Getting it Back

I've talked a lot about how difficult Indy is to ride on this blog. She IS difficult to ride, but I don't mind the challenge. Yes, there are times I wish that she would be a little more agreeable. She can about make me go into spasms trying to avoid losing my temper. I wouldn't mind if she were a little braver.

Cute little kid refers to her as "Sweetie". Indy sure has him fooled.

Those are the bad things. There are plenty of good. One of things that causes me so many problems is also one of her strengths: she's a fighter. While it may take 20 minutes to get her working for instead of against me, we get some good quality work. She will keep pushing through for me even when she starts getting tired. That will be very beneficial in the future as her training becomes more strenuous. Indy is a lot of things, but a quitter is not one of them.

Photo from last spring. Awkward canter #1.

A lot of the stunts that Indy pulls are because of my weaknesses. I'm well aware of that and am not ashamed at all. No one's perfect and I'm allowed to make mistakes the same as anyone else.

All I can do is keep putting out my best effort and continue to keep learning.

Awkward canter #2

When I was younger, I was a fairly fearless rider. We didn't have an arena at my house, so a large part of my experience came from galloping across hay fields or down the ditch bank. I loved when harvest season was over so I could set up a jump made of lawn chairs and landscaping poles in the field next to our house. My mom hauled me to lessons, pony club, and 4-H a lot, but having to ride in less than desirable conditions made me bolder than anything else could have.

As I got into my late teens, I became even braver. Riding colts never bothered me. I actually loved it. If I got bucked off, I'd just climb back on and go.  The same went for if I got planted at a fence. I was pretty confident in my athletic ability to typically keep me on or to help me land safely if I did come off.

Random pic of Winn because he needs more moments in the spotlight.

Now I'm in my thirties and am a lot more aware of my mortality. Every year I seem to become a little more wary. It's not really the horses themselves that worry me, it's the surroundings around me. The things that are completely out of my control. This train of thought is, to be frank, just stupid; but there you have it.

Basically, I'm not scared, yet I see something and the first thing that pops into my head is how my horse might react to it.

The big guy has been a rockstar lately and cheers me up when I'm struggling with Indy.

The other night I was riding Winn. He is at a more laid back facility (which I like really well). The guy that owns it is a team roper. He was watching me ride and playing fetch with his dog. His dog would go flying to retrieve it's ball and do a quite lovely sliding stop across the gravel to grab it, making all sorts of noise. I had a quick flash of Winn having a fit over these proceedings and then quickly realized I needed to stop being so ridiculous. A) Winn isn't a spooky horse. B) If that scares him, I've done a horrible job with him. I quit worrying about it and just enjoyed my ride. While Winn found the dog playing entertaining, he certainly wasn't upset by it. Why should I be?

Since then I've tried to transfer that attitude over to Indy. Keeping her in "comfortable" situations is never going to get us anywhere. I'll never be able to truly enjoy riding her if I'm constantly on the lookout for trouble. 

Slightly less awkward canter other than I don't know what the hell my body was doing.

The fact is that even though she can be a real brat at times, she isn't out to hurt me. There were times where I could feel Indy wanting to cut in two, but she didn't. Her spooking is usually just gawking at the offending object, a quick duck sideways, or a grabbing her ass for a couple of strides. There were a couple of times her steering was questionable until I got myself together and just sat back and rode her through it. She doesn't do anything dangerous. If she wanted to get me off, she could have. Miss Dollface can really buck and she's never done anything more than a crow-hop with me on her back. It's time to start trusting her more. So I have.

When a lady wanted to lunge her three year old in the arena while I was riding last night and was worried about setting Indy off, I didn't hesitate to tell her that it was fine. As her horse took off, bucking and tearing around, Indy's head and tail went straight in the air while she snorted loudy to a very interesting version of passage. It didn't bother me. I didn't tense up, I didn't grab her face, but made myself relax and kept my leg on while ignoring her reaction and the horse lungeing altogether. My only focus was where we were going, the rest of the world blocked out. Within about thirty seconds, Indy was over it. She then proceeded to go better than she had been going before the lady started lungeing her horse.

If you haven't been reading this blog long, Indy doesn't get over anything in thirty seconds. Ever. Much less go better once something has set her off. It felt like a damn miracle!

I've learned my lesson. In trying to protect my horse (and to be perfectly honest, my general well-being too) from traumatic experiences, I've done her a disservice. How can she be confident if I'm hesitant? She can't figure things out if I don't give her the opportunity.

She really can be nice to ride when she wants to.

This is something I've known all along, but seem to have forgotten about throughout the years. I won't again. The best part about riding is that the rest of the world is supposed to disappear, be left forgotten while we enjoy our time in the saddle. So, from now on it's just my horse and I and where we're headed.