So as some of you may have seen already on Horsenation, my first event with Midnight was a success! I feel like a very neglectful blogger here on CE but it has been a crazy busy week prepping for the show. Here's the rundown of everything that's been going on.
THE INCIDENT.
Last Sunday Midnight had a TOTAL meltdown in the crossties after I'd been working up to it slowly for weeks. When it first started getting hot this spring, I would just hold him in the wash stall, then I just used one tie and held him with the lead, and then I had been using both ties for about two weeks until The Incident. I knew he had cross tie issues going into the lease, but WOW does he have cross tie issues.
I was bathing him with Micro-Tek shampoo to try and soothe his rain rot a bit, and I was just about done, but I didn't want to dump out my bucket in the wash stall since the drain was clogged and there was a bunch of standing water, and I didn't want to make a splash that would freak him out. So (not thinking) I went out of the wash stall to dump it outside. Well THAT made him really freak out.
Once he realized he was stuck in there without me, he pulled back, splashed around (of course), freaked himself out more, reared (thank God he didn't fall backward or hit his head on the ceiling) and spun--his brain just went out the window. Somehow he managed to break the cross ties AND finagle his halter off, then he trotted outside, but didn't go far--of course he suddenly felt less scared when he saw some tasty grass. Thankfully other boarders were there to help me.
Once he settled down I attempted to get him back in the wash stall rather unsuccessfully. I was able to get him fully in there for about 30 seconds after I had been tapping and tapping with the end of the lead rope, but he has this new trick where he ducks his head behind you really quick and I wasn't able to hold on to him.
So I grabbed my instructor and we figured out that trick pretty quick with the chain. We were able to tap, tap, tap and get him to take one step at a time into the stall until his head and neck were in there. But theeen he started rearing and striking out at us when we corrected that head-snaking move with the chain. Great. So that's the "stud-ish" behavior his owner told me about.
His ground manners in general are atrocious (though I've been working on keeping him out of my space) so we are switching to a rope halter so the corrections actually mean something...and I'm going to try to teach him to ground tie to make the whole thing less stressful for everyone. I don't think he's ever really been taught to give to pressure when being tied, and it's just ballooned into this huge production where he loses his mind. So I think until he can just chill out ground-tied, I won't push the issue. I have no desire to deal with a rearing wannabe stallion.
And now on to...
THE EVENT!
I'm pleased to say the event was a lot less dramatic than the incident :)
I shared Midnight with the other half-leaser, who is an experienced eventer and showed at Elementary, while I was a level below at Intro. She was nice enough to let me use her tack (much easier than trying to switch) and she won her division!
Dressage: We did USDF Intro Test B and got a 33.44 (eventing scoring). Wow. WHAT an improvement from the Fix-a-Test when I rode my first dressage tests ever, getting a 58.1 and a 60.6 (dressage scoring). So that's an over 10-point jump from the same judge in just two months! We are beginning to get round and guess what...our circles are actually...CIRCULAR!!!
As I was practicing the week before, I noticed that in Intro B, all of the transitions are in corners--which seemed like a perfect way to incorporate shoulder-fore and set up the bend in the way the judge suggested in the Fix-a-Test. So I tried to do that but obviously still need to work on putting all the pieces together--the main comment appeared to be that he braces against my hand when I ask for roundness and bend in the transitions in the corners. The only collective scores we didn't get sevens on were submission (6, but with the x2 multiplier it counted as 12) and rider's position (6.5--a half point jump from the Fix-a-Test). Both of course have to do with me not quite setting up the bend correctly so it's nice that it's one clear thing to work on.
So with mostly sixes and sevens, the dressage put us in first place before the jumping began!
Jumpalooza: So this event was a little different than a normal combined test. They had a special class called the "jumpalooza" which I just had to try--you start jumping in the arena, then trot or canter out to the XC field, and come back to finish your round in the arena.
I went out to walk the course WAY early in the morning, before many people had arrived. It was a pretty simple, flowy setup with a couple related distances and the option to do a bending line--but Midnight and I had never actually jumped a full course before! My expectations were low, and as my instructor said, "It's OK if you need to circle or if you want to pull up. This isn't the Olympics here!"
So after some initial confusion on where to enter the ring (it was different from the previous show in the series, which I volunteered at), I went in with my plan: trot in, and canter out. If he got quick at the canter, I would just come back to the trot. It was a successful plan! However we did have a stop when he looked at one of the jumps, and I was so focused on trying to remember where to go next that I circled him around rather than keeping him pointed at the jump. Oh well. We got over it. Then in the last jump before the XC portion, Midnight put on a bit of turbo speed and I was just about ready to pull up and quit...but then he came back to me like a good boy and I did some yoga breathing.
We trotted over to the XC field, where the course was almost exactly the same as it was when we schooled a few of the jumps--just a big loop around the field. I didn't ride that well to the first jump (not very forward, and not defensive enough in my position). It was a small oxer with natural branches from a downhill approach, so we had another stop and I circled again. Then a couple of logs uphill...easy peasy, and I was so pleased once we got to the top of the hill! Then I almost forgot where to go...oh yeah, turn around and go back down the hill! Two small ground-pole-ish jumps downhill...and then THE HAY BALE OF DOOM. Okay, maybe not doom, more like "I'm supposed to jump it, not eat it?" Another stop, but finally I had it together enough to deal with his wiggling and we just popped over it from a standstill.
Then back to the stadium again, where I almost forgot where to go again. The fact that the jumps were numbered helped! He did great although we did have a rail down. Honestly I was just happy I didn't have a panic attack in my claustrophobic vest!
16 jumping faults later we were in third place...out of three. But I didn't feel disappointed at all. We did AWESOME in our dressage and not half bad for our first time jumping a course. I wolfed down some homemade pizza I brought, then spent a few hours watching some of the more advanced dressage and jumping, did jump crew for a little while and then once everyone was done we had celebratory drinks and fruit in the "show office"...AKA trailer with an extension wire and a fan.
I have to say eventers know their stuff: effective riding, humane horsemanship, and the fact that there is nothing better than a cold beer after a long, hot day of horse showing. Looking forward to doing it all over again this fall!
Showing posts with label shows. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shows. Show all posts
Monday, July 22, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Fix-a-Test Clinic: USDF Intro Test A
A week late, but oh well. I know my adoring fans were on the edge of their seats.
In between scoring, scribing, and riding, I had a great day overall at the clinic, though initially I was disappointed in my test. I knew I could ride it much better, but once I actually got down to the ring, I was a bit nervous and Midnight was in lalaland looking at the clouds...at bits of grass...if it was lookable, he looked at it. So he was very distracted, jiggy and not giving me that relaxed energy I know he has because I was tense myself. It felt like the test went too fast for me to even really focus, though when I practiced it, I felt like I had all the time in the world.
And he has an AMAZING free walk which we didn't show at all because of that tension.
Here is a video of our first time around, which the judge scored a 58 (a lot of sixes and a five for that first circle):
A lot of her written comments on the test were about having insufficient bend, him getting a bit quick, and of course that wonky first circle (more like an egg shape). So after I finished the test, she gave me a sort of mini-lesson on how to get his body (and mind) more engaged when he gets distracted. Practicing shoulder-fore was the theme of the day for many of the people riding, including me. First we attempted it on the circle to get a better bend, without much success since he wasn't listening to my leg and I was a bit confused about what shoulder-fore was supposed to feel like. Then we tried turn on the forehand to get those hindquarters engaged, which clicked much better for me, though it wasn't as easy on the right side.
I felt better about the second test, which scored a 60 (moved up to a six on the first circle and a seven on the second, plus a few other sevens):
Collective marks for both tests were pretty similar. Freedom and regularity of gaits got rated seven on both, which I was happy about since that means his very pleasant way of going shone through. Impulsion and submission, not so much--respectively, a six and a five on both tests.
So although I was in a bit of a mental snit for not doing as well as I thought I could, everyone at the farm (including his owner--who was also nice enough to take video of our warmup and tests!) was really positive and said I should be happy with it since it was my first dressage test ever. I did have fun throughout the day, and by the end of the day I got out of my snit. The wine and cheese afterparty outside the clinician's trailer helped! That is my kind of party, and it was a great way to finally connect names to faces and hang out with other boarders. I even exchanged numbers with an eventer my age so we can go trail riding (the list of people I want to go trail riding with at that farm seems to grow by the day).
So overall, it was an educational and successful day! I'm planning on entering a combined trial the farm is hosting in July (definitely doing the dressage classes, and maaaaybe showjumping if I feel ready), and volunteering at another one.
Deepest condolences go out to L, a pillar of the equestrian blogging community, as she grieves for Carlos, a horse we have all come to love from her thoughtful writings about her adventures with him. Viva Carlos indeed.
In between scoring, scribing, and riding, I had a great day overall at the clinic, though initially I was disappointed in my test. I knew I could ride it much better, but once I actually got down to the ring, I was a bit nervous and Midnight was in lalaland looking at the clouds...at bits of grass...if it was lookable, he looked at it. So he was very distracted, jiggy and not giving me that relaxed energy I know he has because I was tense myself. It felt like the test went too fast for me to even really focus, though when I practiced it, I felt like I had all the time in the world.
And he has an AMAZING free walk which we didn't show at all because of that tension.
Here is a video of our first time around, which the judge scored a 58 (a lot of sixes and a five for that first circle):
I felt better about the second test, which scored a 60 (moved up to a six on the first circle and a seven on the second, plus a few other sevens):
Collective marks for both tests were pretty similar. Freedom and regularity of gaits got rated seven on both, which I was happy about since that means his very pleasant way of going shone through. Impulsion and submission, not so much--respectively, a six and a five on both tests.
So although I was in a bit of a mental snit for not doing as well as I thought I could, everyone at the farm (including his owner--who was also nice enough to take video of our warmup and tests!) was really positive and said I should be happy with it since it was my first dressage test ever. I did have fun throughout the day, and by the end of the day I got out of my snit. The wine and cheese afterparty outside the clinician's trailer helped! That is my kind of party, and it was a great way to finally connect names to faces and hang out with other boarders. I even exchanged numbers with an eventer my age so we can go trail riding (the list of people I want to go trail riding with at that farm seems to grow by the day).
So overall, it was an educational and successful day! I'm planning on entering a combined trial the farm is hosting in July (definitely doing the dressage classes, and maaaaybe showjumping if I feel ready), and volunteering at another one.
Deepest condolences go out to L, a pillar of the equestrian blogging community, as she grieves for Carlos, a horse we have all come to love from her thoughtful writings about her adventures with him. Viva Carlos indeed.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Blog Hop: Firsts
Here are the rules:
First pet:
My first pets were a string of parakeets, all named Tweety, Featherbrain, or Fly Away Home (that was a movie about geese that came out when I was little). I don't really remember them, but I've been told that I sat on one of them and killed it. Um...oops? Toddler me was not the brightest.
First riding lesson:
I'm not sure that I remember the exact lesson, but I began my riding career at age 11 at J-Mar Stables in Monkton, MD. I was not a natural. My instinctual position was the fetal position, hunched over and bouncing like a potato. I do remember that we always stopped by Grohl's market for goodies after the lesson though since it was so far away from where we lived and we got hungry.
First job:
I was a veterinary assistant at a cat and dog clinic about two miles from my house. I couldn't yet drive when I started, so on my first day, I walked to work in a long-sleeved blouse and slacks...without having eaten breakfast or drank anything...on a summer day...in humid, stickily hot Maryland. I was fine for a few hours, then colors started looking weird while one of the Vet Techs was trying to teach me how to fold surgical drapes. I asked to be excused to go to the break room, and all of a sudden I was laying on the floor in the arms of the guy my age they had hired at the same time as me. He caught me so I didn't hit my head as I fainted.
Maybe it would have been romantic if he wasn't so creepy/insistent. It took me weeks to get him to stop offering me rides home. (This sounds mean in hindsight, but he was seriously annoying.)
I thought it was going to be a dream job that would be my first step towards being a veterinarian. I'm one week away from graduating with an English degree, so it didn't quite work out that way. Aside from changing my career plans later on, I was terrible at the job. Although I was pretty strong for my age from karate classes, I was still only 5'4" and barely 100 lbs. Restraining panicked Mastiffs while they got their shots was not my forte, and cleaning up an endless supply of animal body fluids gets old reeeeealllly fast. Unless it's horse poop! Then it's a great way to get moving in the morning.
First blog post: Here. I started my blog trying to ride on the coat-tails of Gentle Giants being featured on SnarkyRider. It worked at first! But now my pageviews are nowhere near that level so after graduation I'm dedicating myself to the pursuit of internet fame.
First car:
I walked home from the bus stop one day my sophomore year of high school, pressed the code for our garage, and inside was my mom and a white Ford Focus. It was a great surprise :) There were of course some stipulations--I had to chauffer my little brother home from private school and occasionally I traded cars with my mom when she needed better gas mileage. Not a bad tradeoff for a high schooler. Although these days, that car needs to earn its way back into my graces since it's been so finicky and problem-prone lately.
Tales from the Trail's question: In what way are you spoiled with regard to horse ownership?
I don't own a horse but I feel pretty spoiled to be able to ride for free. I am so happy that I've finally accrued the skills (more or less) to ride rescue horses and to exercise theraputic riding horses.
My addition: First horse show.
Mine was a totally surreal day that did a 180 from awesome to terrible. I was 12 years old, and a family friend took me to a 4-H show on "SoCo" AKA Southern Comforts (it was years later before I found out that was a liquor! I just thought it was a nice name.), a big old chestnut TB gelding from my lesson barn. In the pictures I look so nervous and pale (no scanner here so will post some later). I got two third-place ribbons out of three classes. I didn't place in the jumping class because SoCo picked up the wrong lead, but I didn't expect to place at all in my first show! I was ecstatic and I couldn't wait to show my mom when she came home from work.
When I came home, there was a white van with the Mapaw Husky Rescue logo on the side. My heart dropped. My mom had threatened to return the dog we had had for the past 6 months, but I didn't think she would actually do it. Sonic was an incredibly smart Wooly Husky (again, will post photos after this week). He knew Sit, Shake, and even Go Upstairs/Downstairs. I would often set up jump courses out of brooms and chairs in our yard to burn off his energy--he would have made a great agility dog. However, he had severe separation anxiety and had broken out of 3 metal crates, scratched up one of our doors, escaped multiple times (he could unlock the basement door) and done a number on our carpets. I still think we should have just kept working with him or medicated him, but I think my mom's point of view was that she wanted a dog to lessen stress, not add to it. It was still really sad so I remember my first show day with mixed feelings.
Sorry my responses were a little depressing this week! I have a lot of tragic pet stories but I figured people would have interesting memories from their first show day.
Answer
one or all of the prompts. Link back to Living a Dream's post. Visit
other blogs. And don't forget to ask a question of everyone else!
This week we are asked about some of our "firsts". This might include:
- pony
- pet
- child
- riding lesson
- job
- home-cooked meal
- speeding ticket
- ??? You decide! Anything goes!
I'd love to hear (and
see) you first blog post. Who, or what, got you started in blogging?
When was your first post? If you care to, link to it for us!
First pet:
My first pets were a string of parakeets, all named Tweety, Featherbrain, or Fly Away Home (that was a movie about geese that came out when I was little). I don't really remember them, but I've been told that I sat on one of them and killed it. Um...oops? Toddler me was not the brightest.
First riding lesson:
I'm not sure that I remember the exact lesson, but I began my riding career at age 11 at J-Mar Stables in Monkton, MD. I was not a natural. My instinctual position was the fetal position, hunched over and bouncing like a potato. I do remember that we always stopped by Grohl's market for goodies after the lesson though since it was so far away from where we lived and we got hungry.
First job:
I was a veterinary assistant at a cat and dog clinic about two miles from my house. I couldn't yet drive when I started, so on my first day, I walked to work in a long-sleeved blouse and slacks...without having eaten breakfast or drank anything...on a summer day...in humid, stickily hot Maryland. I was fine for a few hours, then colors started looking weird while one of the Vet Techs was trying to teach me how to fold surgical drapes. I asked to be excused to go to the break room, and all of a sudden I was laying on the floor in the arms of the guy my age they had hired at the same time as me. He caught me so I didn't hit my head as I fainted.
Maybe it would have been romantic if he wasn't so creepy/insistent. It took me weeks to get him to stop offering me rides home. (This sounds mean in hindsight, but he was seriously annoying.)
I thought it was going to be a dream job that would be my first step towards being a veterinarian. I'm one week away from graduating with an English degree, so it didn't quite work out that way. Aside from changing my career plans later on, I was terrible at the job. Although I was pretty strong for my age from karate classes, I was still only 5'4" and barely 100 lbs. Restraining panicked Mastiffs while they got their shots was not my forte, and cleaning up an endless supply of animal body fluids gets old reeeeealllly fast. Unless it's horse poop! Then it's a great way to get moving in the morning.
First blog post: Here. I started my blog trying to ride on the coat-tails of Gentle Giants being featured on SnarkyRider. It worked at first! But now my pageviews are nowhere near that level so after graduation I'm dedicating myself to the pursuit of internet fame.
First car:
I walked home from the bus stop one day my sophomore year of high school, pressed the code for our garage, and inside was my mom and a white Ford Focus. It was a great surprise :) There were of course some stipulations--I had to chauffer my little brother home from private school and occasionally I traded cars with my mom when she needed better gas mileage. Not a bad tradeoff for a high schooler. Although these days, that car needs to earn its way back into my graces since it's been so finicky and problem-prone lately.
Tales from the Trail's question: In what way are you spoiled with regard to horse ownership?
I don't own a horse but I feel pretty spoiled to be able to ride for free. I am so happy that I've finally accrued the skills (more or less) to ride rescue horses and to exercise theraputic riding horses.
My addition: First horse show.
Mine was a totally surreal day that did a 180 from awesome to terrible. I was 12 years old, and a family friend took me to a 4-H show on "SoCo" AKA Southern Comforts (it was years later before I found out that was a liquor! I just thought it was a nice name.), a big old chestnut TB gelding from my lesson barn. In the pictures I look so nervous and pale (no scanner here so will post some later). I got two third-place ribbons out of three classes. I didn't place in the jumping class because SoCo picked up the wrong lead, but I didn't expect to place at all in my first show! I was ecstatic and I couldn't wait to show my mom when she came home from work.
When I came home, there was a white van with the Mapaw Husky Rescue logo on the side. My heart dropped. My mom had threatened to return the dog we had had for the past 6 months, but I didn't think she would actually do it. Sonic was an incredibly smart Wooly Husky (again, will post photos after this week). He knew Sit, Shake, and even Go Upstairs/Downstairs. I would often set up jump courses out of brooms and chairs in our yard to burn off his energy--he would have made a great agility dog. However, he had severe separation anxiety and had broken out of 3 metal crates, scratched up one of our doors, escaped multiple times (he could unlock the basement door) and done a number on our carpets. I still think we should have just kept working with him or medicated him, but I think my mom's point of view was that she wanted a dog to lessen stress, not add to it. It was still really sad so I remember my first show day with mixed feelings.
Sorry my responses were a little depressing this week! I have a lot of tragic pet stories but I figured people would have interesting memories from their first show day.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Riding at the University of Maryland
You may remember that I'm a Terp, albeit a not-terribly-school-spirited one.
A big part of why I chose to come to Maryland was the on-campus riding club. I was only a member for one semester, since I found it rather fishy that four out of their eight horses were lame. I also really didn't like that we only had two horses allotted to our lesson of four girls so we had to switch in the middle of the lesson.
However, I thought it would be fair and useful to see the other side. I haven't been around the campus farm for three and a half years, and I didn't want to show badly enough to warrant the IHSA team dues. I interviewed Leandra Bitterfeld, a student instructor for the University of Maryland Equestrian Club and treasurer of the IHSA team to get some perspective on which riders are best suited to club versus team riding.
Overall: Club versus Team
“Maryland is the only student-run equestrian club in the country,” says Leandra, which means that all club members pitch in. In addition to attending monthly meetings and a weekly lesson (if they choose to ride), members must do one chore per week, whether it’s haying, feeding, or mucking stalls. The lesson horses play double duty too—they are also used for equine labs in the Animal Science department. Only about half of the students in the club ride, since many are simply interested in gaining experience with horses.
The club also offers students the opportunity to learn to teach. Leandra took two tests and did an evaluation ride to become an instructor for the club’s A lesson group (the club groups members based on ability—A being advanced and E being beginner riders). She has found teaching to be just as educational for her as it is for her students: “Every time I go into the ring I’m learning so much about my riding. When I’m watching these girls make mistakes, I’m also learning so much for myself. And that’s been my favorite part of teaching—being able to share my knowledge and take so much knowledge back from it.”
As you would expect, the IHSA team is more focused on competition than the club. According to Leandra, the average club member is just learning to canter, while the average team member is jumping 2’ or 2’6”. Since the team mostly attracts people who already have horse experience, they require members to at least know how to walk and trot. “The level that we’re taught at is more specialized,” Leandra says, nothing that there are rarely enough dead beginners interested to fill up a group lesson.
Since IHSA riders are not familiar with their host school’s horses, the focus is on rider performance. Potential IHSA members should not stress about the possibility of a host school horse acting up because riders have the opportunity to ask for a “re-ride” which allows them to try again on a different horse. However, this is the exception rather than the norm. Leandra says, “I’ve gotten to ride so many amazing horses that I could never afford, especially as a college student.”
There are many other resources available to compare schools which I covered in another post. Let me know if you've ever ridden for another school's IHSA team--I'd be happy to interview you for the greater good of high school seniors :)
 |
| I would much rather spend my time making cute food rather than going to a game. I didn't make this though; Snarky Rider shared it on FB |
However, I thought it would be fair and useful to see the other side. I haven't been around the campus farm for three and a half years, and I didn't want to show badly enough to warrant the IHSA team dues. I interviewed Leandra Bitterfeld, a student instructor for the University of Maryland Equestrian Club and treasurer of the IHSA team to get some perspective on which riders are best suited to club versus team riding.
 |
| via |
“The club is where you want to go if you want to learn about horses,” Leandra explains. The Equestrian Club has a barn on the University of Maryland’s 1250-acre campus. Though they do show once a year on Maryland Day, the yearly campus-wide open house, the club is a non-competitive organization focused on horse care, management, and riding.
“Maryland is the only student-run equestrian club in the country,” says Leandra, which means that all club members pitch in. In addition to attending monthly meetings and a weekly lesson (if they choose to ride), members must do one chore per week, whether it’s haying, feeding, or mucking stalls. The lesson horses play double duty too—they are also used for equine labs in the Animal Science department. Only about half of the students in the club ride, since many are simply interested in gaining experience with horses.
The club also offers students the opportunity to learn to teach. Leandra took two tests and did an evaluation ride to become an instructor for the club’s A lesson group (the club groups members based on ability—A being advanced and E being beginner riders). She has found teaching to be just as educational for her as it is for her students: “Every time I go into the ring I’m learning so much about my riding. When I’m watching these girls make mistakes, I’m also learning so much for myself. And that’s been my favorite part of teaching—being able to share my knowledge and take so much knowledge back from it.”
 |
| via |
Since IHSA riders are not familiar with their host school’s horses, the focus is on rider performance. Potential IHSA members should not stress about the possibility of a host school horse acting up because riders have the opportunity to ask for a “re-ride” which allows them to try again on a different horse. However, this is the exception rather than the norm. Leandra says, “I’ve gotten to ride so many amazing horses that I could never afford, especially as a college student.”
 | ||
| The UM Equestrian Team rocks the sweatpants-over-breeches look on a cold show day! I can empathize. |
photo credit: Leandra Bitterfeld/ UMET FB
Finances
Finances
- The club is financed by the Student Government, Campus Recreation Services, member fundraising, and dues. Riding members' dues are $225 per semester and non-riding members' dues are $25 per semester. Definitely WAY cheaper than 11 weeks of lessons, which could cost anywhere from $440-660 in the DC metro area.
- The team is completely financed by its members, who pay $500 per semester to cover the use of Oatlands Stables horses in lessons and shows, IHSA fees, tack, and transportation. Members who do not have show clothes borrow from other members. “We borrow and trade and swap all the time,” says Leandra, who sometimes finds herself lending out her show helmet to two or three riders who only have plastic schooling helmets in one day.
Time
- The team is more of a time commitment than the on-campus club, since weekly lessons at Oatland Stables are 45 minutes from campus (when it's not rush hour--DC traffic is no joke) and the team attends eight to nine shows per year, sometimes staying overnight for two-day shows. The team also has occasional meetings. However, so much time spent with teammates and riders from other schools only adds to the sense of camaraderie and friendship. “The sportsmanship in the region is really strong,” says Leandra.
- For the club it depends on the chore you have. All members are required to do one barn chore (feeding, mucking, haying, etc.) which could take anywhere from an hour to several hours, and some members also choose to ride in an hour lesson (meaning about two hours to allow for walk time on our large campus plus tacking up).
There are many other resources available to compare schools which I covered in another post. Let me know if you've ever ridden for another school's IHSA team--I'd be happy to interview you for the greater good of high school seniors :)
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Sourpuss
Sorry to blog about the same fall twice, but I wrote this essay about how my dad and I are similarly obsessed with different sports (and how we mutually don't really "get" the sport of the other one) for a creative writing class and figured it might be of interest.
Once high school rolled around, I had to face more weekend mornings than I wanted to. I needed to accumulate service hours to graduate, so I accompanied my dad to the races as a volunteer.
“How nice of you to help your dad out! Do you run too? Those long skinny legs must be fast!” was all I heard, in one form or another, from the overly-awake-for-7-A.M. gaggle of my father’s buddies from his running club. Personally, I thought that my long legs were just as well suited to giving the subtlest of cues in the equitation ring. So no, I did not run—at least not in the sense that they meant—the exhilarating adrenalin, the rush of endorphins. I’ve only picked up running recently, and while I have learned to enjoy it, I consider it a substitute exercise for the days when I can’t get out to the farm. After a childhood of mile-long “fun runs” that were anything but, I considered running to be one of the most stupid activities adults had ever come up with.
The other volunteers led me to a table of water-filled Dixie cups. My task was to stand with my arm outstretched, offering water to passing runners, and to keep the table filled with cups during gaps. Simple enough, I thought.
As it turns out, it is actually quite difficult to hand water to runners in such a way that they won’t just spill it everywhere, stop, pick up another Dixie cup from the table, and leave not one, but two crumpled paper cups in the street. The table was doing my job better than I was. I took up refill duty.
“Come on, you can do it! Keep it going!” yelled another volunteer.
I stayed quiet. I did not support these people or their ridiculous paper-wasting hobby.
My father was similarly puzzled by my sport of choice—horseback riding.
“Horses are way too dangerous, pumpkin,” he would say.
“That’s the point of lessons,” I would say, and repeated nearly every day until I was 11. Through sheer brattiness, I got myself a riding lesson a week and all of the paraphernalia that went with it—a velveteen helmet, jodhpurs, a crop, and my own grooming kit. I was hooked. My father continues to be skeptical at best, especially after an incident when I was fourteen.
It was the final show of a spring series, and my horse Moon and I had just rocked our first division. We were waiting to be called for the jump class of the second--18 inches, a piece of cake. My instructor opened the gate. Moon and I trotted a circle, picked up the canter—and something was wrong. Moon was really running—something I had never seen the lazy school horse do. We were almost at the first jump. I hoped for the best.
We popped over just fine. I made sure to sit up straight for the one, two, three, four terrifyingly fast strides, and we popped over the second. I looked around my corner towards the other pair of jumps on the straightaway, Moon stumbled, yanked the reins from my hands, and I was on the ground. His strong neck pinned me down, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up. I wondered how long I was going to be stuck there. I wasn’t in a hurry either. This was probably really going to hurt soon.
I don't remember the exact moment Moon stood up, but I do remember a total stranger with a country drawl bending over me, asking me how many fingers he was holding up.
“Three,” I answered, wondering who he was and why he thought that was what people legitimately did outside of the realm of cartoons. My father arrived soon after.
"Hon, do you think you can get up?"
"I don't want to."
"Please, hon, just try to get up."
I got up, no problem, and was surprised that I felt only a dull ache in my shoulder from the impact (it hurt a lot worse the day after, of course). But overall, things seemed fine and I was determined to compete in the next division. I hadn’t woken up at 5 A.M. just to go home whenever some silly horse fell on me. My father led me to my farm's shiny aluminum-sided trailer to get some water (and perhaps to discourage me from what he saw as a reckless plan that would surely result in my untimely death). I saw myself in the trailer's reflection and burst into tears.
The brand-new, hundred-dollar show jacket I had bought myself, my precious velveteen helmet--caked in dirt. I unbuckled my helmet and rubbed at it furiously, which only spread the stain.
"Dad, my helmet is ruined."
"That's okay hon. It's just dirty; you can still use it." He didn't understand--I couldn't continue to show with my helmet in that condition. I was hysterical. And that is how my father became even more convinced that his daughter was slightly insane, and how I learned the importance of being on the right lead, especially in corners on a five-year-old horse.
I never had any illusions of my father and I being able to ever enjoy a trail ride together without him worrying I was going to die, so during my sophomore year of college, I accepted his invitation to a cycling race in the rolling hills of Carroll County, MD. I woke up early, and suited up in some borrowed Spandex and a blue biking jersey for the so-called “Eat a Peach Ride” that celebrated the fruit’s harvest and was also a fundraiser for brain injury research. I could get behind that--I like my brain. My dad, thrilled that I was finally expressing an interest, rented a professional-grade racing bike for me to use that day. It was the exact model he had, and one used by Tour de France competitors—a lightweight Trek Madone.
I biked most days at school, weaving between pedestrians, up hills, and even down some stairs when they interrupted my path to CVS or Starbucks. I doubted that a racing bike would make me any faster, but I figured it would be easier to deal with than my mountain bike with sticky gears.
I didn’t count on those “rolling hills of Carroll County” being quite so steep. Or on finding that my legs had turned to jelly around mile 6, or that I was so slow on the inclines that I could have probably walked faster. Or the fact that racing bikes have a completely unlabeled gear-switching mechanism. I soon found that I was completely incapable of intuiting whether I needed to move down or up a gear.
After over two hours of my father riding slowly behind me, calling “Upper left! Now lower right!” to signal which gear I should switch to as we rode through the laboriously odious, horrifically steep hills and terrifying drops of Carroll County, we completed our circle back to where we parked at the Agricultural Reserve.
I wanted to collapse. A volunteer handed us both a Dixie cup of water, and a pair of red socks with a yellow bike helmet and the words “Sock Guy” emblazoned on them.
“Good job!” she beamed. I did not think that thirty miles in almost three hours would be considered “good” by any standard, but I took both items politely, taking care to not spill the water.
“Cool, biking socks!” my dad said, examining his pair.
“What are biking socks?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. They’re just specially designed for biking.”
I couldn’t see anything special about them, but the fact that I had my own specialized super-thin socks to make it easier to pull on my field boots crept into my mind.
“Let’s get peaches,” I said. I was not going to leave this ordeal without one of the fruits we were supposed to be celebrating by biking around in a thirty-mile circle. We made our way to the food stand, took our peaches, and sat on the grass next to our bikes.
“So you think you’d want to do this again?” my dad asked.
“Don’t count on it,” I said. I had given it my best shot, but I think I understood the appeal of his sport just about as well as he understood the appeal of large, dangerous animals. I considered my peach, and sank my teeth into it.
~
Ever since I can remember, my father has spent early weekend mornings either training for or competing in races, triathlons, and cycling competitions. I usually only saw the aftermath of these events—my father napping away the afternoons. I didn’t see much point in Saturdays and Sundays before 11 AM.Once high school rolled around, I had to face more weekend mornings than I wanted to. I needed to accumulate service hours to graduate, so I accompanied my dad to the races as a volunteer.
“How nice of you to help your dad out! Do you run too? Those long skinny legs must be fast!” was all I heard, in one form or another, from the overly-awake-for-7-A.M. gaggle of my father’s buddies from his running club. Personally, I thought that my long legs were just as well suited to giving the subtlest of cues in the equitation ring. So no, I did not run—at least not in the sense that they meant—the exhilarating adrenalin, the rush of endorphins. I’ve only picked up running recently, and while I have learned to enjoy it, I consider it a substitute exercise for the days when I can’t get out to the farm. After a childhood of mile-long “fun runs” that were anything but, I considered running to be one of the most stupid activities adults had ever come up with.
 | |
| Giving in to "normal people" exercise. At least the purple shoelaces are a perk. |
The other volunteers led me to a table of water-filled Dixie cups. My task was to stand with my arm outstretched, offering water to passing runners, and to keep the table filled with cups during gaps. Simple enough, I thought.
As it turns out, it is actually quite difficult to hand water to runners in such a way that they won’t just spill it everywhere, stop, pick up another Dixie cup from the table, and leave not one, but two crumpled paper cups in the street. The table was doing my job better than I was. I took up refill duty.
“Come on, you can do it! Keep it going!” yelled another volunteer.
I stayed quiet. I did not support these people or their ridiculous paper-wasting hobby.
My father was similarly puzzled by my sport of choice—horseback riding.
“Horses are way too dangerous, pumpkin,” he would say.
“That’s the point of lessons,” I would say, and repeated nearly every day until I was 11. Through sheer brattiness, I got myself a riding lesson a week and all of the paraphernalia that went with it—a velveteen helmet, jodhpurs, a crop, and my own grooming kit. I was hooked. My father continues to be skeptical at best, especially after an incident when I was fourteen.
It was the final show of a spring series, and my horse Moon and I had just rocked our first division. We were waiting to be called for the jump class of the second--18 inches, a piece of cake. My instructor opened the gate. Moon and I trotted a circle, picked up the canter—and something was wrong. Moon was really running—something I had never seen the lazy school horse do. We were almost at the first jump. I hoped for the best.
We popped over just fine. I made sure to sit up straight for the one, two, three, four terrifyingly fast strides, and we popped over the second. I looked around my corner towards the other pair of jumps on the straightaway, Moon stumbled, yanked the reins from my hands, and I was on the ground. His strong neck pinned me down, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get up. I wondered how long I was going to be stuck there. I wasn’t in a hurry either. This was probably really going to hurt soon.
I don't remember the exact moment Moon stood up, but I do remember a total stranger with a country drawl bending over me, asking me how many fingers he was holding up.
“Three,” I answered, wondering who he was and why he thought that was what people legitimately did outside of the realm of cartoons. My father arrived soon after.
"Hon, do you think you can get up?"
"I don't want to."
"Please, hon, just try to get up."
I got up, no problem, and was surprised that I felt only a dull ache in my shoulder from the impact (it hurt a lot worse the day after, of course). But overall, things seemed fine and I was determined to compete in the next division. I hadn’t woken up at 5 A.M. just to go home whenever some silly horse fell on me. My father led me to my farm's shiny aluminum-sided trailer to get some water (and perhaps to discourage me from what he saw as a reckless plan that would surely result in my untimely death). I saw myself in the trailer's reflection and burst into tears.
The brand-new, hundred-dollar show jacket I had bought myself, my precious velveteen helmet--caked in dirt. I unbuckled my helmet and rubbed at it furiously, which only spread the stain.
"Dad, my helmet is ruined."
"That's okay hon. It's just dirty; you can still use it." He didn't understand--I couldn't continue to show with my helmet in that condition. I was hysterical. And that is how my father became even more convinced that his daughter was slightly insane, and how I learned the importance of being on the right lead, especially in corners on a five-year-old horse.
| This got the stain out easily, FYI. |
I never had any illusions of my father and I being able to ever enjoy a trail ride together without him worrying I was going to die, so during my sophomore year of college, I accepted his invitation to a cycling race in the rolling hills of Carroll County, MD. I woke up early, and suited up in some borrowed Spandex and a blue biking jersey for the so-called “Eat a Peach Ride” that celebrated the fruit’s harvest and was also a fundraiser for brain injury research. I could get behind that--I like my brain. My dad, thrilled that I was finally expressing an interest, rented a professional-grade racing bike for me to use that day. It was the exact model he had, and one used by Tour de France competitors—a lightweight Trek Madone.
I biked most days at school, weaving between pedestrians, up hills, and even down some stairs when they interrupted my path to CVS or Starbucks. I doubted that a racing bike would make me any faster, but I figured it would be easier to deal with than my mountain bike with sticky gears.
I didn’t count on those “rolling hills of Carroll County” being quite so steep. Or on finding that my legs had turned to jelly around mile 6, or that I was so slow on the inclines that I could have probably walked faster. Or the fact that racing bikes have a completely unlabeled gear-switching mechanism. I soon found that I was completely incapable of intuiting whether I needed to move down or up a gear.
After over two hours of my father riding slowly behind me, calling “Upper left! Now lower right!” to signal which gear I should switch to as we rode through the laboriously odious, horrifically steep hills and terrifying drops of Carroll County, we completed our circle back to where we parked at the Agricultural Reserve.
I wanted to collapse. A volunteer handed us both a Dixie cup of water, and a pair of red socks with a yellow bike helmet and the words “Sock Guy” emblazoned on them.
“Good job!” she beamed. I did not think that thirty miles in almost three hours would be considered “good” by any standard, but I took both items politely, taking care to not spill the water.
“Cool, biking socks!” my dad said, examining his pair.
“What are biking socks?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. They’re just specially designed for biking.”
I couldn’t see anything special about them, but the fact that I had my own specialized super-thin socks to make it easier to pull on my field boots crept into my mind.
“Let’s get peaches,” I said. I was not going to leave this ordeal without one of the fruits we were supposed to be celebrating by biking around in a thirty-mile circle. We made our way to the food stand, took our peaches, and sat on the grass next to our bikes.
“So you think you’d want to do this again?” my dad asked.
“Don’t count on it,” I said. I had given it my best shot, but I think I understood the appeal of his sport just about as well as he understood the appeal of large, dangerous animals. I considered my peach, and sank my teeth into it.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Showing
I laughed a little inside when I read Practical Horseman's Rider to Rider column recently and saw someone's response to the question: "How do you decide which shows to attend?"
I don't have the issue on hand right now but the answer was basically, "Whatever's the cheapest." At this point in my life, I'm 100% with that respondent. Though I wish I had the money, time, and you know, a horse to show at rated shows, over my college years I have only done a handful of local fun day shows. And I've had a lot of fun. Before college, I really hadn't shown much--just one full season that ended in a rather dramatic way that resulted in my parents not wanting to pay for shows any more. So when I had the opportunity to free lease a boarder's horse at Gentle Giants for a summer, I jumped on it. I was just excited to start showing again.
I don't have the issue on hand right now but the answer was basically, "Whatever's the cheapest." At this point in my life, I'm 100% with that respondent. Though I wish I had the money, time, and you know, a horse to show at rated shows, over my college years I have only done a handful of local fun day shows. And I've had a lot of fun. Before college, I really hadn't shown much--just one full season that ended in a rather dramatic way that resulted in my parents not wanting to pay for shows any more. So when I had the opportunity to free lease a boarder's horse at Gentle Giants for a summer, I jumped on it. I was just excited to start showing again.
 |
| I know, I know. This just screams CHAIR SEAT!!! to me now but I love how happy we both look in this photo. |
He was an 8 year old TB gelding named Humphrey--the perfect name for a horse who, yes, was nervous, but tried really really hard to please. His owner allowed the rescue to use him as a lesson horse, but once he started tossing his head and scaring the beginners, the rescue director had me ride him to get him to settle down.
I have always loved Thoroughbreds for a very particular reason--when they spook, all you have to do is let them run away and then look at the scary monster from afar. Then when you walk them back toward it, they realize, "Oh. That monster was actually just a chair that has been there every day for the past three years. Whew! Let's work some more!" Thankfully Humphrey's nervousness only manifested itself in little skitters away from the object of terror rather than full-out bolting, so it wasn't really a big deal, and I kept our sessions fairly short at the beginning. His head-tossing didn't bother me, so I just let him shake it out until he realized that wasn't going to get him out of working, and it became less and less frequent. We also worked on moving forward with impulsion, rather than allowing his mind to wander. I found myself with a horse who always looked for the right answer. Once he did, I stopped the session.
 |
| Good boy Humphrey! |
I think this is what made his owner propose a free lease, with local show expenses paid. I was careful with Humphrey--our sessions were pretty short, and I tried hard not to fry his nervous little brain by asking too much. This is key to building good relationships with boarders, farm managers, and any other person with a horse that you want to continue riding. Treat their horse as if it was yours. I realize that in a world where many horse people mean well but have different opinions on every aspect of horse care and riding, that little piece of advice is almost meaningless. What I mean is to recognize any limitations the horse has and work with them constructively, rather than just riding the crap out of him just because you're starved for riding time. If you ride well, you'll always have someone who would be happy to let you ride their horse, especially with tools like the Chronicle of the Horse thread for Horseless Riders and Riderless Horses that Analise mentioned in a comment a few weeks ago.
And educate yourself--read magazines, blogs (see my blogroll for ideas), even Pony Club manuals. Not all of the advice you find will be sound, and not all of it will work for your horse so it helps to have a large arsenal of ideas for various training issues.
One of Humphrey's big problems (that I only began to make progress with near the end of the summer) was picking up the left canter lead. There was nothing physically wrong with him, and you would think that as a TB bred to race, he would have no problem doing this, but he never actually made it to the track and apparently is right-handed.
I tried all kinds of things with him that I found from a myriad of sources online--Yahoo Answers, Trocha's Training Tips, Chronicle of the Horse, all of the things that came up from the Google search "horse won't pick up left lead". What seemed to give us the most success was putting a pole on the ground coming out of a corner, then asking right there every single time. That seemed to help because it was a visual cue to me to collect him up a little bit before the "jump" and then ask while he was stretching his legs over the pole. I would also move the pole around the ring so he wouldn't automatically canter in the same spot, and added a lot of circles at the trot to build suppleness on that side. By the end of the summer, Humphrey got the left lead correct about half of the time...but even when I took away the poles, he also had the idea that poles=canter always. Oops...
With my current trainer I've really learned how to ask for the canter correctly because the horse I ride, Clyde, absolutely WILL NOT canter without being asked correctly. Perhaps I could have made faster progress with Humphrey now that I know the technically correct way to ask (I didn't have a great idea of how to correctly ask for a bend or that inside leg=bend and outside leg=gas), but who knows. What I do know is that Humphrey gave me a great summer of fun day shows, summertime rides, and the feeling of having my "own" horse that I was making great progress with.
Moral of the story: Hooray for free leases! And, be smart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)