Weekend Clinic

My brain is in a bit of a fog - But whether that is due to long days hauling back and forth to a very exhausting clinic, or due to the fact that I just sprayed a majority of my house for fleas (gross and totally another issue altogether..) everything seems a bit jumbled. 

We had initially signed up for a two day clinic with our favorite outside trainer at a facility that was about 15 minutes from our barn.  I figured it'd be a great opportunity for some extra butt kicking without all the rigmarole of hauling all the way to her facility which is just over an hour away.

Best laid plans and all (wow, do I say that too much?) of course it was forecasted to be the rainiest weekend in Seattle ever and the clinic location only had an outdoor.  Ergo, we relocated to the trainer's home facility which has a gorgeous indoor, but would come with a big commute, in the rain that we were trying to avoid riding in.

The rain was truly hideous and had me at a crawl with the rig.  I think we averaged about 40mph the whole way which turned an already long drive into a painfully long drive, but oh well.  And of course there was no overnight stabling available so we'd be commuting both days (wah).

Prair even tolerated a bath to get all pretty for her outing and modeled her new cooler

She also made faces and demanded cookies

Logistics aside though, it was a very educational weekend.  Prair showed up to work both days and made it possible to really work on some detail stuff as opposed to spending $$ to get instruction on how to calm your dragon-mare-wolf down while the hellish rains drown out any other sound and your ears start to bleed from the dull noise...

We spent a majority of the time working on mobilizing the shoulder, relaxing our lateral work and trying to get Prairie to carry that relaxation into her work over fences. 

Almost immediately my spurs were taken away and my stirrups were raised which left me in a state of perched horror as I tried to figure out what muscles would stabilize my body and position without just death clamping knees. 

The phrase of the day for me was to "whisper" my aids and try to do everything as quietly as possible and still (barely) get a response.  This meant trying to execute out turns on the forehand (and haunch) in slow motion and not letting Prair go "oh I know this!!!" and then proceed to whip herself around. 

This was easier said than done, but exposed an important hole in our communication which is that I ask for something and Prairie goes "EEEEEEEEEeeeee, don't hit me don't hit me don't hit me, watch how fast I can get through this... eeeeEEEEEEE." 

This showed up early in our career together in her canter departs, leg yields and rein back.  Reared (not literally) it's head when we started over fences and Prair would RUSH through them.  And most recently is obvious in the tension she sometimes shows during her flying changes and in between fences of a line.  (especially In and Outs).

The idea being if I can quietly converse with Prair about where her body is and have her respond thoughtfully and without anxiety, then maybe I can start t take that level of communication into the things that Prair just blacks out and rushes through.

The next tool that we used (and I really liked) was the concept of focusing more on lateral flexion (bend) than on vertical flexion (in terms of collection) to soften the mare.  I'm not sure this "fits" on a traditional training progression but it was very effective for us.

I tend to try to constantly soften Prair by collecting her up and working her mouth to keep her from getting tense.  Of course, my own issues get in the way and I end up pick, pick, picking her to death instead of pushing her together and then softening. 

Also, I let the pick, pick, picking turn into a less and less powerful canter and after a while we're barely loping around with zero gas in the tank. 

SO - this idea of lateral flexion over "vertical" was interesting.  Instead of trying to compress her and "tip" her back on her butt - I focused on creating some bend through her neck, or even asking for some haunch in to get her to unlock and transfer her balance. 

Something about the "lateral" ask doesn't trigger my obsession to keep asking for more, more, more... So I was able to ask... and soften.  Ask... and soften.  And wouldn't you know it - the mare felt like butter.  She was patting the ground, slow to take off, soft when she landed and I felt like I could just loop her around however I wanted - no stress or strain attached.

When we put these tools together over some smaller courses I kept having to remind myself not to override the fence (not totally dissimilar to the placing pole-two strides-MONSTER JUMP exercise from last week) and when I did stay soft and not worry about landing our lead and not worry about my distance... we had lovely rides.  When I started working too hard, things deteriorated a bit.  Not exactly shocking, but very obvious. 

We came home exhausted, but no worse for the wear.  I definitely have a few lightbulbs to plug into our regular rides and some new muscles to work on in order to stabilize and support Prair the way I should...

All in all a good weekend!

HP Blog Hop - Your Dream Horse Show

This is a tricky one.  My first dream show was (and I suppose always will be) Rolex.  That being said it is firmly staying in the land of dreams.  I don't have the balls to run cross country over 3', let alone at the four star level so I'm pretty sure the notion of training to that level will stay forever etched in my childhood brain.

Yeah. no.  Never happening.  Ever.

Not that much more realistic, is the distant dream of Devon.  I don't care if I'm in dressage tack or jump tack, I just love the energy of that show.  It has such a strong sense of Americana and something more akin to a fair than some of the other hallmark horse shows that is very appealing to me.  Not that I wouldn't accept a ticket to any of them :)

So many fun horsey things at Devon

Again, probably not ever going, but that Dixon Oval is alluring.

When I was in middle school and high school I watched some of my Hunter friends migrate south every year for Indio.  I couldn't believe that they were excused from Thursday and Friday classes to fly (fly!!) down to the desert and show horses all weekend for weeks on end.  I was jealous, and that much more irritated when my parents wouldn't let me take off a few hours early in order to arrive at Horse Trials before the sun went down (assembling tents in the dark continues to be one of my least favorite activities).

Whether you like horses or not, any Seattle-ite would be *thrilled* to be here in the middle of winter...

Indio has become Thermal, and while I never had it pinned on my wall, the notion of packing up and heading anywhere to show for more than a week is a big 'ol check on my bucket list.  I'm really hoping the pieces come together for us this year.  Over the past week I've let my mind (and heart) run a little wild with the possibility.  (grin). 

Of course I have not even begun to think about the actual cost and what needs to be done to support it... (details.  minor... minor... details..).

The Season

Considering that in June of 2012 I we could barely get Prairie around a course of trot poles at a schooling show, I would have never guessed that 2013 would have brought such a fabulously entertaining (and educational) show season. (not to mention enough ribbons to wallpaper a small room)

I also wouldn't have guessed that I was going to dive head first into the Hunter world with such gusto (checkbook and tailored sportsman's firmly in hand...).

But it's been a very enjoyable experience.  I've found that some of the things about Hunter Land that seemed so unappealing as a wild-teenage-eventer are actually not so bad as a significantly less wild thirty year old with bad knees and a cranky back. 

The beautiful $$$$ horses are fabulously entertaining to watch, the fancy stall set ups are not only wonderful when you're exhausted, but fun to put together and organize.  The obscene amount of ribbons help ease the pain of entry fees and the pursuit of relaxation and rhythm are something this girl can get behind.

Of course everything seems more rewarding and fruitful when you're winning, so Prairie's impressive twelve (what?) tri-colors over the season have certainly helped indoctrinate me.

2013 Tri-Colors *minus* hideous novelty color ribbons.

I was rearranging my ribbon walls in the garage to accommodate her latest haul and was hit by the fact that everything that's (proudly) tacked up is the result of essentially one season of showing.  There are a few ribbons from November 2012 (most of them default for last place, ha) and a couple from our early dressage outings last summer - but for the most part the loot in our trophy room garage is all the result of Prairie's 2013 run. 

I will spare myself the agony of calculating how much that satin cost me per yard, since that's neither helpful nor uplifting - but instead focus on how lucky I am to have put a season like this together and to try to not take it for granted.

It's so easy in the moment to be constantly assuming that there will be a next show, or a next season or a next five seasons - and while I'm the first one to write down goals and constantly have the next step in mind (3'6" A/O's... 3'6" A/O's...) The past month of nursing both Prair and Gus a bit more than I'm used to is all it takes to remind me how fragile our competitive aspirations are.

Lameness.  Life.  Money.  Family.

The amount of stars that have to align to even get to the point of sending in an entry form and walking your horse on the trailer is sometimes dizzying.  As I was rearranging ribbons and moving horse crap around the garage The Boy asked me "um, where are all the ribbons from next year going to go?"

My first thought was "crap, we're almost out of ribbon walls." 

But my second thought was "who knows if there's a next year."

I don't mean to be overly morbid, but I do think it's realistic never to plan too far in advance when you're relying on the participation of a giant, easily broken animal.  Overlay that with my own ailments and conflicts, and it's a miracle we even eek out our weekly lessons.

In that spirit, I'll impede on the current Blog Hop post a bit and put something out in the universe:

We're aiming for a trip to HITS Thermal this winter.

I always told myself that I wouldn't travel (or rather I wouldn't travel, travel) for a show until I was reasonably competitive in a rated division.  It's always just been hard for me to justify the time, money and stress of the BIG shows to play around at 2'3" or 2'6" or Training level Dressage.

But, as S planted the seed of "just think about going down to the desert" in my head, I began to have thoughts....

Who knows how long I'll get to enjoy showing Prairie.  Who knows if/when kids will crop up and exponentially complicate showing.  Who knows if in a few years I'll still have the flexibility at my job to up and leave for a couple weeks.  Who knows?

So, while I doubt that Prair and I will have confirmed our right to strut in the 3' AA ring by January - if she's sound, and I'm able, we're going to make hay while the sun shines even if it's in the baby leagues.

Doctor's Orders - Put 'em up!

Prair really felt fabulous all last week during our hacks and lessons.  I think the injections really have alleviated a lot of her discomfort and she's just happier and more relaxed in her work.  As requested, at the end of the week we checked in with our vet, gave her our feedback and asked for her suggestion.

And she said to put them up. 

Ok, she didn't actually say those words, but she said to get out there, jump the mare and put her over something big enough to make her round her back and lift her belly.

We started with some trot poles (maybe 5 or 6?) and then canter poles, and then canter poles with a jump in the middle.  Then a placing pole, two strides, jump, and a placing pole two strides after. 

2'6", no need to use her body, 3'... meh.  3'3" not much more, 3'6" started to back the mare off and get her to round up. which I thought was pretty good.  It was an inviting ramped oxer... not too wide, but a bit of depth for a nice shape..

Then S put both rails up another hole and I was given express instructions to hit my distance to the pole then RELAX and let Prairie manage herself up to and over the jump.

relax? uhhhhhhhhh I'll try.

it was great.

Then everything went up another hole.

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I'll try?

Then they went up another hole!

AHHHHHHHHHHHH I'll try???????

And then there were no more holes to move up because we were literally at the top of the standards.  So we just jumped that height a few times getting a nice rhythm and me trying to keep my body quiet and slow...

Prair, hiding behind her humongous fence

I must say it's the best I've ever felt Prairie over fences.  Her takeoff was slow and deliberate, the jump was round (though I didn't get snapped out of the tack, thank god) and her landing was soft and controlled - not at all rushed or anxious.

Also, I didn't die.  The mare didn't do anything dirty or rude and it was totally fun.  I have not jumped anything 4' or higher since high school.  Which, for those keeping count was not exactly yesterday...

I think we topped out around 4'3"?  I'll have to measure the standard at some point so I know what our high water mark is.  But regardless I felt her back in a way  I never have before and now I know what we're trying to replicate at lower heights.  I'm ok dropping back under 3' for a bit now :)  But nothing like a good adrenaline rush first thing in the morning....

The following day I headed out for a nice slow ride working pretty much only on long and low to let her stretch out and have an easy day after our efforts the previous day. 

You'd think I'd know by now that there is no such thing as "sticking to a plan" with horses but it's amazing that I continue to try.

When I got to the barn one of our friends who regularly takes the All-Around high point award home with her cute Paint gelding was getting out her cart (!!) to practice driving.  Knowing that Prairie would see said cart, decide it was chasing said cute gelding and would most certainly chase her after it caught and devoured him - I had two choices.

1. Play pretty-pretty-princess and groom the crap out of the mare until the death-cart was gone from the outdoor

or

2. Tack up in a rush and make the mare deal with the cart (being pulled around at a slow jog) while we rode.

The second options sounded way more fun to me so I threw tack on and scooted out to join in the cart pulling fun.

Or rather, I scooted - Prair on the other hand planted all four hooves like a mule and snorted at the cart from a safe distance of about 50 yards outside the ring.

Once we got actually in the arena and actually on, things stayed pretty entertaining.  Prair was okay as long as she could see the cart, but if I circled away and she had to turn her back to it she got all sorts of wigged out and tried her best to spin out from under me.

It wasn't exactly the "relaxed, long... and low..." ride I was planning for, but it was a "productive" one.

After about 5 minutes the mare calmed down enough for us to get (sort of) to work.  Much like our high flying adventures the day before, when we picked up the trot, the only thing I could think was "holy shit her back feels rad."

Now, there was a good two-Mississippi between her footfalls and I felt like I was in some medieval parade of knights, but omg she felt ahhhhhmaaaaaazing.

Also of note was that even with all the huffing and puffing and freaking-the-eff-out, Prair was shockingly light in my hand.  It didn't feel like I had to have her on lockdown the whole time, but that I could ask for forward, and ask for her head to stay not in my lap and then relax for a bit without a legitimate feat that we would end up across the highway.

So we fake-passaged around the arena, Prair calmed down enough that we could follow the cart around the whole arena and worked through our W-T-C both ways.  She never quite lost her super-inflated-lofty gaits, but I figured if we're supposed to be asking her to step up and round her back... freaking out about a cart sorta counts.

I, on the other hand, was exhausted.  I really wouldn't have complained about a boring long and low hack... But that's not to say I didn't have a stupid grin on my face the whole time. :)