When I got Nicole, I remember distinctly saying to myself "I'm not going to have a pansy-fragile-flower horse, she's going to be tough."
Ha, was that ever a delusion. As the fates would have it, I have a fragile butterfly. Nic is now off for a couple days because of a girth sore. This horse has more skin problems than I've ever seen in my life. She's on flax because of excessive dry skin; pre-flax, I would brush her and large flakes of dandruff would emerge, as grandiose and consistent as the Atlantic tides on the sand at Normandy.
She spent most of the summer scratching her belly against the ground, so that sores would appear and remain for weeks. Now that the summer is over, so is the scratching.
Currently, we are in girth hell. Nothing seems to keep her from developing these sores, and one has appeared on her belly and has direct contact with her girth. I started her with a leather girth, which aggravated an already-existent sore on her side (a little added feature when I bought her).
Enter fleece-covered elastic girth stage right, which created this current sore in less than 2 weeks. Rope girths aren't an option.
We shall try a neoprene girth next. I wish these things came in actual bodysuit material because the neoprene is too similar to plastic for my tastes.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
November 9, 2007
An interesting phenomenon has occurred, which I feel deserves the undivided attention of its own post. 6 months ago I wouldn't have guessed this would occur.
Since I began slowing Nic down and making her more drivable, the mare has become, as expected, more drivable. This vehicular similarity has started to cause her to raise her withers a little, and maybe one day we'll actually start to see some shoulder freedom.
Unexpectedly, however, she has become more drivable and balanced at a faster rate at the canter than at the trot. She is softer in the mouth, and responds to quieter aids and I'm starting to feel some consistent relaxation, which wasn't there a month ago. Downward transitions are still an issue, because, however nice she is in the up transition and in the actual canter, she still braces on the down transition.
At the trot she isn't as through as nicely, and still hangs on the bit. She isn't as willing to raise her back, but a new friend showed me another way to longe her, the method to which Nic has taken a liking. The method involves taking the longe line and running it through the saddle's billet straps, on the inside of her circle, like a sort of third side rein. Nic stretches much better in this sort of contact and actually seeks the bit. The other advantage is when her attention goes elsewhere, I have an easy way to half halt her to get her attention back on me. I'm starting to think, however, that the massage therapist should be called to see if there is some sort of muscle issue in her back.
It appears as if she is starting to grow some more muscle on her withers, although I could just be imagining it.
On another note, she stopped shying at the corners of the arena with the doors (as in my last post) now that I have shut them. I think that's contributing to some of her new found relaxation (not that she's really relaxed, but is more so than before I shut those doors).
Since I began slowing Nic down and making her more drivable, the mare has become, as expected, more drivable. This vehicular similarity has started to cause her to raise her withers a little, and maybe one day we'll actually start to see some shoulder freedom.
Unexpectedly, however, she has become more drivable and balanced at a faster rate at the canter than at the trot. She is softer in the mouth, and responds to quieter aids and I'm starting to feel some consistent relaxation, which wasn't there a month ago. Downward transitions are still an issue, because, however nice she is in the up transition and in the actual canter, she still braces on the down transition.
At the trot she isn't as through as nicely, and still hangs on the bit. She isn't as willing to raise her back, but a new friend showed me another way to longe her, the method to which Nic has taken a liking. The method involves taking the longe line and running it through the saddle's billet straps, on the inside of her circle, like a sort of third side rein. Nic stretches much better in this sort of contact and actually seeks the bit. The other advantage is when her attention goes elsewhere, I have an easy way to half halt her to get her attention back on me. I'm starting to think, however, that the massage therapist should be called to see if there is some sort of muscle issue in her back.
It appears as if she is starting to grow some more muscle on her withers, although I could just be imagining it.
On another note, she stopped shying at the corners of the arena with the doors (as in my last post) now that I have shut them. I think that's contributing to some of her new found relaxation (not that she's really relaxed, but is more so than before I shut those doors).
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Nicole, ROI, and the Incidental Love Child: November 4, 2007
Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination. - Oscar Wilde
Being a quintessential American, and therefore a die-hard believer in free-market economies, I tend to look at the world with a capitalist sensibility. While dressage functions in its own solar system and typically is ill-suited for this mindset on many different levels, I regard my time with Nicole with the same concern for return on investment as Ol' John Pierpont Morgan did for his banking conquests.
The sport of dressage, being the incidental love child of the European aristocracy and the armed forces, really doesn't lend itself to the capitalist mentality for 3 reasons. Primo, capitalism in its purest form is sustained by the free thinker. Since historically neither the aristocracy nor the armed forces approve of "thinking outside the box," dressage was not born to promote the rugged individualism that sustains a free-market economy. The standard dressage uniform proves my point.
I'd like to say that this is because there's nothing new under the training sun, but in reality I think it's because dressage, like all sports, fosters a dependence on the teacher, so that the student generally doesn't feel comfortable outside of the feudal norm to make their own decisions (whether we want to admit it or not). Having participated in several sports, I feel comfortable asserting that this isn't unique to dressage, but rather typical across the athletic board.
Secundo, dressage is the only sport that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between. What began as a method to better enable one to slaughter enemies soon became the playground of the well-heeled, creating a sort of distorted monetary inflation in the equus sense. Once you've participated in dressage, your view of financial reality becomes somewhat altered. When you buy a dressage horse, you basically buy it for pleasure (i.e., sentimentalism), and any sort of financial conservatism tends to go out the window with the bathwater.
Poor Johnny Boy Morgan would turn over in his grave at the cost of horsecare, training, and shows; the ardent capitalist wouldn't approve of this sort of willy-nilly spending unless they were the seller. When you own a dressage horse, somehow it becomes reasonable to buy $20 oil to supplement your horses feed; hearing friends complain about their $1600 air ticket to India makes your eyes roll, because that was, after all, how much you spent on board and training last month; and spending $20,000 on what's effectively a pet is considered cheap.
Tertio, capitalists judge everything by "return on investment." There's an old joke that goes like this: "How do you make a small fortune in the horse business? Start with a large fortune." Horses in general just don't lend themselves to any sort of return on investment except in terms of intangibles, such as pleasure or pride. It's quite rare to actually make money on a horse; most money is made on training and lessons, which is mostly based on human labor. Any sane capitalist would regard the horse business with a jaundiced eye and avoid it like the Black Plague.
However, with regards to Nicole's training I consider return on investment very important. One of the mare's quirks is an extreme anxietal reaction to any sort of open doorway. (Note, we don't have any of these issues when schooling outside in a ring or in a field). Whether walking in hand or actually training in saddle, she tends to shy away violently from open doorways. At this new barn, this means that we can only use 2/3rds of the arena, as her particular issue with with a doorway at one end of the arena. I don't think I need to explain how ridiculous it is to only use 2/3rds of an arena.
I'm done with trying to train it out of her - the time spent making her comfortable with open doorways is time I could be spending on something more valuable, like working on balance and transitions, or God forbid, myself. Additionally, we are unlikely to be in a competition setting where an open doorway comes into play; most shows are outside.
Most importantly, however, I see it as a never-ending cycle; as soon as I get her comfortable with the doorway, someone (or some cat) will appear, and we will be back to square one. If someone else wants to take a shot at training this out of her, then have at it, but I think it's pointless. Instead, I plan to just close doors as I can, and hopefully she will forget that there ever was an opening in the wall altogether. I did so yesterday, and she was marginally better after a few rotations around the ring.
Perhaps someone with more time and patience could train her out of it, and to that guy I take my hat off. But I think the return on that investment is too little compared to the other things I can work with her on. J.P. Morgan would be proud.
Being a quintessential American, and therefore a die-hard believer in free-market economies, I tend to look at the world with a capitalist sensibility. While dressage functions in its own solar system and typically is ill-suited for this mindset on many different levels, I regard my time with Nicole with the same concern for return on investment as Ol' John Pierpont Morgan did for his banking conquests.
The sport of dressage, being the incidental love child of the European aristocracy and the armed forces, really doesn't lend itself to the capitalist mentality for 3 reasons. Primo, capitalism in its purest form is sustained by the free thinker. Since historically neither the aristocracy nor the armed forces approve of "thinking outside the box," dressage was not born to promote the rugged individualism that sustains a free-market economy. The standard dressage uniform proves my point.
I'd like to say that this is because there's nothing new under the training sun, but in reality I think it's because dressage, like all sports, fosters a dependence on the teacher, so that the student generally doesn't feel comfortable outside of the feudal norm to make their own decisions (whether we want to admit it or not). Having participated in several sports, I feel comfortable asserting that this isn't unique to dressage, but rather typical across the athletic board.
Secundo, dressage is the only sport that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between. What began as a method to better enable one to slaughter enemies soon became the playground of the well-heeled, creating a sort of distorted monetary inflation in the equus sense. Once you've participated in dressage, your view of financial reality becomes somewhat altered. When you buy a dressage horse, you basically buy it for pleasure (i.e., sentimentalism), and any sort of financial conservatism tends to go out the window with the bathwater.
Poor Johnny Boy Morgan would turn over in his grave at the cost of horsecare, training, and shows; the ardent capitalist wouldn't approve of this sort of willy-nilly spending unless they were the seller. When you own a dressage horse, somehow it becomes reasonable to buy $20 oil to supplement your horses feed; hearing friends complain about their $1600 air ticket to India makes your eyes roll, because that was, after all, how much you spent on board and training last month; and spending $20,000 on what's effectively a pet is considered cheap.
Tertio, capitalists judge everything by "return on investment." There's an old joke that goes like this: "How do you make a small fortune in the horse business? Start with a large fortune." Horses in general just don't lend themselves to any sort of return on investment except in terms of intangibles, such as pleasure or pride. It's quite rare to actually make money on a horse; most money is made on training and lessons, which is mostly based on human labor. Any sane capitalist would regard the horse business with a jaundiced eye and avoid it like the Black Plague.
However, with regards to Nicole's training I consider return on investment very important. One of the mare's quirks is an extreme anxietal reaction to any sort of open doorway. (Note, we don't have any of these issues when schooling outside in a ring or in a field). Whether walking in hand or actually training in saddle, she tends to shy away violently from open doorways. At this new barn, this means that we can only use 2/3rds of the arena, as her particular issue with with a doorway at one end of the arena. I don't think I need to explain how ridiculous it is to only use 2/3rds of an arena.
I'm done with trying to train it out of her - the time spent making her comfortable with open doorways is time I could be spending on something more valuable, like working on balance and transitions, or God forbid, myself. Additionally, we are unlikely to be in a competition setting where an open doorway comes into play; most shows are outside.
Most importantly, however, I see it as a never-ending cycle; as soon as I get her comfortable with the doorway, someone (or some cat) will appear, and we will be back to square one. If someone else wants to take a shot at training this out of her, then have at it, but I think it's pointless. Instead, I plan to just close doors as I can, and hopefully she will forget that there ever was an opening in the wall altogether. I did so yesterday, and she was marginally better after a few rotations around the ring.
Perhaps someone with more time and patience could train her out of it, and to that guy I take my hat off. But I think the return on that investment is too little compared to the other things I can work with her on. J.P. Morgan would be proud.
Friday, November 2, 2007
November 2, 2007
Yesterday I felt the beginnings of some looseness at the canter. It felt as if she was finally starting to reach for the bit, rather than just holding herself in a frame. It felt as if we could finally start having some sort of conversation at the canter. I've included 2 videos below; they are of the same sequence, but I slowed one down because it's hard to get a sense of anything in the first video because it happens so fast.
The thing about these videos is the canter looks worse than it has in previous videos. She appears more on her forehand, and less on the vertical. The canter is better not because it looks good, but because she is responding in a more conversational manner. I can fix the rest of it easily once she starts to consistently relax in the canter.
Original:
Slowed down:
The thing about these videos is the canter looks worse than it has in previous videos. She appears more on her forehand, and less on the vertical. The canter is better not because it looks good, but because she is responding in a more conversational manner. I can fix the rest of it easily once she starts to consistently relax in the canter.
Original:
Slowed down:
Monday, October 29, 2007
Nicole, The Lowdown, and All I Didn't Want to Know: October 30, 2007
Last Friday, as the East Coast was deluged, the barn lost electricity. Most farms in this area are not on the town water lines; instead, they pump water from wells, and, significantly, use electricity to pump water. So, not only did the barn lose electricity, we also lost plumbing.
To the rest of the world, this is a minor inconvenience, but to horse people, this loss is more intense. The new barn leaves horses 10 gallons of water to last them overnight (2 5-gallon buckets); multiply by 10 horses, and that's 100 gallons of water that must be found somehow. Which is how I found myself, dripping wet, collecting rainwater for Nicole, and in the midst of this all-too-appropriate setting, through the simple conversations that open the golden gates to womens' psyche, I got to know my new barn mates and trainer better.
The horse world truly is a microcosm of the world at large, except the emotions of the world become more operatic and concentrated within the equine milieu. In other words, the intrigues and happenings in the horse world are the stuff that the rest of the world gets to watch on “COPS;” horse people, however, experience these extremes first-hand, founding a general status quo of Jerry Springer proportions. This is why instead of hearing: “I love my mare,” you hear horse people utter: “oh my God in Heaven, I love my mare.” See the difference in emotional weight given to the same sentiment?
Not only is this because the horse world is gravid with estrogen, but is, more precisely, due to the female population's persistent need to over-analyze everything. When women gather in large numbers, they are overwrought by the adolescent desire for validation; from thus is born Agamemnon for the horsey set.
In all my business dealings, in my interactions with the horse world, and with my social circles, I've found this to be a uniquely female experience. And like army buddies that survive wars together, it's during these times that I learn the lowdown and all I didn't want to know about the various players in my social circle.
While the rest of the world sees a rainstorm as the opportunity to lay off the yard work, the horse population deems it auspicious to strut and fret in their production of “Analyze Your Trainer.” Having partaken in this soap opera many times in the past, I am familiar with the proceedings, and simply declaring “It was Professor Plum in the library with a kitchen knife!” won't get you very far. Once “Analyze Your Trainer” starts, you have to finish it, however much you pray for it to be over.
The central scene of “Analyze Your Trainer” involves women who expect personal validation from their trainers. If they don't receive it, they have to analyze why, convinced subconsciously that their trainer's really their spouse, parent, or preacher in disguise, and that they are owed some level of undue attention. And the poor trainer is left holding emotional baggage of the feminine kind.
As this fiery production wages on, it hits its zenith in a fine melodramatic aria: the invalidation of the trainer, their credentials, their goals, and their lives. It’s here, dear reader, that the rubber hits the road, and as passion overrides emotional boundaries, I learn more than I ever wished.
And I’m left wondering “who cares?”
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Nicole, Perspective, and "The Chi of Dressage": October 24, 2007
I've been absent for a while because I've been trying to sort out how I want to refer to the new barn/trainer, but have yet to make a decision. So, I'll just briefly discuss what we've been working on.
Nic and I had our first lesson last week, and the main focus was just slowing the mare down. Perspective is a funky concept, because it's based on the viewer's point of reference. If you ask 10 people what happened in an accident, you will likely get 10 different variations of the truth. Even the video camera shows a different perspective depending on where it's placed in the arena.
Because I'm used to "the way Nic is," it just didn't really occur to me that her tempo is too fast. In short, her tension lulled me into a status quo that possibly is just left of correct. On the other hand, the casual viewer doesn't realize that this too-fast tempo is much improved over her way of going last spring.
However, when urged to slow her down, I felt the difference. The horse actually became more "driveable." (To my non-dressage readers: If your horse is more "driveable," that means they are easier to control, easier to balance, and therefore easier to ride.) The idea we were shooting for is to make Nic "so slow I had to urge her forward with my leg." This was achieved through the seat, i.e., just sitting more still and putting more weight in my seatbones as if my intention was to halt her. The sense that there is now some sort of elasticity to my horse is amazing.
The other result of this, and an unexpected one at that, is that I feel I am starting to attain a greater sense of balance in my seat. Because the drivability of the horse and balance of the rider's seat are the Chi of dressage, if either's off, then your Chi is off, and you just got a big ol' mess you have to contend with.
Basically, the whole point was to work on Nic and her tension issues, which really stand in the way of achieving anything right now. I mean, there is good tension, and that has its place, but Nic's tension gets in the way of her training sometimes. She's definitely had moments this week (you didn't know motorcycles ate horses, did you?) but overall she feels more on the aids and less as if she's gunning for the title of "First Triple Crown Winner Since Seattle Slew."
Recidivism being the antithesis of evolution, it's nice to know that we have a trainer (and the omnipresent and ever-objective video camera) to keep us in line.
Nic and I had our first lesson last week, and the main focus was just slowing the mare down. Perspective is a funky concept, because it's based on the viewer's point of reference. If you ask 10 people what happened in an accident, you will likely get 10 different variations of the truth. Even the video camera shows a different perspective depending on where it's placed in the arena.
Because I'm used to "the way Nic is," it just didn't really occur to me that her tempo is too fast. In short, her tension lulled me into a status quo that possibly is just left of correct. On the other hand, the casual viewer doesn't realize that this too-fast tempo is much improved over her way of going last spring.
However, when urged to slow her down, I felt the difference. The horse actually became more "driveable." (To my non-dressage readers: If your horse is more "driveable," that means they are easier to control, easier to balance, and therefore easier to ride.) The idea we were shooting for is to make Nic "so slow I had to urge her forward with my leg." This was achieved through the seat, i.e., just sitting more still and putting more weight in my seatbones as if my intention was to halt her. The sense that there is now some sort of elasticity to my horse is amazing.
The other result of this, and an unexpected one at that, is that I feel I am starting to attain a greater sense of balance in my seat. Because the drivability of the horse and balance of the rider's seat are the Chi of dressage, if either's off, then your Chi is off, and you just got a big ol' mess you have to contend with.
Basically, the whole point was to work on Nic and her tension issues, which really stand in the way of achieving anything right now. I mean, there is good tension, and that has its place, but Nic's tension gets in the way of her training sometimes. She's definitely had moments this week (you didn't know motorcycles ate horses, did you?) but overall she feels more on the aids and less as if she's gunning for the title of "First Triple Crown Winner Since Seattle Slew."
Recidivism being the antithesis of evolution, it's nice to know that we have a trainer (and the omnipresent and ever-objective video camera) to keep us in line.
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