I'm beginning to form "iron legs." What this metallurgic metaphor means is I'm starting to develop enough technique in my legs such that the horse listens - really listens - to them regardless of whether I'm wearing spurs or not. The result is an increase in my control over Nikita and an improvement in our way of going. We can now produce several FEI-quality shoulder-ins at the trot down a single longside as proof of our harmony.
Like the first time I corrected a child and she actually listened, I'm dumbfounded by the fact that a 1500lb animal actually does what I tell her to do. I urge her forward to tell her to GET THOSE HINDLEGS UNDERNEATH YOU NOW, and she responds by increasing her engagement. This is the point of dressage, to create a malleable temperament, to render submission and sophistication in an otherwise wild animal. And apparently, that's an achievable goal.
Yet, I constantly feel like my control is an illusion, that one day Nikita will just stop listening and stand immovable, like the teenager who realizes she has a will of her own. If I were her, that's what I'd do. Regardless of the quality of the movement we produce, I still feel like I've gotten away with something, pulled a fast one on the mare, and that it's only a matter of time before Nikita realizes that her compliance isn't necessary.
