Educating My Ass

Sorry, that's a little crude.  But it seems to be the theme of my riding lessons this year.

Perhaps I should say, Making My Seat More Intelligent.  Learning what I didn't know I didn't know, even with all these years of riding (most of 33 years, less about seven when I was horseless between baby #2 being born and baby #4 hitting preschool age).

What I didn't know #1: that I could ride with pretty much my seat.  Stopping, turning, even increasing the tempo aren't so much functions of the reins or legs as they are of the seat.  The sitting bones, the core, the angle of the pelvis, I've learned to use those more than my hands or legs.  The stronger my core gets, and the more flexible my lower back gets, the more I can lengthen or shorten the horse's stride with just my seat.  No wonder those upper level dressage riders look like they are just sitting there not doing much at all.  It's because their hands and legs aren't doing the lion's share of the work, aren't moving and flapping around for all to see.  No, it's their seat that is working (invisibly) constantly to produce the dance of dressage.

What I didn't know #2: lateral work. I really, really, did not know, or understand lateral work.  This has proven to be the hole in my riding education that I knew existed, in fact when I started riding with my current trainer I flat out told her I knew there were holes because my dressage training had been so sporadic and unstructured (and by and large on green horses I was training myself).  Even though I knew holes existed, I just didn't know what those holes were.  It's come to light that the holes are more like one big hole with title lateral work.  Leg yield, yeah I totally misunderstood how to do that.  No wonder it had never felt quite right or seemed as smooth as when I watched other people ride it. Come to think of it, I'd never really seen, in person, very many people ride leg yield.  Shoulder-in, nope, way off base on that one, which really makes sense to me now that I understand leg yield better.  Haunches in (aka Travers), ha ha ha, such a big no.  Half-pass, well, let's just say the first half-pass I attempted (just a few months ago) was a huge failure and we have since figured out why.  My perception and my aids were all screwed up, that's why.

What I didn't know #3:  How god-awful tense and stiff I am.  I mean, I had an inkling from a few medical experiences in the past such as when I had physical therapy for a knotted muscle in my neck/shoulder area back in 2002 (? maybe it was 2003 or 2004?) in which the therapist barely touched me and told me I really needed to relax, she'd never felt anyone with such tense muscles--and I'd thought I was relaxed!  Also the time an osteopath was going to gently realign a rib that I'd coughed out of place during my horrible awful cold and coughing spell in January 2016, he had to repeatedly tell me to 'give him my arm' that it wasn't loose enough--all while I'd thought I couldn't get any closer to being noodle-like.  Anyway, I knew that in general I'm tense.  But I hadn't thought I was that tense in the saddle. I didn't clench my butt cheeks or pinch the horse with my thighs, and I rode without my legs touching the horse every single second.  I was relaxed, right?   Until I finally understood how to keep my joints elastic and felt a huge difference in the way the horse moved, I definitely was tense.  It's still a struggle, sometimes, to let my body flow instead of trying to push my parts (and my horse) around mechanically.

What I didn't know #4: That riding lessons can be downright fun.  I've always liked having lessons.  When I'm having lessons, I know my potential to make progress is exponentially increased.  But somehow, lessons were always serious occasions and I got a little frustrated with myself if I couldn't meet my trainers requests in that riding session.  With my current trainer, however, I find myself laughing, a lot.  Mostly at myself when I am just twisting myself into a human pretzel and still not getting the desired result from the horse (like that lesson where she tried to teach me the aids for half-pass and I so did not comprehend what body part went where with how much pressure).  Sometimes, though, I'm laughing at her, as she tries to talk me through an exercise or movement by demonstrating, on foot, step by step sequence of aids and how the horse should respond.  As much as I was realizing (and getting frustrated with myself ) that I just wasn't doing things right in the half-pass, it was hilarious to walk (on my horse) behind her as she 'rode' an imaginary horse around the arena, trying to show me by the angle of her hips and shoulders, and placement of her legs and hands, what I should be doing at each point.  Or when I finally have a light-bulb moment, and my aids coordinate, and for a few seconds, I am that lovely dancing dressage rider, and I just laugh from the sheer joy of it.

What I didn't know #5: I really missed the social aspect of riding.  For so long, decades, actually, I'd been in a private barn situation, with one trainer available.  Through the years, the number of other boarders and students dwindled, and there were less and less horse people around me on a daily basis.  At my current barn, there are other active owners, other riders, even other trainers coming in to teach (and welcoming of people who want to sit in on a lesson and watch someone else ride--which by the way, auditing other people's lessons is an excellent way to pick up things and reinforce your own riding skills).  Even though we are from different walks of life, and of different ages, it's nice to chat with other riders on a regular basis.  It has really been since about 1992 that I have felt like part of a family of horse people; and now that I have connected with another 'family' it feels really good to have friends who aren't the wives of DH's friends or coworkers, or friends who aren't the mothers of my children's friends or teammates.  These are my friends, forged by a common bond of horses.