tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73630850546148363712024-03-01T00:18:45.827-08:00Incidents of GuidanceAdventures in training horses and studentsKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.comBlogger280125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-71632800839479930332020-03-10T06:00:00.000-07:002020-03-10T06:00:05.692-07:00A deeply biomechanics lessonThere has been a lot of talk in the blogosphere about Mary Wanless over the last several months, and we all know that MW is a big proponent of ‘Biomechanics’ to the exclusion of nearly all else. <a href="https://incidentsofguidance.blogspot.com/2018/01/cause-and-effect.html">I teach all my students about the three toolkits</a> and describe Mary as the world’s foremost expert on the first toolkit. Except for... possibly... a trainer in my area. I guess she’s been working with Mary for 18 years, which is super cool. <br /><br />I’ve been teaching for 14 years now, and one of the first books I checked out from the library was a Mary Wanless book. I’ve been teaching the woman’s words for a very long time. But riding with her and being held to the standard is absolutely a different thing, and exploring other human-movement modalities with the sole purpose of improving your first-toolkit teaching skills is yet another thing. All of this to say, Trainer Y is an absolute genius, and I teach aspects of my lessons with her on a nearly daily basis. <br /><br />I was so excited to ride BGT with her because she recently rode an Andalusian to a 79% at training level (a test I got to watch and it really was spectacular, my sweet and horse-ignorant partner asked me if she was riding at a higher level than my 3rd level rider that weekend). <br /><br />I started by lunging BGT in the chambon, which is my lunging accouterment of choice for a lot of reasons that I can get into on another post if you’re interested. The wind was picking up and the temperature was dropping by the minute, which makes most horses a bit extra spicy. <div>
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<br />Once mounted, he was a very good boy. We walked a bit in both directions before Y pulled me in and asked which leg I felt like I could stay more over the top of. I know that my right foot desperately wants to live in front of me, but also that I’ve spent a lot of time corraling that sucker back underneath me, so I remain convinced that my left leg is stronger overall but that my right leg is the more organized one. The photos she took and showed me led me to bemoan how much BOTH of my feet were too far out in front of me, so we started out by tackling a very global front-to-back line. I’ve taken a fair few lessons with her, so she pulled me in after maybe half a circle and traced the outline of my thighs on the saddle after she adjusted them and said to me that she wanted me to focus staying within those outlines, that I had to fill the outline evenly from my knee to my upper inner thigh, though absolute preference was given to the upper thigh.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My more-behaved leg is too much out in front of me and a hollow is slightly visible here</td></tr>
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Then we started to tackle the fact that I’ve developed quite a hollow low down in my back, I’m not traditionally hollow with a lifted rib cage, but I do take several of my lumbar vertebrae way too far forward. By working relentlessly on staying over my thigh and filling the low back out, I started to get an entirely new feeling for the words, “imagine that you are the prow of a ship.” </div>
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As a further result of years of working on my right leg, I am able to keep my right thigh significantly more stable along the horse’s back than I am my left thigh. Y had me work on a few things to snug up my left thigh, then wanted me to work on both keeping my left thigh against the saddle as snugly as was my right thigh, AND I had to keep my lower back completely filled out. You’re kidding me. Not possible. Too many moving pieces. But, like dripping water on a rock, I kept plugging away at it throughout the ride and produced some weird feelings in me, such as a bar from my left knee to my low back and as I snugged the left knee in I was able to use that bar to push my low back out, or feeling as if I was using my core to HOIST my pubic bone up, or the muscles around my seat bones and into my butt working double-time to knit the back of me up. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working on snugging up my upper inner left thigh</td></tr>
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Once we moved into trot, keeping kneeling through my thigh, both thighs snug, weight down the entirety of my thigh, we started to tackle the fact that I need to get all the way to the top of the rise and think about pausing up there, slowing down the ascent AND the descent, not simply pausing at the very bottom, to start to encourage him to LIFT all of his body up underneath me and carry me along. <br /><br />All this work surrounding getting into my thigh, posting over my knee, and then I started to sneak my sternum too far forward, Y said it wasn’t as much a concern to her as I felt it was, and looking at the photos I can see overall what she means.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here working VERY hard in halt</td></tr>
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I cantered a little bit on each lead and she told me that BGT reminded her of a horse she had in her barn and that she’d meditate on how to translate what she does with him to the way I ride and to the way my body is different than hers. I appreciate all her thought and all the help. </div>
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<br />Be gentle if you watch that video - there's a strangely large amount of fluidity of motion that appears to disappear when you're overly focused on too many things at once. BGT shows off his right drift, his lack of understanding of the go aids, and that he literally doesn't go on the bit at all yet unless tricked. </div>
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The lesson was so technical and wonderful -- honestly, the best part of the day was when I came around the corner to pull him from his paddock and even just seeing him lit my face up. Maybe it’s irrational to put this much into a horse but I really am excited to have a horse again that really feels like mine, that really seems like a super reasonable option to put my ambitions into. I pulled a thoroughbred off the track last year who is wonderfully talented and I do love that mare so very much, but the reality is that the best way to help a horse transition off the track is to let them take the time it takes and while I don’t want to rush BGT in any inappropriate way at all - his issues are not necessarily the same as an OTTB’s and I’m hoping that he can physically and mentally handle carrying my ambitions and my dedication in the way that Moxie was able to carry all that. It’s a lot for a horse to carry, and I fully recognize that.</div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-36692792181431231372020-03-09T09:16:00.001-07:002020-03-09T09:16:23.815-07:00A first ride at home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As of the writing of this post, my creature doesn't have a barn name. I'm working on it, okay?<br />
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BGT (big grey thing) had an owner/trainer who sold him to me, and the trainer offered to come out and help me with my first ride.<br />
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I was leading him around the arena working on taking big exhales and helping him make a better posture while I did that when she showed up. I immediately felt terrible, I'd had every intention of being on board when she arrived, but he also took longer to settle than I had anticipated.<br />
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My education in terms of basic handling of horses has changed a lot, and soon I'll have to write about some of that because it matters a lot in the development of this horse... but the biggest thing for this moment probably is my involvement in learning about <a href="https://onehorselife.com/">Anna Marciniak's</a> work regarding Conscious Relaxation.<br />
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All that to say, the trainer showed up and told me to lunge BGT, which I did. He's a bit... explosive in the trot-to-canter transition, but pretty reasonable the rest of the time. Once I felt safe to get on him, I did.<br />
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She told me he needs to spend a lot of time in the walk, that sometimes she'd have a helper get on and walk him for thirty minutes before she rode him because sometimes he can distort the rhythm of walk and jig along, neck pushed back at his rider, a bit anxiously.<br />
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Noted.<br />
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In trot, we spent a lot of time working on riding him across the ground, at a tempo that when I watch the video looks way too quick.<br />
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Tracking right, we had a gravitational pull at the gate, and all my normal tools to put the shoulder back into place didn't seem to work, and the trainer kept encouraging us to go forward, forward, which to some extent did help to sort out the shoulder at the gate. </div>
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She stayed very on top of me not to pull, so I found myself riding with pretty much no contact for most of the lesson. I've been scolded in the past for overdoing corrections. </div>
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When we moved to canter, I was coached to sit a few strides and kiss to him. I think that was helped out a ton because she was in the middle of the circle helping him along. </div>
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Megan came out and videoed most of the lesson for me, so that's where these lovely screenshots come from. We wandered around the barn and chatted about a bunch of things after the lesson. I'd have to say that my main takeaways for this horse after that lesson was that he needs to be pretty onward bound in order to have some stability in the steering and that I was going to have quite a project ahead of me in terms of "leg means go." </div>
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But seeing as I'm never one to overdo anything, I, of course, go on to schedule a bunch of lessons with a bunch of trainers over the next few days. Can't hurt to get a ton of input, right? </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-61301692123165298502020-02-27T20:28:00.001-08:002020-02-27T20:28:45.661-08:00Who is good with barn names? Where have I been? I’ve been at work. I’ve been teaching and riding and learning about advertising and struggling to run a successful business when my definition of success changes all the time. What brings me back to my blog, now, all this time later? One, I miss it. I miss being able to review my thoughts and hear other comments and even to feel so much a part of this community. Two, there is a new thing to write about, so I feel better about coming back to this world to share what I hope to be learning in the future. <br />
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I have been on a horse-shopping adventure three times in the last four months. All three times we’ve come back with a horse after a more or less challenging hunt - one was for a lesson horse, one was for a client’s first horse, and one was for a talented Junior. <br />
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About a week ago, one of the first horses we sat on for Talented Junior called me up and said, “I’ve had a bunch of people come to ride this horse, but no one rode like you. I’m moving into high-end dressage horses, and this horse is going to take another year or two. If I’m going to put another year or two into a horse, they’d better move like an international-quality motherfucker. Do you want him? Let’s get creative.” <br />
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I watched the video of me riding him the first time. I watched the video the trainer had sent me of her riding him. I thought about it. I vetted him. He’s very sound. He is five. He is... gorgeous. He will never storm around a cross-country course with me, but everyone who knows me recognizes that my ambitions have drifted towards dressage for a while now. <br />
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I have a small army of mentors around me and this stunning creature.<br />
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When the trainer pulled him off the trailer and I looked at him again I was drawn to his eyes. His dark, liquid, barbie-dream-horse expression. <br />
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His trainer is coming by to give me a lesson today with him so that I can start to get to know him. <br />
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I intend to write about my journey with him because if he’s my horse I feel more comfortable sharing my journey. It might be worth writing about in more depth at some point, but as I’ve grown as a professional, my relationship with blogging has changed a lot. I don’t want to talk about my clients -- necessarily -- because I need to talk to them. Sometimes I think that they have important lessons that I might be able to summarize... I also think that I don’t want to blog as if I am being too patronizing, too “I know better than you” because honestly, I’m not convinced that’s the case. I’m a pretty good trainer of what I do - but I’m still learning. I’m excited to grow. I hope that this new horse is an avenue to a lot more growth. <br />
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ALL THAT TO COME TO THIS POINT:<br />
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This horse needs a barn name. </div>
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Let's take a look at him.<br />
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He's incredibly cute, yes. He has a lot of hair.<br />
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Important to note that I have a strongly "The Little Mermaid" theme amongst my ridiculously large herd of horses. I have a 'Flounder'. I have a 'Sebastian'.<br />
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This horse is currently going by, 'Shark'. It's cute! But I don't want to keep it. Phooey with the assumption that it's bad luck to change horse's names.<br />
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He is a little nasty in his stall. I haven't gotten into any trouble at all, but he pins his ears when you walk past and he acts extremely menacing. He's eager to go to work, though, and completely cheerful under saddle.<br />
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The three most popular options for this creature are<br />
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1) Bruce (from Finding Nemo, the "fish are friends, not food" shark).<br />
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2) Gaston<br />
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3) Maximus<br />
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We'll have to do some pros and cons, right?<br />
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Bruce maintains some homage to this beasties 'Shark' heritage, and stays... sort of... along my nautical theme of equine herd. But it conjures an image of a dad sitting in an armchair to me, for who knows what reason.<br />
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Gaston is my favorite. I've been arguing the pros and cons of this character's story arc all day. He's an awful character, but the general consensus seems to be that no one ever motivated him to change by doing anything other than rewarding him for being awful. Also, he has a ton of expression, dedication to a goal, and he's fairly athletic... which is great for a dressage horse!<br />
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Maximus from Tangled... is actually pretty much the horse I have. The trainer who owned him told me that once he has decided to partner with you, he'll do anything to protect you and he's super brave. She told me that once out on the trail she came across a guy walking six collie dogs and this gelding started slinking toward the dogs like he was going to trample them. Plus, the expression of the cartoon horse devouring that flyer is the exact expression this horse makes when I walk past his stall. But the con is that I've recently known an Andalusian gelding named Max, whom I loved dearly, so I feel weird about a name which will inevitably turn into 'Max'.<br />
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Anyhow - I'm excited to be writing again in this Blogger window and I look forward to everyone's thoughts about what I should name this new era in my riding career! </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-33492327515594210112018-10-19T06:30:00.000-07:002018-10-19T06:30:03.275-07:00Flounder explores being fierce<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JXlrHXS2p9fEhiUOAl56d3kNf_jFSxbTRmR3bFTiQw0lMRvEg4rL7g-v08ivZ1WzfD6lXG-ZG0-6RqInewxlFUxehyphenhyphenHhXmQH58YfOe9V-C2097Ja_jb8QVXXONWnNivf56vCmrtNwqB8/s1600/IMG_20180109_152717011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="1166" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JXlrHXS2p9fEhiUOAl56d3kNf_jFSxbTRmR3bFTiQw0lMRvEg4rL7g-v08ivZ1WzfD6lXG-ZG0-6RqInewxlFUxehyphenhyphenHhXmQH58YfOe9V-C2097Ja_jb8QVXXONWnNivf56vCmrtNwqB8/s320/IMG_20180109_152717011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The only thing I can promise is this: I know, with every fiber of my being, that Flounder thinks he's doing the same thing as Freddie.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-58779502046901482602018-10-12T07:00:00.000-07:002018-10-12T07:00:09.624-07:00Flounder investigates Scary Thing<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3UGm6EBGx0lW3FSm3LENH_A9EEVA2QuzBjtKvizs9h-68WTwDX5iWV8yB5S5dpEfNK2ZIGZENgX-k24hN-MteM3u2aMQGVcpJPR3D12ZaRn5hL2xLZLKYxQf2TQ8oP5n3K1hVBW-zjyX/s1600/IMG_20180526_181720237.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3UGm6EBGx0lW3FSm3LENH_A9EEVA2QuzBjtKvizs9h-68WTwDX5iWV8yB5S5dpEfNK2ZIGZENgX-k24hN-MteM3u2aMQGVcpJPR3D12ZaRn5hL2xLZLKYxQf2TQ8oP5n3K1hVBW-zjyX/s320/IMG_20180526_181720237.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flounder notices something scary in the distance</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH2iQIiR0yaMPH36ojk_31BBDUTzdIRMjI3S6YpLqo606GnRt7ZgRkxUWl12WH-PfEFFsCv6KsJJgZVIie1RkpfXPafJYXjY2Mctu8CQxIHQcZO__SqgTZK8HZj5hZ9b808gp3q4EssMf/s1600/IMG_20180526_181722962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH2iQIiR0yaMPH36ojk_31BBDUTzdIRMjI3S6YpLqo606GnRt7ZgRkxUWl12WH-PfEFFsCv6KsJJgZVIie1RkpfXPafJYXjY2Mctu8CQxIHQcZO__SqgTZK8HZj5hZ9b808gp3q4EssMf/s320/IMG_20180526_181722962.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flounder bravely trots to investigate</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQxK6RoRqRbnz4gApFXZcKYptrFOcbuYrQPgZ7ovkrwSkIjDjyT_iGBLF8mP20qLFCnxcRF1ipc7SVvPUoC0EGVcxZYIMl-nUp9y-MECiCr6TnhweS9LdbMyYvZQCX1iLevkVNMaACrjM/s1600/IMG_20180526_181730653_BURST000_COVER_TOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQxK6RoRqRbnz4gApFXZcKYptrFOcbuYrQPgZ7ovkrwSkIjDjyT_iGBLF8mP20qLFCnxcRF1ipc7SVvPUoC0EGVcxZYIMl-nUp9y-MECiCr6TnhweS9LdbMyYvZQCX1iLevkVNMaACrjM/s320/IMG_20180526_181730653_BURST000_COVER_TOP.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flounder realizes he's in over his head</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3FN2PVwTDTtaXwkugAV4MrXAsumDRNZhl0C2xZCqUcD1zgcgMUuDpeJ3a0ZCp9-KTHVZly2LmIHpJvHV6pzp8rcGQTc1tUeB9j5KLj71v3FOtdDvYsW165nWqdY3A7NvbALBwwbcq68h/s1600/IMG_20180526_181730653_BURST001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3FN2PVwTDTtaXwkugAV4MrXAsumDRNZhl0C2xZCqUcD1zgcgMUuDpeJ3a0ZCp9-KTHVZly2LmIHpJvHV6pzp8rcGQTc1tUeB9j5KLj71v3FOtdDvYsW165nWqdY3A7NvbALBwwbcq68h/s320/IMG_20180526_181730653_BURST001.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flounder gets the fuck outta there</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgir4Q-CUywpUKL-cwjSE551-8rRWXC03mzrXzUwjjfbl5UrMV-qiZvRdt46Rpr2jJE7fYbP5kXEPCOVi143PcJ5kGgb9XTLOYx_4O9SdVbaV1HM3nsYgOvAD_P8Yi1vpS0aELNxaY9jyCE/s1600/IMG_20180526_181739640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgir4Q-CUywpUKL-cwjSE551-8rRWXC03mzrXzUwjjfbl5UrMV-qiZvRdt46Rpr2jJE7fYbP5kXEPCOVi143PcJ5kGgb9XTLOYx_4O9SdVbaV1HM3nsYgOvAD_P8Yi1vpS0aELNxaY9jyCE/s320/IMG_20180526_181739640.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flounder investigates from farther away</td></tr>
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-73276094239034505632018-10-09T06:30:00.000-07:002018-10-09T06:30:12.335-07:00A FlounderI'm developing a reputation for half-told stories and a lack of follow through on this blog. My drafts folder will attest to this... Perhaps tales of a more modern horse will invite me to post more regularly. Goodness knows my friends heckle me enough about it.<br />
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So let's jump in. March 2017 I found myself needing a new lesson horse. Chente was... not sound, and hadn't been ridden since Christmas. I didn't have a huge budget, but I did have two clients horse shopping so I was already in the habit of closely trawling the many sites looking for suitable horses.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQgOodZXa2dvJhjeX_dr04IL2ltZ-SG9oancTnj-AcuXZSGrpkJ6pjgdAszd4mZLYo1eFBgjcsR4tbSyqeO1lgDzzLHTDUHWbGZxTm3NUM-v4KcLHJBScPILOJgJ-srolsHoXNXiOQiGk/s1600/sharkbait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQgOodZXa2dvJhjeX_dr04IL2ltZ-SG9oancTnj-AcuXZSGrpkJ6pjgdAszd4mZLYo1eFBgjcsR4tbSyqeO1lgDzzLHTDUHWbGZxTm3NUM-v4KcLHJBScPILOJgJ-srolsHoXNXiOQiGk/s320/sharkbait.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Something about this collage enticed me... or was it the age? The price? We'll never remember now</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A horse named SharkBait popped up and he was a little young but sounded fairly level-headed and so my assistant and I hopped in the car and went to ride the fellow.<br />
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Mostly I remember that he had a gravitational pull towards the mounting block, that I immediately liked his canter, and that when my assistant got off him she handed me the reins and said, "if you don't buy him, I will."<br />
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After analyzing the video, taking a bunch of unnecessary screenshots, and talking with my friends, I made an offer and he was delivered a few days later. Before he was delivered, my sister and I had quite the conversation about him.<br />
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"You can't have him be named SharkBait," she told me.<br />
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"It's bad luck to rename a horse," I replied.<br />
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"It'd be like telling a kid to go get WILD LIGHTNING or a horse named VISIT THE HOSPITAL."<br />
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She sort of had a point. Luckily for me, she also had a solution, and so he was affectionately dubbed Flounder.<br />
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I hated it and planned on decided on a different/better name for him immediately, but that didn't exactly materialize and I think we're stuck with the name.<br />
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Upon unloading, he pretty swiftly settled in and announced that no one had ever steered him before in the history of steering.<br />
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We knew he had no experience with jumping of any sort, but it also turned out he had no experience looking at the ground at all.<br />
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We also spent some time with him and discovered that he is the biggest lovebug and wants nothing more than to get in my car, find out what the heck it is I do when I'm not feeding or petting him, and sleep with me.<br />
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Generally located his feet and going where he was supposed to go continued (continues?) to be a problem, but I made the executive decision that exactly two weeks after we unloaded him at home he was going to a horse show with us to compete in the cross-rails division. As much schooling as a pack of teenagers can accomplish in a week led us to this stunning example:<br />
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At the show, he was a little nervous so I led him over all the cross-rails the first time, but by his second round, he was boldly jetting around in the way only a Flounder can.<br />
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But have no fear, persistence pays off! Flounder has gone on SO MANY adventures since that very first show.<br />
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From camping with my sister and her friend, to being the best bareback camp horse in the world, to being a freakishly aggressive friend with other horses,<br />
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being braided for the first time and looking HECKING CUTE,<br />
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to potentially starting to grow up a little, my baby Flounder has been in the background for over a year now.<br />
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Even going through the photos to make this post, he appears mostly trotting through the background in other horses videos.<br />
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Not that he has minded, no, this horse has thrived on MildNeglec<span style="font-family: inherit;">t<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">™ </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ov</span>er the time I've had him. He won an optimum time class last weekend and has placed in quite a few hunter classes over the summer. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And pretty much, well, that's pretty much a Flounder for you. </span></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-16965541429296677682018-06-06T06:00:00.000-07:002018-06-06T06:00:05.069-07:00In a frame, round, on the bitAfter a handful of trainers told me, more or less, that Moxie wasn't really "on the bit", it required a lot of thinking about what "on the bit" really is, and let me to ask such questions as: how do we take a horse from just-broke to dressage horse? How do we teach them to go "on the bit"? What does that phrase even mean?<br />
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I think that many people have different definitions of on the bit, and I also <i>know</i> that your understanding of on the bit can change pretty dramatically as your feel and education increase. I'd like to share some of my granulations of the concept to share what I've learned in the last year.<br />
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Your mileage may vary, of course.<br />
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<b>In a frame</b> is when the horse's nose starts to drop, closing the angle behind the poll. Sometimes this is a 'steady frame' (ie the height of the poll isn't changing, nor is the angle behind the poll) and sometimes it isn't.<br /><br /><b>Round</b> is when a horse is taking steps under their body with their hind legs, and lifting their back.<br />
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<b>On the bit</b> is when you close your leg and the horse goes to the bridle, or when you reach forward with the bit and they follow it where you put it. In my mind, on the bit is both in a frame, and round, and a little bit more.<br />
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I see a lot of management of 'frames' in horses, especially in green horses who haven't quite figured out how to balance their steps without flinging their head about, but sometimes even in school horses with riders who sort of forget to keep a lid on the connection.<br />
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I think that frame-management starts to disappear as the horse becomes rounder, using their body in a healthier manner and controlling their balance, but you can still sometimes see riders with quite round horses go to push their hands toward the bit and ask for a stretch, and it all goes out the window with the horse shoving their nose up and against the hand.<br />
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A horse that is truly <i>on the bit</i> has activated all of the seeking reflexes and is bringing the back up into the rider's seat, is reaching from the neck into the bridle, even within collection.<br />
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Cool, right? Sounds awesome. I want my horse seeking the bit, softly swinging over his back, eager to reach downwards and forwards when I close my leg and gently push my knuckles forward. I'll discuss what helped me and Moxie with this concept the most in the next post, but I am curious - what are your thoughts on the distinctions I've laid out above? Do you use the terms differently, and if so, how do you define them?<br />
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-1960768682659781312018-05-30T10:30:00.000-07:002018-05-30T10:30:16.659-07:00One week in, three trainers laterA few rides later, and I was still struggling somewhat to get a handle on Moxie, but definitely starting to feel better.<br />
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Megan came out to help me first. She watched me ride her around, she might even have gotten on her, I can't quite remember now. There were some big things that we worked on, and it turns out I pretty much just needed to take that lesson about sixty times.<br />
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<ul>
<li>Moxie liked to go around in a pleasant frame, but it wasn't really connected or through. Once you asked her to connect in a lower place, she got pretty uncomfortable and would try to evade the contact in all sorts of ways. We worked a lot on riding her a little lower, a little more connected. I immediately proceeded to pervert this advice into real messy riding, but that's okay.</li>
<li>Moxie doesn't oscillate very well at the canter, so Megan wanted me to really exaggerate the correct movement of her head and neck. She told me to imagine swinging my elbows through my torso, that the torso could stay still and the elbows could swing <i>through</i> me. </li>
<li>Moxie was also a little "zippy", and Megan wanted me to be sure I wasn't allowing her to blast around as a replacement for forward. She had to move off the leg respectfully, not zoom off into another planet. </li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsz6tY2DMhLtsSxWw9ztJ4489ik3rqpmgbVtN5X5QRNNeu27lEqA1nvJFRfzy7msNqYqvqPz7XTBIlyrvxsD3P1qxFzTe7uNxUFQGiBZ8rtAmn6m5MjNIJTkLuunWCJ_nlWZcAb7dh9yw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-29+at+8.10.18+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="437" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsz6tY2DMhLtsSxWw9ztJ4489ik3rqpmgbVtN5X5QRNNeu27lEqA1nvJFRfzy7msNqYqvqPz7XTBIlyrvxsD3P1qxFzTe7uNxUFQGiBZ8rtAmn6m5MjNIJTkLuunWCJ_nlWZcAb7dh9yw/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-05-29+at+8.10.18+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an excellent example of how I perverted Megan's advice. The reins are longer, so Moxie is lower in the connection.... right?</td></tr>
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There's a trainer in the east bay that I've helped off and on for a year or so - it started because I'd often told her I'll sit on anything, so she had me ride some particularly challenging thoroughbreds and give me lessons in exchange. It works out really well for both of us. She's a silver medalist and pony clubber who has evented through preliminary, and she comes at a lot of the work with a really unique foundation of groundwork, so I learn a ton from her. I texted her pretty much straight away and asked if I could bring Moxie to her for a lesson.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhqBLp01080HbIc8dydcXCpq7giVyde7gL29s9u5AmB6R60sXhgUGtDJnTEmC-TAOlcWVF5ZdmC1CFeixCFuwqwvzj2hB3qVHP2IN_Hoxvu7y-MrW8P3uTFu0o6vEvb2ofmYBvwNphlif/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.12.56+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhqBLp01080HbIc8dydcXCpq7giVyde7gL29s9u5AmB6R60sXhgUGtDJnTEmC-TAOlcWVF5ZdmC1CFeixCFuwqwvzj2hB3qVHP2IN_Hoxvu7y-MrW8P3uTFu0o6vEvb2ofmYBvwNphlif/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.12.56+AM.png" /></a></div>
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The arena at A's barn is a little bit spooky to my senses, and bringing Moxie there showed me one of the best things about this mare: she pretty much unloads anywhere and asks, "what are we up to today?" In all the places I rode her, there was only one arena she struggled to settle in.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxRhu3YeexxJOqM5Ak58Lilu_uHLUu4j9z0xwrUio7E5Hma2na1pV6UCbWRaawNNat-bB9TOgdR5BSID1NCxDiCEbVMTVhO2lbaxSGiSnKdcFL7kIrOplqcLNm3J5T43FDGXJxDoB8Crx/s1600/IMG_20170421_134621439_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1321" data-original-width="1600" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxRhu3YeexxJOqM5Ak58Lilu_uHLUu4j9z0xwrUio7E5Hma2na1pV6UCbWRaawNNat-bB9TOgdR5BSID1NCxDiCEbVMTVhO2lbaxSGiSnKdcFL7kIrOplqcLNm3J5T43FDGXJxDoB8Crx/s320/IMG_20170421_134621439_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moxie, clearly disturbed by the arena.</td></tr>
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<br />The biggest takeaways from this lesson were:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Moxie has a very tight canter without much flexion in her joints, so A prescribed lots of leg yielding in the canter to start to loosen her up. </li>
<li>I really wanted to pull her onto the bit, so A had me do a half-bridge with the reins so that I couldn't pull my inside hand back, I could only open the rein. </li>
<li>The saddle that Moxie came with was a no-go for me. We tried making it a bit better for my seat by raising the front, which improved my ability to get my leg on her, but I never really got comfortable. </li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_9ngzTALl_mQpRYOEiIjFQZYKGPamXXbM7gXDtOlrU064dfRhcV37vWHYIZgCgci0sm5-ZXTSdFI96cSprx6YeUQtby67tisRwniPWQIygr5lByRIGP-ui5LxsfzCyWpVdVgLvyCJ0TO/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.08.09+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="843" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_9ngzTALl_mQpRYOEiIjFQZYKGPamXXbM7gXDtOlrU064dfRhcV37vWHYIZgCgci0sm5-ZXTSdFI96cSprx6YeUQtby67tisRwniPWQIygr5lByRIGP-ui5LxsfzCyWpVdVgLvyCJ0TO/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.08.09+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blurry and embarrassing screenshot of me attempting to counter flex the mare in the canter</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPsXg-Lp2inPKNbI2NM4EnOChl2mYDVZJNTX2OY7skksMLDFA2JhVGgoqY_kgoX7ovcvGjcuwpCFTzb9m_9x9HxNGaKF0VhG5jl58wAv7HhVbR3iJ5DqHlT9E6FIRaHmBykDEvoX1VXMA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.13.25+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqPsXg-Lp2inPKNbI2NM4EnOChl2mYDVZJNTX2OY7skksMLDFA2JhVGgoqY_kgoX7ovcvGjcuwpCFTzb9m_9x9HxNGaKF0VhG5jl58wAv7HhVbR3iJ5DqHlT9E6FIRaHmBykDEvoX1VXMA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-05-30+at+10.13.25+AM.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cantering after we'd raised the front of the saddle. Still not exactly on the bit here...</td></tr>
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<div>
Not one to give up at TWO trainers in one week, I scheduled a lesson three days later with a new-to-me trainer that a vet friend had recommended. "She's life-changing," my friend told me, "she'll just change one little thing and you'll wonder how you ever made it through before." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This trainer has a pretty good track record of producing students, and she has an energy that is astonishing. She is wildly positive and encouraging, saying such things to me as, "I'll make you sit like a queen," and "oh, that's easy. You just look over there and voila! That's a leg yield." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She makes dressage feel infinitely conquerable. I did end up riding with her again on my journey with Moxie, but this was the only lesson I had for a long time with her due to scheduling challenges. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She told me, flat out, that Moxie was not on the bit at all. That I needed to get through to her, put her in a lower place. She had me do some mild counter flexion in the canter, coupled with leg yielding the canter to get her more flexible. She told me to move my arms in the canter as if I were the one moving her head up and down. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After this whirlwind of lessons, I had some pretty good exercises in my toolkit, along with a better view of what I needed to be doing to help improve Moxie. I'd determined that of the three saddles I'd shown trainers, none of them worked all that well, but I did find one that was the best for the time being. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In full disclosure, the photos shared at the top of the post were actually pulled from a video taken a week and a half AFTER all these lessons. </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-78001505258783977152018-05-29T09:32:00.000-07:002018-05-29T09:32:53.936-07:00Back to the beginningWhen this post gets published, I will probably be packing Moxie's things up, putting her in the trailer, and taking her back to meet her owner. It has been the craziest of years with this wonderful horse, and I've learned <i>so</i> much with her.<br />
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I've struggled to write much about her over this year, not for lack of things to say, but because I didn't want her owner to feel like I was maligning her in any way. The mare is quirky as hell, and I took a few dozen lessons on the basics, but the reality is that none of what was accomplished could have happened without everything Moxie knew how to do before she came to me.<br />
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It's a cool story though, with lots of scraps of notes taken from various trainers, plenty of adventures, a bunch of shows, and levels climbed! Now that she's going home again, I feel a bit more comfortable sharing the struggles and growth we went through. All that said, let me set the stage for the beginning of our relationship.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe-ON0uZVnM8aVHysTU1eqIlwvBKKEfib-8GPlFexVc0DSLDKEK7URlQcFK7pJpUGiOnX-nh_lXsN5Gucs79dsruDyhdM1S-ivOypKzJhtCbPgHUGq3mHPbgzoV6adtX4RfjYU2CagzPY/s1600/18010639_10212028922056732_9145593021154418441_n+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe-ON0uZVnM8aVHysTU1eqIlwvBKKEfib-8GPlFexVc0DSLDKEK7URlQcFK7pJpUGiOnX-nh_lXsN5Gucs79dsruDyhdM1S-ivOypKzJhtCbPgHUGq3mHPbgzoV6adtX4RfjYU2CagzPY/s320/18010639_10212028922056732_9145593021154418441_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
When her owner pulled in, it was pouring rain. We'd had one of the wettest winters in recent history, so while it wasn't surprising that it was raining, it did make the tour of my mountainous farm a bit more challenging.<br />
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My mom had come from Michigan to spend mother's day with me, her first solo trip to visit me in the four years I'd lived out in California. She's never been much for horses, but she later told me that when we led Moxie past my car, she could see how special a horse she was.<br />
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Mom and I had lots of adventuring to do, so I didn't get the opportunity to ride Moxie those first few days but the excitement kept rising and rising until my baby sister begged for a photo of Mom riding a horse, so I took my chances. I talked my mom into coming to the barn for a little while and riding, so of course, I put her on Moxie.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsBNt6t3VAKkSwFaP-TVDWmB4B4QuHLBVgHcV-Kpn4fKvFinGtnUWRUzaXgp2DqvdCeMomq5mEI_bX_NnrQOrMkg0SYNuNRUPjXrSwR2xIqvoUNEGSmz_-mHeAOf5NBXBy3hVoLuLa4nF/s1600/IMG_20170418_115847073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsBNt6t3VAKkSwFaP-TVDWmB4B4QuHLBVgHcV-Kpn4fKvFinGtnUWRUzaXgp2DqvdCeMomq5mEI_bX_NnrQOrMkg0SYNuNRUPjXrSwR2xIqvoUNEGSmz_-mHeAOf5NBXBy3hVoLuLa4nF/s320/IMG_20170418_115847073.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Both my mom and the mare were a little confused about one another</td></tr>
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<br />
She told me I should get on and show off a little after she'd ridden, and since that had been my plot all along, I swung my leg over and within two 20-meter circles realized I had no idea how to ride this horse.<br />
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She lurched through her transitions and left me behind every time, even though I thought I was bearing down enough to stay with her. I couldn't quite ride her onto the bit, and instead felt like I was just pulling at her face. The canter swerved to and fro as if I had far too finely tuned steering and absolutely no way to manage it. I got off pretty quickly and took her back to the barn, feeling pretty demoralized. What had I gotten myself into with this horse I couldn't even steer? How was I supposed to accomplish anything with her?<br />
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I pretty quickly scheduled several lessons, the results of which I worked on for over a year...Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-1852498124763986462018-02-01T08:02:00.000-08:002018-02-01T08:02:00.277-08:00Not allowed to changeOn the first day of the Mary Wanless Workshop, there were three groups of three riders - I rode in the first group and had no idea what to expect.<br />
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Leading up to this workshop, I had a fair amount of anxiety. I learned that I was going to be a demonstration rider on Tuesday -- the clinic started on Friday! And reading through the list of attendees, there were some pretty powerful riders coming here to learn.<br />
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I may or may not have sent Megan a text about irreversibly ruining Moxie's mane when I pulled it (spoiler alert, it was fine), stayed up way too late staring at the ceiling and imagining worst-case scenarios, and other fun, anxious games throughout the week.<br />
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Friday morning, after a few hours of theory, my Fitbit alarm buzzed and I was off - time to get my horse tacked up. My legs trembled as I slipped my feet into my boots, I leaned into Moxie's shoulder and took several long moments to breathe, and hiked her up to the main arena where the crowd was restructuring for the riding portion. Moxie promptly spooked at someone moving a dressage letter, so I decided to walk around the edge of the arena for a few minutes until her nerves settled down.<br />
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After mounting up and walking a few laps, Mary shared the rule of the first day: we the riders were not allowed to make ANY CHANGES until we were given permission.<br />
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We introduced ourselves, I explained that I'm an event trainer aimed at second level and beyond. Mary asked me what I would change if she could wave a magic wand and fix one of my problems. I thought for a moment and told her that I would be able to sit the trot without chasing Moxie's back out from under me and that my <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XnwhglqPNLs/Vh11mPk7ZkI/AAAAAAAAA2I/SfVTN-xKSQY/s1600/IMG_1492.JPG">frontline</a> would be less overpowered by my back in the canter.<br />
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Out and walking around, Mary asked a super important question that I often forget to consciously ask myself, "Is everyone safe?" It's very British Horse Society and I know I consider it, but reminding myself to keep that at the forefront of my mind in the beginning of a new lesson with a new client is a good thing.<br />
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Next, she mused about where we would land if the horse were to disappear out from underneath us: on our feet, on our butts, or on our faces? I would land on my butt.<br />
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Quite a few things were lobbed at me in the walk: I have a good shoulder-hip line, but lose it to my feet. There appears to be a bit of a layer of shifting sand in my waist, my shoulders are very involved in the walk. I tend to round my shoulders. The front of my body is a bit soggy. The "cereal box" of my torso is bloopy. My right foot leads, especially when changing directions.<br />
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It is very difficult not to change when people start commenting on things that aren't quite right about your riding. Some things I know how to fix easily and really need to be more stern with myself about correcting on the daily. Some of these things were new ideas, new words, new challenges.<br />
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I hear Mary say, "and now we're about to ask the cruelest question, and keep in mind you're not allowed to change yet, riders..."<br />
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It really is amazing how when you focus on things in your body they seem to want to change, and my right foot seemed to have lost all stability to speak of as I focused on keeping it still, in the wrong spot.<br />
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"If the skin of the rider were a bag, what material would be bag be filled with?"<br />
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The answers ranged in hilarity from 'somewhat gelatinous' to Mary's '<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blancmange">blancmange</a>' to 'mochi'.<br />
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And then we moved on to trot. Mostly, the impression I gave at the trot was significantly better, with someone being quoted as saying, "she starts to get her shit together in the trot."<br />
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Next, we cantered, and some feedback included having my feet too far forward and my shoulder moved backward in the downbeat of the canter.<br />
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I felt a lot better about being in motion, but the sheer amount of "things" that had been lobbed at me felt pretty overwhelming. How are you supposed to fix all this? I wondered, followed by a concern about if it was even possible.<br />
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When we moved into sitting the trot, which I feel pretty competent on any horse but Moxie, I learned that there's too much wiggling, that I progressively bounce backward, and that I sit a bit left. It appears I minimize the trot in order to sit it, and that there's a wish for me to be more robust.<br />
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Phew - and then we were walking again. Except Mary was telling a story about a horse that she brought home, a big PRE stallion -- when she got him back to the stable she learned he was a bit of an amoeba, legs and balance everywhere. She related me to that horse in the walk, stating that I really needed to firm up a bit in the walk. She coached me on a few things, namely not allowing my spine to willow, then asked me:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"What would it take for you to never go back to the other way of walking?" </blockquote>
I didn't really know what to say. It isn't the first time I've been told to firm up my walk - there's a LOOONG post sitting in my drafts with the title "Don't be a trail rider" wherein Tracey coaches me extensively about my sogginess in the walk and I still don't really understand how to fix it. I shared that when Mary asked, that I'd heard this before, and someone in the crowd said, "I trail ride, and I don't walk like THAT!" It was meant to be funny, but it definitely stung.<br />
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The feeling of being posed that question was a little shameful; there's this ugly thing in my riding that I've shrugged and ignored all this time to the detriment of my horse and my riding... It was an unpleasant feeling, and I choked back a lot of emotion while I considered it. 'Maybe I'm just not good at walking,' I told myself as I focused on pressing my guts against my muscles and keeping my alien right leg in line.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXKRRWjUrMGDRhqCm2hIlvsJDLU5YjSPoglqkDS6he8-QCF_D5KCXmojZpnlVNl4XlCqF3zxhqUjPqkRjQgEZOMcCPGb55LSv3xAkwx4vmBUS6ysAu0Rzg-O_PZkNyQ1dSy7k3qMxhOgZ/s1600/IMG_20180121_123217863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXKRRWjUrMGDRhqCm2hIlvsJDLU5YjSPoglqkDS6he8-QCF_D5KCXmojZpnlVNl4XlCqF3zxhqUjPqkRjQgEZOMcCPGb55LSv3xAkwx4vmBUS6ysAu0Rzg-O_PZkNyQ1dSy7k3qMxhOgZ/s320/IMG_20180121_123217863.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hell, at least I'm a happy if soggy trail rider</td></tr>
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At the end, we lined up in front of the audience and Mary reminded us that we are more than a collection of patterns and bad habits and that a rosebud is worth no less than a rose. Later in the weekend, we spent a lot of time talking about mindsets that affect success. One type of mindset says, "talent: you've either got it or you don't." And another mindset says, "the harder I work, the better I get."<br />
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Mary emphatically coaches in a way that proves "the harder I work, the better I get." I left the arena trying to remember that, but still feeling pretty dismal. Bear with me though, as my mood begins to change about all these challenges soon!Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-33724151924961432892018-01-29T11:53:00.000-08:002018-01-29T11:53:06.099-08:00Cause and Effect Megan and I attended a Mary Wanless Workshop this weekend, and I was invited to be a demo rider with Moxie. It was an UNBELIEVABLE weekend and I'm not sure I'll ever be the same.<br />
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I met trainers who have balanced horses and real life in a way that was super commendable, I got to interview a few FEI trainers on their progression to Grand Prix (all the while embracing that they're still working on things too! You'll never just arrive!), make some friends, and let's not forget the mind-blowing experience of getting three days of lessons with one of my all-time biggest heroes, Mary Wanless.<br />
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Did you know that she has a degree in physics?!<br />
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<a href="https://aenterspooking.blogspot.com/2018/01/mary-wanless-workshop-structure.html">Megan wrote about the structure of the clinic, which I think is an important background before you think about any of these concepts. </a><br />
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Today we're talking about something very important that underlies the <a href="http://mary-wanless.com/">RWYM</a> philosophy.<br />
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You've got a goal: to develop your horse as close to 10's in your dressage tests as this horse is capable of.<br />
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The question is getting the horse from his current state over to that ideal-horse state.<br />
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We refer to this arrow as the 2nd toolkit, or what to do, also known as declarative knowledge.<br />
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Then we introduce the rider and the first toolkit, which centers around teaching the rider HOW to ride, how to fix <span style="font-family: inherit;">their imbalances, how to get tone in the right places in their body. This is called procedural knowledge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.4px;">Declarative knowledge involves knowing THAT something is the case - that J is the tenth letter of the alphabet, that Paris is the capital of France. Declarative knowledge is conscious; it can often be verbalized. Metalinguistic knowledge, or knowledge about a linguistic form, is declarative knowledge.</span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify; text-indent: 14.4px;">Procedural knowledge involves knowing HOW to do something - ride a bike, for example. We may not be able to explain how we do it. Procedural knowledge involves implicit learning, which a learner may not be aware of, and may involve being able to use a particular form to understand or produce language without necessarily being able to explain it. - <a href="http://unt.unice.fr/uoh/learn_teach_FL/affiche_theorie.php?id_concept=90">Source</a></span></span></blockquote>
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Eventually, we come to the conclusion that we can view as the rider as the cause and the horse as effect - for a small proof of concept, consider how much better your horse goes underneath a really talented rider. That rider's control over his own body and fascial net cause a very different effect on the horse than your control and your fascial net. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjuEUtglqFpPloOvffeb7lGoIJgBWdJ2Vzw8pRKFESLe_-LQQWUFGTcDTrOqmYgTvlkAkXi4DY4Xwf9Qg02Rhpqmzd-ncaoEDzNL83_CdmD0Rrd5x9obVqnuwCUWIJ88bRs6s06P69FWfl/s1600/IMG_20180129_091356284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="1600" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjuEUtglqFpPloOvffeb7lGoIJgBWdJ2Vzw8pRKFESLe_-LQQWUFGTcDTrOqmYgTvlkAkXi4DY4Xwf9Qg02Rhpqmzd-ncaoEDzNL83_CdmD0Rrd5x9obVqnuwCUWIJ88bRs6s06P69FWfl/s400/IMG_20180129_091356284.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I've filled in some examples of words that might fall into the 1st and 2nd toolkits, and if they don't all make sense to you, that's alright: they probably shouldn't. A big part of the 1st toolkit is creating feelages within the rider's body and then attaching specific words to those feelings, to allow for a clear coach-rider interaction. </div>
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Then we add in one more piece called the zero toolkit. This toolkit is dominated by a thorough understanding of operant conditioning. Does the horse know how to learn, and does the rider know how to train? Many pieces of groundwork fall into the zero toolkit, and I think that the basics of clicker training add to this toolkit and make it a really powerful baseline. </div>
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If we have a horse that throws his shoulders left and jack-knifes while tracking right, we can move through the toolkits to explore solving the problem. Zero toolkit: does the horse understand the rein aids? Are we absolutely sure he knows what pressure on the reins means? First toolkit: is the rider shifting her weight in a way that encourages the horse to collapse to the inside? Is the rider transmitting force correctly? Is the rider taking the horse, or is the horse taking the rider? Second toolkit: practice riding square turns, spiraling circles, and leg yielding into the left rein in order to get the horse more appropriately connected to the rein. </div>
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Mary had a great way of describing this. Sometimes there are trainers who are just really blessed in one toolkit or another, and they don't think much about the existence of the other toolkits. So it's as if these three trainers are in a pitch black room, touching one part of an elephant. The zero toolkit is touching the elephant's ear and trying to explain it, while the first toolkit examines his trunk, and the second toolkit has his leg. Without an ability to see the elephant in its entirety, each trainer might think the other is stark raving mad.</div>
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When we put it all together, we have a much more convincing roadmap forward toward our ideal horse than if we only focus on the exercises we need to be able to accomplish to make it through a test, or if we focus on position to the exclusion of all else, or if we feel we have to perfect our groundwork before ever riding.</div>
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Coming in future posts, explore what it was like to take a lesson from 30 trainers at once, learn more about fascial nets and what to do about soggy lines, the emotional impact of abandoning what's comfortable, and even more. </div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-7860356768440085752018-01-10T22:13:00.000-08:002018-01-10T22:13:24.690-08:00An Antifragile ConnectionFragile objects are harmed by chaos. Example: a glass breaks when dropped on the ground. Or, a sensitive horse loses his mind when his threshold is crossed.<br />
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Robust objects are not impacted by chaos. Example: a nalgene water bottle does not change when dropped on the ground. Or, a solid lesson horse continues trotting along on the lunge, unfazed by his flapping child.<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Antifragile-Things-That-Disorder-Incerto/">Antifragile</a> objects are made stronger through chaos. Example: the human body rebuilds itself stronger after exercise. Or, the connection I'm considering in this blog post.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rain has made for some really lovely photos that are not at all horse-related...</td></tr>
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Has your horse ever offered you a few strides of the most amazing, connected, powerful trot? And you relax, thinking "finally!" Maybe you have the sort of horse that took your relaxation as reinforcement for the behavior and you got more of that amazing trot, and maybe you don't have that sort of horse.<br />
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I've watched my students experience those moments countless times. The warm-up led to a happy, supple horse, and the student and horse seem to be in the right mood to really come out to play. The horse brings his back up and powers across the ground, showing himself off. And then it all crumbles -- maybe a leaf moved or the rider sat down too heavily or the rider accidentally bopped her leg against his side or maybe the horse got tired.<br />
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I bet you've done it too, held your breath while you hoped it could go on forever.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... as highlighted by Justin the Slug. He has 27,000 teeth.</td></tr>
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<br />I know I have. Those moments are the epitome of a fragile connection. I also know that in the last year, I've learned to seek an antifragile connection, primarily through how I've thought about it.<br />
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An antifragile connection is one where you can place your inside calf against his ribs and he steps more deeply into the connection, where when the cat jumps out of the tree he brings his back up rather than runs away, one where you can feel his balance change and correct it before he even thinks to come off the bit.<br />
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For me, I've learned that the connection needs to be able to tolerate a bit of chaos, that the connection isn't really <i>working</i> until it gets deeper through a few moving pieces.<br />
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It's not just about "on-the-bit", either, this antifragile connection. When we go to horse shows and subject our horses to the chaos of warm-up arenas, spectators, our well-meaning but overzealous friends, our own uncertainty, all those elements are bits of chaos that we're earnestly introducing to our horses. I have found that approaching those moments with a sense of, "this chaos strengthens us", rather than imagining that we have to endure until our horse finally adapts or submits to what's happening around him makes me enjoy it more.<br />
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I'm talking about these experiences differently with my students as well. No longer is the stormy, windy day one to hold our breath through, it's one to wake up to and celebrate the opportunity to practice our antifragile connection. Am I able to hold enough things constant (my position, my mental attitude, my expectations) that the chaos of the world around us makes our connection better?<br />
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If not, why?<br />
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This curiosity meets a bit of eagerness to create calmer horses. I expect you (and me) to get stronger through chaos, so let's meet it with introspection.<br />
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Have you ever experienced an antifragile connection with your horse? If so, how would you describe it?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-3557992330053636272018-01-08T21:10:00.002-08:002018-01-08T21:10:46.499-08:00Loss of momentumI haven't posted on Instagram in nearly a year - some of my students consider this egregious. It's been almost six months since I posted here.<br />
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I don't know about you, but I know that there's a bit of momentum that has to be built up, that once you're rolling it's easier to keep going. There's so much to say here, and what of it to write? Moxie and I rode five first level dressage tests together, progressing from an impressive 59% at a schooling show to a 67% at a rated show. There were a great many lessons learned there.<br />
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Freddie went from his very first jumps to competing at Novice in 2017. It was a big year for him, too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Ds8qbTB98Q9UW9q9w2oLRatVMJ29E7DoeaAA4VInt-vOUkvOoZmy-3FUgoQO5cLFVO-dGXCdyARjb6yCuyJkkClFSMZz53M7n4jp6Z8BkNRrrxLi5kz2Zo3cDiR4M5-wtzbfd8B4JZy/s1600/DSC_0139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6Ds8qbTB98Q9UW9q9w2oLRatVMJ29E7DoeaAA4VInt-vOUkvOoZmy-3FUgoQO5cLFVO-dGXCdyARjb6yCuyJkkClFSMZz53M7n4jp6Z8BkNRrrxLi5kz2Zo3cDiR4M5-wtzbfd8B4JZy/s320/DSC_0139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I got the opportunity to compete with one of my student's horses, which perhaps was the most surprising event of the year. I came 4th in a large and competitive field on a horse I'd never jumped cross country with before (oops). It helped that the mare is a total professional in the ring.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnZK2ugDXpqUCwbkODWC8In_7n3gFoER_nXo3Znz-eZ_q7fIm4wERiOZizAgrbtBPqUqw039hvftvntZ8erxFdHsDGCssTsg2b_ChTXWTDicfd9wQmCsxyWtFJ3gagFZ6In-J7H5s2cpq/s1600/DSC_0542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnZK2ugDXpqUCwbkODWC8In_7n3gFoER_nXo3Znz-eZ_q7fIm4wERiOZizAgrbtBPqUqw039hvftvntZ8erxFdHsDGCssTsg2b_ChTXWTDicfd9wQmCsxyWtFJ3gagFZ6In-J7H5s2cpq/s320/DSC_0542.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I forged new friendships with bloggers, took lessons from eight different trainers, attended World Cup in Omaha, read about seventy books, joined a gym, stopped going to the gym, dedicated myself solely to horse training, doubled my clientele, showed in new venues, euthanized a horse, bought another horse, borrowed/acquired three others, rehabbed Kat, expanded to a second barn, helped purchase four horses....<br />
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It was a huge year. And I love looking back over my writing in 2015 & 2016 as an archive of my memories. You'll forgive me if I don't hold myself to it, but I would like to more actively share on the blog this year.<br />
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Welcome to 2018 :)Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-39383178453721748152017-07-18T18:44:00.000-07:002017-07-18T18:44:04.880-07:00A Brutal Pursuit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The journey towards doing anything well is hard. There are a great many quaint anecdotes that try to translate this journey for the lay-person, but I don't think I need to translate them for you. You're a horse-person too. You participate in one of the only life-long sports where constant coaching is a cultural norm. You and I joke about how intense or hard our lessons were, complain how difficult this whole thing is, marvel at the way that this sport takes our life and consumes it. </div>
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We engage in deliberate practice, set goals, assess our progress towards those goals. Things beyond our control wreak havoc on these goals, things ranging from weather to the unwellness of our horses. </div>
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You understand what I'm about to say. </div>
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This afternoon I came home to a package containing a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N8SL7FH/">new book</a>. I started reading it a bit later, and after 27 pages I read this quote: </div>
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In the course of creating your work, you are going to be forced to ask yourself: What am I willing to sacrifice in order to do it? Will I give up X, Y, Z? A willingness to trade off something -- time, comfort, easy money, recognition -- lies at the heart of every great work. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but always a significant sacrifice that <i>needs</i> to happen. If it didn't, everyone would do it. </blockquote>
In order for me to achieve my goals with horses, I'm going to need to give up things I find comfortable, such as sitting like a trail rider while walking and pulling casually on the right rein. I need to bring my mental focus to bear upon geometry and my own position within space. I need to do things that are uncomfortable. These are small sacrifices, but they feel hard sometimes.<br />
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I recently had the pleasure of hosting <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeEwVjugfkQ">Shawna Karrasch</a> for a clinic at my barn and some of the things she said rang ridiculously true, but I still am finding that it is hard for me at times to consciously choose to do things in a manner that is better for my horse. I like my old habits. Not because they were thoughtfully chosen but because they feel comfortable.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlg0FuxJjkxnE2knyQyxbRiucgxVXXxZ7wyrV9Y6HefNPwstTDrJYs4qo6lp_NpGpwE-WWwzKbQDABa8hh0xOGnZOC7dH0h7JnNh-ktuHlFH6kZv96jbPkYupSZyI7ETSCy_eHWTpmfTU/s1600/P1310438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdlg0FuxJjkxnE2knyQyxbRiucgxVXXxZ7wyrV9Y6HefNPwstTDrJYs4qo6lp_NpGpwE-WWwzKbQDABa8hh0xOGnZOC7dH0h7JnNh-ktuHlFH6kZv96jbPkYupSZyI7ETSCy_eHWTpmfTU/s320/P1310438.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC: <a href="https://diyhorseownership.com/">Olivia</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVzotQ8mapoGXQZESbIVvEY0T_UKwq48h2-CAn16jS5iGTgmF9lZFpIFivWcjmGRpUezAomDZXlCTveDQar0nJvVWxS8z-cJ5e_I_v_kZsG-a7D6H-rTZv1UYga9Qcrb7ZN7DpHBbgnC3/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-07-18+at+5.42.47+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="630" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVzotQ8mapoGXQZESbIVvEY0T_UKwq48h2-CAn16jS5iGTgmF9lZFpIFivWcjmGRpUezAomDZXlCTveDQar0nJvVWxS8z-cJ5e_I_v_kZsG-a7D6H-rTZv1UYga9Qcrb7ZN7DpHBbgnC3/s320/Screen+Shot+2017-07-18+at+5.42.47+PM.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I choose brutal today for "punishingly hard or uncomfortable"</td></tr>
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We're doing it, though. We're making sacrifices. The commutes to our horses, the time spent at the barn, the meals we forget about. We're dusting ourselves off after falling off, we're trying new relationships with horses, we're seeking further instruction, we're putting ourselves out there. <a href="http://mentalfloss.com/article/63389/roosevelts-man-arena">We are all in the arena</a>. <div>
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What then, does further discussion bring us? I want to recognize what's been done so far and admit to myself that there is more yet to do. Anders Ericsson writes: </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">The plateau Josh encountered is common in every sort of training. When you first start learning something new, it is normal to see rapid—or at least steady—improvement, and when that improvement stops, it is natural to believe you’ve hit some sort of implacable limit. So you stop trying to move forward, and you settle down to life on that plateau. This is the major reason that people in every area stop improving. --Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise</span></blockquote>
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There is no arriving, and for me, there cannot be a settling. And although there is a cost to this desire not to settle, and even knowing that you cannot know the entirety of the cost until you've paid it, I think it's a journey worth taking. </div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-70329914584558763172017-07-17T04:30:00.000-07:002017-07-17T04:30:12.474-07:00The Addition of Moxie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1W1oUp2MjU8kDIEaPEAzaa0AZDPToXAhz4bmEI86rcqZvWWupoJI2IIVSJA9PCIABNIqUV9xFmExWXYj703rBb2UK-claPku2AeHkGxR94FV6rrrWwgiCjaH4LAFKKoq5P05VRcbQaRua/s1600/DSC_0181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1W1oUp2MjU8kDIEaPEAzaa0AZDPToXAhz4bmEI86rcqZvWWupoJI2IIVSJA9PCIABNIqUV9xFmExWXYj703rBb2UK-claPku2AeHkGxR94FV6rrrWwgiCjaH4LAFKKoq5P05VRcbQaRua/s320/DSC_0181.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Serendipity is a pretty beautiful thing sometimes. The day Kat pulled up lame again I saw an ad for a mare, schooling 2nd/3rd, a care lease situation in order for the owner to be a bit picky. I sent her a message to start a conversation, more to soothe my sadness over Kat than anything else.<br />
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It turned out that <a href="https://nowthatsthespot.wordpress.com/">Peony</a> knows the owner and vouched for me, putting me to the final options for the lease. I went up and rode her, met the owner, laughed a ton, had a great time riding the mare, and then went home to wait.<br />
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In the end, I won the lease on her, and shortly before my birthday in April Miss Mox (AKA the Queen) came to stay with me for a while.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxRpAlnKe9wVnfDr1ej01bvwCkZQAELdXOH-R7S2SEC8oylmbPtrJXP_h_6TBBC_TKQl5qa49bEurE86ms0KggCUVVwdcje7XC0R1qdOcvWBHBhMyajyKZL3JD7qYib0uC3oIqoQOk0-W/s1600/18010639_10212028922056732_9145593021154418441_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxRpAlnKe9wVnfDr1ej01bvwCkZQAELdXOH-R7S2SEC8oylmbPtrJXP_h_6TBBC_TKQl5qa49bEurE86ms0KggCUVVwdcje7XC0R1qdOcvWBHBhMyajyKZL3JD7qYib0uC3oIqoQOk0-W/s320/18010639_10212028922056732_9145593021154418441_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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She's been on a number of adventures with me so far including camping, a few horse shows, a bunch of lessons, and a jumping clinic with Laine Ashker (all of which needs writing about...).<br />
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We're entered in our first rated dressage show in just a few weeks and the big question is whether we'll start collecting scores for my bronze or if I'll run us off course, as I have at 2/3 of the schooling shows we've done so far.... ;)<br />
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Here's a protracted video with clips from a bunch of dressage lessons since she came in!<br />
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/i0Oyo2YrASM/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i0Oyo2YrASM?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-48471883703951829242017-03-24T06:00:00.000-07:002017-03-24T06:00:17.282-07:00What Should Be Practiced? Excerpted from "Why Don't Students Like School?"<br />
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Not everything can be practiced extensively, but fortunately not everything needs to be practiced.... If practice makes mental processes automatic, we can then ask, <i>which processes need to become automatic?</i> </blockquote>
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Retrieving number facts from memory is a good candidate, while a science teacher may decide that his students need to have at their fingertips basic facts about elements. In general, the processes that need to become automatic are probably the building blocks of skills that will provide the most benefit if they are automatized. Building blocks are the things that one does again and again in a subject area, and they are the prerequisites for more advanced work. </blockquote>
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So before I write to you about my thoughts on this subject, can I ask you: which processes need to become automatic in our work with horses?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX_nLiRJpYCca94ywkgxRhFVXPZQJlwKVPQuw7yBSBDzmgl_hnd4A_Cdei_VoPPLGB75by-KoVpZ2AGGXHapeWgk06dk-dcW6mM8O_q-o6k4s9f535QYknFunfS9KiQgKlDwuLVpI3ato/s1600/IMG_20170304_131655638_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX_nLiRJpYCca94ywkgxRhFVXPZQJlwKVPQuw7yBSBDzmgl_hnd4A_Cdei_VoPPLGB75by-KoVpZ2AGGXHapeWgk06dk-dcW6mM8O_q-o6k4s9f535QYknFunfS9KiQgKlDwuLVpI3ato/s320/IMG_20170304_131655638_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-24020519758830018422017-03-14T14:24:00.001-07:002017-03-14T14:24:21.524-07:00BINGO: None of the following is true<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">(Except for the parts which are, but I’m not telling which ones have actually happened to me. [Except for when I provide photographic or video evidence.]) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I held my hand against my forehead, elbow on the table, trying to breathe through my anxiety. What had originally been planned to be a nice weekend of coaching was rapidly devolving into a nightmare. It had all started when Alex announced that he wanted me to take Tango on his first prelim. “Alright,” I’d agreed, and after all, it sounded like it might be a nice thing to do, as proof after all these years that Tango really had been something special. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">And then Finn’s owner announced that he’d been entered in the Novice division, even though we’d taken him cross-country exactly once, and I was supposed to be his jockey. “Alright,” I haltingly agreed, as Finn was such a sweet fellow and surely I could just withdraw if we all felt really over-faced. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpioEEqjUrJ5_GnkyrRrypaX27wzSVP1vZoRoNegsA4N2ONq23MNP7W9bGCwPknivlCe5XK5_mxj3RoFyosHRIKKENQW7JYRVBwTXJ-MEyv1YhHrB13qnVVeILUjq73Jdcwey-MXUcnqi/s1600/Finn.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpioEEqjUrJ5_GnkyrRrypaX27wzSVP1vZoRoNegsA4N2ONq23MNP7W9bGCwPknivlCe5XK5_mxj3RoFyosHRIKKENQW7JYRVBwTXJ-MEyv1YhHrB13qnVVeILUjq73Jdcwey-MXUcnqi/s320/Finn.jpg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finn is a real horse who is new to the barn and none of the following story actually resemble this horse, he just was the first one I thought of for this tale</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I leaned back from the picnic table and glanced across the farm to Kat, who stood in her stall weaving merrily away, and considered withdrawing her as she really had just come back from an injury and maybe I was pushing things, but you read all those stories about Buck Davidson crashing and breaking a bunch of ribs and STILL riding 9 or so horses cross country, so I could probably pull three off, even though it’s a new level for all three of the horses. And if that were all facing me this weekend, I probably wouldn’t bat an eye. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But there was Moxie, too, the horse I’d taken a lease on while Kat recovered in the pasture, but I didn’t have to worry one iota about her as she was the most reliable of the bunch. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJHboFoxKd1I8NnEa-VCP-hEtO2suGeC8DPou0igPHcAS4PXAWE2V6CNQ06U5vFtRTlxgBno9bU_7Xp7VWq_YazCxhxLm6q3qNqyDIfSz_fYrJE23OA9i6Sp5l6-7Y8UI7AwgiUpPGZ3V/s1600/pretendmoxie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJHboFoxKd1I8NnEa-VCP-hEtO2suGeC8DPou0igPHcAS4PXAWE2V6CNQ06U5vFtRTlxgBno9bU_7Xp7VWq_YazCxhxLm6q3qNqyDIfSz_fYrJE23OA9i6Sp5l6-7Y8UI7AwgiUpPGZ3V/s320/pretendmoxie.jpg" width="307" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moxie is also a real horse. This is not a photo of her. I am actually taking the lease on her. She knows more dressage than me and needs miles showing, so we'll help each other out.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Four horses, three new to the level, I’d be fine. I was coaching two riders, and riding four. Other trainers do it all the time, and once I’d taken enough deep breaths, I knew this would be one hell of a weekend to tell stories about. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">“Alright!” I said aloud, to no one in particular, “let’s just make it through this weekend alive.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Little did I know just what shape this story would take. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Friday morning: 4 am and with yesterday’s unfinished coffee clutched in my hand, bleary eyes taking in the sight of my mounts, I began braiding. Part of the way through braiding the third horse I began to wonder whose fucking brilliant idea it was to not braid the horses last night, and when I get to Moxie, I eyeball her mane, consider cutting it off, and decide it doesn’t need to be braided. They all go for a hand walk, and Kat decided to show me just HOW good she feels by levitating numerous times and dragging me a good distance each time. I wondered who I could call to bring me a stud chain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Prelim ran first for me, and Tango gleamed from head to tail. With strong muscles and a kind eye, we shared a few moments in the warm up where I reveled in just how nice it was to be able to stroll along on a loose rein, watching the other riders and feeling his back underneath me. We trotted into the ring, where I promptly forgot my whole test. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Tango, of course, did his level best for me, and I left the ring disappointed in the ride. My circles had been uneasy because I was halfheartedly waiting to get rung out for going off course, and I hadn’t ever pushed Tango to give me his all. “Oh well,” I told Alex as we walked back to the barn, “at least it wasn’t terrible.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Training ran next, and Moxie went up first. She warmed up beautifully, supple and generous in the bridle, and we turned down the centerline oozing confidence. Leaving the arena, I knew we’d laid down one of the best tests of my life, and I spent a bit too long congratulating myself and the horse with lots of scratches and chatting with the clients who had come to watch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It wasn’t until Sophie came running up to me and dragged me off Moxie that I realized I’d frittered away most of my warm-up time for Kat. She was due in the dressage court in twenty-two minutes. Not nearly enough.... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">My tension rolled over Kat and she pranced in hand as I led her to the warm up arena. I begged a leg-up and the moment my butt touched the saddle I knew I was sitting on a powder keg. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We picked up a trot on a circle and tried to dodge the other riders while still giving Kat the best and most consistent ride I could come up with. Some kid on a wicked agile pony dodged into and back out of my circle before I even noticed, but Kat took great offense to the pony and kicked at it, even though it was 50 some feet away. I bumped her with my legs and growled, “No,” at her, at which point she reared. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">While holding onto her neck, I noticed how everyone was clearing themselves away from me. “Great,” I told Sophie as we whizzed past her, “now I’m riding THAT horse.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I did not turn down centerline with as much confidence as I’d felt on Moxie. We wobbled our way through the test and I realized, moments before cueing for the first canter, that we literally had NOT cantered in our warm up. I took a deep breath, sat a few beats of the trot, and aided for the canter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I did not precisely get the canter. Instead, I got a spectacularly leaping, kicking, porpoising mare. The photos, I learned later, looked a bit like a capriole from the Spanish Riding School, if you tilted your head sideways and squinted a bit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But we pressed on, as one does when one events, and we finished the test with fewer acrobatic moments. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The last to go was darling sweet Finn, and my legs were a little shaky and my nerves were shot. I didn’t ride him all that well, and completely forgot the free-walk portion of the test, but he did quite well, all things considered. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I walked the herd later, before picking up my scores, and Kat seemed to have finally settled down so I began to feel more confident for the next two days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I was so excited when I got to the office and saw that Moxie and I were first in our division after dressage! We’d scored an unbelievable 19, with some of the best numbers I’d even seen, including an 8 on what used to be our weakest point! (The halt. Ugh. Her haunches were always swinging sideways in the halt but that’s probably my fault because my other horses do that too.) The judge commented that we looked like a “nice pair”, and the score definitely showed it! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Kat had not scored so well, but even though the judge commented, “tense,” she also told me it was “tactfully ridden,” so I sort of figure I’ll take what I can get. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Tango scored the most consistent test I’ve ever seen. The comment, “you call those circles?” stung, but he had straight sixes all the way down. I wondered if the scribe was tired of writing different numbers, but we weren’t at the bottom of the pack. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Finn’s test was predictable, with comments such as, “needs more bend,” and “free walk not shown.” Oops. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This event was organized in the strangest way, with novice running cross country on Saturday, but Training and Prelim running stadium on Saturday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Saturday dawned, and it took me a solid fifteen minutes to get out of bed. I stared at the ceiling praying to keep Kat well-behaved and Finn brave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Tango was my first ride of the day and for the first time in years, when I swung my leg over him I was afraid of him. A hump stayed present just under the saddle the whole time we warmed up. After our first jump he took off like something had stung him, and I would have been able to ride it out if it hadn’t been for the corkscrew buck he threw, and I hit the ground hard. I took my helmet off and shook the dirt out of my hair, tried to brush off as much as I could, and looked over at a Tango who looked as if he were laughing. I grabbed his reins, mounted from the ground, and took another jump before I could let my nerves get the better of me, then immediately had to dismount for the EMT to sign off on my health. I was scolded thoroughly, but Tango’s bucks were out of his system, and he was perfectly reasonable for the rest of the warm up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As we cantered a circle in the ring, I could hear a commotion outside the arena. “Stay focused,” I sternly warned myself, and we went through the timers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">“LOOSE HORSE!” I could hear someone bellowing, and I couldn’t help myself: I looked to see what was loose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It was Kat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Mane whipping behind her, tail floating, her spectacular and ground covering gallop eating up the ground, she tore through the warm up arena, scattering horses around her and playing chicken with anyone who would dare to stop her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Tango began to circle as I stared at my mare, and before I knew it we were crossing the starting timer line again. I looked around but no one seemed to have noticed, so I piloted Tango to the first jump, waiting to hear a buzzer calling me out, but it never happened. With a mental shrug we kept on, and he jumped everything hard and fast, in his favorite style. We had two jumps to go when I heard an awful metal clang. I looked everywhere but couldn’t see what caused the sound, as we hadn’t pulled anything down. We soared over the last two jumps, my buoyant heart full of joy. It wasn’t until later, in his stall, that I realized he must have somehow pulled a shoe off and chucked it into the standard. “It’s a weird wardrobe malfunction,” I laughed when I called my farrier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Moxie and Kat were both pretty straightforward in stadium. I think that Kat’s little walkabout took the edge off, but she still cleared the first fence so hard I lost BOTH my stirrups and jumped the next two fences without them before finally getting them back, and Moxie jumped her first warm up fence so hard I am CONVINCED we cleared the standards, but overall the pretty much behaved as if they were trained to do the job I was asking of them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Finn warmed up in a very gentlemanly way, but when we trotted into the start box, my stomach dropped. I’d forgotten my whip and my spurs. They certainly weren’t needed for my mares, but this fellow needed them. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, have a nice ride!” And we casually trotted out of the start box, despite my pony club efforts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We picked up a canter and rolled along for a few fences, but right about the fourth jump, he realized that this was hard work, and we were only going to keep doing it. Luckily the next fence on course was the smallest log you’ve ever seen, and the fact that it was flagged for novice was comical. Finn pinned his ears at me and my leg and floated to a halt. “Come onnnn,” I groaned at him as I circled him around and clamped my legs around him like he was a tube of toothpaste and I was getting the LAST pea-sized toothbrushing out of the bugger. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">As I approached the next fence at what might be described as little more than a western pleasure jog, the jump judge flagged me down and pulled me off the track. “There’s a hold,” she told me, “we have to let the rider behind you pass.” I pursed my lips and watched as the thoroughbred behind us cantered over the jump and on through the water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Somehow we crawled through the rest of the course, but I am confident that there’s never been a slower cross country run at novice ever. It felt like we were out there forever. They even delayed rider’s start times because we were so slow. I called my mom after dinner and told her about the fall, the mishap with the loose horse, getting passed on cross country, everything, and finished by saying, “we literally picked up so many penalties. Somehow we weren’t eliminated, but I honestly don’t know how.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I slept like the dead. My alarm went off Sunday morning before I wanted it to, and I felt creaky and horrible as I rolled out of bed. And then I remembered that I was getting to take Tango prelim, something I’d imagined watching him do for years. I perked up, drank my coffee, took some ibuprofen, and by the time I was tacking Tango up I was bouncing with excitement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Fear flooded my veins as I trotted around the start box, as it always does, but when I let Tango out and he leaped into a ground covering gallop, I remembered how much I loved this. Over tables and logs, down the drop into the water, a glance at my watch and we were actually cruising a bit too fast. “Circling!” I called, as we added some time by circling before the corner combination. Racing through the finish flags, I burst into tears, wrapped my arms around Tango’s slimy neck, and kissed him before jumping off. “What a good boy,” I crooned through my choked up voice as he power-walked up the hill and back to the barn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I had a similar experience with Moxie, the adrenaline converging with my delight to create a near-spiritual moment, until the mare decided to drop to a trot right before the biggest, most maxed out table on course. She jumped it from a trot, and I kicked her on, determined not to repeat that frightening experience. She took offense to the kick and powered over the next jump from at least two strides out. The rest of the course was uneventful, but it did give me a lot to think about how I could better have ridden her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Kat was suspiciously quiet in the warm up. She was, dare I even suggest it, ‘workmanlike.’ She walked into the start box. She cantered out quietly. She didn’t over-jump the first fence, nor did she drag me to the second one. I relaxed and began to thrill in taking my wonderful mare out to do her job as I’d always imagined her capable of doing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">That was, until she spooked at a jump judge after a fence, bolted down a hill, over the next one, powered over a table, supermanned off a bank, all while I muttered and yelled and called “WOAH DAMMIT” and fruitlessly pulled on the reins. I had no breaks. I passed the horse ahead of me, pulled off to the side on a hold to allow my crazy creature full rein. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We came down through the water and she finally slowed, maybe she was tired, but maybe she knew what she was about to do. She slowed down until she nearly cantered in place, opened her stride for a moment, then chipped hard to the rolltop. I didn’t stand a chance. I ate it. She didn’t go far, and from my vantage point on the ground, I could see we’d lost a boot somewhere along the mad gallop. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">An EMT came over to check me out, and Kat treated him as if he were a tornado rising up from the ground. She dragged me sideways, and I refused to let go, even as she dragged me through the water complex. I finally tripped over myself and dropped her, landing soggily in the center of the water. “I hadn’t planned on going swimming,” I told the aghast EMT, even as I heard the announcer mention ‘that paint horse is loose again’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">At this point, I was tired, embarrassed, and ready to load my terrible animals up and go the heck home. But I still had to pilot Finn around stadium. It won’t be too bad, I assured myself as I girthed him up and checked his breast collar, he’s a good boy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We went through the start timers and cantered merrily up to the first jump. I have reason to believe he didn’t even see the jump because he took that thing down. He didn’t even TRY to pick his feet up. Surprised, I tapped him with my stick and legged him on, trying to conjure an energetic horse. He pulled a rail on the next oxer, but it felt like a cheap rail because we barely touched it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">And then, for the second time in this terrible weekend, I forgot where I was going. We circled so I could try to piece it together, knowing I would get penalty points for it. The unthinkable happened part way through the circle, and Finn realized that this was an event to get excited about. He took a deep breath, grew about six inches, and proceeded to buck my tired butt off. We were excused. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I collected a ribbon for my first place finish with Moxie, but it felt hollow. I’d had so much hope for this weekend, and I’d let my client down by falling off Finn in the stadium. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But as I finished my woeful tale, Megan started laughing at me. “None of this can possibly be true, Kate,” she said, and the bloggers around her laughed too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">“Bingo!” I shouted, and we finished our dinner with no more crazy made up stories about nightmare events. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i><a href="http://fraidycateventing.blogspot.com/p/2017-eventing-bingo.html">This crazy tale of woe brought to you by the encouragement of Emma at Fraidy Cat Eventing. </a></i></span></div>
Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-84010221450283787132017-02-17T06:30:00.000-08:002017-02-17T06:30:04.685-08:00An interlude with a diabolic bike<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">I would like to request that you listen to the song below while reading this post. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm not a particularly adventurous person, I'm coming to discover. For example, I recently helped a client see that her horse would be just fine on trails. I rode the horse out for a while as she biked alongside us. The horse was lovely, so I suggested that we switch. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />I couldn't tell you the last time I rode a bike, and I think the seat was a bit too high for me because I was stretching for the ground and struggling to find the pedals. It was a heavy bike, and I found it difficult to keep upright at first. But it was one of those neat electric bikes that help you pedal along, so it was pretty good once we got moving.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">It had a lovely basket on the back tire and leather-padded handles. The client laughed a bit self-consciously when she referred to it as her "granny bike." As I biked and she rode, I admired the greenery and the view back over the ocean, casually rolling along with extremely little effort on my end. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;">Imagine this, just all green</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">We started to near the end of the time we had available, so we decided I'd bike back to my car and leave her bike at the barn. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />"But wait," the client interjected, "you really should bike to the top here and see the view." </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />"Well, alright," I agreed, thinking to myself that with an electrified bike it'd take me no time at all. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />No sooner had I rounded the corner into some woods than the trail became severely washed out and rocky. The bike had no shocks whatsoever, and my arms were shaking and vibrating as I struggled to hold onto the bike. Then halfway up a steep and arduous incline, my thighs already burning, the electric assistance gave out and I was left trying to heave this incredibly heavy not-meant-for-the-mountains bike up the hill. I awkwardly dismounted the bike (nearly crashing myself onto the ground in the process) and walked the bike the rest of the way up the hill, my arms tired from the ruts earlier. By the time I reached the top, I was dripping sweat. (It's possible I need to exercise more.) </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;">This is me, on the horse, before the terror show that was the bike ride</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Phew! I told myself. I made it past the worst of it. The view was, in fact, gorgeous, so I admired the waves crashing onto the bluffs down below, the grassy plains of the hills, how minuscule the road gets when you peer down from far away. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />I turned the bike around, resettled myself on it's uncushioned and too-tall seat, and plunged down the hill. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />As I bounced off the first major rut and the back tire of the bike swung wildly to and fro, it dawned on me that I would rather ride any number of green or rank horses down this hill than this inanimate granny bike. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />A string of curse words strung together in creative ways kept me breathing as I bounced off ridge and rock until I finally managed to clutch the brakes fervently enough to slow down in a way that allowed me to leap off, shaking arms barely keeping the bike from clattering to the muddy trail. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />"We're gonna walk down this hill," I told the bike, but it didn't seem to care. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br />I glanced at my riding boots as I began to crawl down the hill. Splattered with mud. So was the bike. I didn't pay enough attention to the trail for a moment and the front tire got stuck heavily in a rut, and when I wrenched it free, I accidentally hit the throttle of the bike and got dragged down the mountain, feet moving faster than I could really control, granny bike rattling and bouncing wildly as I stumbled after it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">The bike and I splashed through a deep puddle at the very bottom and I felt my socks start to squish as I finally slowed the bike enough to walk. After a while, I steeled my nerve, remounted the bike, and had an uneventful ride back to the barn despite tired arms and burning legs. </span></div>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-9487403376604515072017-02-10T10:53:00.001-08:002017-02-10T10:53:13.330-08:00Operant ConditioningI go through cycles in my teaching where I give lectures to all my students on similar riffs on a theme, and this week has been about operant conditioning.<br />
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Sometimes when I'm explaining these concepts to a nine-year-old, I wonder if it really as important as I think it is, for these kids to understand. My goal is to produce a thinking rider capable of assessing not only what they learn from me, but also from other trainers in the future. Foundationally, our effect on the horse underneath us is important.<br />
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I want to be cognizant of how I'm training the horse. We can get so lost in this miasma of 'legs here' and 'chin up' (which are of great and tremendous and vast importance) that we forget about the specifics of training the horse we're riding. And whether we're riding a schoolmaster or a green bean, we're training them. George Morriss has most recently made that a very popular truism.<br />
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Keep in mind that what I'm going to write is pretty simple. It does not encompass all the important pieces of operant conditioning (and I know some of you will cringe to realize I do not teach the difference between positive and negative punishment, merely deeming it 'punishment') but keep in mind my target audience is something like an eight-year-old who is struggling to keep a pony trotting.<br />
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<b>1) Negative reinforcement... or: the horse learns when you release pressure</b><br />
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Horses don't speak English. What they experience most is the pressure we put on them. And there are a lot of pressure we want them to habituate to, or pretty much ignore. My dog running around the outside of the arena. The pressure of the saddle on them. The bit in their mouth. Your weight as a rider. The way the gait sounds as it opens and closes. Your weird trainer running around in the middle of the arena trying to demonstrate a leg yield with two legs.<br />
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All they know is that they don't like it when you pull on their face, or flap at them with your legs. What this means is that we can ask them nicely, then step the pressure up, and then <b>release the pressure when they do what you want.</b><br />
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If the horse isn't turning, we will ask with the reins, and we keep the pressure on or increased until the horse turns.<br />
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If the horse isn't stopping nicely out of the trot, we will ask with the reins, and the moment the horse starts to walk, we soften the reins. Good timing both in the application and removal of the aids is very important, but hey, that's why we take lessons.<br />
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Ideally, the horse will soon learn that a gentle squeeze of the legs is followed by unpleasant kicking unless the horse chooses to trot. The biggest failure I see is when my kids get a little tired of bumping or clucking and sort of peter out. The horse sees this as a big win! And will subsequently habituate both to the rider's weight but also to their legs, voice, etc. Bad news for everyone.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That All-Ears app makes for some hilarious photos</td></tr>
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<b>2) Positive reinforcement.... or: ponies love cookies</b><br />
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I have taught my students quite a bit about clicker training over the years, and I'm excited to be bringing an expert in for a clinic later this year to teach the kids and myself even more about it!<br />
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I use the clicker as a bridge between the moment the horse does what I want, and the moment I can give them a snack.<br />
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This way, the horse's "YES" moment comes from the click, rather than me taking my legs away.<br />
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It gets a bit muddled under saddle, as I feel we're often combining negative reinforcement and positive reinforcement to create the yes, but the horses like it and learn well.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm saving the best for last I hope you're excited</td></tr>
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<b>3) Punishment</b><br />
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Punishment is an negative thing that we add to the horse after they've done something we don't like. Examples include if they bite us, we smack them. If they buck, they get an unpleasant one-rein stop. If they break from the canter to the trot without the aid, we might use the crop to get them back to the canter. We want to be sparing with punishment, as one of the tenets of negative reinforcement is that we teach the horse that they can escape pain and discomfort. This allows them to seek release and become more willing and creative in their work. Punishment tends to feel random to the horse.<br />
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I teach these three pieces of operant conditioning (with the added concept of habituation) to my students and regularly check in with them as we're working. What method of training was that? Can you think of a way to train this using a different aspect of operant conditioning?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beyond priceless makes me laugh every bloody time</td></tr>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-41681615719615538382017-02-07T09:45:00.001-08:002017-02-07T09:45:11.582-08:00Great Artists Steal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In my cursory research I cannot tell who, exactly, wrote that "good artists borrow, great artists steal."<br />
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Here are some sayings I've shamelessly stolen from other trainers in the last few months. (I remain in hot pursuit of artisanship.)<br />
<ul>
<li>Try to help the bit feel the same to the horse in every part of every stride</li>
<li>Keep your hands still relative to the horse</li>
<li>Let's bring the elbow closer to the stifle as if the ribs are going to get closer to each other on the inside</li>
<li>Push the outside ear forward</li>
<li>Think about landing more softly -- if there was an eggshell on the saddle, I don't want you to break it</li>
<li>Spread your shoulders apart as if there were an angel one shoulder and a devil on the other and you don't want them to touch one another</li>
<li>We want him to stand up a little more on the inside side </li>
<li>Let's bring our posting trot under a bit more tension so we aren't so loose in our mechanic</li>
<li>Think about sending the hips back and away from the shoulders as they come up in the canter</li>
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Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-7717129695001288202017-02-02T06:30:00.000-08:002017-02-02T06:30:12.940-08:00Things I've worked on while hand-walking<div style="text-align: left;">
Kat is currently getting walked 10 minutes a day, twice a day. It's going fine, all things considered. Here are some things I've worked on, since this is the sort of time one can use to really fine tune little details. </div>
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1) She is very polite when I enter her stall now, she stays watching me but backs away from the door so I can easily get in.<br />
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2) I clicker trained her to hold her head exactly where I'd like it to slip the halter on her head<br />
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3) When I step onto the mounting block she sidles right up to it and stands like a rock, even when I get off the block and move all around her<br />
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4) I've trained "park" pretty well, though I have a bit more work on that one.<br />
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5) and this one is the least-worked-on because I'm worried it might aggravate any injury, I've done quite a bit of work on quietly turning on the forehand and on the hindquarters in hand.<br />
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Any other fun things I'm missing out on?Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-64046194466321389622017-01-31T16:31:00.003-08:002017-01-31T16:31:48.635-08:00When you post a horse for saleThere's a lot of talking about it leading up to the event, "oh, well, we have been thinking about this or that" and then you gather the information you need, and then eventually you finally start putting ads up places.<br />
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And after the monotonous flurry of posting it, you sort of sit on your hands and wait for the emails to start ROLLING in.<br />
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Hah! If only it worked that way.<br />
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Anyways - that's what I'm up to.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-69819357962792398112017-01-23T07:30:00.000-08:002017-01-23T07:30:00.911-08:00The ol' wait-and-seeMy lovely vet came out on Thursday to check out Kat's whole "being lame" and weird lumps.<br />
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The lumps (which to be honest I was the most concerned about) the vet glanced at, shrugged, and said "they're hematomas probably from kicking the wall. Standing wraps on both sides so she doesn't hurt the other leg and give it a few days."<br />
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Easy! Now to proclaim there's an abscess in the other leg....<br />
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Hoof testers galore and no sensitivity to them, so probably not an abscess on that front leg.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt much like this cat. "What do you mean let's start blocking the leg..."</td></tr>
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<br />We blocked the back half of the hoof and she came up sound.<br />
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Then we did x-rays, which revealed nothing more exciting than a sub-par palmar angle. So we'll put wedges on her to correct that.<br />
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After chatting more about it, I guess there's one of two things going on. 1) She's got a bruise in there that will just take some time to heal. 2) She's damaged something deep, which would require an MRI to adequately diagnose.<br />
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I'm feeling a bit morose, but am committed to staying positive for this thirty-day stint of stall rest. She's getting ten minutes of hand walking twice a day, so I'm bridling her up for one of those and practicing square halts and not <i>leaning </i>out of the halt. I'm also considering clicker training her to sidle up to the mounting block and maybe some other silly tricks so that she doesn't absolutely go insane with boredom.<br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-21505855155804825982017-01-19T09:53:00.000-08:002017-01-19T09:53:09.720-08:00It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah (The sadness of the title is not indicative of the content of this post.)<br />
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Freddie came to Fresno because he is firmly in the <i>resale</i> horse camp and so the more miles he can get with me, the better it will be when I go to sell him.<br />
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Let's recap his training so far so that these photos will adequately impress you. Freddie is five, has mostly been trail ridden, and at this point has about 90 days of dressage training on him, 60 of which occurred before I bought him. I've jumped him at least once probably most days I've ridden him, but he has only about 4 official "schools" on him, where we tried low courses or grids.<br />
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All of this to say: I might not be selling him.<br />
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Just kidding. But the above photo is as we approached the first fence of the day, his first cross country jump ever.<br />
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And it pretty much sums up his entire day. "Oh, we're doing a thing now," and he just rolled with it. Ears up, good attitude.<br />
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His form improved tremendously as the day went on, as did his confidence.<br />
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My favorite part of the day was how many of these photos I'm smiling in, especially after the nightmare with Kat.<br />
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His canter continues to need a lot of work, but as the day went on and he relaxed a bit I started to find the best quality I've had from him so far.<br />
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He's just so easy going and willing to please that it makes me feel like a genius.<br />
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He didn't think the water was a big deal at all, although he did threaten to JUMP in at one point.<br />
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And neither going up nor coming down were cause for any concern at all. <br />
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And even when I brought him to a ditch with ZERO real preparation, he popped right over it, no questions asked.<br />
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These aren't even all of my favorite photos! I have to save SOMETHING for y'all in this rain when I write about books or other boring things.<br />
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Anyhow - I love my baby horse and I'm really glad he came along. It made the drive home much more sweet and significantly less bitter.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7363085054614836371.post-23757590365955808372017-01-18T16:01:00.002-08:002017-01-18T16:29:28.805-08:00Love is not a victory marchI borrowed a trailer from a trainer friend and high-tailed it out to the Fresno County Horse Park on Monday with Kat, Freddie, Gus, and Danny all stuffed in there for an adventure.<br />
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The goal was to assess how ready Kat was for training, and to play with some of the questions that would be posed to us in competition.<br />
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The other horses were really just a dressing on the day, more of a "hey if we're going to haul this far might as well bring as many horses along as possible."<br />
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The result was not what one might have hoped (on the primary goal front, that is.)<br />
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Kat warmed up fabulously. Hot? Sure. EXTREMELY forward? Yes. Was it like riding a powder keg? Absolutely.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOL @Kat for that face</td></tr>
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But she <i>felt</i> unbelievable. I felt like I could have ridden for days, skating across the ground without touching it, turning on a thought -- she floated.<br />
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My glee boiled inside me - we were ready to attack this course with everything we had. The kids followed me out and I selected a supremely innocuous intro level jump to hop over a few times on the way out to the start box. I surprised her with it a little and we skated to a halt in front of it. Weird. I brought her around again and we leapt over it, only to hit the ground and <i style="font-weight: bold;">bolt.</i><br />
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"Okay," I told myself, bringing her around to try it again, "we have takeoff."<br />
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Except I couldn't get her back to the jump.<br />
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She baulked. I kicked her. She reared. It started as a little rear, but only got worse. I sent her forward to take her for a bit of a canter, thinking she just had too much energy and needed a bit of a stretch out, but she grabbed the bit between her teeth and <i style="font-weight: bold;">bolted</i> around the entire park, pulling up only when we approached the trailer and her friends. Then the rearing continued.<br />
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I decided to preserve my back and lunge her, even lunging her over the offending jump to remind her to stay steady over the fence.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pony club gives me an <u>F</u> for protective legwear and for any lunging sense whatsoever</td></tr>
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And then I saw it, and it only got worse.<br />
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The head bob.<br />
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Switched directions - much worse.<br />
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I got back on, thinking that since her legs were tight and cool I shouldn't let her finish with a rearing bolting fit, but she IMMEDIATELY started rearing again and there were at least two where I thought to myself, "please, please don't fall on me."<br />
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I declared defeat.<br />
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I threw her on the lunge line Tuesday to check her out and the above is the result. She's not super off on the big circle but I definitely can see it, but everyone can see as I bring her in that she's very lame there.<br />
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Probably an abscess! I thought to myself, thinking that this terrible awful no good behavior <i>had</i> to be caused by pain.<br />
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I've been through a lot of bullshit with this horse, but here's the thing: I've taken her ALL over the place and while I wouldn't say she's a "steady eddy" the fact is that this horse comes off the trailer pretty much like she is at home. Spooky, sensitive, but a phenomenal partner and when she understands the game she bloody comes out to play.<br />
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The horse loves to jump. Usually, the sass fades as soon as she realizes that we're jumping today.<br />
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That didn't happen Monday, and I'm extremely disappointed. I have an appointment with the vet for tomorrow, not only to help me decide whether it's yes abscess no abscess but also because of this:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHAT EVEN IS THAT</td></tr>
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And now readers, I'll leave the good for tomorrow, and will write about what the vet said on Friday. In the meantime, I'll wallow in the sickening feeling of happy-excited-loving-kindness draining into "what's wrong with my horse I shouldn't ride ever again I'm going to get fallen on."<br />
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<br />Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01092098198949213494noreply@blogger.com8