The grass is growing!

Friday I jumped Willig by myself - well, we went over a fence multiple times - each time with its own style of ugly - but I'm counting it because ... my position was solid and although I was irritated with what a moron Willig was being (I think he was mad because my car was parked under a tree instead of in the parking lot, so the dogs wouldn't overheat) I felt like I had the lower leg and the tools to ride it. I couldn't ride the course I wanted, but I didn't go off.
So today he started out almost as goofy - he decided he was scared of the Gator, which was parked nearby. I thought the whole lesson was going to be a write-off (or at least, one of those "wonderful" lessons where I acquire another tool in my tool box for when he's being a moron - those are great, but actually jumping and feeling confident is more fun).
Instead, Shannon helped us pull it together - way better than I did on my own, and we ended up with a few take-aways:
1. Ride him. Ride him. Ride him. Stop being a passenger and ride him.
This was the main message of the lesson. We started over a little cross-rail - no big deal. Half halt on the way there, and then let him go the last couple strides. Sit up and heels forward and don't jump ahead.
We went from the cross rail straight to a course. To be a show off, I cantered it. Shannon said "great job, but next time canter it faster - you got five strides in the four stride". So there's the "push it a little further" for you.
Then we did a second, longer, harder course. Shannon moved blocks around, set a couple fences higher, hung her jacket in a terrifying place, and added ... the wall. She said if we did it perfect, we would only have to do it once.
And so we did it with one fault (the rail on top of the lattice).
Here's what was interesting:
- It's hard to ride him faster. It's hard enough to canter him, let alone push him forward. (i.e. I am really a chicken.)
- He tried to dart left at the wall, but I was half-expecting it, so my left leg - praise it! - actually wiggled a little on his side, and probably thanks to all J's riding - he went back to the right and we went over the wall. I made a correction! Without Shannon yelling it ahead of time!
- Shannon made us jump it a second time. And I realized, as I circled back around, that I was out of breath. Which was ... the only time I was out of breath on the course! The 2'9" oxer at the end of the combination didn't scare me. The barrels toward the poodle didn't scare me. The jacket hanging on the standard didn't scare me. The horrible flower boxes (they must look like a black hole to him or something) didn't scare me. Only the wall did. That's what I meant by the grass is growing. What huge progress from even just a few months ago, but definitely a year ago.
- It isn't that big. It's a mental thing because it looks solid. It was smaller than some of our other fences, and as we went over it, I thought "oh, this is nothing."
2. Ride him into the outside rein.
When he's being a doofus, I like to jerk on his mouth. Shannon said kick instead. If he tries to dart off, yes of course use the rein, but just try my legs first.
3. Make him respect me more than whatever he's being scared of.
Again with the Gator (although I think it applied to the fences after we worked so hard on going past the Gator), he needs to worry more about what I'm asking him to do and asking him to do next, than look for things to be scared of. Even if they're "legitimately" scary. (Nothing was, but in theory it could be.)
I think this is what J is doing when he is being a jerk, although she's too polite to ever call him a jerk. Or she actually rides, so his jerk-ness barely registers to her.
4. Did I mention the riding him part?
If I ride every fence, every stride, he holds his act together. It takes an enormous amount of concentration and focus, but the second time we came to the wall, I actually looked at it and thought "I can do this". I haven't felt that way on Willig in a long time. I'm super excited.