Last June, I was invited out to the Great Lakes Region of the United States Pony Club to teach at their (amazing) Regional Camp. Held at Hunter’s Run Farm in Metamora, MI, these Pony Clubbers had a great few days—most horses stayed in grass temporary pens, and the campers slept at the home of a local Pony Club family (bless them!), after riding twice daily, supplemental horse management lessons and other enrichment activities. I know we instructors had a great time, and the whole camp ran like clockwork, with instructors rotating among groups, disciplines and subjects.
While I met many new faces at the camp, one stood out in particular. David Silver was clearly not the typical Pony Club camper. At 25 years old, he had already graduated from college and participated in the Teach for America program, working for two years with fourth and fifth graders at the Burns Elementary and Middle School on Detroit’s west side. David had taken advantage of USPC’s age extension to rejoin the organization in an attempt to earn his H-A Pony Club certification (formerly rating).
While I admired his desire to keep learning and growing as a horseman, part of me did wonder what on earth would motivate someone so…adult…to come back to this youth organization as a participating member. When I learned the reason, my respect for this inspiring emerging leader deepened.
It would have been easy for David to leave Detroit after his two years with Teach for America were up. Raised in Westchester County, NY, David had competed through the CCI* level in eventing before college, and had enjoyed the advantages of a privileged upbringing. With a degree from Dartmouth and connections up and down the east coast, there is little doubt that he could have secured a lucrative position in an upscale suburban community somewhere else, away from the struggles and challenges faced daily by the young people living in metro Detroit.
Detroit Horse Power’s logo.
But instead, David founded a non-profit organization called Detroit Horse Power. As a teacher, David felt he had made real connections with his students, and wanted to do more to help them to develop the social, emotional and life skills which many of us have and take for granted: a sense of self-worth, self-efficacy, and self-confidence, as well as empathy, perseverance and patience, for a few. Working with underprivileged young people in the city is a challenging task; issues such as residential transiency, poverty and neighborhood violence can be a routine part of their daily lives, with an education their only real hope of getting out. Reflecting upon the life lessons that his years with horses had taught him, David saw an opportunity to bring his two worlds together.
Participants in Detriot Horse Power’s second summer program in August of 2015. David is in the red polo.
Detroit Horse Power was awarded its nonprofit status in April of 2015, and that summer, they provided programming for eighteen children during two, five day camps. The children were vanned out of inner city Detroit to farms generously loaned to the program for its use. Volunteers came from the local equine community as well as residents eager to work with city youth.
As most horse people know, something magical happens when you bring children and horses together. For a young person raised in the city, meeting a horse face to face is unlike anything else which they have experienced. Horses are big, docile and (usually) gentle, yet they require control of one’s emotion and energy.
Through their five day session, the children were given a life changing experience. According to volunteers, children went from negative self-talk to self-confidence. They learned to lead, groom and even ride. They learned how to problem solve, and they learned conflict resolution skills. They learned from farriers, vets and even a mounted police officer. In just five days, these children had a transformative experience, made possible through the support and generosity of many and the leadership of David.
One could say that these sessions alone were a victory for a fledgling program; but David has a vision for what Detroit Horse Power will become, and these camps are just barely a warm up. Detroit is a large, sprawling city, and due to a steady decrease in population from a high of 1.8 million in the 1950’s to 700,000 today, nearly 23 square miles within city limits lay vacant—a land mass as large as Manhattan. Decaying, unmaintained buildings remain barely standing on some of these sites; some land is contaminated due to its previous use, while other sites have returned to grassy, unkempt lots which become trash filled homes for pests. The city lacks the resources to maintain these vacant lands, so residents will often try to do so instead. These untended lands are the embodiment of urban blight, reducing property values as well as the overall quality of life for residents.
Urban blight in Detroit, MI
Where some might see an overwhelming problem, David sees an opportunity. His vision is to open a riding and horse boarding center, right within city limits. The Detroit Horse Power riding center will be a unifying resource for its local community, allowing young people a safe place to come to receive tutoring, support and time with the horses. Other city residents who might normally move to the suburbs to keep their horses could instead choose to stay, leaving valuable financial resources within the city. The boarding and equestrian events activities will support the operating costs and infrastructure of the center, leaving Detroit Horse Power as an organization with the opportunity to direct all of its resources towards its programming for youth.
A vacant, boarded up house stands in the once thriving Brush Park neighborhood with the downtown Detroit skyline behind it (Rebecca Cook/Reuters).
In 2016, Detroit Horse Power will be expanding its summer programs, reaching seventy five young people during six weeks of five day camps, held once again on farms donated to DHP for its use. This summer’s programs are intended to be a launching point for getting into schools for the fall, with the objective of providing after school programming in horse management, as well as tutoring.
This whole story didn’t come out during my visit to Michigan last summer—that week, I helped David with some tips for longeing and bandaging as he worked to prepare for the H-A certification, a rating he attained later that summer. David wanted the H-A as a credential to provide greater legitimacy to his work with horses and youth, because he knows that the US Pony Club and its certification system is recognized worldwide as producing thinking, skilled and effective horsemen. I am glad I could play a small role in helping David get to where he wanted to go.
A participant in the June 2015 Detroit Horse Power camp enjoys a visit by a mounted officer. Photo “borrowed” from the gallery on the DHP website.
It was only after I had returned home that I began to do a bit more research, and learned more clearly what it was that David was trying to accomplish. I was so inspired by his work and his goals that I asked him if I could do some writing related to it; a 3,000 word piece on Detroit Horse Power is scheduled to run in the July/August 2016 issue of Untacked (published by The Chronicle of the Horse). I hope you will read it!
I must say that one of the things which has always bothered me about the horse world is seeing just how self-centered and demanding most of us horse people can be. In college, I studied environmental conservation, and I definitely saw myself going into a field where I would be working to “make the world a better place”. In spite of my passion for riding and for horsemanship, I didn’t really want to go into the field full time because I thought it was too self-centered of a thing to do. I know that the use of horses in therapeutic settings is increasing, and I really wish I could get interested in that for myself—but it just isn’t my niche. So the “self-centeredness” of the equestrian world has always bothered my inner hippie soul, and it is still something I struggle with. Hearing about someone who has so clearly been able to translate their love for horses with their desire to effect positive change is really inspiring.
If you want to learn more about Detroit Horse Power, you can follow them on Facebook or visit their website, www.detroithorsepower.org. I definitely recommend checking them out!
I don’t know this for a fact, but my hunch is that there isn’t a single equestrian who hasn’t, at some point, experienced the limiting effects of fear. Fear plays an important role, evolutionarily speaking, in keeping us alive. Fear itself is an emotional experience which triggers biological responses; for many species, it triggers increased heart rate, respiration and muscle tension, and a heightened state of alertness. Horses as a prey species are well known for their genetically driven “fight or flight” response to unfamiliar stimuli, and it is only through careful and systematic desensitization and conditioned response training that we humans can work to overcome some of these natural reactions. But as much as the human species has tried to separate itself from other animals, the truth is that many decisions in our lives are still driven by fear, manifested by our own fight or flight response to situations which we think might cause us harm.
A few weekends ago, the UNH Equestrian Team attended a sports psychology seminar with Alannah DiBona of Windhorse Counseling. DiBona reminded all present that fear is a normal response to a situation which our brains think could cause us physical or emotional harm. DiBona defined fear as “false evidence appearing real”, and told the riders that it is necessary to examine one’s fear in order to truly address it.
“Is the fear serving you in any way, or is it preventing you from doing something you want to do?” DiBona asked the audience.
Fear is a funny thing, because very often it is the things which we want the most which can simultaneously scare us—this is true not just when it comes to riding and our equestrian goals, but to all aspects of our life, whether we are starting a new job, buying a house or falling in love. And fear can really limit us. There are plenty of tips and strategies as to how equestrians should address fear in their riding. But I guess it always comes down to that essential question: are you feeling fear because of the actual task or expectation in what you are doing, and its accompanied level of risk, or do you feel fear because in your heart of hearts, you don’t want to do what you think you want to do at all?
Anna jumping the ditch and wall at Ledyard. I was way more worried that she was.
For the riders I work with, jumping in particular seems to trigger a large number of fear responses. All riders (and horses) have a limit in terms of what they will be comfortable jumping in terms of height, technicality or speed. But I feel like I work with a lot of riders who are on the line of needing to decide whether their fear is serving them or not. In their mind, they think they want to jump, but when faced with an actual jumping exercise, the fight or flight mechanism kicks in and renders their aids ineffective.
People ride for a lot of different reasons. But for most people, at least one of those reasons is to have fun. We enjoy being with horses, and we value establishing a relationship and communicating with an animal of a wholly different life mindset (prey vs. predator). There is no written rule that overcoming fear should be a part of your daily riding ritual, and having to do so doesn’t make you tougher; it just makes you suffer. I think when a rider is starting to have recurrent physical and/or emotional manifestations of fear, it is time to consider why they are riding and what they hope to get out of it. There are tons of ways to enjoy being around horses, and if what you are currently doing isn’t allowing you to do that, it is time to make a change.
This whole thought process is a corollary for me right now in another aspect of my life. Thinking back to my earlier blog post about “living a sustainable life”, I think it is critical to analyze what you are doing when you feel like your wheels are spinning and you aren’t getting anywhere. Fear can cause us to keep repeating the same familiar patterns over and over, even though we know that they aren’t working for us or are keeping us from doing something which is much more supportive of our core values. There is a post circulating on Facebook which says something along the lines of, “instead of thinking of it as not having time to do something, think of it as “it’s not a priority””.
Try it and see how it feels. “I don’t have time to ride today” vs. “It isn’t a priority to ride today”. I think that is a pretty powerful way of looking at things.
Right now, fear is currently preventing me from acting on something which has caused me a great deal of anxiety, frustration and anger. I know that responding to this action against me is a priority, but the question becomes whether my fear of the possible consequences of that response is enough to still hold me back.
When it comes to fear, it might not be any easier for my students to jump an oxer than for me to deal with my personal situation. Such is the nature of fear.
In late March 2015, an invitation to ride locally in a clinic with dressage master Conrad Schumacher passed through my Facebook feed. At first, I thought it might be a mistake, but sure enough the clinic was being held right down the road at Longfellow Dressage in Nottingham, NH, and there was one space left. Almost before I knew what I was doing, I decided to sign up to ride with him on Annapony.
This forty-five minute session was PRICEY, and I was determined to get my money’s worth by spending the rest of the day auditing the other rides. As my own ride was scheduled for the first session after the lunch break, I was able to have the equivalent of nine extra lessons by watching all of the others.
Schumacher spoke to several themes throughout the day. These included neck control, good basics, correct use of the aids and taking time.
Neck Control
Even before participating in this clinic, I had read that Schumacher is known for his emphasis on ‘neck control’. In fact, I had saved a 2004 article from the June Dressage Today in which he discussed various aspects of this concept, and I reviewed said document in preparation for the clinic. So I was pleased to be able to hear more about this concept during several of the day’s sessions.
During the very first session of the day, Schumacher had the rider work on stretching the horse’s neck in the halt, which he said allows the horse to open up their jaw. He commented that when the horse is not used to doing this, at first they will tend to lift the neck and become hollow. The rider must wait until the horse begins to relax and for the neck to be good before moving forward. If the horse moves away from the bit in the halt (backs up), the rider must be sure to keep their hips square, stay tall and push their heels down, thereby pushing the horse forward onto the bit. In this moment, the rider may also keep the hands a little wide. Never should the horse be punished for backing up.
Schumacher said that it should be a priority for the rider to achieve the correct flexion in the horse’s neck during the first fifteen minutes of the ride, which leaves thirty minutes or so to “do the work which needs to be done”. Even something as seemingly simple as a transition is improved in quality when the horse is good in the neck.
Conrad Schumacher puts a watchful eye on a horse/rider team.
Schumacher frequently used turn on the forehand as a tool to improve connection and engagement, as well as to increase the degree of neck control and obedience. The exercise should never be used as a punishment, but may be used as a correction. He emphasized that it is very important that the rider not over flex the neck when doing a turn on the forehand; when there is too much flexion, the horse can escape the exercise. Schumacher said that the neck can only flex properly when it is held vertically. Flexion, when asked for correctly, should be nearly invisible. The rider uses their inside hand a little bit diagonally towards the horse. When executing a turn on the forehand, the rider’s aids should come and go, and the horse should stretch a little downward.
It is not appropriate for the horse to be working with a short neck unless they are working at a level where the movements (piaffe and passage, for example), require it. While doing basic work, the horse should have a long neck.
Schumacher commented that, “Riding a horse with a proper neck is a bit more complicated but it is what dressage is about. It’s not about the movements. The movements are easy. When you have neck control, everything will be better.”
Basics, Basics, Basics
Another theme of Schumacher’s teaching was the importance of correct, classically applied basics. It doesn’t matter how many times we hear this or read it—it seems like the importance of correct basics needs to be restated, because certainly we all bear witness to trainers and coaches who seem to favor short cuts.
Schumacher reminded riders to always go with the horse to the hand, not the other way around. He said, “Everything in dressage that is difficult comes first. The beginner in dressage has a big amount to learn, to correctly get the horse in the neck and to the bit.”
Anna and I during our session.
Several horses in the clinic were schooling at levels requiring collected gaits. Schumacher emphasized that even at the beginning stages of playing with collection, the horse must stay in the same rhythm. “Do not let the horse slow down,” Schumacher reminded riders. He emphasized that the concept of rhythm on the training pyramid is not just about the beats of the gait; it is also about the tempo. Schumacher said that only by keeping the correct tempo in each gait can the rider work to develop relaxation, which is of course the next rung of the training pyramid. Collection is based on throughness and relaxation.
“We can see collection when we stretch a horse and they don’t run,” said Schumacher. “Collection begins with self carriage.”
With collected work comes the importance of realistic expectations. “You cannot expect too much,” said Schumacher. “You cannot go directly into the highest degree of collection.”
Correct Use of the Aids
Schumacher was particular about the rider’s position and their correct use of the aids, both natural and artificial, and gave tips for specific movements.
Riders need to remember to move the horse using the rider’s entire body, not just the legs and the reins. Schumacher compared it to dancing—when you dance, you dance with your whole body, not just the arms and the legs.
He emphasized that the whip is never to be used as a punishment, but as a tool to improve communication. It can be used to help to maintain the tempo of the gait. Schumacher advised that it is better to not kick with the leg, but instead to tap with the whip if the horse is not forward enough. Overall, the rider should try to do less with their aids.
Riders who are using the double bridle must be taught how to do so correctly. The opposite hand should be used to shorten the snaffle rein when necessary, and care must be taken to not overtighten the curb.
Riders must remember to sit tall in the saddle and allow their arms to hang loosely. Sitting tall should not translate into heaviness with the upper body.
When asking for the halt, the rider must step down and through their leg, bringing their pelvis forward. All of this occurs before any weight is added into the rider’s hands. The halt must come from the body of the rider, not the reins. For the horse to halt, the rider must halt.
In the reinback, the rider should keep their lower leg a little bit back, and their upper body light, so that the horse’s back is free to move.
Schumacher commented that most riders know that their horse should be “on the outside rein”, but lack clarity about what that really means. “People often think, ‘oh, I am holding the outside rein and so the horse is on it,’ but that is not correct,” said Schumacher. “The rider needs to be able to give on the outside rein and the horse must go to it. The rider must not hold on at all.” To this end, when asking for lateral work, the rider’s outside hand must allow the horse to move into it.
Schumacher says that we say we want to get the horse on the outside rein, but we more correctly mean the outside aids—which includes the rider’s leg. In a properly ridden shoulder in, the rider’s inside leg is a little further forward than the outside. The rider’s seat must bend. If the rider attempts a shoulder in without keeping the outside leg back, the horse will not be on the outside rein. And when drawing the outside leg back, it should be moved from the hip, not just the knee.
Contact requires that the rider keep a fist which is shut. The softness we riders seek comes from the arm and shoulder of the rider staying relaxed, which in turn allows the horse to give in their neck and shoulder as well.
Schumacher reminded riders that the biggest reward to the horse is when the rider does nothing. Steadiness in the rider is paramount. “See the big picture,” said Schumacher. “Do not react to every little thing, especially when the horse is basically right.”
Taking Time
Schumacher is incredibly pro-horse and horse friendly. Over and over he emphasized the importance of patience and not pushing the horse. “The only way we help them is to be nice to them,” said Schumacher. “All the other ways do not help them. Don’t punish him, convince him.”
Schumacher believes that horses aren’t naughty so much as they are insecure. The rider must be calm and not use their whip as a punishment; instead, it is a reminder, a cue saying, “hey, come on buddy.”
One rider rode a highly talented, young but sensitive, mare. While challenging her by riding a ten meter circle followed by a transition to walk while approaching the wall, the mare became tense. Schumacher said, “You must be brave and give a little bit. Take the stress away by letting the horse stretch a little.” Incorporating short bits of stretching into the mare’s work, followed by riding forward for a few strides, allowed the development of a more correct neck and longer, more swinging steps.
The rider must remember to reward their horse when the desired result has been achieved. Schumacher reminded riders that it takes time to build a horse’s muscles. Especially when working on developing increased collection, the horse requires frequent breaks.
Horses which have been trained correctly and provided with good care can stay sound and happy for many years, as was testified by a lovely twenty year old Hanoverian who did many movements of the Grand Prix with his rider. Schumacher said that with the increased quality of equine medical care, he sees more and more older horses which still move really well. “When they are sound and they enjoy their work, it is important that they keep moving,” said Schumacher. “It doesn’t help them, though, to not be ridden well.”
Schumacher tied this back to the importance of correct basics. “You do not go out and work the Grand Prix every day,” said Schumacher. “It all depends on the basic work. This works their body, keeps them healthy, and they stay fit.”
Emphasis was placed on the importance of taking time to prepare the horse’s body to do what the rider wants it to do. “The horse may be willing but they must also be physically ready to do the work,” said Schumacher.
In a similar vein, the rider must finish the day’s work once the horse understands what is asked, but before he runs out of muscle strength and the gaits begin to deteriorate.
In working through movements, Schumacher asks for smoothness before expression. “If you start with expression, everything falls apart,” said Schumacher.
My Ride
I have been quite lucky in my career to have had the opportunity to work with many VIPs of the equestrian community. Usually, though, there isn’t much of an audience, and my Inner Critic (I am sure you have one, too) was in full force as the number of days leading to the ride dwindled in number.
As I have gotten older, I have developed a degree of performance anxiety, most typically in relation to jumping. However, I will totally admit that I cannot remember the last time I was so nervous to ride in front of other people as I was when it came to this clinic. After watching the morning sessions, my Inner Critic was in full battle cry: your horse is too “normal”, you aren’t riding at a high enough level, the quality of your connection isn’t good enough, everyone watching is going to judge you…and on it went. However, I retained the presence of mind to be able to remind myself that out of the dozens of spectators, only ten of us were actually riding on this day, and it is always much easier to sit in judgement than to sit in the saddle and be judged.
I took advantage of the lunch break to loosen Anna up before our session started. Riders in the clinic each wore an earpiece so Schumacher’s voice did not need to be projected so strongly; I have never ridden with one before, and one of the other riders helped me to get the technology properly situated. When Schumacher returned to the ring and began to speak, I almost jumped out of the saddle. It was as though I could feel his words in my head!
Schumacher asked me to continue to work for a few more moments, watching, and then asked me to stop. To this point, I had only ridden Anna in a plain cavesson, not because of any strong opposition to flash nosebands but rather because it was what I owned that fit her. That being said, I believe that flash nosebands have a place in the training process, but I don’t necessarily feel that they are the right equipment for every horse.
However, in the German system, the flash noseband is de rigeur, and Schumacher commented that they are necessary in order to create complete neck control. “You must ensure that horse doesn’t use an open mouth to evade the connection, or to figure out how to put the tongue over the bit,” said Schumacher.
Anna models her makeshift flash noseband.
A flash noseband was found in the barn, and it was looped around our cavesson. Consistency in the connection has been a challenge at times with Anna, and I was interested to see what her response to the flash would be. But Schumacher wasn’t done adding equipment. He requested a draw rein—certainly not classical equipment. He called it a “supporting rein”, and ran it around the girth, between the front legs and then up and through the newly added flash noseband on Anna’s hollow side. I held the rein as one would hold the curb rein on a double. The rein only comes into play if the horse raises their head beyond a certain level, much like a martingale would. Schumacher said that the supporting rein helps to create stability in the contact, and therefore is appropriate to use in a classical training system.
Our session focused heavily on neck control and improving the stability in the connection. Schumacher had me ride a series of walk-halt-walk transitions, staying in the halt under the neck got rounder and then immediately stepping forward into the walk as a reward for responding. Once we moved to the trot, we continued to work on transitions but incorporated smaller circles, timing the transition from trot to walk as we angled towards the wall. In the trot, Schumacher had me use a slight yield of the haunches to the outside to increase the roundness, followed by riding straight and forward.
I think that all of the exercises worked well to improve Anna’s consistency in the connection and overall roundness. The addition of the flash noseband was helpful, even though there were a few moments of pony rebellion against its slight restriction. The supporting rein was not particularly helpful, in my opinion. Since riding in this clinic, I have acquired a well fitting flash noseband, which I think has allowed the quality of our connection to increase. I have not used the supporting rein again.
Overall, the ride was positive and I was left with several new ideas and exercises to “take to the lab” and experiment with. It is always helpful to spend time listening to the training philosophy and techniques of individuals who work out of a clear, progressive system. Whether riding or auditing, taking part in these sorts of experiences can only help to broaden our base of knowledge.
Certain events have occurred within the past week and change which have put me into a reflective mood. Most of us don’t like to think about the “hard stuff”—death, separation from loved ones (human or otherwise), accidents, disasters (read my blog on this last here), etc. But whether we choose to acknowledge these things or not, they are a part of life. Ignoring their existence is irresponsible. When it comes to our horses, the consequences of disregarding them can be gut wrenching.
Do you have a plan for what would happen to your horses if something should cause you to be unable to take care of them anymore? I suspect that many horse owners do not, and instead just sort of assume that a friend or family member will step in to make decisions regarding our horse’s care or potential rehoming. But this puts an extreme burden upon loved ones who may or may not be up to the task. How many times have you read a story of the family member who meant well, but didn’t feed/water/shoe the horse? Or the pets brought to the shelter because no one in the family had the wherewithal to take additional animals into their homes?
A fellow blogger shared a somewhat unsettling story about a veterinarian friend of hers who has been saddled with the task of placing twenty four horses after their owner passed away. The owner had suffered a period of failing health but was unwilling to rehome any of her animals, choosing instead to provide for them in her will. Unfortunately, most of her horses are unbroke, older and unregistered—all common reasons for animals to end up in the auction pipeline, sent to an uncertain fate. Clearly, this owner loved her animals and couldn’t bear the thought of parting with them while she was still alive. Unfortunately, making this choice has perhaps precluded the possibility of most of these horses finding appropriate new homes, and has placed a tremendous, heartbreaking burden on her friend.
A friend of mine passed away last week after a long fight with a terminal illness. We hadn’t been in touch for a long time, but shared several years of friendship and I feel lucky that the picture of her in my mind remains of a time when she still was robust and in good health. Her beloved horse, which she bred and trained herself, is safe at the farm which has been his home for eighteen years. He is in good hands there, and care will be taken to find the right placement for him; I suspect he would always be welcomed back, should that be needed. But no one will ever have the intense, empathetic bond with him that she did, and the sentimental part of me grieves for a loss which he likely doesn’t conceptualize.
University programs like the one I work at are frequently the recipients of horses whose usefulness has passed for their owners. Often, these animals are unsaleable due to age, soundness or other variable, or would only fetch a fraction of their original purchase price, so owners looking to move on are often open to the possibility of a donation. I think that many donors are comforted in knowing where their horse is going to end up, and are satisfied to know that it is unlikely that the animal will be passed from place to place, to an uncertain end.
Our lovely mare Morocco, who came to us after her owner passed away unexpectedly.
But the hard reality is that we can’t keep the horses forever, either. At UNH, our informal policy has been that as our horses approach 20, we try to find new homes for them, while they are still sound and happy. Prospective adopters are carefully screened, and it is nice to know that many of our beloved school horses get to enjoy their golden years one on one with an owner who loves them. But sometimes, the factors which caused them to be difficult to rehome in the first place come back to haunt them, and we the human caretakers are faced with tough choices.
During the first week of our spring semester, one of our older school horses sustained an injury in my class. We were longeing, as we always do at the beginning of the term. This horse in particular longes quite well and has been used many times in our longeing classes to teach newbies the ropes. On this particular day, he had longed quite quietly at his end of the arena with a competent and experienced student, while the horse at the other end was being all sorts of sassy and fresh. We got that horse settled and into a more obedient and working attitude, when for no apparent reason, our veteran school horse decided to take one lap on the line leaping and bucking. None of us even saw him take a funky step—but suddenly he stopped short, holding up his left front leg, trembling head to toe.
Ice and his friend Meri at the Equine Educational Day 2015.
I had joked with the students at the start of class that this particular horse was 23 going on 5 in his mind. His “goofy” behavior on the line was just that—a few little hoo-hahs from a horse feeling playful, nothing naughty or dangerous. I guess it was just a little too much on older legs on that day at that time.
In all my years of working with horses, this is the first time something like this has happened to me. I am devastated. I have replayed the entire morning over and over again, tossing and turning through nights with sporadic sleep, wondering if I made an error in judgement. But what I keep coming back to is this—we did nothing differently that day than we have done hundreds of times, each semester, for many years. We all know how fragile and delicate these animals are, for all of their strength, endurance and stoicism. There was no obvious previous indication that anything was brewing or off with this particular animal, and up until the moment where things were not ok, all had been proceeding totally like normal.
This horse is currently on stall rest. So far, he is coping ok, and after the first day or so, does not seem to be in undue amounts of pain. But the preliminary diagnosis is fairly bleak, and at 23, the question becomes whether it is fair to even attempt the rehab such an injury would require. My friends and colleagues have been supportive, reminding me that it is not my fault, that such an injury could have happened at any time. I would say the same thing to them if the roles were reversed; but it was I who was teaching that day, and it is I who am taking this the hardest.
This is one of those times where the rational brain and the emotional heart come into conflict. As our horses’ caregivers, companions and greatest advocates, the onus is on each of us to make the right choices when these crossroads come, keeping the animal’s best interest in mind. It is not right to pass the problem on to someone else to deal with— it is our duty to consider the available resources, the possible outcomes, and make the hard calls. And I doubt that it matters how much we prepare our rational brains to accept this reality; our emotional hearts will always take it hard. It is the price we pay for love.
I probably shouldn’t even be sharing all of these thoughts on here. But these are the subjects which we don’t want to acknowledge or talk about, and maybe that makes it even harder than it already is. Right now, my emotional heart needs the support.
Those who follow Denny Emerson’s Tamarack Hill Farm Facebook page may have caught his comments a few days back on the “innies” and “outies” of the horse world:
“In the great big world of riding, there are innies and outies, and this has nothing to do with belly buttons. Some riders love open spaces and no boundaries, while others find comfort and security within walls and arenas, with lots of technical requirements.
“And never the twain shall meet,” not quite literally, but how many times have you seen a dressage rider out fox hunting, or a trail rider showing a hunter?
Outie sports like fox hunting, where literally the riders have no idea, at any given moment, where the fox or coyote will lead them, or for how long, are far different from, say, show jumping, which has a specific track, and sequence of fences, and a specific start and finish, and a required time allowed.
It has been postulated that those who gravitate toward outie sports, like trail riding, fox hunting, point to point racing, and (sometimes) eventing have entirely different kinds of psychological profiles than those who prefer innie sports like dressage, show hunters and show jumping.
Outie sports tend to be less precise, exact and meticulous than innie sports. They are also often faster, perhaps more high risk, and less encumbered by rules and regulations.
Of these sports, eventing is perhaps the “swing’ sport, less outie than back in long format days, but still attracting both the innie and outie riders.
Which type of riding draws you in, the more precise, more specific innie sports, or the more “laissez faire” outie ones?”
I had to laugh a little after reading the post…because I seem to be living up to my Gemini nature and enjoy both worlds quite a bit. I have two horses right now—the distance horse that also does a bit of a dressage, and the “event horse who is becoming more of a dressage horse” who focuses much better on dressage days when we have the benefit of time spent outside of the ring in between.
I have successfully competed through 4th level in dressage, and even had the honor of owning a wonderful, big moving and super handsome Hanoverian gelding for five years who helped me finish my USDF Bronze Medal. But to just ride around and around the arena six days per week, even on a fancy mover who can execute flawless changes, smooth half passes and extravagant lengthenings, for me, starts to become a little repetitive. Worldly and I always hacked out a little bit—definitely with attention to the footing (wouldn’t want to lose an eggbar) and more frequent spooks at common objects, but I think the escape from the arena did a lot to keep his attention fresh and focus sharp when working on the precision, accuracy and submission that dressage requires. It also helped us when we showed at Saugerties (NY) and had to hack from the absolute opposite side of the show grounds, over a bridge, through the Marshall and Sterling League Finals, to the dressage arenas where the NEDA Championships were being held.
Worldly (Weltinus, on the left) after winning the 2006 Region 8 Second Level Freestyle championships. And yes, we were required to put white polos on the horses–I had to go buy a set!
But on the flip side of the coin, I wouldn’t want to always ride out on the trail, either, for several reasons. It is one thing when a horse is totally retired, and they are basically being ridden to give them attention, companionship and light exercise. For most riders, though, riding only out of the ring makes it too easy to become sloppy and complacent with position, and to also become accepting of asymmetry in both horse and rider. Both partners will tend to favor their stronger side and do not have the same opportunity to address tightness, restriction and weakness on the less dominant side that those who work in the ring do. This kind of imbalance can, over time, contribute to uneven muscle development, saddle fit issues, pain and even lameness. I also genuinely enjoy the process of developing a horse for various arena disciplines; the steady progression of exercises and application of training pyramid concepts appeals to my methodical, organized, intellectual side.
Lee and I on a New Hampshire beach.
As in most things, a balance seems to be required. Trail and distance horses, and their riders, certainly can benefit from the fundamentals of basic dressage to encourage suppleness, develop strength and improve the quality of communication. Work over basic cavaletti or even small fences can help improve footwork, coordination, strengthen hindquarters and can also prove helpful when crossing downed trees or other trail obstacles. Arena horses, like hunters and dressage horses, can also improve their level of fitness (both mental and physical) but by spending time OUTSIDE of the ring. The many balance checks required when going over uneven terrain on the trail can help to strengthen muscles and stabilize joints, hopefully helping to reduce the risk of injury from a misstep in the ring.
And just as one would not expect the trail horse to magically piaffe or clear a four foot spread in the ring, the arena horse would not be expected to handle the more significant terrain or speeds required of the competitive trail horse. Each has a specialty and is just ‘dabbling’ in the other area.
Anna and her friend Izzy show U of New Hampshire Wildcat pride at the Wentworth Hunt Hnter Pace in May.
As an instructor and coach, I have been struck by how many students enter our college riding program, many from a hunt seat background, having never ridden out in the open. We are lucky to have an on campus cross country course, likely the only one of its kind in the country, where we run sanctioned events. Students riding in the more advanced levels of riding class have the opportunity to go school out on the course, under supervision. It is probably the most stressful week of riding instruction that I offer each semester, and a lot of what I have to do is manage the deep fear which many of these “arena riders” face in simply crossing the bridge to our course.
Heading out on the UNH cross country course with two innocent students, hoping to infect them with a love of riding out in the open and the freedom of no boundaries.
Many of these riders have never experienced even basic terrain, and have no knowledge of how to balance their horse going up or downhill, or how to hold their own bodies to stay centered when the ground is not level. They are not familiar with pulley reins, emergency dismounts or other techniques used to regain control of a fresh mount. I must constantly remind them that their arena jumping techniques should come with them onto the course, that all of the good practice and methods they have used to control pace, balance and form when jumping in the ring also apply to fences out in the open.
At the end of a school, the riders almost always fall into one of two groups—the ones which have experienced the first adrenalin rush of cross country, hooked, ready to go again, and the ones who (sometimes literally) wipe away their tears, happy to have survived the experience, hoping that they may never have to do it again. Denny was right—these are the outies and the innies. I guess we all do sort of have a tendency towards one or the other.
I rode this cool Quarter Horse, Thunder, on a trip to the White Mountains of Nevada.
In the end, the question is whether you choose to accept your true nature, or whether you get brave, get disciplined, or some combination of the two, and step into the world which is less comfortable. My guess is that even if you don’t choose to stay there, you will be a better horseman for the experience.
This piece is adapted from an assignment I did for a course about the value of wilderness in society; hence the references to the impact of equine presence in designated wilderness areas. However, I think the concerns discussed herein occur in many other areas where equestrian access is permitted alongside other users.
The horse is a bit of an enigma in American society. They are classified as livestock, yet treated by most as companion animals, which leads to constant conflict in decision making. People are simultaneously drawn to them and fear them. An enduring symbol of the American West, the mustang inflames passions on all sides of the arguments which arise in reference to their “management”. Horses and civilization have gone hand in hand since between 4,000 and 3,500 years BCE, when they were first domesticated on the Asian steppes. It would seem to follow that little to no taming of the American wilderness would have been possible without the horse.
The Wilderness Act of 1964 has ‘grandfathered’ the use of horses and pack animals in wilderness areas, despite the fact that their use gives mechanical advantage to the rider. Allowing livestock in these areas is hardly an unprecedented event. In fact, many existing trails were built on those created by free grazing livestock. Many of the lands managed by the Bureau of Land Management are still grazed by livestock, on leases which can pay pennies on the acre.
A mustang on the California/Nevada border.
In a 2012 article from the National Parks Traveler , Kurt Repanshek reported on a court ruling that the use of horses and packing within the Sequoia National Park was in violation of the Wilderness Act, because the Park had failed to study the impact of the increased use of pack animals on the area. Quite interesting is a casual read through the comments reacting to this article, which sum up some of the same arguments we equestrians hear time and again:
“…trails that are being pounded to death by hooves, eroded to dust and cobbles, and buried in manure…”
“…stock trails require a higher standard and more expensive maintenance, so the NPS essentially subsidizes this very small user group…”
“Apparently, the NPS has no problem with horses trampling and destroying nature, but if cyclists want to have access to national park trails, somehow, trail erosion becomes an issue. Oh the hypocrisy!!”
Like any user group, horseback riders come with their positives and their negatives. To be truthful, I have little experience with the use of horses in true designated wilderness areas, but I have some experience with their use in national and state parks and other public areas. In spite of my inherent bias as an equestrian, I still feel that the benefits of allowing this traditional use on these lands outweigh the detractors.
Let’s start by looking at a few facts…
First, horses are Big Business…this is not a “very small user group”, as our detractor put forth above. According to the American Horse Council (2005), there are 9.2 million horses in the US, and the equine industry has a direct economic effect of $39 billion annually. Billion. With a B. The industry pays over $1.9 billion in taxes per year to all levels of government. Over 70% of horse owners live in communities with a population of less than 50,000. And the vast majority (just under 4 million) of horses are not racehorses, or show horses—they are used for “recreation”. With these numbers, it is clear to see that we are not talking about some insignificant user group.
Secondly, manure is not a public safety hazard. Americans are truly the most poop-phobic people. It is really ridiculous. From a 1998 white paper prepared by Adda Quinn for Bay State Equestrians (CA), “Horse manure is a solid waste excluded from federal regulation [by the EPA] because it neither contains significant amounts of listed hazardous components, nor exhibits hazardous properties…No major human disease has ever been accurately attributed to the intimate contact human beings have had with horses for thousands of years…The chemical constituents of horse manure are not toxic to humans. Horse guts do not contain significant levels of the two waterborne pathogens of greatest concern to human health risk, Cryptosporidium or Giardia, neither do they contain significant amounts of the bacteria E.coli 0157:H7 or Salmonella” (Quinn, 1998).
Hacking in Vermont on private land. Those yellow ears belong to my horse, Lee.
Historically, equestrians have been allowed access to trails in many public and private land holdings, but in the past seventy five years, those areas which continue to allow for this use have been dwindling. It is perhaps all the more frustrating when the loss of use occurs on public land, because in many cases recreational use is one of the reasons why such lands have been set aside.
In 2009, the AHC responded to concerns from the recreational use equestrian community that there were an overwhelmingly large number of trails on public lands being closed off to equestrian use. The Washington, DC, based organization, which is the most significant lobbying body for the equestrian industry, surveyed members regarding their experiences with federal land use. Issues were in particular identified on lands managed by the National Park Service and the US Forest Service, but also those managed by the BLM and US Fish and Wildlife, with problems cited including lack of maintenance and lack of access through trails closed to equestrian use. Frustrations abounded, especially when the rationale for the closures was not known.
From the report, “An initial examination of restricted access reports reveal that in most instances there was a clear history of equestrian use. Furthermore, in only a few examples of restricted access was the respondent aware of any public process or public comment period associated with the trail closure. Respondents in some cases are aware of a stated reason for restricted access for equestrians. However, in a number of instances the respondent is unaware of any reason behind a closure.”
What is ironic is that some of the closures/restrictions in access have occurred on public lands given with the full intention of equestrian use. Most notable are the carriage trails in Acadia National Park in Bar Harbor, ME. These roads were built by David Rockefeller with the intention of being available for equestrian use. In regards to these restrictions, one respondent wrote, “There is a portion of them still open to equine use and there is a concession offering carriage rides and allowing access for people to bring their own riding horses for a fee. But this access is only on a portion of the carriage roads…I live very close to one section …that has been closed to equine traffic. I have requested information from Park Administration as to why this has happened and if there is any way to open the closed areas…I have received no reply from them. In order to ride the carriage roads that are less than ½ mile from my stable I now need to trailer my horses twelve miles one way and pay to park my trailer. There are numerous horse owners in close proximity to me that would benefit from access to our traditional riding areas.”
And while I don’t deny that horse hooves can cause damage to trails through over use, and agree that horses should be restricted from unique and sensitive ecological areas, horses are not the only user group which can leave a mess in their wake. Another respondent states, “The problem is not that BLM is actively denying trail access to equestrians. The problem is that BLM is not regulating motorized use of trails. The motorized users have caused so much damage (rutting, erosion) to the trails, they have become unusable for equestrians.”
It seems clear that there is conflict over the use of horses in some areas of federally managed lands. Sometimes the issues are direct, such as degradation of trail quality through equestrian use. Sometimes they are less so, and manifest in terms of lack of funding for trail maintenance, causing lack of access, or conflict with the needs of other user groups, such as hikers. However, it is equally true that those who enjoy riding horses out in the open, the way that they historically have been, are passionate about doing what is necessary to ensure that access is not further restricted.
Why Equestrians Need Public Land Access…and why Public Lands Need Equestrians
The reality of being a rider in the modern US is that more than likely, you must pay a fee equivalent to a small mortgage to board your horse at a public stable. Fewer people than ever are able to have the luxury of the land and space necessary to properly maintain horses, and as open land has become somewhat of a premium commodity in populated areas, the cost of being able to do so even at a boarding stable has skyrocketed.
Without trying too hard, I can name a long list of facilities which used to be horse farms, even right here in the seacoast of New Hampshire. Running a horse farm is a labor and cost intensive affair, and some owners have simply grown tired of the grind. But many more were unable to afford to keep their properties, for many reasons. Flat, open land is often taxed at a premium, making it hard to break even when you add in the equally high cost of the production of hay, grain and other consumables. Once these farms were converted to subdivisions, mini malls or similar, they never have returned to a natural state, in my experience.
In New Hampshire, programs like LCHIP (NH Land and Community Heritage Investment Program) have purchased the development rights to many long standing farm properties, effectively dropping the tax rate and preventing future development of the land. Proper and sustainable management of these farms will ensure at least pockets of open space for generations to come.
The fact is, if equestrians wish to enjoy the privilege of riding out in the open, they simply must step up to educate and advocate for the preservation of lands in which such activity is permitted. The Equine Land Conservation Resource (ELCR) was founded nearly a decade ago for just this purpose. From their website , the organization’s vision is “A future in which horse lands have been conserved so that America’s equine heritage lives on and the emotional, physical and economic benefits of mankind’s bond with the horse remain accessible to all.” The ELCR has been involved with the protection of more than 200,000 acres of land and 1,200 miles of trails. Through their education and outreach activities, the ELCR has assisted horse owners in doing their own outreach and educational campaigns within their local communities. The ELCR reminds us that the USFS estimates that we are losing 6,000 acres of open lands per day and that “poorly planned, uncontrolled development or sprawl, competing demands for land, and a population that is increasingly unfamiliar with horses are the greatest threats to equestrians and horse lands today.”
The preservation of wilderness within the United States was at least partially due to the young country’s quest for an identity. The American West became a symbol of the vast lands which this country had in its borders. Horses are indelibly linked to this heritage, and their use as a means to access far away and isolated areas is unparalleled.
My mount, Thunder, and I, with the White Mountains of Nevada in the background.
I cannot even begin to describe some of the amazing places I have had the opportunity to visit via horseback, both in the US and abroad. Obviously I have a love of the horse and of riding in general, but for me, there is almost no better way of reaching remote and far away areas which only rarely are visited by humans. On foot, at best I can walk a few miles per day. On horseback, I have gone forty or more.
Horseback riding is a way for our country’s citizens to learn to appreciate and enjoy amazing natural areas, without need of roads, tramways or cable cars. Horseback riding gets people outside, and if the need to protect trails is what motivates these citizens to be active proponents of protecting open space, so be it.
It is hard to believe that these mountains in Vermont were mostly pasture lands for sheep and cows not even a century ago.
The equine industry is a large and powerful user group with a strong motivation to protect and preserve open space and lands which permit equestrian use. It would certainly behoove those interested in protection efforts to consider their needs and recruit their support.
I have just returned from four days in Orlando, FL, during which time I attend the annual meeting of the Board of Directors for the Intercollegiate Horse Shows Association (IHSA). This group was founded in 1967, and next year will be celebrating its 50th anniversary. This is of course a significant milestone, and much discussion at the meeting centered around the organization’s history.
My birthday this year will be one which many also consider a milestone, as it closes out another decade. Although these landmarks are somewhat arbitrary (why do we care more when the number ends in a zero? Couldn’t we just as joyfully commemorate the 49th anniversary as the 50th?), the tradition of giving them greater attention does provide us with a good opportunity to reflect on where we have come from, where we are at, and where we still hope to go. Otherwise, as Ferris Bueller was want to say:
If organizations such as the IHSA hope to remain relevant over the long term, some degree of calculated evolution is required. Therefore, these groups tend to define a mission statement, and then create “strategic plans”, which carefully map out their objectives for the near future, the middle range and the long term. Otherwise, lack of focus or stagnation will result in the loss of members who become drawn to more contemporary opportunities.
I have always sort of wondered in awe at people who have been able to manage their lives with a similar “strategic plan” sort of approach. In my experience, it has usually seemed like the harder I tried to get to one specific place, the more swiftly the tide carried me elsewhere. While I have enjoyed (most of) these adventures, back roads and eddies, I sometimes wonder how things would be if I had taken a more focused and precise approach.
Last winter, I had the opportunity to participate in an online coaching series called “Stirrup Your Life”. Geared for equestrians and led by my dear friend Jen Verharen of Cadence, Inc., the series led participants through a series of exercises, reflections and readings which allowed each of us to create a vision, to identify our core values and our limiting beliefs, and then to perhaps have the courage to “step into the gap” of discomfort, to stretch out of the known and familiar, in order to take steps towards achieving personal goals which were in keeping with our vision. It was truly the first time I have ever sat down and really tried to concretely identify what I wanted my life to be like, restrictions, reality or other negatives be damned.
Participating in this coaching series was one of those activities which didn’t seem that significant in the immediate moment, but now, nearly one year later, I have begun to recognize the impact it has had on my way of thinking about goal setting and the pursuit of a contented life. One of Jen’s main points was that if you are living a life which is out of integrity with your core values, you will likely always feel that something is wrong or missing. It is all too easy to get caught up in the “must do’s” or “should do’s”, and then to wake up and realize that somehow you are so full of ‘busyness’ that you don’t have the time to do those things which are truly most important to you. We, as individuals, really do have the ability to modify the path we are on. That is not to say that taking the steps to change the route is easy to do; in fact, usually it is anything but. However, more of us are prisoners of our own mistaken beliefs, preconceived ideas and bad habits than we care to admit.
One of my core values is a commitment towards living my life with as much mindfulness towards sustainability as is possible given my current resources. On several levels, I have not been doing a good enough job in this area, which has certainly contributed to feelings of discontent and frustration. The term “sustainability” is a trendy one right now. But what is really meant by it?
Merriam Webster defines “sustainability” as:
Able to be used without being completely used up or destroyed
Involving methods that do not completely use up or destroy natural resources
Able to last or continue for a long time.
Usually when most of us think of sustainability, we are referring to definition # 2 (which of course relates to # 1 and #3). But when it comes to career, life goals and personal ambitions, it is becoming abundantly clear to me that definitions # 1 and 3 apply to these areas, as well.
There is a balance in everything. It is great to have goals, but some goals are exclusive to each other, and so sometimes we have to compromise or shift focus in order to accommodate needs in multiple areas, or prioritize the thing which we cannot live without. There needs to be a balance between wanting to do EVERYTHING, RIGHT NOW, and pacing yourself. In order to make the choices which are right for each one of us, we must know where it is we hope to go.
Envisioning a sustainable future for me doesn’t just relate to installing solar panels, composting the manure or eating locally. Sustainability means that the life energy I am putting into an activity is worth the benefit I am getting out of it. Choosing to live sustainably means that I am deliberately and mindfully putting my time into work (paid or unpaid), relationships and other endeavors which renew and inspire me, not those which leave me feeling drained, depressed or demoralized.
I have learned to check in with my vision regularly—whenever I need to refocus or to consider whether a given commitment is in keeping with my need for a sustainable life. Visions can be revised or edited as needed but must always accommodate core values, just as an organization returns to its mission statement and edits its strategic plan if it is not working.
This particular blog post may not seem as “horse related” as some of the others. For me personally, many components of my vision are about horses and my equine aspirations. Some of these goals have proven to be exclusive of other ambitions which most people would consider to be more traditional. Most of the time, I am okay with that. But I would be lying if I said that I never question myself and the path I have chosen.
Many of the concepts of sustainability relate not just to protecting the planet but to living a meaningful life. And for me right now, this is everything.
In 2015, I was lucky enough to be one of ten recipients of an Area I Eventing Scholarship. In my application, I indicated that I planned to focus on training rather than competing Annapony this season. I used funds from the scholarship to pay for lessons with Verne Batchelder, Denny Emerson and Nancy Guyotte (see Another Clinic with Nancy Guyotte). Throughout each session, one theme became abundantly clear: Anna is a capable, but somewhat lazy, athlete, and nagging her for “more” will get you nowhere. My lesson with Nancy focused mostly on show jumping, while Verne tackled dressage and Denny, cross country. In this blog, I will discuss the main exercises and techniques learned in the sessions with Verne and Denny.
Verne Batchelder: Using Double Longeing to Improve Suppleness and Impulsion
Verne Batchelder of River House Hanoverians in Williston, FL, gives clinics regularly in New Hampshire. I have really enjoyed working with him over the past several years both with Anna and Lee. One of Verne’s great strengths is his ability to find many different approaches to correcting deficiencies, all while staying within a clear training system and progression. Verne is also an expert with work in hand, including double longeing and long lining; he regularly includes such techniques in the training programs of his own horses, which I had the opportunity to witness on a visit to his farm several years ago (see Winter Training Sessions: Mini-Pro Style).
Having worked with Verne a number of times previously, he is well familiar with Anna’s tendency to be generally lacking in impulsion. Some of this he attributes to her inherent mellow nature, but some of it is due to a lack of suppleness. We have worked on improving her suppleness in a variety of ways, including improved neck control, the use of traditional lateral exercises such as shoulder fore, leg yield and haunches in, as well as longitudinal stretching work like long and low or lengthenings.
This spring, Verne decided for the first time to incorporate some work on the double longe into our session. His intention was to provide increased support through the outside turning aids while improving control of the curvature of her neck. I remained mounted while Verne ran two lines; the outside line was simply attached to the bit ring and ran over my leg and around Anna’s hindquarters, while the inside line was set up as a sliding longe. This meant that the line ran through the inside bit ring and then attached to a loop on the girth, underneath my inside foot. With the sliding longe, the ground handler can smoothly achieve correct inside flexion. The outside line allows for a clear and consistent support through the entire arc of the horse’s body while also providing a mechanism to apply a traditional half halt.
It is quite a strange feeling to essentially have one’s horse ridden from the ground while one remains mounted! Anna has longed only a little bit, and I was definitely mildly (well, greatly) concerned that she might not be a model citizen when put into these boundaries. My job was to essentially hold the reins evenly and to remain centered, adding leg to support Verne’s body position and voice. At first, Anna was somewhat resistant to the idea of accepting the newly imposed limits. It is important for a trainer to remember that resistance is only the horse’s way of expressing their displeasure. If the question the trainer is asking the horse is fair given their physical condition and previous training, and the aids are appropriate, usually the rider’s best response is to simply ignore the resistance and remain consistent in using the aids to ask the appropriate question. In fairly short order, Anna relaxed into the new parameters established by the double longe and began to more actively engage the muscles of her topline as well as increase the degree of thrust from her hindquarters. In addition, the connection further stabilized and the quality of the bend improved.
After this session with Verne, I incorporated the use of about ten minutes of warm up on the double longe with Anna on dressage days, with the inside line set up as a sliding longe. When the horse is unmounted, side reins set just a little bit on the longer side will help to maintain straightness; as always, they should not be adjusted in such a way that the horse’s head is forced down or in. In working with this technique independently, I noticed that Anna could find her own balance and begin to develop looseness throughout her back more rapidly than when warmed up under saddle. When I rode her after this style of warm up, she was much more willing to stay “hotter” off my leg and therefore I could use a much quieter forward driving aid.
One of the other huge benefits of using the sliding longe technique to warm up was that the overall work session could remain “short and sweet”. Because she had already loosened up her muscles, it was possible to keep the actual “work” session much more focused and organized. I think this is super important with all horses, but especially those which don’t have an unlimited reserve of energy. If you can get in the ring, do what you need to do, and then go out for a hack, the horse’s attitude will stay fresher and more enthusiastic than when they anticipate a long session of drill work.
Denny Emerson: Jumping Fences off a Forward Stride
Anna and I spent the summer of 2014 up at Tamarack Hill Farm, where we worked hard to rebuild our confidence over fences (see The Tamarack Chronicles: Vol III). We left in August with a renewed sense of harmony and assurance in our jumping work and completed the fall season with placings at King Oak and Stoneleigh Burnham Horse Trials.
Anna at King Oak Farm, September 2014. Photo courtesy of Flatlandsfoto/Joan Davis and used with permission.
Overall, I was able to continue to apply the techniques I had learned at Denny’s to our regular schooling routine and keep Anna’s jumping skills tuned up while working on my own over the winter. In general, I keep the fences low enough that “mistakes” are not a big deal. I have focused a lot of energy on further refining my jumping “eye” and improving the quality and consistency of Anna’s jumping canter.
Denny always says that when under pressure, all riders will show a tendency to either “choke” or “chase” their eye. What he means is that we all have a preference for pushing a horse to lengthen their stride, perhaps leaving a bit too long, or to overly compress the horse, causing them to jump from a deep spot. While either option might be the best one in a given circumstance, neither is ideal as a method of riding to every fence; this is why most of us have to develop, through practice, the ability and habit of organizing the horse’s canter to arrive at the “ideal” take off spot. It is my opinion that horses, too, have a tendency to prefer to leave long or to jump deep, and they also need to be conditioned to be able to jump from a variety of different reasonable points.
Anna would be a “choker”. She can be carrying a decent amount of energy and power in the canter, and then in the final few strides before the fence, drop behind the leg, compress her stride, and calmly decelerate to the base with increasingly shorter strides. It isn’t quite the same as a “chip”, which is when the horse will squish one extra small stride right in front of the fence. With Anna, it is a steady deceleration which allows balanced but small strides to be fit into the space where a few longer strides would have been better. She is simply more comfortable jumping from a slightly tighter distance off a shorter stride.
For a long time, I have allowed Anna to manage her fences in this way, as it seemed to be the place from which she was most confident. It is also incredibly difficult to prevent her from doing it, and when I try to address the issue, I feel like I am beating her with my legs and/ or crop to keep the canter going. I have participated in clinics (most notably with Kim Severson) where the entire focus became trying to eliminate this change in the canter, to get Anna to jump more “out of stride”, but I always end up feeling like both Anna and I are frustrated. She also will begin to shut down if you really push her on it—her response seems to be, “hey, I jumped your fence, lady, what more do you want?”
The major issue is that there are some fences which simply do not ride as well when jumped from this tighter spot, including upright verticals like planks and wider oxers. In addition, she will often quit when faced with this deep distance and a tough question. Yet when I push her to maintain the same canter to avoid this situation, she will obstinately ignore my aids and put herself into the not ideal take off point. It is just yet another manifestation of her tendency to not stay in front of the leg. Story of our lives!
So if I rode like Michael Jung or Ingrid Klimke or any of the other equestrian elite, my horse would never have gotten to this point. But as I am a mere mortal, and have made a ‘deal’ with my horse, I am now faced with trying to change the terms of our established contract.
My session with Denny started in the show jumping arena. After a brief warm up on the flat, I began popping over a few of the smaller fences in the ring. Anna was obedient but also performing her signature “I change my canter on the approach” maneuver. Denny decided that the focus of our session was going to be keeping her much more forward overall, but especially in those critical last few strides before the fence.
In this lesson at Tamarack in summer of 2014, we were racing an impending storm– the energy in the air came through into the pony and we finally found some forward intention!
Still in the show jumping ring, Denny had me kick Anna up into a cross country style canter—as much of a gallop as Anna will do under saddle (have I mentioned that she is not a very forward thinking animal?). My job was to do whatever it took—growl, flail, kick like a D2 Pony Clubber—to keep her not just in a jumping canter but a forward, cross country canter, to each and every fence I aimed at. I really did feel just like a 10 year old whose legs don’t clear the saddle flaps, both in technique and overall effectiveness. For her part, Anna did stay much more forward, but it wasn’t coming from within her—it was the result of my motivation.
So in spite of seeing this glimmer of improvement, Denny decided that we needed to go out onto the cross country course to seek more energy. Most horses show an intrinsic improvement in their forward intention when they are out in the open, and the terrain of Vermont would also provide some assistance. Denny hoped that by adding in these variables, Anna would begin to better ‘self-motivate’ in her approach to the fences.
Working on a similar exercise at Tamarack in the summer of 2014, we had jumped up a bank and then were looking for a bounce to this vertical. I must be trying to pick her up off the ground here!
The exercise seemed simple—pick up a positive canter at the bottom of a slope, kick on up the hill, then ride a gradual turn over the crest of the hill and allow the momentum of the descent to carry us forward down to a tire jump at the bottom. The objective? To maintain the positive, forward energy up to and across the fence, with no change in step.
It was really, really hard to not “check” Anna on the descent down the hill. The tire fence we were tackling at the base was small, and so no matter where we came to, Anna would be more than able to cope with getting us up and over. In spite of that, it took everything in my power to not try to come to a specific take off point. For the first several attempts, I did pretty well at the roll down the hill but when Anna began her typical slow down at the base, I did little to prevent it. It was truly amazing how effortlessly she could check all of that forward energy and then insert her little microstrides in before the jump.
I ended up having to channel that inner ten year old girl again, and basically kick and flail and feel like we just galloped down the hill, before Anna FINALLY jumped the tire fence directly out of stride.
Left to my own devices, I don’t think I would ever have been brave enough to ride Anna so aggressively. I still have hunter equitation roots, where aids such as visible kicking or moving out of harmony with the horse are certainly frowned upon. I think I would also have worried too much about getting her out of balance and causing her to make a dangerous mistake. But Denny made two comments regarding these thoughts: 1) The fences MUST be kept low and straightforward, so that jumping them is a given almost regardless of the horse’s balance and 2) he almost never ever coaches riders to ride like this either. Anna is just that lazy!
Finally getting it right! Photos by Denny Emerson.
My major take home from this session was that no matter what, I NEED to practice remaining assertive and positive with the forward driving aids up to and away from each and every fence. I don’t think that I have been passive with my aids at all; it is just clear that in some circumstances with some horses, it is possible to be even bigger and louder with your aids than you might think is appropriate!
I would really to thank the members of the Area I Scholarship for choosing me as one of the 2015 recipients. I feel that I definitely benefitted from the instruction I gained from the scholarship, and I hope that through these blogs, other riders with lazy horses might gain some additional ideas or insights into techniques which can help them, too!
“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” W.H.Murray
Murray was a Scottish mountaineer and writer, who spent three years imprisoned during World War II in an enemy camp. While there, he wrote a draft for a book later called Mountaineering in Scotland on the only paper available to him—toilet paper. So he knows a thing or two about being resilient, I should think.
Denny Emerson recited this quote to me after the Dark Mare (Lee) and I completed the seemingly impossible— the rigorous three day long, one hundred mile ride at the Green Mountain Horse Association Distance Days, held annually in South Woodstock, Vermont each fall. What made the completion so sweet, and somewhat amazing, is that previous to that weekend, the longest ride that my horse and I had ever done was a two-day fifty mile route, just one month before. 2015 was only our second season riding in competitive trail, and in 2014 we had ended our first year by finishing the 25 mile ride at this same event, feeling pretty proud of that accomplishment. To say that we were rookies is an understatement of the term.
Lee completes her first two day 50 mile ride at GMHA, with her friends Roxie (middle, ridden by Denny Emerson) and Camille (ridden by Robin Malkasian). Photo: M. Emerson.
Denny had first planted the seed in my mind that aiming for the 100 mile ride was a possible goal when I spent the summer of 2014 up at his Tamarack Hill Farm. At that point, Lee and I had done exactly one 10 mile “intro” conditioning distance ride. While up in Vermont for the summer, we finished two fifteen and one twenty five mile CTR, and completed one additional twenty five mile ride after we returned home. Even while I was letting the seed incubate in my mind, there was a more dominant, rational part of my brain which was saying—trying for the 100 would be ridiculous! You have never done more than a 25 mile ride. There is no WAY you will be ready, and you have no idea what you are doing.
But still the idea ruminated….
Planning and Prep
Being fairly new to the sport meant that I had no idea how one would go about conditioning a horse to do a 100 mile ride, never mind whether or not it was a good idea to even try to do so. I gain confidence from feeling well informed and making plans, and so I figured that the New England winter presented a good opportunity to do a little research.
I started with a cover to cover read of several books, especially Hilary Clayton’s bible, Conditioning the Sport Horse, which gave me an outstanding overview of all aspects of conditioning, from physiological changes to the various forms of conditioning (interval, long slow distance, skill drills, etc) to proposed conditioning schedules for various activities. I also read several books more focused on endurance than competitive trail, but still helpful gave many helpful insights and ideas: Go the Distance by Loving, Endurance Riding by Wilde and The Complete Guide to Endurance Riding and Competition, by Snyder-Smith. Two of the major takeaways from my research were that 1) just like marathoners don’t go out and run 26.2 miles every day to get ready for their marathons, 100 mile horses don’t go out and ride tens of miles every day to get ready either and 2) a horse who has remained in consistent, steady, 60 minutes/day/6 days/week of work for many years, like Lee, likely has a fairly good base to start with. Maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.
Next, I ordered a heart rate monitor and a GPS watch which measured distance and time. It arrived shortly after one of several February blizzards, and it took me until June to be able to figure out how to use it properly (when all else fails, but only as a last resort, read ALL of the directions). The watch was immensely helpful in teaching me a sense of speed over miles—CTR is based on maintaining a fairly steady 6-7 minute mile, and developing an awareness of what this speed feels like over varied terrain is important to ensure that you finish within the allotted window.
Finally, I planned a schedule for the season. As in any discipline, you can’t push for peak performance year round. I needed to develop a program which would allow Lee to steadily build her endurance and strength over time, without pushing so hard that she became sore or sour. I decided up front that if at any point she indicated that she wasn’t feeling up to the task, I would pull back and regroup. I live in seacoast, NH, where the terrain is rather…coastal. In order to get ready for the hills and rocks of Vermont, I needed to carefully balance speed work to improve cardiovascular capacity with maintaining soundness in the musculoskeletal system.
Finally, I knew that the CTRs themselves would serve as an important component to her conditioning. I decided that we would do the 15 mile ride sponsored by VERDA in mid May, followed by a one day 30 mile ride on flatter terrain a few weeks later in Maine (Lee actually was the high point champion that day!). Based on how she felt after the 30 mile, next I aimed for the 25 mile ride at GMHA in June, and entered the “intro to endurance” 15 mile ride the next day, to have our first experience of a “back to back” weekend. Considering that she was running away with me at times on the 15 mile, I figured she was coping ok! Our final CTR before the 100 was the two day fifty at GMHA in early August.
Lee went on to win the Maine 30 CTR with a perfect score of 100.
Before I began our conditioning, I had our vet, Dr. Monika Calitri of Seacoast Equine, out in March. Lee is 16, and I wanted to make sure that there were no signs of any trouble brewing which would preclude the commencement of her conditioning plan. With Dr. Calitri’s blessing, we got the green light to move forward with our schedule, and made a plan to recheck her in mid-June, after the back to back 40 mile weekend, to see how she was doing at that point.
As we progressed through each event, Lee felt better and better. There were a few bumps in the road—she had some minor girth galls after the back to back 40 mile ride, prompting me to ask the trail community for advice (mohair/string girths), and we had some soundness concerns raised by the vet judge at the 50 mile ride, which really gave me pause, though I could personally feel and see nothing wrong. However, she came out of the recovery phase of her 50 mile feeling better than ever, and after consulting again with Dr. Calitri, we received the green light to enter the 100.
Yet in spite of the successful completion of my preparation, and the encouragement of several mentors in the trail community, I hesitated to enter the 100 mile ride. I worried that I wasn’t qualified, that I was in over my head, and maybe rerouting to the 60 mile ride, being held the same weekend, was a better plan.
But then I realized that the major reason that I was vacillating about entering the 100 mile ride was because I didn’t want to not finish it. And as it turns out, if you don’t try, you certainly will not finish. The only way to finish a 100 mile ride is to start one.
So on closing day, I dropped my entry in the mail. And so began one of the most exciting and emotional weekends I have ever experienced with my horse.
Team Peanut Butter and Jelly
Waiting to start on Day One: Lee, Flower and Robin, Quinn and Kat. Dr. Joan Hiltz offers us her well wishes! Photo by H. Reynolds.
I can still count on just a few fingers the total number of people I have ever completed rides with, and not one of them was entering the 100 mile. I knew that in order to be successful, I would need the guidance and companionship of someone who had done this before. Through a mutual friend, I was introduced to Kat Waters, who was entered to ride Lee Alexander’s palomino Morgan gelding, Quinn. Kat kindly agreed to let me join her and her friend, Robin McGrath, who was ironically also riding a palomino Morgan, Flower. While it was Quinn’s first 100 mile ride, all other participants were veterans from previous years. As a group, we looked like two pieces of bread and the “stuff” in the middle—Team Peanut Butter and Jelly.
Flower, in the foreground, and Quinn rest after completing 40 miles on day one.
I must pause here to pay respect to both Kat and Robin, without whom I am sure I would not have completed this ride. From start to finish, we all functioned as a team, and enjoyed every minute on trail and off. Kat became the team statistician, keeping track of our pace and the remaining time allowed. We jokingly referred to Quinn as the “overlord”, as he typically led the group, comprised of his own personal harem. Robin and Flower helped to set the pace, with their infectious energy and enthusiasm pushing us forward through fatigue and the seemingly never ending Vermont hills.
Our group rode the entire 100 miles from start to finish together, and I don’t think there was a happier or more excited group at any phase of the way.
Day 1—The White Loop (40 Miles)
The day prior to the ride, each competitor was required to ‘weigh in’ on the GMHA Member’s Room porch, carrying tack, helmet, boots and any other equipment they would be carrying with them. Riders were divided then into “lightweight”, “middleweight” or “heavyweight” divisions. We also had the standard “vet in”, where we presented our mounts to the judges, Dr. Ann Chaffee and Eva Norris. Lee decided that she needed to liven things up by bucking vigorously during most of her trot out. Clearly my strategy to “taper down” before the ride had left her with plenty of energy— but unfortunately, you want to try to match your trot out at the end of the ride with your initial presentation, which meant we had a lot to live up to!
The first day of the ride was the longest on trail, and I was a little nervous knowing that it would be the longest distance I had ever ridden Lee in one go. To add to my nerves, the route was to take us over the trails in Reading, which are known for being exceptionally rocky and rugged, and therefore difficult to make time on.
Lee and I about to start the 100 mile ride. Photo courtesy Robin Malkasian.
Our day started early. There were just nine horses entered in the 100 mile ride, and so our group of three represented fully one third of the ride’s entry. We were certainly distinct—two Morgans of color and one decidedly Thoroughbred mare. No traditional Arabians here!
Once we got on trail, we quickly realized that our three mounts really were going to stick together just like peanut butter and jelly. The time passed quickly and Lee readily pulsed down at the half way hold. I was especially pleased because with such a long distance, the hold was at about mile 25—which meant that Lee had gone nearly as far as she had ever gone before without the benefit of a mid-point break. Other than being hungry, she seemed quite good to continue.
Quinn and his “ladies”– tackling the Reading trails on day one. Photo courtesy of Kat Waters.
One of the funniest moments happened at a water stop. We had caught up with another small group of 100 mile riders, and so about five or six of us were standing in a running stream, allowing our horses to drink. Lee likes the moving water best, and had finally settled down to take a good drink in, when she decided that actually she was more concerned with scratching her face on her leg. Somehow, she slipped the crownpiece of her bridle right off over her ears! We were literally in midstream, and I was NOT interested in dismounting to fix the problem. I managed to keep enough pressure on the S curve hackamore noseband that I prevented the rest of the bridle from slipping off, and then somehow manipulated the rest of the pieces back into their rightful places, all with one hand.
Upon returning to GMHA grounds, Flower and Lee pulsed down quickly, but Quinn, who is a bit thicker in his muscling, struggled to recover in his pulse parameters, despite a reduced respiration rate. Kat needed to use every minute of extra time she was granted to continue to sponge and cool Quinn. Within the rules of CTR, the most we could do was hold him or refill her water buckets—no one but the rider is allowed to apply the water, except in an emergency. After an anxious wait on all our parts, Quinn was approved by the judges and Team Peanut Butter and Jelly remained intact.
We took the horses out for several walks and periods of hand grazing. Lee seemed pretty content, and I was incredibly pleased with her for handling the rocky, rugged terrain in the Reading area with such “fight”. I looked forward to the ride the next day.
Lee looking fairly bright and perky for a horse who just went 40 miles.
The overnight temperature was expected to be in the low 40’s, but the early evening still felt fairly pleasant. It is not a temperature that I would normally choose to blanket at, so I was surprised to see many other riders bringing out coolers and sheets as the sun dipped down. Kat and Robin explained to me that after such a big exertion, the horse’s muscles need to be kept warmer than usual to prevent stiffness or cramping as they stood in the stalls overnight. Fortunately, I had a supply of appropriate horse clothing in the trailer, so I put a sheet on Lee too. This was just one of many tips this rookie picked up from the other riders.
Day 2—The Red Loop (35 miles)
Day two sent us on the thirty five mile red loop. Today, we were joined by a medium sized group of horses and riders who were entered in the two day sixty mile ride and a small group who were doing the thirty five exclusively. The 100 milers were sent out first, though, and it was as we were getting ready to leave that I began to realize what a celebrity status the 100 mile group had at the ride. People I don’t know, or have only met once, were there to see us off, and many of them knew who we were and who we were riding.
As we started out over some of the fields at GMHA, I could feel tightness in Lee’s back, and I had a moment of panic that she was not right after her long ride the day before. After a bit of warm up, though, I could feel her muscles begin to loosen, and her stride began to lengthen and swing as it usually does.
Day two was an exciting day on so many levels. First, the route took us on trails in the town of Brownsville which I had never seen before, including one road which allowed us a fairly stunning view of Mt. Ascutney. Second, once we passed through the safety check/hold at the half way point, each mile we covered was one mile further than Lee had ever gone before. I knew that even if we didn’t finish, at that point we still had accomplished a great deal.
I noticed at the halfway hold that some of the galling which I had experienced on the June ride was starting again, in spite of using the mohair girth. I ride Lee in an all purpose saddle that I fished out of a dumpster (I am not making this up), and I had it flocked with wool over the winter. Comparing where Lee’s girth sits in relation to her elbow to the same setting on the trail saddles my friends used, I could see that it really wouldn’t matter what style of girth I chose—the placement of the billets dictate that Lee’s sensitive skin behind the elbow is destined to become pinched over longer distances. Small issues with tack which are only minor irritations on a daily basis can become major issues or even deal breakers as the miles add up. I reset the saddle, stretched her legs, and hoped for the best.
“Oh, the things I must endure…” says Lee. Photo courtesy of Robin Malkasian.
When we got back to the GMHA grounds, it was clear that the galls had grown, even though Lee didn’t seem to compromise her movement because of them. However, her always-tending-towards-tight back was now incredibly sore, to the point where even a light brush of the fingers elicited a strong reaction, and she had two “hot spots” forming in the saddle area where she was exceptionally sensitive.
The judging team was not thrilled with these developments either, and they asked me to re-present Lee to them in the morning. The rules of CTR are quite clear that no lotions, salves, medications or other “product” can be used on the horses while the competition is underway; however, soaked towels, massage and hand walking are all completely legal. I spent hours over the afternoon and into the evening applying cool towels to Lee’s hot spots and galls, alternating with periods of hand walking and grazing or massaging the long muscles of her neck, topline and hindquarter.
Gradually, there was some reduction in the swelling, and Lee’s saddle area seemed to be less sensitive. Kat returned from afternoon chores on her own local farm with several different versions of saddle pad and girth to try for the third day, as it was clear that several of the galls correlated with the positions of the string on the mohair girth.
I spent an anxious night in my trailer, hoping that Lee’s sore spots would resolve enough overnight to allow us to start. We were so close to our goal, but I didn’t want to ride her if doing so was going to compromise her well-being.
Day 3—The Blue Loop (25 miles)
It was still night out when I arose to get ready for my AM pre-check on day three. Hoping that the coyote pack which seemed to visit the grounds each morning around 4 AM had finished its rounds, I headed to the barns. No one else seemed to be up and about yet, but the horses were alert to my activity. More horses had arrived the night before as riders settled in for the twenty five and fifteen mile rides happening on day three, and the barns were fairly full.
As Lee ate her AM feed, I cautiously checked the galls from the day before. Nearly all were flat or close to it, and her sensitivity level was much reduced. I spent a little more time massaging the big muscles of her topline, while trying to keep as much of her body covered with the blanket as possible. I had done nothing towards getting ready for the day—I hadn’t prepared my hold bucket or organized feed, I hadn’t tried on any of the borrowed pads or girths—as it felt too much like tempting fate to set up for something which I might not be permitted to do. Once Lee was done eating, I took her out for a graze and a long, loosening walk. I practiced a few trot ups to get her muscles supple and warm. She seemed willing to move and to trot, and maybe a little bit rolling her eyes at me as if to say, “Really? Again?”
At 5:45 AM, we presented to our judge team at the pavilion. They noted her improved topline and asked me to jog her. I am not sure I breathed the entire time we presented ourselves in hand, but I let out a long exhale when they gave me the thumbs up to start. Team Peanut Butter and Jelly was still holding together.
I had to hustle back in the stabling area to finish preparations for the day’s ride. I scooted right out of the pre-ride briefing in order to experiment with the tack options. I ended up using a quilted and padding enforced dressage pad I found in my trailer, with my usual half pad and Kat’s fuzzy double elastic girth. This combination seemed to provide good distribution of padding over the saddle area and also elicited only a minimal response from Lee as I tacked her up.
Lee takes a break on Cookie Hill during day 3. Photo courtesy Kat Waters.
The last day of the ride was glorious. To be quite honest, after riding forty and thirty five miles, back to back, twenty five felt like an absolute piece of cake. We enjoyed gorgeous fall weather, stunning views, and the traditional chocolate chip cookies at the top of Cookie Hill. After we passed through the final half way hold of the ride, I realized I was smiling like a crazy person and getting a little giddy. We had less than thirteen miles to go. We just might finish this thing!
Team Peanut Butter and Jelly returning to the White Ring after completing 100 miles. Photo courtesy H. Reynolds.
I am not sure I can fully put into words the feeling of returning to the White Ring for the third time, and hearing our names announced once more, this time proclaiming us one hundred mile finishers. People on the rail cheered. I just kept stroking Lee’s neck, silently thanking her for giving me her best over the entire process—not just these three days, but the weeks and months leading up to it. As we dismounted after crossing the finish line, I gave Lee a big hug around her neck. She sighed. She isn’t much for demonstration of affection but I think after 100 miles, she was willing to put up with me just a little longer.
Thanks and Gratitude
The entire experience of my first three day 100 mile ride was amazing and humbling. The people I have met in the competitive trail community have been truly helpful and have often gone out of their way to help my rookie self out—I am greatly indebted to the wisdom and guidance of them all, but especially Robin Malkasian and Kate Burr, Denny Emerson, Sarah MacDonald and of course Kat Waters and Robin McGrath.
Robin and Flower won all kinds of honors, including High Point Morgan and the Reserve Champion High Point Horse of the whole ride!
Kat and Quinn received honors for being the best Morgan trail horse, high point rookie horse and the horsemanship award.
These rides are a ton of work to put on, and I have found both the organizers and volunteers to be gracious and helpful, frequently answering my questions and giving me guidance. And of course, all riders must acknowledge the willingness of land owners to allow us access to their properties—such an amazing privilege.
Team Peanut Butter and Jelly still sticking together at the awards ceremony.
To my friends at home who also have shown me so much support and love, helped train with me and take care of me and the critters—Dr. Amanda Rizner, Pam, Molly and Kaeli McPhee, Heidi Chase, Dr. Monika Calitri and our wonderful farrier, Nancy Slombo, who often will come on a day’s notice when I change my mind and decide that no, that shoe WON’T stay on through the weekend after all– my deepest gratitude and appreciation.
But my biggest acknowledgement of all must go to the Dark Mare herself. Anyone who knows Lee and I also knows what a tremendously long road we have been on together, literally and figuratively. I am so appreciative for all that she has taught me and for finally finding a niche in which this wonderful athlete can truly excel.
Photo credit to Denny Emerson.
Green Mountain Horse Association’s 79th Annual 100 Mile Ride
Christina Keim and Liatris: 1st place Middleweight Division, Champion Rookie Rider, Perkion Trophy for Best Scoring Thoroughbred
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.– Goethe
We joke that the Dark Mare, Lee, is a survivor. She lives her life in a fairly constant state of alertness, and if there is a sign of trouble brewing, she is going to get out of dodge. In her younger years, she broke cross ties and halters with frequent regularity and closely monitored objects such as dumpsters, mounting blocks and piles of jumps for the presence of trolls, chipmunks and other instigators of mayhem. While she has mellowed somewhat, in general, if danger is afoot, Lee is leaving—with or without you.
When Lee gets upset about something, she can really revert to a primitive state of fight or flight. On the one hand, it is easy to understand that this reaction has kept horses as a species alive for eons, and the behavior is imprinted in her genetic code. But at the same time, it is frustrating because the reaction can be so out of proportion to the problem. And at some level, one would hope that her training and systematic exposure to all kinds of stimuli would result in at least one ounce of trust in her humans, but this has not always been the case.
Lee enjoyed the cow-free cow barn in Maine at the 30 mile CTR. I was also impressed by her overall “coping” here, including the wind blowing hard all night, which rattled the metal roof panels to no end.
As a result of dealing with this behavior for the better part of a decade, I realize that I have come to assume the worst of Lee in many circumstances, expecting her to have mini or major meltdowns over various situations. You might think that I am about to tell you how my preconceived ideas usually set up a self-fulfilling prophecy, and that Lee lives up to my (minimal) expectations when push comes to shove. However, increasingly, the opposite is the case, and perhaps it is I who has the trust issue, not Lee.
This March, tired of being in the indoor and looking for a change of pace, I was riding Lee in the dirt parking lot at the University of New Hampshire during its Spring Break week. The footing was actually quite good given the season and weather we had experienced this winter, but the lot was ringed with a decently sized plow bank creating a de facto fence line and leaving only one entrance/exit from the lot. I had planned to do a set distance, changing direction at regular intervals, working at the trot and canter. As I was getting close to the end of my set, I noticed a fairly dark and ominous looking cloud in the not so far distance, coming from the direction that ‘weather’ normally approaches us from. “I am almost done,” I thought. “Two more laps and I will head in. No problem.”
Lee and I took our first selfie ever at the Rockingham Rail Trail after a solo 14 mile conditioning ride this July.
Almost before the thought was complete, the wind picked up like I have never experienced and began to howl. Debris that I hadn’t previously noticed was flying sideways and into us. Suddenly it began to precipitate—something. Hail? Snow balls? I couldn’t even tell you because the intensity of the icy precipitation combined with the incredible wind meant that I couldn’t even lift my head. Lee instinctively swung her hindquarters into the wind, but we were still being pummeled from all sides and were instantly soaked through. I had no idea what was going to come next—I wondered if a tornado were about to blow through, and had the thought, “so this is how it will end”.
We were not in a safe situation, and I knew we needed to get out of there, but due to the snow banks and our position in the lot, to do so required riding the length of the parking lot heading straight into the wind and snow/ice/rain to reach the exit. I truly couldn’t even raise my head to see ahead of us due to the intensity of the weather, so I dropped down onto her neck and yelled “go on!” to Lee over the wind. And sure enough, Lee actually went—straight into the wind, neck and head down, in spite of the power of the frenzied air. As soon as we rounded the corner, I urged her to the trot and we made a break for the barn, wind to our backs.
Denny Emerson and High Brook Rockstar and Lee and I about to start the Hartland 15 Mile CDR in July of 2014.
I was impressed with Lee that day. She would have been well within her rights to bolt or panic, to scoot or ignore me. But for whatever reason, she didn’t. I was (and still am) quite proud of her for all of it and for getting the both of us to safety.
This spring, I had to move both of my horses to new facilities. Anna had been in the same barn for five years, but Lee had been at UNH for over ten. I wasn’t too worried about Anna making the transition, but I honestly worried and worried about Lee. I can worry like it is my job. The barn she moved to is a low key private barn at my good friend’s home; it allowed Lee her own paddock with run in and access to dirt roads and trails. Perfect. Yet I worried. My friend has a mule—what if Lee is scared of her funny mule noises? The fencing is just electric wire. What if Lee doesn’t see it or respect it? What if I can’t ride Lee alone on the roads? What if…?
The night before the move, it poured, the first rain in almost a month. When I say it poured, I am talking about the soaking type of deluge that saturates you through to your core instantly, the kind that is like a hose from above. I don’t think I slept more than a few fits and starts as my anxiety and worry ate away at me. What if Lee won’t go into the shelter? What if she works herself up into a colic?
As I hitched up the trailer in the pouring rain, I not so silently cursed the Powers That Be for the weather on this most important of days. The schedule was to move Lee first, then go back and pick up Anna, since she was taking over Lee’s stall at UNH.
When we arrived at Namaste Farm, Lee fairly quietly unloaded, marched into her new abode, and took a tour around. She didn’t touch the wire fence. She didn’t respond when her new neighbors whinnied to her. While clearly not 100% settled, she was far, far less worried that I was. We did end up having to lock her into her run in that evening, as it continued to pour, because she wanted to stand outside near the other horses (who had sensibly gone into their own sheds) even once she was shivering under her rain sheet. Once she figured out that the shelter was dry though, she began using it on her own when the doors were re-opened the next day. We haven’t had to shut them since.
Lee’s new friends, Taydee the Connemara and Marybeth Applebottom, the chestnut appaloosa mule.
After a day or two to settle in, I took her for her first ride. I decided to start in the fields first. Lee’s new neighbors whinnied as we left, but she didn’t answer, and instead was all business. But when we got to the fields, she became quite unsettled and agitated, and was being overly spooky and difficult. “Here we go,” I thought to myself. “I knew this would happen. She is going to be unrideable here.” I ended up having to dismount for safety and led her in hand for a bit, full of negative thoughts and wondering what I had gotten myself into.
The fields were soaked after the heavy rain and I was worried about leaving hoof prints once she started to act up, so I decided that maybe I should try taking Lee down the dirt road instead. I had hesitated to start with this, because the traffic on the road can occasionally be unpredictable and since she can be too, I thought it might be a bad combination. However, I knew that on the road I could more confidently ask Lee to go forward and it seemed like maybe that was just what she needed.
Lee having breakfast shortly after arriving at her new home.
So I gamely re-mounted and headed off down the road, away from the farm. Almost instantly, my reliable distance horse was back. She happily trotted off, one-two-one-two, going all the way to where the pavement starts near the town line, and then home. No issues. No spooking. No drama. She was in her Zen place.
And so it has gone with Lee at Namaste Farm. Since that first ride, she has gone all the way into Newmarket and into a little subdivision, she has ridden alone and in company to Adams Point and seen her first cormorants and sailboats, and she has even come to tolerate the fields (though the bugs which live on them, not so much). She has done nearly two hundred miles of trail since her arrival, and is just one of the herd.
I don’t think I will ever stop worrying about things which haven’t happened and might not ever happen. I can at least recognize that the worry and anxiety I feel is, for me, an inevitable part of change, but I also am trying to learn to be more accepting of the fact that some variables are just out of my control. I think worry starts with some kernel of truth, but then it can grow and mutate and take on a life of its own.
Lee completes her first two day 50 mile ride at GMHA, with her friends Roxie (middle, ridden by Denny Emerson) and Camille (ridden by Robin Malkasian).
I need to start to give Lee more credit for the animal she has become. On August 1-2, she completed her first two day 50 mile competitive trail ride (CTR), and I never felt one ounce of quit in her the whole weekend. In a week, she has more than recovered and was joyfully jigging all over the place on our AM ride today. While I am sure there will be situations in the future where the “survivalist” Lee comes back, I also think that I know the horse well enough to start to trust that she will cope more often than she won’t.
As we all know, trust in any relationship is a two way street. Perhaps Lee and I are more alike than we are different in our tendency to worry. Sometimes I take care of her, and sometimes she takes care of me.
Early AM grazing in Vermont, August 2015.
Celebrating the incurable addiction which is being an equestrian
The Academic Equestrian 