I was wondering why I felt like I had forgotten how to ride, felt awkward like I had two left boots. Then it dawned on me. I was schooling at the same time all the pros were fine tuning their horses, gracefully and apparently effortlessly jumping all the jumps that were still a big deal to me. I stress "apparently effortlessly" because to get that effect, one make fine adjustments every stride, having the horse arrive at the sweet spot with just the right amount of impulsion so that the jumps flows, no last second jerky changes in speed or stride length or a dozen other variables.
Day by day, or rounds smoothed off, quicker lead changes, more bending in the corners, more consistency in cadence, and, oh, remembering the courses with no bone headed wrong turns. A few confidence building ribbons did not hurt either. I had signed up for the NorCal 3'6" Adult Medal Class, which was on the last day of the show. Adult means 18 and over, also means finally not having to compete with awesomely talented teenagers. Up until Saturday night, I still thought about backing off, scratching and waiting until the proverbial next show to cross the three six barrier. But really now, would I have that much more training to make a substantial difference? Of course not. The height represents a tipping point from a beginning or intermediate rider jumping lower fences where the horse can take off from a variety of distances and still make it safely on the other side (always a good goal). Here, the belly has to get some lift, a short flight plan negotiated, and there are much smaller tolerances for take off to get the job done. Then do it right ten times in a row. Not that it is that hard, half the people in the show were jumping much bigger. But this was MY barrier and this is MY story.
Tango galloped though the entire course cooperatively. We had a totally enjoyable round, ending up in sixth place and feeling delighted with the experience. Thank you, Tango, you are a great partner. And thank you, Hugh White, for great training and coaching.
3-9-11 The horse show before this:
I had a blast this weekend. I pretended to be in the trainer ranks by getting up at 6 am and schooling in the arenas where we would be showing 7 hours later. No jumps, just nice consistent flat work and getting her used to flapping tent walls and searing bands of sunlight cutting across dark shadows. All the trainers around me were busy riding 2-5 horses each, it was a kaleidescope of activity, more complicated interlacing patterns than seen in Cavallo. Then Tango got a rest, message, chiropractic
Then the classes began. 1:30 sharp, the 18 and older ladies were milling around the entry gate with no one offering to go first. What was the best striding on the broken line? Was the four stride a reach or steady shorter strides? The gate man, responsible for getting us in the ring despite our reservations has to be a bit of a comedian. Good humor goes a long way in that job. I heard, "Joan, I heard you offered to go first. Well not really, Hugh said you would go first." So in I went, basing my striding on some one who walked it and told Hugh what she thought. Third hand information. Worked great, made all the distances, decent bends, lead changes, nice distances, not too much motion or ducking, and a sitting trot to a walk out the ring. The rounds and better each time. She was a sweetheart in the flat class and that rounded out the day.
You are NOT allowed to ask how many people were in each class, but I did end up with a first, second, third and fourth. But I also have SO MUCH to work on, always seems to become more obvious in the show setting.
Over the weekend, the competition stiffened up. Hordes of teenagers and preteens, released from school responsibilities, descended on the show grounds like fans to a Justin Bieber concert. They mounted their fantastic equine champs and glided though the courses, capturing the elegance only mimicked by the animation in Avatar. Alternatively, Tango and I were consistent, no drama, plodded along, and dropped down in the ribbons to 6-7-8 th places typically. In the last class, Norcal 3', we had a really fun twisty course, no mistakes, got the job done. We placed 6th. But, as Hugh kindly pointed out, first geezer. I was clearly the highest placing person who could drive themselves to the show.
Tango did perk up in the big jumper ring. A little over powered, and doing the lines in jump off striding (my bad), we still have work to do. Coming into the one stride combination against the railing, Tango moved sideways about 4 feet just before the jumps. She sometimes does not like solid walls she can't see through. What if there is a saber tooth tiger ready to pounce, at least some ancestral gene reminded her of that possibility. Good thing the jumps are 12 feet wide. I calculated that we still had room to make it. It did cross my mind that my left foot might hit the standard. I was not worried about personal injury, but scraping my boot! How ridiculous, a fasionista thought at that time? Then we had to stay relatively over for the second jump so the distance was doable, calculating the hypotenuse on the spot. I can well see how we ended up in 7th place. But doing the victory gallop, with the long ribbon around her neck was a blast, even following six other young ladies, led by the incomparable Haily Webster, now 14.
Your reporter in the field, Joan
10-18-10 Norcam Finals and Maybe
I wanted to shine, put my best foot forward, look my best. In a woman's terms, that means mandatory makeup. I should have reconsidered when the temperature was expected to reach 100 degrees in the shade, and the shade was provided by a few fronds of some newly planted palms. Sitting from horseback, that was not much cooling. Well, I did my best, coiffed and ready. Of course, every time I looked into the mirror, sweat had interpolated into every pore, my eyeliner had repositioned itself into raccoon eyes, and I decided that was enough of that. The rest of the show, I wore spf 30 sun screen, and still got a tan line around my helmet strap! Next time I will get advice from the Synchronized Swimming Team.
10-18-10 Norcam Finals and Maybe
I wanted to shine, put my best foot forward, look my best. In a woman's terms, that means mandatory makeup. I should have reconsidered when the temperature was expected to reach 100 degrees in the shade, and the shade was provided by a few fronds of some newly planted palms. Sitting from horseback, that was not much cooling. Well, I did my best, coiffed and ready. Of course, every time I looked into the mirror, sweat had interpolated into every pore, my eyeliner had repositioned itself into raccoon eyes, and I decided that was enough of that. The rest of the show, I wore spf 30 sun screen, and still got a tan line around my helmet strap! Next time I will get advice from the Synchronized Swimming Team.
The horses have to look as clean and shiny as the riders. Hard working grooms shampooed horses daily. Early one morning, there were 5 greys at the wash rack. Suds generated looked like a set from the movie Shampoo. One lucky groom had a bay, He was in and out in 2 minutes. The others were washing off the tell tail green blotches that the horses had unwillingly tattooed themselves, thinking a pile of the warm steamy manure in their stalls looked deceivingly like a pillow.
Max, the announcer and Grand Prix judge had the job of herding cats, I mean getting 47 people to line up for the draw for the 3 foot Norcal Medal Final. We dutifully formed a line, and once at the front were asked our name, and were to pick up a program with the order number inside the front cover. All the twelve year olds were shy, answered Max's questions in their squeaky high voices, made even squeaker and higher with the PA system. All below my shoulder in height, I felt like Gulliver surrounded by Lilliputians. Finally, my turn, Max did not ask my grade in school, just the name. I drew 41st place. Later I learned all the other old farts like me had their 12 year old daughters draw for them, removing themselves from this indignity. But I got my draw, and the next day was shaping up.
Saturday, Connolly and I were riding, each on two horses, me in three classes, Connolly in four, and between us, spread out between all 5 areas, and the classes started all at the same time. That would be Michelob time for Hugh. One trainer, 5 areas, 4 horses, and two sensitive females? How was this going to work out? I felt like buttering up Patty Ball and asking for a warm up once. But never fear, High has some sort of 5-rounds-to-go esp and shows up on time. Good thing he wears a white straw Stetson so I can find him. I felt like curious George, about to get into trouble, but the man in the big yellow hat (in this case the aforementioned white hat) would show up just in tome to keep me out of horse show ignominy.
Now, why would you not throw one more variable into the mix described above? Hugh wanted Maybe rounder and on the bit in the beginning of the course, not finally attaining it five strides from exiting. So we borrowed a pelham. Warm up went smoothly. We jumped a hay bale bounce (non horse people, just skip this part, too hard to explain) and that got him excited. Into the ring, horse and rider 41 went before the judge's fatiguing eyes. First three jumps nice and brave and forward, decent curves, did not loose speed either. Then a little light bulb went off in Maybe's head. "I have a pelham in my mouth!" he though. I swear (excuses, excuses) I have next to no pressure on the reins. Some leg, but obviously not enough after his realization. I got through both bending lines, to the one stride and to the sold fences bounce. But on the last diagonal, I added a stride. Horrors. I was crest fallen, what a dope. But whatever, have to switch gears fasted and read my animal. Goota learn from this. I now am pretty sure I go first today, reverse order of the scoring form yesterday. What a way to enter the ring, but I am determined to have a wonderful round, keep an open mind, and enjoy the experience.
A few more thoughts from these last few days. I did have one blond moment. In the back to back 0.95 jumpers, there were two parallel diagonal lines. On the very last turn of the last class, I though I was heading for the far line, but the correct option was the tighter turn to the closer line, Veering past the center line because of this fleeting "blond moment", I reconnected with where I should be heading, got to the vertical on an angle, Maybe was a little surprised and brought down the rail, but made the rest of the line fine. Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all my foibles!
One funny scene was the 47 of us descending on the course for round 2 once posted. Half the people snapped images with their iPhones so they could have a copy while walking the course. No, I didn't see anyone sneaking a peak when the work off was announced. but I am sure the seniors (senior moment finals) would have wanted to for their complicated work off course.
Then there was the cabal of the Pony Arena. Connolly and I were trying to figure out the busy Saturday detailed above. I said my event was in Hunter Ring II. She chirped up, "Oh, you mean the Pony Arena?" And hence forth, all day, I was reminded that the only time she had been in that arena was on her pony while attending elementary school. Thank you Connolly, confidence builder!
One ribbon, one prize, Equitation under saddle, on a very calm, very cooperative Tango. Fourth Place. As I picked up my ribbon and walked out of the ring, Hugh reminded me, "It's the glasses. Makes you look studious." Thanks, I don't need two confidence builders.
Finally, Sunday, round two, sold, driving rain, soaked through all my clothes, horse a bit on edge, totally biffed my round. More leg into a flowing hand, a lesson that will be imprinted on my mind FOREVER!
From the Field, Reporter Joan Pont
How totally great! I liked the hip hop stride. Where was Princess? Karen R.
ReplyDeleteShe's going in the July show. Stay tuned!
ReplyDelete