The other day on Facebook, I read these three articles from Horse Listening: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. They're worth the read, especially if you're a lower level rider like myself.
If I got it right, the first article describes making contact with a horse's mouth through the bit and reins. The second part explains how when the horse lifts and rounds his back, he is on the bit. In the third part, she talks about that amazing feeling of lightness that can happen when the horse is truly on the aids and collected. While these ideas are relevant all the time, the articles took on special importance this week as I continue to focus more and more on my sitting trot.
If I got it right, the first article describes making contact with a horse's mouth through the bit and reins. The second part explains how when the horse lifts and rounds his back, he is on the bit. In the third part, she talks about that amazing feeling of lightness that can happen when the horse is truly on the aids and collected. While these ideas are relevant all the time, the articles took on special importance this week as I continue to focus more and more on my sitting trot.
As I work on my sitting trot, I'm realizing how much more control a rider can have by sitting. The opposite is also true. A crappy sitting trot can wreak havoc on a horse's way of going, especially a horse as ... sensitive as Izzy.
On Monday, I knew Izzy was going to be a handful. He came into the arena and immediately had diarrhea. This is NOT normal. In fact, he rarely poops in the arena at all, and his stool is never loose. Even so, there he was, staring fixedly at something that I couldn't see. I gave a deep sigh, patted his neck, and told him it would be alright. Spoiler alert - it was!
On Monday, I knew Izzy was going to be a handful. He came into the arena and immediately had diarrhea. This is NOT normal. In fact, he rarely poops in the arena at all, and his stool is never loose. Even so, there he was, staring fixedly at something that I couldn't see. I gave a deep sigh, patted his neck, and told him it would be alright. Spoiler alert - it was!
From this past spring.
Since my last lesson, I've been forcing myself to stay conscious of what my seat is doing. That means not allowing myself to "perch." When I perch, I squeeze my legs like a clothespin and my seat bones lose contact with my saddle. The instant I feel myself perching, I relax my legs. I also sit back and tuck my pelvis.
One way that I can tell I am really on my seat bones is that my lady parts feel squished. TMI, I realize, but with the whole sit like a queen, and move like a whore thing, it seems very apropos.
One way that I can tell I am really on my seat bones is that my lady parts feel squished. TMI, I realize, but with the whole sit like a queen, and move like a whore thing, it seems very apropos.
September 2016
I know I am rambling. What I really wanted to say was how excited I was by Monday's ride. Izzy was tense and worried by what-I-don't-know, but by using my seat and legs (rather than going straight to my hands) to really engage his hind end, there was no drama. I just kept pushing that inside hind farther and deeper until he had no choice but to lift his back and create lightness in the rein.
And in the end, we had a few moments of really good collection. It was so good that we cantered a figure eight on the right lead with no change of lead! Small stuff I know, but every positive moment is a step in the right direction.
And in the end, we had a few moments of really good collection. It was so good that we cantered a figure eight on the right lead with no change of lead! Small stuff I know, but every positive moment is a step in the right direction.
