May '12: Two Free Rides

Having gone done midweek a couple of times to see P after Uni, she offered me two free rides. The first was in a lesson with folk I know from Saturday: a bunch of sisters who can be frustrating as they don't listen, and with no dual controls when learning to ride, it is one of P's bug bears (she's been known to stop teaching those who don't listen) and also a middle-aged German woman who also doesn't listen very much. I was on Guinness and knew immediately why I was there without being asked: to be start of the queue and listen to P, so the rest would have to follow suit or else crash into/fall behind my horse.  I was right: I was put as ride leader.

Guinness is better in group lessons, but only in the snake: he likes to be behind horses so that he knows what to do and can get on without with any flapping legs or crops from his usually novice rider. He also likes to race and get caught up with the horse in front, because being close up means going slower.  At the front of the queue he sees no benefit and goes back to his lazy self, but not today: he quickly worked out I was boss and not taking no for an answer, and he became a dream. I think I used the crop 3, maybe 4 times in total: I cannot explain what kind of record that is for such a stubborn, leg-dead horse! Voice and squeezes were enough, and the compliments came rolling in: not just from P but from the fellow riders, as every single one of them has a problem getting him going. I've been there too, and remember how others got so much more out of him than I could; now I'm in that position where I'm the one working him well and it felt like a great mark of my progress 80)

The lesson was a jumping lesson: I've done bits of jumping the past few months, but never a full indoor course. I walked it properly, focusing on the turns and where to come off the wall for a clear round versus a jump off course and performed it perfectly: did every single textbook line, and Guinness was forward and keen to go with me. It felt great. No one that followed took the correct lines: they all cut everything off and jumped it with jump-off turns, but without the forwardness and rhythm needed. I can get that the kids might not see it, but I was surprised the adult didn't, especially as I'd laid it out so clearly and P praised my lines. Anyway, on came the jump-off and the adult said “Oh, if I do this all in canter, I'll be faster right?” I didn't give a proper reply: the answer in this indoor arena was clearly no: the best thing is to canter over the first fence to land further away, as this is when the clock starts, making the course shorter. Then, with such tight turns and angled jumps possible (all only 60cm or so), rhythm, balance and momentum could only be maintained with a forward trot. I'd done this, and done the course in 15.2 seconds. The only person to beat me was a rider on a Welsh A about 3 hands smaller than Guinness, who accidentally galloped on her rider. I was happy a 14.2 arm chair was only half a second behind the much more manoeverable Welshy, the smallest riding pony on the yard. Chuffed in fact 80)

I'd forgotten how much fun jumping courses can be, and how much I enjoy the technical side of things. Even watching SJ on TV, I'm analysing the course, looking at lines into fences, and seeing alternative routes and gutsy turns in jump-offs. Analysing jump-off courses and seeing who's bold enough to  make the turns and lines I see is my favourite part of watching things like the Global Champions Tour, Nation's Cup and Rolex World Cup competitions. I love to see riders take paths I have completely discounted as being too tight from the TV map of the course: I will never forget Philip Weishaupt getting a fence judge to move because he was to to take a path so short and tight, leaving about one stride at an angle over a gappy vertical and made it. He rightly won that leg of the  World Cup! I love that boldness, that foresight, and the knowing your horse so well; a real skill I think.

The second ride was just 20mins and not a lesson: P told me to ride like I owned Guinness. I wish I'd had more notice and I would have had more of a plan. I was thinking as I warmed him up though and he knew it: asked for a canter to warm up and because I didn't tell him, I asked while thinking what to do next, he played me. It lasted all of 30 seconds: my voice, legs and crop gave him a firm clue that laziness would not be tolerated. He gave up immediately – I cantered on both reins really relaxed, with no leg on. He knew he'd underestimated me and yielded.

We did some circle work and I struggled to get him to bend. I did some 'round the jump' stuff (turning in as small an elipse as possible literally around the jump, straightening up on the long sides as it were). That helped, but I wish I'd spent more time doing that until I'd got the bend through his body as well. I find that Guinness sometimes gives me one and not the other: I think he often genuinely doesn't know what's being asked though as no one else asks him for a bend.

I tried some collected work: I used sitting trot to get it in that pace and it worked a treat. I tried to collect the canter the way I'd done on Whisperer in my lesson at the city yard: legs on but half-halting. Guinness had no idea what I meant: he kept breaking down into a wonderfully forward and generous trot (he wasn't rushing through my hand like a youngster). It was coming to the end of my 20mins and I knew I needed to warm-down, so I gave up on that but have made a note that it's something I could work on under P's guidance.  I brought him back to walk, he did some lovely leg yields for me right across the school, but was moving less on his good rein than his weaker one oddly enough. It was going so well though that I pushed him up to trot and he kept it up for me, rather than dying out towards the end despite my leg being on. I was chuffed! He really stretched down when we free-walked at the end, and I was generally pleased at what we'd got out of our 20mins.