he started it up all over again. She said that he did a 180 abruptly and without warning. Then he got scared of the far end after a horse walked by. Then she set up the cones and he did the same - came around the corner, saw it, and tried to bolt and buck. (Although she is modest, I doubt he gets as much away with it as he does with me.) She said it took most of the ride to get him to go over it "like a gentleman" which is the nicest way I've ever heard anyone describing a horse who is being a shit.
Fortunately for me, I have some extra time from work this month, so I am packing in the lessons. We'll see what next week holds in the dressage arena.
My new favorite book
"Athletic Development of the Dressage Horse: Manege Patterns" by Charles de Kunffy
The first five chapters are definite must reads for anyone who rides. I just got to Chapter 6, which also has lots of useful tips, but is starting to be the patterns.
I was reading it at the gym just after my lesson today, and I was like "That's it! That's us! That's brilliant!" over and over.
For example:
"The pleasure in riding should be found in seeking, not finding, perfection. For all wise equestrians have known that our ideals are not fully attainable, only approachable. Horsemanship is an art not suitable to those who wish to 'arrive.' It is, rather, an art in which the process of creating is fulfilling."
"The diagnostic process emanates primarily from the horse. He 'tells on his rider' and reveals all about his current condition. This is why during competition the judge uses only the horse's activities as guidelines for evaluating his progress and 'pretends to ignore' the rider's destructive activities." (Destructive is a term-of-art de Kunffy uses as one of two ways the rider influences the horse. The other is harmonizing.)
The first five chapters are definite must reads for anyone who rides. I just got to Chapter 6, which also has lots of useful tips, but is starting to be the patterns.
I was reading it at the gym just after my lesson today, and I was like "That's it! That's us! That's brilliant!" over and over.
For example:
"The pleasure in riding should be found in seeking, not finding, perfection. For all wise equestrians have known that our ideals are not fully attainable, only approachable. Horsemanship is an art not suitable to those who wish to 'arrive.' It is, rather, an art in which the process of creating is fulfilling."
"The diagnostic process emanates primarily from the horse. He 'tells on his rider' and reveals all about his current condition. This is why during competition the judge uses only the horse's activities as guidelines for evaluating his progress and 'pretends to ignore' the rider's destructive activities." (Destructive is a term-of-art de Kunffy uses as one of two ways the rider influences the horse. The other is harmonizing.)
Monday, December 13, 2010
Bad Horse = Good Lessons (and a big slice of humble pie)
Ok, so I had this doozy of a cold. I probably should have cancelled my lesson, but I'm tired of wimping out about jumping, so I asked if we could just do an easy lesson. We started out working on Willig's impulsion and bend - by doing some spiraling in circles in both directions and keeping him bent to the inside (look at those eyelashes!).
That was all pretty decent, and so Shannon got out a tiny little cross rail jump with a couple of the guiding ground poles one stride out. By "tiny", I mean it was maybe 6" in the center.
She set it up in the center of the arena, so we had the "condensed" short area to jump in, which meant I had to work on exquisite control. The first couple times over were a little awkward and Shannon said that just like on the flat, I need to make him jump the first jump like I want him jumping at the end. It's up to me, and I'm just (STILL! ARRGH!) along for the ride.
Then she put ...
one ...
tiny ...
orange ...
cone ...
under the cross rail.
And the mayhem started.
As we came around the corner, Willig spotted the cone - I felt him squirm a bit - but before I could react at all (Problem #2 - my slow reaction time) - he bolted to the right, I went over his left shoulder - and blammo! Nailed the ground with my butt.
I mean, seriously. A tiny orange cone. It's like the LEAST scary thing an eventer will ever have to jump over. It was even on it's side, NOT making the "jump" one inch taller to the threatening 7".
Shannon got him and led him over the fence over and over and over again, until he was voluntarily stepping over it (and let me point out - it was not an effort for Shannon to step over the fence, but it sure was for Willig), and then I got back on.
Now, if I'm remembering the order correctly, we walked over (he hesitated) until he quit hesitating, then trotted over it.
Then she flipped the cone to the other side, and we went towards it from the other side and he - DID IT AGAIN.
Seriously. Only this time I didn't fall off. And I was pissed.
Oh yeah - and he added in a good buck.
And when I smacked him with the whip - he bucked back. (Replace that "b" with an "f" and you've got a good idea what he was telling me and what I was thinking back.)
So Shannon had me ride him in a tight canter circle (like I mentioned, I was sick, and weak, with a booming cough, and I was having a really hard time with the effort) and then expanded it out when he started to behave.
Then we walked it from that side - he acted up AGAIN - and Shannon did something we've never done in a lesson before - she took my whip - took the reins under his chin - I held onto the breastplate - and then she whipped him. From both sides.
And then led us over the 6" fence at a walk. [NOTE: Two lessons later, Shannon pointed out that she wasn't whipping him for the sake of whipping him, but making him move his legs when she asked, just like a leg aid would do. I completely missed that at the time, because my brain was pretty much seizing up.]
Multiple times.
By this point, I wanted to cry.
So then we did it again from the walk, and he'd try to trot it, and she made us do it until I was the boss (the big take-away lesson) and then we did it at the trot, and then we went back and did it from the other side, and he wanted to be afraid, but went over it anyway.
And so:
I am too passive. I don't react quickly enough, and I'm not the "boss". Even though I'm micro-managing everything, when it comes to the fence, I'm just like a dummy sitting up there. And I mean like one of those car crash dummies that just sits there, strapped in, and passively waits for whatever comes.
He was also being a shit. And it took a LOT of effort to get that out of him. I have no idea why because he's certainly jumped things scarier than a cone before - he's seen cones easily a thousand times - and the day before J was riding him and he was just fine. (i.e. it wasn't that he hadn't been jumped in a month or not ridden for a week)
He takes advantage of speed. When we're trotting - or heaven forbid cantering - he does use it to his advantage to dart out to the side. That's his thing. His other thing is bucking when he's smacked with the whip.
I need to ride into the fence defensively (legs in front of me, leaning back - preferable to hit him in the mouth and bang on his back than to go over his shoulder), but controlling him (I say what speed we trot/walk/canter the fence), and ready to WHIP him if he hesitates. And if he runs out, he halts immediately and we go right back to the fence until he goes over it.
This isn't about height. It's not like this thing was 4' and he wasn't sure he could make it. My DOG could have stepped over it without hardly lifting his leg higher than normal.
So ... it totally sucked having such a bad lesson, but I'm really glad it was during a lesson and not on my own so I got a lot of good information about how to deal with it, and so Shannon could get a better rounded picture of what it's like for me working with him the days we're not having lessons (not that he is like this 99% of the time - this is like a 1% thing that unfortunately tends to be 90% AT horse shows).
Fortunately, I have a lesson with Mike tomorrow and another lesson with Shannon next Saturday, so we'll get to build on this in close proximity.
Which is good because I didn't ride Sunday, and today I turned a little jump with two cones into three trot poles with the two cones in the middle, and the ding dong couldn't handle it again. I tried the same thing we did in the lesson (controlled, but firmly and defensively going over it) until it wasn't a big deal, and then we did it at the trot until it wasn't a big deal and then we quit, but what the hell? It's orange cones!!
That was all pretty decent, and so Shannon got out a tiny little cross rail jump with a couple of the guiding ground poles one stride out. By "tiny", I mean it was maybe 6" in the center.
She set it up in the center of the arena, so we had the "condensed" short area to jump in, which meant I had to work on exquisite control. The first couple times over were a little awkward and Shannon said that just like on the flat, I need to make him jump the first jump like I want him jumping at the end. It's up to me, and I'm just (STILL! ARRGH!) along for the ride.
Then she put ...
one ...
tiny ...
orange ...
cone ...
under the cross rail.
And the mayhem started.
As we came around the corner, Willig spotted the cone - I felt him squirm a bit - but before I could react at all (Problem #2 - my slow reaction time) - he bolted to the right, I went over his left shoulder - and blammo! Nailed the ground with my butt.
I mean, seriously. A tiny orange cone. It's like the LEAST scary thing an eventer will ever have to jump over. It was even on it's side, NOT making the "jump" one inch taller to the threatening 7".
Shannon got him and led him over the fence over and over and over again, until he was voluntarily stepping over it (and let me point out - it was not an effort for Shannon to step over the fence, but it sure was for Willig), and then I got back on.
Now, if I'm remembering the order correctly, we walked over (he hesitated) until he quit hesitating, then trotted over it.
Then she flipped the cone to the other side, and we went towards it from the other side and he - DID IT AGAIN.
Seriously. Only this time I didn't fall off. And I was pissed.
Oh yeah - and he added in a good buck.
And when I smacked him with the whip - he bucked back. (Replace that "b" with an "f" and you've got a good idea what he was telling me and what I was thinking back.)
So Shannon had me ride him in a tight canter circle (like I mentioned, I was sick, and weak, with a booming cough, and I was having a really hard time with the effort) and then expanded it out when he started to behave.
Then we walked it from that side - he acted up AGAIN - and Shannon did something we've never done in a lesson before - she took my whip - took the reins under his chin - I held onto the breastplate - and then she whipped him. From both sides.
And then led us over the 6" fence at a walk. [NOTE: Two lessons later, Shannon pointed out that she wasn't whipping him for the sake of whipping him, but making him move his legs when she asked, just like a leg aid would do. I completely missed that at the time, because my brain was pretty much seizing up.]
Multiple times.
By this point, I wanted to cry.
So then we did it again from the walk, and he'd try to trot it, and she made us do it until I was the boss (the big take-away lesson) and then we did it at the trot, and then we went back and did it from the other side, and he wanted to be afraid, but went over it anyway.
And so:
I am too passive. I don't react quickly enough, and I'm not the "boss". Even though I'm micro-managing everything, when it comes to the fence, I'm just like a dummy sitting up there. And I mean like one of those car crash dummies that just sits there, strapped in, and passively waits for whatever comes.
He was also being a shit. And it took a LOT of effort to get that out of him. I have no idea why because he's certainly jumped things scarier than a cone before - he's seen cones easily a thousand times - and the day before J was riding him and he was just fine. (i.e. it wasn't that he hadn't been jumped in a month or not ridden for a week)
He takes advantage of speed. When we're trotting - or heaven forbid cantering - he does use it to his advantage to dart out to the side. That's his thing. His other thing is bucking when he's smacked with the whip.
I need to ride into the fence defensively (legs in front of me, leaning back - preferable to hit him in the mouth and bang on his back than to go over his shoulder), but controlling him (I say what speed we trot/walk/canter the fence), and ready to WHIP him if he hesitates. And if he runs out, he halts immediately and we go right back to the fence until he goes over it.
This isn't about height. It's not like this thing was 4' and he wasn't sure he could make it. My DOG could have stepped over it without hardly lifting his leg higher than normal.
So ... it totally sucked having such a bad lesson, but I'm really glad it was during a lesson and not on my own so I got a lot of good information about how to deal with it, and so Shannon could get a better rounded picture of what it's like for me working with him the days we're not having lessons (not that he is like this 99% of the time - this is like a 1% thing that unfortunately tends to be 90% AT horse shows).
Fortunately, I have a lesson with Mike tomorrow and another lesson with Shannon next Saturday, so we'll get to build on this in close proximity.
Which is good because I didn't ride Sunday, and today I turned a little jump with two cones into three trot poles with the two cones in the middle, and the ding dong couldn't handle it again. I tried the same thing we did in the lesson (controlled, but firmly and defensively going over it) until it wasn't a big deal, and then we did it at the trot until it wasn't a big deal and then we quit, but what the hell? It's orange cones!!
Delayed posting of dressage lesson
Last week I had a dressage lesson, and then immediately following it, came down with a doozy of a cold. I was sick enough that I didn't even feel like sitting at the computer to type out my lesson, which is a good lesson in itself, because almost a week later, I can hardly remember all of the details.
My primary complaint was back to the transition from the canter to trot. I don't get Willig "lifted" enough, so it is this jarring down transition, where I post like a pogo stick bouncing up and down instead of sitting the trot. (I know the pogo stick feeling well, since it's how I "sat" the trot most of my life until I started working with Mike last year.)
Mike gave us a very difficult exercise to do - canter on a 10-meter circle. It was almost impossible to do at the start of the lesson - we'd MAYBE pick up a few strides and then collapse - but the point of it was to show me how much I squirm around up there. I am doing pretty much everything. I'm not giving Willig the aid and then letting him do it, but ... micro-managing.
As a spoiler - at the end of the lesson he had us do it again and it was, compared to the start of the lesson, a cake walk. I don't know why, but I'm prepared at this point to live with the magic.
I ask him for something, and then I fiddle, and then I squirm around, and then I toss my shoulders willy-nilly, and the poor guy has no idea what job he's supposed to be doing.
So that was huge take-home lesson 1. Just like Mike suggested that perhaps - just maybe - I am continuing to ask for the trot with each step. And I was like "you're crazy!" and then he asked me to go into a two point, and Willig ... slowed ... down ... to ... a ... walk without my constant banging around.
I have switched my constant anaconda squeeze (old aid) to think that I was no longer banging around, but instead I'm just like a toddler with a drum set - now instead of squueezzzing, I'm tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tapping (new aid).
It's an improvement, but still not quite where we need to be.
Lesson 2 - we worked on the "scary" end of the arena again. Mike has a gentle approach - we walk. stop. look. walk. stop. look. Then walk all the way. Then trot. walk. trot. walk. Then trot all the way. Then canter. trot if needed. canter. Canter all the way. Then Mike moves away. And every time we get past is one more tiny feather swiping a meteor every thousand years (one of my favorite Built to Spill songs) and one day it will be the size of a pea.
And yes, it works. But it drives me CRAZY. I am impatient.
Lesson 3. Then we did a bit of our fancy-pants work, which we have not been doing so much of since ding dong got scared of the far end again. (Even though our arena is huge, when we spend half of it preparing for and exiting the scary end, we are really only working on stuff for half (which is still big, but still, it's half).)
The first thing Mike pointed out is to set Willig up for success. If I'm going to ask him to do some leg yield, come off the corner, turn down the quarter line, and move him TO the wall for the first time. Horses gravitate toward the wall, and why ask him to go all the way across as the very first move. Let him warm up a bit.
Finally, in the next post I'll describe our jump lesson, but today Mike was riding gorgeous George, and Willig decided to act up the same as the jump lesson, and when I stomped in to get his lunge line and side reins, Mike asked if I needed draw reins. And then a light bulb went off for me - why in the world do I spend all this time fighting with him when I have a tool we used for like 6 months? So I put them on him today and whether it was the lesson Saturday, or the lunging until he got sweaty, or the draw reings, or a combination - he wasn't nearly as much of a pistol as he was Saturday.
My primary complaint was back to the transition from the canter to trot. I don't get Willig "lifted" enough, so it is this jarring down transition, where I post like a pogo stick bouncing up and down instead of sitting the trot. (I know the pogo stick feeling well, since it's how I "sat" the trot most of my life until I started working with Mike last year.)
Mike gave us a very difficult exercise to do - canter on a 10-meter circle. It was almost impossible to do at the start of the lesson - we'd MAYBE pick up a few strides and then collapse - but the point of it was to show me how much I squirm around up there. I am doing pretty much everything. I'm not giving Willig the aid and then letting him do it, but ... micro-managing.
As a spoiler - at the end of the lesson he had us do it again and it was, compared to the start of the lesson, a cake walk. I don't know why, but I'm prepared at this point to live with the magic.
I ask him for something, and then I fiddle, and then I squirm around, and then I toss my shoulders willy-nilly, and the poor guy has no idea what job he's supposed to be doing.
So that was huge take-home lesson 1. Just like Mike suggested that perhaps - just maybe - I am continuing to ask for the trot with each step. And I was like "you're crazy!" and then he asked me to go into a two point, and Willig ... slowed ... down ... to ... a ... walk without my constant banging around.
I have switched my constant anaconda squeeze (old aid) to think that I was no longer banging around, but instead I'm just like a toddler with a drum set - now instead of squueezzzing, I'm tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tapping (new aid).
It's an improvement, but still not quite where we need to be.
Lesson 2 - we worked on the "scary" end of the arena again. Mike has a gentle approach - we walk. stop. look. walk. stop. look. Then walk all the way. Then trot. walk. trot. walk. Then trot all the way. Then canter. trot if needed. canter. Canter all the way. Then Mike moves away. And every time we get past is one more tiny feather swiping a meteor every thousand years (one of my favorite Built to Spill songs) and one day it will be the size of a pea.
And yes, it works. But it drives me CRAZY. I am impatient.
Lesson 3. Then we did a bit of our fancy-pants work, which we have not been doing so much of since ding dong got scared of the far end again. (Even though our arena is huge, when we spend half of it preparing for and exiting the scary end, we are really only working on stuff for half (which is still big, but still, it's half).)
The first thing Mike pointed out is to set Willig up for success. If I'm going to ask him to do some leg yield, come off the corner, turn down the quarter line, and move him TO the wall for the first time. Horses gravitate toward the wall, and why ask him to go all the way across as the very first move. Let him warm up a bit.
Finally, in the next post I'll describe our jump lesson, but today Mike was riding gorgeous George, and Willig decided to act up the same as the jump lesson, and when I stomped in to get his lunge line and side reins, Mike asked if I needed draw reins. And then a light bulb went off for me - why in the world do I spend all this time fighting with him when I have a tool we used for like 6 months? So I put them on him today and whether it was the lesson Saturday, or the lunging until he got sweaty, or the draw reings, or a combination - he wasn't nearly as much of a pistol as he was Saturday.
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