A Lesson about Squeamishness and a Donkey.

I love Anna Blake’s writing. Enjoy!

Relaxed & Forward: AnnaBlakeBlog

Look, it’s a selfie of me mucking last week. I like to get an early start in the summer. Over six hundred blog posts about this horse/life, and no one ever asks me for fashion tips. I wonder why?

I wasn’t always this sophisticated. I remember when I was maybe fifteen; it was morning and I was standing out waiting for the school bus. I glanced to scrutinize my outfit. I didn’t dress a whole lot better back then, but I certainly worried about it a lot more. That was when I saw them–maybe ten or eleven dark brown hairs that I’d missed while shaving. They were on the inside of my ankle, like a furry cuff. Like a Friesian fetlock. I simply could not be seen in such blinding disarray. It was totally mortifying. Then the light on my fetlock went into shade and the school bus…

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Dressage in a Downpour

Last month, a group of riders from our barn attended the Summer Sizzler Dressage Schooling Show. The show is held in Redmond, OR at a lovely facility called Stonepony Dressage.

An early heat wave ended just in time for the show, letting temperatures cool from the low 100’s into more tolerable 80’s. In Central Oregon, summer cooling generally means clouds with a potential for afternoon thunderstorms.

We watched the sky all morning, as riders quietly went about their business, warming up in the indoor arena, competing in the outdoor ring. Akela and I took turns hand-grazing Micah, the second level schoolmaster we co-lease, walking him about the property before our rides.

Akela was scheduled to ride first in the First Level Test 1 class. Clouds built ominously as the temperature dropped and wind picked up.

As Akela did her warm-up ride, under the supervision of trainer Mari Valceschini, I ran back to the trailer and shoved our gear inside just as heavy drops of rain began to fall. I grabbed a jacket and headed back just as Akela headed to the outdoor show ring. That, of course, is when the downpour began.

What Dressage Trainers Do When Bored

Can you imagine how mind-numbing it would be, telling your students to shorten their reins all day long? Or to relentlessly remind them to “Use the outside rein!” only to watch them haul on the inside rein. It’s not that we (students) aren’t listening, it’s just oh so difficult to change old habits.

I can’t imagine a more maddening profession.

To survive, dressage trainers seek revenge in quiet, sneaky ways — such as taking away your stirrups or having you ride with one hand behind your back. In the old days, they’d rubber-band your hands together or have you hold a short piece of string to keep you from flapping your arms. While these tried-and-true methods of torture are still in effect, there’s a new kid on the block: the Equicube.

I know quite a lot about the Equicube, having written an article about it for Flying Changes Magazine back in 2014 (See the May 2014 issue for the full report.) At the time, I thought, “What a great idea!” but didn’t have a chance to test ride the product.

That all changed when —without warning — my trainer, Natalie Perry handed me an Equicube and said, “Let’s give this a try!”

To be honest, my first thought was, “Oh, crap.” There’s a learning curve to any new product and I really hate feeling inept. (Whinney if you agree.)

An Unexpected Award

Earlier this year I started this blog, ‘Dressage for Mere Mortals,’ in my usual, trial-by-fire method of learning. After months of reading about blogging, the only way for me to really gain ground was to jump in with both boots.

I am still very much a beginner, as humble of a blogger as I am a rider. Which is why it was especially surprising when I received a message from horseclicks.com that they’d awarded my blog a Top 50 Horse Blogs Award. How did they find me? What was their criteria? I’m pondering those questions with a smile on my face. It’s lovely to be noticed.

Blogging has been a fascinating experience for several reasons:

1.  Setting up the initial format took a little work. Fortunately, I had  two experienced bloggers to help. Technical I am not.

2.  I love writing short format and having a weekly deadline is good discipline.

3.  Connecting with readers and other bloggers is fun. They share their stories and lives and I share mine. There’s a sense of community.

4.   I can never quite predict which blog posts will get the best response.  My two snarkiest posts (‘My Stupid Legs’ and ‘Dressage Show Rant’) generated the most comments thus far, which was entertaining.

5. There are technical aspects I’m still learning about: increasing readership, tags, categories, etc. Still trying to figure out Twitter.

As always, thank you to those of you who read my blog, take the time to comment, and share bits of your life with me. It’s so rewarding to receive your input and support.

http://www.horseclicks.com/news/the-top-50-horse-blogs-you-need-to-read/3037

Butterfly Brain: The Enemy of Dressage

Sunday was my second schooling show of the season. Those of you who show every weekend probably can’t relate to the experience of re-entering the show ring after 7 years off. But perhaps you have some wisdom you can impart. I am sorely in need of wisdom.

Happily, Micah is a Show Master. He understands that (at our level), he’ll need to work hard for five minutes, then receive lots of praise. He’s not too worried about the judge’s box, decorative floral arrangements, or horses falling to pieces in warm-up. Thank goodness.

My previous horses have needed show warm-ups focused on relaxation and staying in the arena. If Micah relaxes any further, he’ll be dozing. My new warm-up strategy needs to be about waking him up and asking him to respond promptly.

Of course, that’s Part B of the strategy. Part A is me embracing the new strategy and rising to the occasion. Easier said than done, given that showing is exhausting, physically and mentally. Just running  from trailer to show office to warm up to show ring wears me out. And, while I’m not actively freaking out, there’s an app running in the background of my brain, wondering if I’ll be able to rise to the occasion mentally.

In the arena, my mind flits like a butterfly, from thought to thought.

Lest you think I’m a slacker, I try to stay fit. I ride a horse, a mountain bike, hike, lift small weights, and do abdominal crunches to keep something of a core. Come show day, you’d think I was a complete couch potato the way my stamina stutters and fades. Mentally, I’m equally flaccid. My focus comes and goes like a butterfly in a poppy field. My mind flits from moment to moment. Focus/fade. Focus/fade.

Much More Than Bits of Leather

Last month, my friend Patty asked for my address, saying she was going to send me something. Perhaps a birthday card, I thought.

We hadn’t seen each other in years, but used to ride with the same instructor in Ridgefield, WA. She’d since moved to Hawaii and I’d moved to Bend, OR. I was surprised to hear from her.

Days later, a box arrived on the front porch.  My husband, Al, put it in the kitchen without saying anything. He didn’t realize it was important. I found the box before bed and opened it.

Inside were the pieces of a bridle: headstall, brow band, crown piece, and reins, all carefully wrapped. Patty had included a note. It was her show bridle and she wanted me to have it.

My husband, Al, saw bits of leather with buckles and a bit. I saw so much more.

Trying on Micah’s new bridle for size. I haven’t attached the matching reins yet but doesn’t he look handsome? !

Patty had purchased Zarewitsch (Zar) as a Second Level schoolmaster. At the time, most of my friends and I were riding what you might (generously) call Training Level horses: green and naughty, with little appreciation for the principles of dressage.

Judge’s Remark: Rider, Wise Up!

Dressage judges are just a little too cryptic. I know they’re trying not to discourage novices from the sport entirely, but I’d be o.k. if they were a little more direct.

A comment such as, “Rider should take up tennis” might be a bit too direct.

However, I’ve spent a month trying to decipher this judge’s comment: “Horse needs to be more responsive.” This makes it sounds as if the horse is at fault, so I read this comment to my horse. He sniffed at it and failed to respond.

Actually, Micah is responding exactly as he’s been taught. I’ve taught him that I’ll fiddle-fart around for quite some time, content with a modest response. (I am generally pleased with any horse that doesn’t try to kill me, so one that listens to me most of the time is a pure dream.)

Rather than remarking “Horse needs to be more responsive,” the judge should have come directly to the point.  “Rider needs to wise up,” would have been appropriate, as would “Use less leg and insist on a prompt response. Use less hand and more seat. You are working way too hard up there, girlfriend.”

Our Barn is so Cool

Every barn has a personality of its own. Some are competitive. Some are casual. Some are completely insane.

I somehow lucked into a barn that is just right, offering a positive attitude and complete acceptance of where you are or are not on the ‘competitive continuum.’

That means that whether or not you show isn’t important and, if you do show, the level at which you show is just right: whether you’re just starting out or competing at an upper level.

I admit to having Upper Level Envy, a documented medical condition wherein you really, really want to do passage, tempi changes, and other awesome moves — but in this barn I don’t feel looked down upon by those with greater ability. If they roll their eyes as I careen around the arena, they do so discreetly. I try not to get in their way.

One of my favorite barn personalities is Knox. He just turned two.

His mom, Jessie, does an incredible job of balancing motherhood, roller derby, and a love of horses, while dressing herself and Knox quite stylishly (note the hat).  Both of her horses accept it as perfectly normal to walk nicely in hand, following a baby stroller.

Short Dressage Show Rant

It’s time for me to share my #1 horse show pet peeve: Spectators Who Critique Rides

[Begin Rant]

Dressage looks easy from the sidelines but it’s actually a horribly exacting sport involving a 1,000 pound herbivore with a flight instinct.

Spectators who critique rides from the sidelines do everyone a disservice. Most disturbing are spectators who don’t compete themselves. If you’re not brave enough to be in the show ring yourself, your comments are unfair, unwanted, and unkind.

Most of us know enough dressage lingo to sound knowledgeable. It’s easy to say someone needs more outside rein, a more secure seat, or more tactful hands — but to have the presence  of mind to accomplish these things in a stressful environment is something else.

From the sidelines, it looks as if each test moves in slow motion — as if the rider has plenty of time to make corrections. One might assume, from a ringside seat, that there’s MORE than enough time to half-halt, balance the horse, finesse the bend, or whatever else the rider needs to do.

Perhaps that’s true for professionals. As for the rest of us, we wish! Transitions happen quickly — lightning-fast. The judge rings the bell for you to go in, and the next thing you know your reader is calling, “X, halt salute.” You’re done and it’s all a blur. You’re still gasping for air. You didn’t have time to correct mistakes, you simply had time to make them. Or so it feels.

If you’re an expert rider, have pity for the less fortunate — they are struggling. If you’re not an expert, don’t pretend to be. You may be dissing the rider in front of you within earshot of their friends and family. That’s tacky! While you’re using the tone of a knowledgeable critique, what you’re really doing is a put down.

If you can ride better than that poor soul in the ring, do it. If you can’t, acknowledge the time, effort, and courage it takes to compete and give them a hearty round of applause for all of that.

Dressage is a lovely sport. Let’s keep it that way.

[End Rant]

Testing 1, 2, 3

This weekend I filled the role of horse show announcer at the Central Oregon Dressage Classic. It took a circuitous route to get there.

Several months ago I mentioned in passing that I’d announced for Fort Vancouver Dressage several times. You have to be organized, but it’s otherwise a pretty easy job and you get to watch all the rides.

At the time, I didn’t know my friend, Tina, well enough to understand that Tina is a Communications Expert. Within three days, Tina had let it be known that I had Announcing Experience.

I hadn’t realized how far and wide Tina’s ‘reach’ is. If Tina was an advertising campaign, she’d be highly successful.

Within just a few days, Mari, assistant trainer at our barn (Natalie Perry Dressage) said, “We need to talk.” I assumed I was in trouble and had killed a horse or broken a serious barn rule. I held my breath, waiting for Mari to continue. Would I have to find a new barn?

“We need an announcer for our June show,” Mari said. She is president of Central Oregon’s dressage chapter and an expert volunteer rustler. I was so relieved I hadn’t killed a horse, I would’ve said ‘Yes!’ to almost anything.

Which is why I spent the day in the announcer’s booth at Brasada Ranch. Here’s a photo of my headquarters.

The first 20 minutes of day 1 were a bit rough, as those of with walkie-talkies figured out who we were and what we were supposed to be doing. We couldn’t see one another and had to learn to transmit vital information such as Rider #1 is moving toward the indoor; Rider #3 is in warmup; Rider #2 is nowhere to be seen, and so on. With time, we developed our own code and rhythm.