I mentioned on Monday that Izzy was a real idiot for Saturday's ride. I might not have used those words exactly, but believe me, I was thinking them. Fortunately, I don't hold a grudge. I saddled up on Sunday morning, prepared for an amazing day, and I got it.
His "no need to be sorry" face.
I decided to spend the whole ride in or near the Corner of Death. I didn't want to torture him or anything, but I wanted to work on keeping him forward when he wants to balk or bulge his shoulder one way or the other.
It was all very anticlimactic. We walked by it from the left and right, trotted by it from the left and right, and then picked up a canter. He was so rideable at the canter that to the left that I played around with opening his stride on the opposite side of the circle and bringing it back as we neared the scary corner. It was what he wanted to do anyway, so I made it seem like my idea.
What are you supposed to do when your riding plan works out absolutely perfectly, and your horse wants to play ball? You look at your watch, realize you spent more time driving to get to the barn than you rode, and you shrug your shoulders.
I never complain about an easy day.
It was all very anticlimactic. We walked by it from the left and right, trotted by it from the left and right, and then picked up a canter. He was so rideable at the canter that to the left that I played around with opening his stride on the opposite side of the circle and bringing it back as we neared the scary corner. It was what he wanted to do anyway, so I made it seem like my idea.
What are you supposed to do when your riding plan works out absolutely perfectly, and your horse wants to play ball? You look at your watch, realize you spent more time driving to get to the barn than you rode, and you shrug your shoulders.
I never complain about an easy day.
