Last summer, I took three private lessons. It managed to rain each time. Today, I had a private lesson again, and sure enough, we got rain for the first time in a good while. Not a major problem, as such, since the plan was to be indoors either way, but when I got to the stables I got a small shock. I passed by the pony stalls, and saw a grey pony I didn’t recognize. Oh, a new pony, I thought. Then I looked again. No, not a new pony, just a Ricki. However, he was so covered in mud that he appeared grey instead of black and white. How he managed to get so spectacularly dirty I’ll never understand.
Murphy, fortunately, wasn’t quite so badly off, though his white patches weren’t really that colour any longer. He was also soaking wet across the back, and had some dried mud in awkward places, like over much of his head. Fun, fun, fun, I thought, especially considering his usual opinion on people spending a lot of time in his stall to pretty him up. But I was in for a big surprise. Not only did he not glare at me with his ears pinned back as soon as I got into his stall, but he actually appeared to enjoy being brushed, standing there quite relaxed and half asleep. Even his right shoulder, normally a forbidden zone, posed no problem at all. He was a totally different horse from what he’s usually like in the evening, and he clearly prefers it when the stable is nice and calm, without too many people moving around.
Once we got down to the arena, it also became quite clear that my experience from last summer with him during a private lesson was the norm rather than the exception. Alone in the arena, he is remarkably more alert, attentive and happy. He even gets a teensy bit more easily spooked, though spooking for him still only involves some slight side-stepping and a cautious glance. But, wow, what a difference. I know he’s rank-high, so he likes to keep an eye on the other horses when they’re there and he gets grumpy when some of them get too close to him, but I never really realized how much that behaviour takes his attention away from the rider.
After I had walked him on long reins for a bit, the instructor joined us, and we chatted briefly about the differences in his behaviour. She noted that its very apparent in some horses, like him, but that they also have those who absolutely love having lots of people around. One of the ponies, for example, gets really annoyed just before three in the afternoon each day, when she starts getting eager for people to show up, and on holidays she’s not a happy girl. We also discussed what we’d be doing during the lesson. Since we’re having that little dressage program on Tuesday, for which I’ll hopefully ride Murphy, I wanted to practice some of the elements of that program. Specifically, the cantering, since that is Murphy’s weak point.
For the rest of the warm up, she suggested various things I should try out for the warm up on Tuesday as well, such as lots of variation in exercises. Changes of pace, direction, etc, and preferably done when the horse doesn’t expect them. Not without preparation, of course, but done in such a way that he can’t just switch on the auto pilot. So, I worked a lot with transitions, and since I had a lot of energy to work with from the start (he was pretty much as eager, if not more, than he had been outdoors, and very alert, with his ears firmly pricked forward), it was pretty easy to get to the stage when he had pretty good hindleg activity. My instructor also commented that she was very happy with my seat, as it was deeper and more in touch with the horse than before, even when I was posting. It certainly felt very good, and I think I managed to use it quite well through the various transitions.
Once he was warmed up enough, she told me to start asking for a bit more, by making the frame smaller and asking him to still work within it. He’s often quite good at sneaking out of your frame, a bit like some sort of eel, and if you do manage to keep him in between your hands and legs, he’ll often try sudden stops to get out of work that way. That’s a pretty handy habit, though, since you know you’re asking him to work in a correct fashion when he tries to get out in that manner. My instructor also noted that given his fairly coarse build, he may very well be doing quite well with his hindquarters and through his back even though I am not seeing any evidence of this in his neck. He simply has to get to a much higher degree of proper activity before he starts to move his neck forward and down. On the other hand, she said, you’ll know its honest when you get it. A modern warmblood, on the other hand, might be bending his neck very prettily and doing nothing at all with his hindquarters and back.
By then, I really felt as if I had quite good activity from behind and a nice uphill feeling at the front, and when she then had me move onto a circle things really started to happen. After a few laps, and some attempts from Murphy to get out of the work, he was moving quite nicely and even had started to move slightly forward and down, seeking the bit. I didn’t really have enough give on the inside rein, though, but once we’d changed direction a couple of times he started softening up very, very nicely. She also had me move from posting to sitting the trot around then, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much activity through his back before. An amazing feeling.
We were, quite clearly, as ready as we’d ever be for the canter, and she suggested I should follow the pattern laid out in the program, meaning I would start cantering at the midpoint of one of the long sides, move onto a 20-meter circle for one lap at the middle of the next short side, move back out onto the main track, canter down the other long side and, at the following short side, do a change of rein on the diagonal across half the arena. Quite a tall order given that Murphy is usually like a wooden board when you’re cantering, and any attempt to change that results in him falling back down to a trot. However, I was in for some surprises.
The first one was the reaction to my canter aid. I gave a clear aid, but it was more discreet than what I normally use with him, as well as quite brief. That, however, was all Murphy needed, given how balanced he was at this stage and how much weight he had shifted to his hindquarters. Without any problem whatsoever, he moved into a—for him—pretty decent canter. We managed the circle quite nicely too, though the turn into the change of rein on the diagonal proved tricky. The same exercise was then repeated in the other direction, with an even smaller aid, and the result was much the same. Pretty darn amazing. But, my instructor wasn’t done with us yet. Now that I had the transition to canter sorted out, she wanted me to improve the canter some too. At first, I couldn’t quite get the desired results.
After some attempts, we took a brief time-out to discuss what was happening. Even though I was sitting still and not using my upper body to rush him on (a habit, I explained, since my days of riding only the laziest horses the riding school had to offer, since I felt safest on those), I was still asking him for higher speed whenever it felt as if he’d fall back down to a trot, and that was making it impossible for him to stay balanced. She suggested I shouldn’t worry so much about him falling back down to a trot, since that was a smaller error than him going too fast and off balance. Given that his canter is pretty ground-tied, he’ll always feel close to trotting, and I just have to fine-tune my feeling for when he really is about to lose it.
I am not quite sure what happened, but something clicked, and when I tried again I managed to ride the canter in a very different fashion. I sat much more deeply, more in balance, and my whole body felt much calmer and more relaxed. I never realized how tense I must have been every time I cantered before. Not because I was nervous, but because I was used to trying too hard. I also think I actually managed to breath while cantering, which I usually don’t manage to. In short, it was a major change, both physically and mentally, and it felt pretty amazing.
I managed to maintain this new focus as we ran through that section of the program a few more times. We then took a short break, to let both of us catch our breath, and we then finished off doing the exercise once on each rein. The last time, he was clearly tired and acted up a bit, but even in canter I managed to put him back into the frame, and I then managed to keep him going through the last section, the tricky diagonal turn, by checking his pace on the outer rein and giving canter impulse aids with my inner leg. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the response to those aids so clearly before.
Overall, this was definitely the best lesson I’ve had in ... well, a very long time. In fact, don’t think I can ever recall having things work out so well before. So many pieces of the puzzle came together, and even though I know this will be very hard to repeat during a regular lesson (or a dressage program), knowing what it feels like when it is working makes it much easier to find that feeling again. Up until you have actually had a certain experience when riding, such as the uphill sensation of a horse that is placing more weight onto its hindquarters and becoming lighter and freer in the front end, trying to find it is like chasing after a mythical creature that you have only heard of but never seen. Once you’ve felt it, you have a recognizeable goal that you are striving towards, and that makes a huge difference.
In short, I am pretty darn thrilled with today’s lesson, and now I really, really want private lessons every week. Plus I want to buy Murphy, of course, and start competing him. His canter needs work, that’s certainly true, but otherwise he moves quite well and even though he may test you and try to get out of work, he clearly enjoys being ridden well because he never gets grumpy about it. I guess I need to write a best selling novel over the summer, to sort out the finances. That shouldn’t be so hard. ;P