How To Remove A Bridle

Yesterday, I took a lesson with Sean Cunningham, owner and trainer at STC Dressage. I was a little nervous about it. While I appreciate constructive criticism, I work best when I am coached by positive feedback. Yes, I need to know what I am doing wrong, but I really need to know what I am doing right. I was putting myself in Sean's hands with fingers crossed.

"My head is REALLY itchy"

​Riding with a new trainer is a lot like a job interview except that you both know you have the job already. Agreeing to take on a new rider carries risks. What if she turns out to be a pain in the butt? Can you fire her for being annoying?

"I mean REALLY itchy!"

Deciding to ride with a new trainer is equally risky. What if he's mean? What if he makes you cry? What if he thinks you're an incompetent idiot? I wanted to make a good impression. I cleaned all of my tack the day before, and Izzy was clean and shiny. We were prepared to dazzle and look like a team someone would want to coach.

"Hey! I am not itchy anymore."

In Izzy's mind, we were somewhere different, and the impression he made was the last thing he cared about. And that's how Izzy ruined any chance of us making a good impression. A good story though, we've got that covered.

"That was REALLY fun!"

Yep. At the end of the lesson, as we chatted about some final thoughts, Izzy gave two great shakes of his head, and his bridle flew off. And then he looked directly at Pivo as if to gauge my future expression. He never moved a muscle. I hopped off to retrieve my shiny, clean bridle from the dirt, and stared at him in disbelief. He looked so proud of himself!

I checked my bridle, sure that something must have broken, but no. It was in perfect shape. Valerie and Sean both laughed, and we were all grateful that Izzy hadn't spooked and bolted with his bridle dangling between his legs.

I am certain we made an impression, I am just not sure which one it was.