Apres-Clinique
Jun. 1st, 2006 01:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancinghorseThe problem with really great clinics, as in, transformative ones, is the clinician leaves and there you are, back in reality. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raithen, this is as much for you as for me.) I'm blessed that I have Teacher to keep things going, but when she's been transformed, too, the results can be a bit, well, illuminating, let's say.
Today was the first lesson day since the clinic. Summer has arrived in the desert: it's 100F now, just shy of 2 p.m. It wasn't so bad this morning, but the heat was rising fast. Pandora was quite happy to come out for a lesson. I wanted to ride her for a couple of reasons. First, I didn't ride her in the clinic, so I wanted to transfer what I'd learned to her. And, I wanted to see what she learned from being ridden by trainers for three days. Not to mention, when I rode her on Tuesday, I'd basically forgotten how to ride her. I couldn't find her back at all.
This morning I had her back--my seatbones plugged right in. And that was good. We started off covering the arena with hoofprints, so that I could continue to get the feel of her spine, while working on keeping my torso upright, left side not collapsing, elbows bent, forearms light. She likes to really push her right shoulder out and does her best to shove my right seatbone with it. Per Teacher's clinic notes, I tried riding with my hands somewhat to the left: right rein on her neck, left rein open. That helped her balance and got her somewhat off the shoulder. Then I had to remember to Not pull with the left rein when she wanted to veer right, but use my seatbones to mold her back toward the middle (like a potter shaping a pot on a wheel). Everything has to come from the seat when it comes to turns (lower leg is Not for turns, it's for impulsion and rhythm only).
We rode spirals to work on this: spiral in, legyield out. Not possible with this horse if I pull with reins or over-ride the seat or get off balance leaning or pushing. In walk we did OK and I was able to trust my aids and not pull so much on the inside (especially left) rein.
Trot was harder. She's used to blowing through my aids, she wants to make me grab that left rein, and she knows I'm very easy to frustrate. When I'm frustrated I screw up even worse.
It wasn't pretty.
Going right wasn't so terribly bad. I started to figure out that I could keep the left rein for support and hold-release both reins in such a way that I could demonstrate for both of us that I trusted my seat to keep her on the circle. It was a pretty cool feeling to be flying along on this big, powerful horse, with just a feel of the corners of her mouth, and everything happening in the seat.
Going left was rather ugly. I overuse the left rein, I collapse the left side, the horse veers wildly off toward the barn (at one point I dinged my toe on the fence, ow). I drop the right rein, you see, and the more she avoids it, the wimpier I am. It was very, very frustrating. I yelled at Teacher. Communications problem. If told to get firm or use a stronger aid, I invariably and automatically lock up solid from the brain cells down. I start to fight and push-pull and lean and in every way get less effective.
I Need To Stop This. Eventually I did sort of get straight on her back and I figured out that instead of clamping the right rein, a clear give-take would give her the signal to get off her shoulder and come around on the circle. I'll need to practice it a lot, and someday maybe I'll internalize it.
It was a rough lesson. We were both wringing wet. I have some good things to remember and feel and try to make happen in other rides. But sometimes, you know, those old bad habits are bloody maddening. I want so much to ride Pandora the way I saw the others ride her--and damn it I will, but I have a long way to go first. She isn't going to make it easy for me. Teacher's aids are pretty solid, and TL's aids are impermeable; I have to get to that point to be as good as I want to be.
And that's a tall order for the original Triumph of the Body-Stupid. Of course I would have to land myself with a large, green, difficult, opinionated, determinedly crooked horse who in spite of all that is hugely talented and very happy when she gets to show it. She just won't do anything unless I'm perfect first.
Which means I must Stop Clamping Up whenever the horse doesn't go the way I think I'm asking her to go. And stop trying to force it by leaning or pulling. And...
Aaarrrghh. Reality bites. In the butt.
In other news, I bought my ticket to Dallas for the July clinic. I've been offered Lipizzans to ride, which saves me paying a fortune (not to mention wear and tear on the horses) to haul my own horse or horses there. I got one of the last affordable nonstop tickets before the price jumped significantly, which was nice. My airport pickup has been arranged, my rides are going to happen, I just have to get the overnight accommodations sorted out (those are in train) and deal with the nerves of riding strange horses (albeit Lipizzans) in front of a Living Master. I wish in the worst way that Pook could go, but not at current gas prices. And he's not ready anyway--he's barely started back to work.
Meanwhile, copyedits for The Serpent and the Rose went in yesterday--not impressed with this ce; too many "corrections" resulting in wrong punctuation or grammar, and too many "Duh"-level queries. I've had the best ce's in the business; this one is not in their league. Or anywhere even close. Grumpfmle. And tomorrow the "Author Alterations" of Shattered Dance should arrive--Harlequin's bizarre version of proofs, which are basically galleys or first-pass proofs, but that's it, that's all you see until the book comes out. I shall be very cranky for the next few days.
Maybe a miracle will happen. Maybe I'll suddenly learn to ride.
I can dream, can't I?
raithen, this is as much for you as for me.) I'm blessed that I have Teacher to keep things going, but when she's been transformed, too, the results can be a bit, well, illuminating, let's say.Today was the first lesson day since the clinic. Summer has arrived in the desert: it's 100F now, just shy of 2 p.m. It wasn't so bad this morning, but the heat was rising fast. Pandora was quite happy to come out for a lesson. I wanted to ride her for a couple of reasons. First, I didn't ride her in the clinic, so I wanted to transfer what I'd learned to her. And, I wanted to see what she learned from being ridden by trainers for three days. Not to mention, when I rode her on Tuesday, I'd basically forgotten how to ride her. I couldn't find her back at all.
This morning I had her back--my seatbones plugged right in. And that was good. We started off covering the arena with hoofprints, so that I could continue to get the feel of her spine, while working on keeping my torso upright, left side not collapsing, elbows bent, forearms light. She likes to really push her right shoulder out and does her best to shove my right seatbone with it. Per Teacher's clinic notes, I tried riding with my hands somewhat to the left: right rein on her neck, left rein open. That helped her balance and got her somewhat off the shoulder. Then I had to remember to Not pull with the left rein when she wanted to veer right, but use my seatbones to mold her back toward the middle (like a potter shaping a pot on a wheel). Everything has to come from the seat when it comes to turns (lower leg is Not for turns, it's for impulsion and rhythm only).
We rode spirals to work on this: spiral in, legyield out. Not possible with this horse if I pull with reins or over-ride the seat or get off balance leaning or pushing. In walk we did OK and I was able to trust my aids and not pull so much on the inside (especially left) rein.
Trot was harder. She's used to blowing through my aids, she wants to make me grab that left rein, and she knows I'm very easy to frustrate. When I'm frustrated I screw up even worse.
It wasn't pretty.
Going right wasn't so terribly bad. I started to figure out that I could keep the left rein for support and hold-release both reins in such a way that I could demonstrate for both of us that I trusted my seat to keep her on the circle. It was a pretty cool feeling to be flying along on this big, powerful horse, with just a feel of the corners of her mouth, and everything happening in the seat.
Going left was rather ugly. I overuse the left rein, I collapse the left side, the horse veers wildly off toward the barn (at one point I dinged my toe on the fence, ow). I drop the right rein, you see, and the more she avoids it, the wimpier I am. It was very, very frustrating. I yelled at Teacher. Communications problem. If told to get firm or use a stronger aid, I invariably and automatically lock up solid from the brain cells down. I start to fight and push-pull and lean and in every way get less effective.
I Need To Stop This. Eventually I did sort of get straight on her back and I figured out that instead of clamping the right rein, a clear give-take would give her the signal to get off her shoulder and come around on the circle. I'll need to practice it a lot, and someday maybe I'll internalize it.
It was a rough lesson. We were both wringing wet. I have some good things to remember and feel and try to make happen in other rides. But sometimes, you know, those old bad habits are bloody maddening. I want so much to ride Pandora the way I saw the others ride her--and damn it I will, but I have a long way to go first. She isn't going to make it easy for me. Teacher's aids are pretty solid, and TL's aids are impermeable; I have to get to that point to be as good as I want to be.
And that's a tall order for the original Triumph of the Body-Stupid. Of course I would have to land myself with a large, green, difficult, opinionated, determinedly crooked horse who in spite of all that is hugely talented and very happy when she gets to show it. She just won't do anything unless I'm perfect first.
Which means I must Stop Clamping Up whenever the horse doesn't go the way I think I'm asking her to go. And stop trying to force it by leaning or pulling. And...
Aaarrrghh. Reality bites. In the butt.
In other news, I bought my ticket to Dallas for the July clinic. I've been offered Lipizzans to ride, which saves me paying a fortune (not to mention wear and tear on the horses) to haul my own horse or horses there. I got one of the last affordable nonstop tickets before the price jumped significantly, which was nice. My airport pickup has been arranged, my rides are going to happen, I just have to get the overnight accommodations sorted out (those are in train) and deal with the nerves of riding strange horses (albeit Lipizzans) in front of a Living Master. I wish in the worst way that Pook could go, but not at current gas prices. And he's not ready anyway--he's barely started back to work.
Meanwhile, copyedits for The Serpent and the Rose went in yesterday--not impressed with this ce; too many "corrections" resulting in wrong punctuation or grammar, and too many "Duh"-level queries. I've had the best ce's in the business; this one is not in their league. Or anywhere even close. Grumpfmle. And tomorrow the "Author Alterations" of Shattered Dance should arrive--Harlequin's bizarre version of proofs, which are basically galleys or first-pass proofs, but that's it, that's all you see until the book comes out. I shall be very cranky for the next few days.
Maybe a miracle will happen. Maybe I'll suddenly learn to ride.
I can dream, can't I?
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no subject
Date: 2006-06-01 10:07 pm (UTC)Can I just say that it's very cool to hear about your lessons- it's sort of reassuring that yes, there IS hope if you're not a good rider by 20, if that makes any sense. I think I'm happy that Q puts up with my clumsiness and is darn near psychic and good at figuring out what I want her to do, even if I'm not asking quite right. My balance is improving, anyway. Little steps.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-01 10:53 pm (UTC)Believe me, if you're a good rider at 70 you're doing well. I'm better than I was and not as good as I hope to be. That's all I can say.