As a therapeutic riding instructor, I have worked with a fair number of donated or nearly donated (reduced-price) horses. I have also test ridden and handled potential therapeutic mounts. All of these horses had something in common: an owner or seller who described the horse as quiet and easy to handle. I learned with time to take the opinion of owners and sellers of potential therapeutic horses or any sale horse with a grain of salt. I do not mind if the horse has a quirk, one thing that really bothers him, or needs some remedial training. What I do mind is the horse of an owner/seller who misrepresents their animal to the potential harm of others. Such misrepresentation may not be intentional, but ignorance can cause just as many problems as outright deception.
For example, many years ago I test rode a horse who was outwardly quiet. He stood quietly for grooming and tacking up. The apparent trainer of the horse confessed that he liked the horse and found him easy to handle, but that his girlfriend let the horse get too nosy. I made a note of this comment and said nothing. The horse was taken out to a large round pen with high solid walls, the kind that you cannot see over. The trainer worked the horse in the round pen, demonstrating the horse's obedience in all three gaits and both directions. Then the trainer got on the horse and rode him around the round pen. The horse never missed a step and moved on a loose rein like a good, Western mount. The guy also stood upright on the horse's back demonstrating that the horse would stand reliably. This was very impressive.
After observing the horse safely handled and ridden, it was my turn to handle him and to get on. After some basic leading, I mounted the horse and he stood quietly. I tested his "whoa" after taking a few steps forward and repeated the test several times using different degrees of rein pressure, seat, and my voice to see how sensitive the horse's brakes were. Then we moved up a gear and I rode the horse in all three gaits in both directions. The horse went just as easily for me as it had for the trainer and I rode him entirely on a loose rein, as I had seen the trainer ride him. My employer and I were wise to the fact that horses may behave differently in different settings, so we asked to ride the horse in a fenced-in arena instead of the round pen. The trainer obliged and we walked the horse to an outdoor riding ring.
The horse was mostly the same fellow in the new ring, except for a new discovery: he had no interest in rein contact. Now, I do not expect a future therapeutic horse to be a dressage horse, but acceptance of the bit and contact with the bit is basic training for the ridden horse. This horse was mildly rude about the contact if I shortened the reins. This told me that the horse had some holes in his training and possibly some leadership issues. Since his reaction to rein pressure was not huge, we considered that he was just not used to any sort of riding except that on a long, loose rein. A horse that goes on a loose rein is desirable for therapeutic riding and considering his apparent good manners, we decided to take the horse on trial. Our usual trial period was thirty days.
After getting the horse back to the farm, I made plans to work with him right away. This was our typical procedure, as we wanted to see what the horse was like in an unfamiliar setting. Once again, the horse stood nicely for grooming and demonstrated basically good manners. We usually have to train more stringent rules about personal space and leading into therapeutic horses, but this horse seemed to be equipped with a reasonable foundation. I took the horse into the indoor arena, with plans to work him at liberty, before tacking him up and riding. I had watched the trainer work the horse at liberty and had a reasonable idea of what to expect from the new horse. Or at least I thought that I had a reasonable idea...
Once in the indoor, I made my first mistake and this was most definitely my mistake. I took the horse's halter off and turned my back on him to shut the gate. The horse immediately followed me to the gate, intruding on my space and possibly thinking about walking out of the open door. I suppose working with so many compliant horses that had been trained to stand and wait had made me complacent. I forgot that I was dealing with a horse that may not have any of the understanding that I expected him to have, despite the obedience that I had observed the day before at the horse's home.
I noticed very quickly that the horse was following me, so I turned around and "got big". This means that I made myself look physically taller by throwing up my arms. I was telling the horse to back off. This is a technique that I had employed many, many times to stop a horse in its tracks or deter a horse from entering my space. Before I could move or react, the horse spun around and kicked into the air with both hind legs.
It is difficult to appreciate how fast horses can move, until you see them in real space and time. The kick was aimed at my head and, no doubt, would have made contact if the horse had really wanted to hit me. The horse trotted off a few feet and stopped. I stood in front of the open gate, shocked by what had almost happened, but physically unharmed. I never in a million years expected that horse to react so violently.
Now the gig was up. I knew there was more to this horse then we had originally been led to believe. If this situation were to repeat itself in the same manner today, I would walk away right then and call the owner to come pick up the horse.
Of course, I demonstrated less than swift learning skills in this story as the horse had clearly warned me with the resistance to contact and the double-barreled threat to my face, but I eventually did learn my lesson and will never make the mistake to "get big" to a foreign horse or work a horse initially at liberty again. That was a lesson learned by the skin of my teeth.
At the time, I was not sure if the behavior was a true indicator of the horse's nature or a fluke that I caused by surprising the horse. He had ridden and handled so easily the day before that I decided to continue my plan to work him at liberty in the indoor. Truthfully, the horse had been so much fun to ride that I was really looking forward to riding him again and this pushed me to overlook the undeniable act of defiance.
Sometimes humans have thick skulls. I am no exception.
I walked out into the arena with a lunge whip (at least I was not so stupid as to forget that) and asked the horse to start moving. The horse reluctantly walked forward and stopped. I swished the whip again, assertively, but careful not to surprise him this time. The horse stared at me. I asked him to move again, but he just stared and did not budge. I increased my demands, swishing the whip with more energy and strength, clucking, and telling the horse to "walk" while walking closer to this very strange animal that was behaving less and less like the horse I had met the day before. Finally, I was so close to the horse that I had no choice, but to give up or press the issue. I was a fool for doing so, but the trainer in me was roaring. I decided to press. I whacked the horse smartly on the butt with the whip.
You would think the horse would have reacted more aggressively, but he only tossed his head and started trotting. Feeling that I had called his bluff and asserted that my will was just as strong as his, I gained confidence. I kept the horse trotting all around the indoor ring, swishing my whip and clucking if he showed signs of slowing down. I value fairness, so I tried to forget any ill feelings that I had toward the horse for his previous behavior and praised him for moving out at my request. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that I had the situation under control.
And then the horse threw me for another loop. This horse picked up the canter and dropped his head and neck all the way to the ground. At first I thought that he was showing signs of submission and stretching, but once he reached the next corner of the ring, he turned and headed straight for me at the ring's center. His teeth were bared, his ears were flat against his head, and his eyes were looking directly into mine. His expression said one thing and he said it clearly:
"I want to kill you."
The gelding ran at me with his snake mouth open and his eyes as red as the sun. All assertiveness left me. I had the whip in my hand, but I forgot it was there. Every cell in my body screamed,
"RUN!"
I dodged around a barrel, trying to create a barrier between my person and the wild animal in pursuit of my flesh. The horse skidded to a halt, spun around, and came after me again. This time I ran for the open fence at the front of the arena. I could hear the horse behind me, but I didn't dare turn around. I dove between the rails of the fence like a swimmer entering the water. Dust and arena footing flew against the fencing as the horse stopped and spun again taking off, but this time away from me. My friend and fellow instructor had walked in to see the monster's final attempt to savage me. We stared at each other in utter disbelief. My heart pounded in my ears and I felt light-headed knowing what had almost happened. That horse had the shortest trial period in the history of trial horses.
For some reason, I had to convince my boss that the horse was truly dangerous. My friend and I relayed the story, but it just sounded too crazy and she had seen the horse go so obediently the day before. My employer had never seen a horse behave as I had described and frankly, before that day, neither had I. I was worried that another staff member at the farm might attempt to work with the trial horse, which was common practice. I was even more worried that another person might jump at the challenge to try and "tame" the animal that chased me. I knew that type of person well and that no story would suffice in discouraging a determined personality. My own mistake at ignoring the horse's dangerous initial behavior was proof of that. I offered to show my boss exactly what the horse was capable of. Let's just say that I am a fast runner and I feared for another person's safety enough to risk going head to head with that horse one more time.
True to the story, the horse came after me again with very little provoking while my boss was standing at the fence. I had planned a path of escape this time and weaved a line around barrels before exiting swiftly between the rails. My employer's face was priceless. I do not think that she believed her own eyes at first. This was a horse recommended by its owner/seller to be used for compromised riders and handled by volunteers. We will never know for sure why the horse behaved so much differently at its home base or if the seller and trainer were aware of the horse's extremely aggressive tendencies. That was one quiet horse that I was happy to never see again.
Showing posts with label therapeutic riding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label therapeutic riding. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Memoirs: A Therapy Horse for a Horse Girl
As Thanksgiving approaches, I have decided that it is time to publish this memoir; I wrote this story almost one year ago. For those of you who appreciate a disclaimer, this story includes personal loss, but also friendship, love, and gratitude. I hope that you remember the special people and animals in your life during this week of Thanksgiving.
I became a NARHA (North American Riding for the Handicapped Association) certified therapeutic riding instructor in May 2007. This was a national certification which took me about a year and a half to complete. There were two online courses with cumulative tests, a three-day workshop, a minimum of 25 fieldwork hours, a riding test, and a lesson test which included submitted lesson plans and teaching a pair of therapeutic students in front of two evaluators. I found the certification experience to be both challenging and exciting. I take a great deal of pride in this accomplishment.
In 2011, NARHA was changed to PATH International (Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship International), which means that I am now internationally certified. Wow. I cannot help feeling a little unworthy! The organization went global, because there were so many countries interested in joining NARHA.
There were several reasons why I was inspired to pursue this certification and many of them had to do with the amazing people whom I met when I began volunteering at a local therapeutic riding farm. I had always felt that horses were inherently therapeutic and that my desire to be around them so much was, in many ways, my own personal therapy.
Teen angst getting you down? Try horses.
Need to build confidence and feel good about yourself? Try horses.
Want the motivation to work hard at school or work? Try horses.
Seriously. This is no secret.
Horses are amazing creatures and this is not even the tip of the iceberg.
Pursuing a certification that allowed me to work with horses professionally and share in these wonderful animals with my students was a natural progression. I had always wanted a career with horses, but never had the means to "go pro". NARHA was my way of making it happen. Of course, when I watched horses touch the lives of others over and over again, I received much more in return than I ever bargained for and much more than just a part-time job with horses.
This story is about my therapeutic horse. I did not know that I needed one. Or at least, I was not about to admit that I did. I was physically and mentally able, but emotionally damaged. I lost my only sister in March of 2004, just a few days after her 21st birthday. I married my husband in September of the same year and we moved to our new home together. I was eternally grateful for his support in this difficult time, but I was not suffering from a fixable problem. The loss of a sibling is something that one must learn to live with and believe me, more than eight years later, it is never far from my mind.
By January of 2005, I started looking for a place to ride. I was about to enter graduate school and did not have money for a horse or even lessons, but you know how it is. I needed horses. I temporarily picked up a free lease at a nearby farm, which was an experience worthy of its own story, and then discovered the local therapeutic riding stable. My riding experience was immediately noted and I became an official exercise rider for the program. I could not believe my good fortune. I was allowed to ride any horse in the barn, any day or time that I wanted as long as they were not in a lesson, and completely for free. This in and of itself was an amazing gift and I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Despite my enthusiasm and gratitude, my first ride on a therapeutic horse was disappointing. I was given a dull, brown, 20 year-old quarter horse with a muddied blaze and an uncomfortable, all-purpose saddle. I was also handed a crop with no questions asked. The horse was in good condition and solid at 15.1 hands, but my butt had been spoiled by warmblood mares and expensive dressage saddles. My last ride before I was married and moved away was on Harry, the beautiful Haflinger stallion. Now I was riding an extremely unexciting, untalented, lazy quarter horse that looked more like a mutt than a quarter horse. I tried to banish my prejudgments and enjoy the ride, because any horse is better than no horse, but my positive attitude started to waver as soon as I swung my leg over and legged on my new mount.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to write "mounts". I literally felt like I was riding two horses. One in front of me and one behind me. I was suspended in a sling between them and they did not always feel like they were traveling in the same direction. I knew enough not to try and force this horse on the bit, but I did try to give him some guidance toward straightness. In the back of my mind, I imagined riding half-pass on my trainer's Hanoverian mare and I silently worried that those days were gone forever.
When I moved on to canter, I was happy to see that the brown horse
a) could canter,
b) could pick up the correct lead, and
c) felt less like two horses.
I took advantage of his improved forwardness, and asked him to lengthen his stride. I was surprised to discover that the brown horse had a nice, rocking canter. Was it my imagination, or was this old fellow lifting his back? The director of the program was watching my first ride and became worried that the brown horse was taking off (I guess few people cantered him past an ambling lope), so she rather abruptly asked me to slow him down. The immediacy of her request triggered my dressage lesson reflexes and I engaged my core and half-halted without thinking about who I was riding. The brown horse, whom I clearly had not given enough credit, shortened his canter and then transitioned to a slow, collected lope for the remainder of the long side. I did not think this a big deal, but the feat earned me immediate status as a "good rider" and some kind of barn fame, as people would meet me and ask,
"Are you the one riding Skippy?"
That was his name: Skippy. Apparently, many people avoided exercising him, because he had the strong will of a lazy horse, the gumption to turn buckaroo if a bee was in his bonnet, and the uncanny ability to run completely sideways on the trail. That last one was seriously impressive. I have never seen anything like it before or since. Skippy was also notoriously rigid and stiff, like a board. He never really felt that way to me though. My years of dressage training has served me well. I knew how to encourage with my inside leg while opening the inside rein and supporting with the outside rein. When I did this, Skippy obediently wrapped his body around my inside leg. Before long, we were riding three loop serpentines at the trot and canter with admirable changes of bend and a frame that was almost worthy of a dressage horse. As he learned to reach from his shoulders and shift his weight off his forehand, his weird sideways running on the trail even melted away. Suddenly, Skippy was on everyone's dance card. Who says you cannot teach an old horse new tricks? I certainly enjoyed the opportunity to do so.
I received positive feedback from his handlers and sometimes I passed up a ride to lead him in the therapeutic lessons. Despite the hard time that he could give his able-bodied exercise riders, Skippy was always gentle and slow for his therapeutic students. His gentleness was now accompanied by a greater motivation to move forward (This is even important for therapeutic horses!) and independent riders were able to ride him with less assistance. There was even talk that "Skippy was less nippy." All good news for a therapeutic riding horse and very rewarding for his unofficial trainer. I was humbled by how many people took the time to express their gratitude for my work with Skippy. Here, I thought that I was just riding him, because I wanted to ride. I was ashamed when I remembered how unimpressed I had been with him on our first encounter. I would admit to no one, that I once thought Skippy was anything less than a truly special horse. His dull, brown coat had taken on a glossy, chocolate sheen. Skippy was my chocolate horse, no longer just a brown horse, and now I had to wait in line to ride him, but I did not mind. Every great ride that someone else had on him, felt like a personal accomplishment, and when I passed him in the aisle, I stroked his neck and looked into his big soft eye.
"Are you being a good boy today, Skippy?"
He would nose my hand or blink at me, staring right into me, as if to say, "I am, Friend." Working horses do not always have a special person the way pet horses do. I know physically that Skippy benefited from the training time we shared together, but emotionally, I think that he just needed a new person, someone who did not know him or his wily ways, someone who also needed a friend in him. Did I help Skippy, or was he just doing his job of therapy horse by helping me? I guess that I will never really know and honestly, the truth would not change the outcome. Skippy made me feel better and he gave me a job to do. Skippy was a therapeutic horse who needed fixing and I was horse girl who needed the silent comfort and companionship that only an animal can offer.
Unfortunately, my time was Skippy was very limited. He passed away in the summer of 2005, but like a good friend, he allowed me to say good-bye first. It was a Tuesday, one of our usual riding days, and he was lying in his paddock when I arrived at the barn. Although not in noticeable distress or pain, he was unable to stand and could only prop himself up with his front legs. I hugged his neck and cried into his mane. I thanked him for the many hours we had spent together. I did not want him to go, but on some level, I realized that this was part of his lesson. Skippy showed me that I was strong enough to love and lose and keep on going to love again. He also showed me a whole new aspect of the relationship between horse and man. Riding and working with him was so worthwhile even if he was far from a dressage star, but our partnership was not just about training. In many ways, he taught me how to just sit on a horse again. Just me and the horse. Simple and happy. He went to sleep with my fingers running through his chocolate mane.
Thank you, Skippy. You were one special therapy horse.
______________________________
I became a NARHA (North American Riding for the Handicapped Association) certified therapeutic riding instructor in May 2007. This was a national certification which took me about a year and a half to complete. There were two online courses with cumulative tests, a three-day workshop, a minimum of 25 fieldwork hours, a riding test, and a lesson test which included submitted lesson plans and teaching a pair of therapeutic students in front of two evaluators. I found the certification experience to be both challenging and exciting. I take a great deal of pride in this accomplishment.
In 2011, NARHA was changed to PATH International (Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship International), which means that I am now internationally certified. Wow. I cannot help feeling a little unworthy! The organization went global, because there were so many countries interested in joining NARHA.
There were several reasons why I was inspired to pursue this certification and many of them had to do with the amazing people whom I met when I began volunteering at a local therapeutic riding farm. I had always felt that horses were inherently therapeutic and that my desire to be around them so much was, in many ways, my own personal therapy.
Teen angst getting you down? Try horses.
Need to build confidence and feel good about yourself? Try horses.
Want the motivation to work hard at school or work? Try horses.
Seriously. This is no secret.
Horses are amazing creatures and this is not even the tip of the iceberg.
Pursuing a certification that allowed me to work with horses professionally and share in these wonderful animals with my students was a natural progression. I had always wanted a career with horses, but never had the means to "go pro". NARHA was my way of making it happen. Of course, when I watched horses touch the lives of others over and over again, I received much more in return than I ever bargained for and much more than just a part-time job with horses.
This story is about my therapeutic horse. I did not know that I needed one. Or at least, I was not about to admit that I did. I was physically and mentally able, but emotionally damaged. I lost my only sister in March of 2004, just a few days after her 21st birthday. I married my husband in September of the same year and we moved to our new home together. I was eternally grateful for his support in this difficult time, but I was not suffering from a fixable problem. The loss of a sibling is something that one must learn to live with and believe me, more than eight years later, it is never far from my mind.
By January of 2005, I started looking for a place to ride. I was about to enter graduate school and did not have money for a horse or even lessons, but you know how it is. I needed horses. I temporarily picked up a free lease at a nearby farm, which was an experience worthy of its own story, and then discovered the local therapeutic riding stable. My riding experience was immediately noted and I became an official exercise rider for the program. I could not believe my good fortune. I was allowed to ride any horse in the barn, any day or time that I wanted as long as they were not in a lesson, and completely for free. This in and of itself was an amazing gift and I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Despite my enthusiasm and gratitude, my first ride on a therapeutic horse was disappointing. I was given a dull, brown, 20 year-old quarter horse with a muddied blaze and an uncomfortable, all-purpose saddle. I was also handed a crop with no questions asked. The horse was in good condition and solid at 15.1 hands, but my butt had been spoiled by warmblood mares and expensive dressage saddles. My last ride before I was married and moved away was on Harry, the beautiful Haflinger stallion. Now I was riding an extremely unexciting, untalented, lazy quarter horse that looked more like a mutt than a quarter horse. I tried to banish my prejudgments and enjoy the ride, because any horse is better than no horse, but my positive attitude started to waver as soon as I swung my leg over and legged on my new mount.
Or maybe it would be more accurate to write "mounts". I literally felt like I was riding two horses. One in front of me and one behind me. I was suspended in a sling between them and they did not always feel like they were traveling in the same direction. I knew enough not to try and force this horse on the bit, but I did try to give him some guidance toward straightness. In the back of my mind, I imagined riding half-pass on my trainer's Hanoverian mare and I silently worried that those days were gone forever.
When I moved on to canter, I was happy to see that the brown horse
a) could canter,
b) could pick up the correct lead, and
c) felt less like two horses.
I took advantage of his improved forwardness, and asked him to lengthen his stride. I was surprised to discover that the brown horse had a nice, rocking canter. Was it my imagination, or was this old fellow lifting his back? The director of the program was watching my first ride and became worried that the brown horse was taking off (I guess few people cantered him past an ambling lope), so she rather abruptly asked me to slow him down. The immediacy of her request triggered my dressage lesson reflexes and I engaged my core and half-halted without thinking about who I was riding. The brown horse, whom I clearly had not given enough credit, shortened his canter and then transitioned to a slow, collected lope for the remainder of the long side. I did not think this a big deal, but the feat earned me immediate status as a "good rider" and some kind of barn fame, as people would meet me and ask,
"Are you the one riding Skippy?"
That was his name: Skippy. Apparently, many people avoided exercising him, because he had the strong will of a lazy horse, the gumption to turn buckaroo if a bee was in his bonnet, and the uncanny ability to run completely sideways on the trail. That last one was seriously impressive. I have never seen anything like it before or since. Skippy was also notoriously rigid and stiff, like a board. He never really felt that way to me though. My years of dressage training has served me well. I knew how to encourage with my inside leg while opening the inside rein and supporting with the outside rein. When I did this, Skippy obediently wrapped his body around my inside leg. Before long, we were riding three loop serpentines at the trot and canter with admirable changes of bend and a frame that was almost worthy of a dressage horse. As he learned to reach from his shoulders and shift his weight off his forehand, his weird sideways running on the trail even melted away. Suddenly, Skippy was on everyone's dance card. Who says you cannot teach an old horse new tricks? I certainly enjoyed the opportunity to do so.
I received positive feedback from his handlers and sometimes I passed up a ride to lead him in the therapeutic lessons. Despite the hard time that he could give his able-bodied exercise riders, Skippy was always gentle and slow for his therapeutic students. His gentleness was now accompanied by a greater motivation to move forward (This is even important for therapeutic horses!) and independent riders were able to ride him with less assistance. There was even talk that "Skippy was less nippy." All good news for a therapeutic riding horse and very rewarding for his unofficial trainer. I was humbled by how many people took the time to express their gratitude for my work with Skippy. Here, I thought that I was just riding him, because I wanted to ride. I was ashamed when I remembered how unimpressed I had been with him on our first encounter. I would admit to no one, that I once thought Skippy was anything less than a truly special horse. His dull, brown coat had taken on a glossy, chocolate sheen. Skippy was my chocolate horse, no longer just a brown horse, and now I had to wait in line to ride him, but I did not mind. Every great ride that someone else had on him, felt like a personal accomplishment, and when I passed him in the aisle, I stroked his neck and looked into his big soft eye.
 |
| Skippy, the chocolate horse |
"Are you being a good boy today, Skippy?"
He would nose my hand or blink at me, staring right into me, as if to say, "I am, Friend." Working horses do not always have a special person the way pet horses do. I know physically that Skippy benefited from the training time we shared together, but emotionally, I think that he just needed a new person, someone who did not know him or his wily ways, someone who also needed a friend in him. Did I help Skippy, or was he just doing his job of therapy horse by helping me? I guess that I will never really know and honestly, the truth would not change the outcome. Skippy made me feel better and he gave me a job to do. Skippy was a therapeutic horse who needed fixing and I was horse girl who needed the silent comfort and companionship that only an animal can offer.
Unfortunately, my time was Skippy was very limited. He passed away in the summer of 2005, but like a good friend, he allowed me to say good-bye first. It was a Tuesday, one of our usual riding days, and he was lying in his paddock when I arrived at the barn. Although not in noticeable distress or pain, he was unable to stand and could only prop himself up with his front legs. I hugged his neck and cried into his mane. I thanked him for the many hours we had spent together. I did not want him to go, but on some level, I realized that this was part of his lesson. Skippy showed me that I was strong enough to love and lose and keep on going to love again. He also showed me a whole new aspect of the relationship between horse and man. Riding and working with him was so worthwhile even if he was far from a dressage star, but our partnership was not just about training. In many ways, he taught me how to just sit on a horse again. Just me and the horse. Simple and happy. He went to sleep with my fingers running through his chocolate mane.
Thank you, Skippy. You were one special therapy horse.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
The 200th Post
I can hardly believe it, but here I am writing the 200th post of Memoirs of a Horse Girl. Actually, I have written more than 200, because there are a couple Memoirs completed and waiting for the right moment to publish. For the time being there is a lot going on, horse-related and otherwise, so that I find myself forgetting that I am actually off for the summer. Of course there is the business with the therapeutic riding center up for sale, which is stressful and something that I had to come to terms with a year ago. Helping to run a campaign to save the farm surfaces many feelings and emotions, good and bad, which are easier to just bury. However, if it is possible to save the place, then I want to be a part of it and I believe that I do have some skills to offer, as do my comrades who have taken the hammer to the anvil. Maybe the farm is beyond saving, but we, at least, want the opportunity to try and some communication about what is going on would be much appreciated.
Of course, when it rains, it pours, and my teacher has contacted me to ride with her this week. I absolutely cannot say "no", unless there is a hurricane, derecho, extended power outage, or something else crazy like that, which NEVER happens in New Jersey, or so I thought. The week is quickly filling up, so Saturday may be the only day. I truly appreciate her working around my schedule and she is very supportive and knowledgeable so seeing her will be wonderful. On top of that, I have a school-related commitment (Go Science Fair!) this Wednesday, the only one of the entire summer, and the Township Committee meeting is the same day. I have also been teaching therapeutic lessons on Wednesdays for the summer, but, thankfully, a friend is available to substitute, so that one is covered. A patio is being installed in our backyard, which makes me feel like I should hang around the house, and my sister-in-law is due to have her first child, very, very soon. This is understandably on everyone's minds. It is difficult not to get a little jumpy if she does not answer her phone. Did she go to the hospital? But, so far, the baby is sticking to the schedule and we are waiting in the wings. This will be the family's first grandchild, so there is a lot of hubbub.
AND, didn't I mention something about new horse show attire?
Well, I gave my barn some dates to consider for transportation and the one that worked out is this Sunday. That's right. Harley and I are entered in a dressage schooling show for THIS coming Sunday. Oh dear. I have been riding my horse when the weather permits, but we have not been practicing tests. Test-riding is about a million times different than regular training or riding for pleasure, even if my pleasure happens to be dressage. Last year we had two successful outings at schooling shows at First Level (I do not show beyond schooling shows. Too much money and too much stress. I want my horse and I to have fun!), so that seems like the logical level to enter this year, but...
...what are my goals here for the schooling show?
Am I showing to prepare my horse for a big show career?
No.
Am I showing to get better at the First Level tests so we can be competitive at bigger competitions?
No.
Am I showing because I expect to go in many more shows this year and I want to map my progress?
No.
So why am I showing, if not for the experience and some fun?
That's it. I want to take my horse somewhere, and this place is very, very nice. Dress up. Have a nice ride or two. Maybe show off a couple things that we are good at. Maybe just showcase where we are and get the opinion of a judge, whose opinion, of course, will be of our snapshot performance, having known nothing about where we come from or how long it has taken to get there. Maybe try something that we have never done before...
...like Second Level.
Am I crazy?
I signed up to ride First Level Test 3 and Second Level Test 1. I had planned to carefully school the things from the second level test that are the most difficult for us, polish the things we are good at and hope for the best, knowing that this is most definitely a leap of faith and an experiment. I want an experience that I have never had before. I have shown three horses to First Level, but I have never entered the ring for a Second Level test. Harley is an unlikely candidate to make this happen compared to the horses I have ridden in the past, but he has some things that they did not have and, I believe, some talents to offer. I feel a sense of urgency with everything going on around me and riding Second Level is amidst all of it. I no longer have the free week to relax and prepare like I was hoping. Anything could happen this week, from a heat wave to a farm sale or revival to a new baby in the family. What if it comes on Sunday?
How can I concentrate on simple changes and counter canter at a time like this?!
I guess Harley and I are just going to have to go out there and have a good time. Even if we bomb the Second Level test, at least we have pioneered a new experience for ourselves and it won't change the things that are important...
...like the fact that I love my horse and every chance I get to ride him.
Thanks for reading and wish us luck!
This week, we are going to need it.
 |
| Happiness in horse form |
Of course, when it rains, it pours, and my teacher has contacted me to ride with her this week. I absolutely cannot say "no", unless there is a hurricane, derecho, extended power outage, or something else crazy like that, which NEVER happens in New Jersey, or so I thought. The week is quickly filling up, so Saturday may be the only day. I truly appreciate her working around my schedule and she is very supportive and knowledgeable so seeing her will be wonderful. On top of that, I have a school-related commitment (Go Science Fair!) this Wednesday, the only one of the entire summer, and the Township Committee meeting is the same day. I have also been teaching therapeutic lessons on Wednesdays for the summer, but, thankfully, a friend is available to substitute, so that one is covered. A patio is being installed in our backyard, which makes me feel like I should hang around the house, and my sister-in-law is due to have her first child, very, very soon. This is understandably on everyone's minds. It is difficult not to get a little jumpy if she does not answer her phone. Did she go to the hospital? But, so far, the baby is sticking to the schedule and we are waiting in the wings. This will be the family's first grandchild, so there is a lot of hubbub.
AND, didn't I mention something about new horse show attire?
Well, I gave my barn some dates to consider for transportation and the one that worked out is this Sunday. That's right. Harley and I are entered in a dressage schooling show for THIS coming Sunday. Oh dear. I have been riding my horse when the weather permits, but we have not been practicing tests. Test-riding is about a million times different than regular training or riding for pleasure, even if my pleasure happens to be dressage. Last year we had two successful outings at schooling shows at First Level (I do not show beyond schooling shows. Too much money and too much stress. I want my horse and I to have fun!), so that seems like the logical level to enter this year, but...
...what are my goals here for the schooling show?
Am I showing to prepare my horse for a big show career?
No.
Am I showing to get better at the First Level tests so we can be competitive at bigger competitions?
No.
Am I showing because I expect to go in many more shows this year and I want to map my progress?
No.
So why am I showing, if not for the experience and some fun?
That's it. I want to take my horse somewhere, and this place is very, very nice. Dress up. Have a nice ride or two. Maybe show off a couple things that we are good at. Maybe just showcase where we are and get the opinion of a judge, whose opinion, of course, will be of our snapshot performance, having known nothing about where we come from or how long it has taken to get there. Maybe try something that we have never done before...
...like Second Level.
Am I crazy?
I signed up to ride First Level Test 3 and Second Level Test 1. I had planned to carefully school the things from the second level test that are the most difficult for us, polish the things we are good at and hope for the best, knowing that this is most definitely a leap of faith and an experiment. I want an experience that I have never had before. I have shown three horses to First Level, but I have never entered the ring for a Second Level test. Harley is an unlikely candidate to make this happen compared to the horses I have ridden in the past, but he has some things that they did not have and, I believe, some talents to offer. I feel a sense of urgency with everything going on around me and riding Second Level is amidst all of it. I no longer have the free week to relax and prepare like I was hoping. Anything could happen this week, from a heat wave to a farm sale or revival to a new baby in the family. What if it comes on Sunday?
How can I concentrate on simple changes and counter canter at a time like this?!
I guess Harley and I are just going to have to go out there and have a good time. Even if we bomb the Second Level test, at least we have pioneered a new experience for ourselves and it won't change the things that are important...
...like the fact that I love my horse and every chance I get to ride him.
Thanks for reading and wish us luck!
This week, we are going to need it.
 |
| The sunset as viewed from my back door. |
 |
| My view one year ago this week. The same sun setting off the coast of Hawaii as seen from our hotel in Kona. My husband and I are "LOST" fans and we just can't seem to shake the notion that "We have to go back to the island!" |
Monday, July 23, 2012
Please Help Save ARCH Therapeutic Riding Center, Founded 1988
Dear Friends and Family,
I am contacting you with an urgent matter that is very near and dear to my heart. The therapeutic riding center, ARCH, located in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey, has been posted for sale. The Board of Directors seeks to close the facility and terminate the existence of ARCH. This is unbelievable to many of us who have spent countless hours at this beautiful horse farm as volunteers, instructors, riders, and family. I, personally, volunteered at ARCH beginning in 2005 and became a certified therapeutic riding instructor by May 2007, continuing to work on staff until March 2011. I am very distraught and upset by the changes that have occurred at ARCH, most recently the proposal to close its doors to the public and a community that is in great need of the therapeutic services and programs offered right here in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey.
This does not have to be the end of ARCH. The Board of Directors has been appealed to by capable people who are willing and able to keep ARCH running and alive. For reasons unknown, the Board continues to ignore this request and will not communicate with the community or the media (see links at the end of this post) regarding the sudden closing of the facility. The only way that the pending sale and end of ARCH may be stopped is with your help. As a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, ARCH belongs to the public and the community. Please help me to save ARCH by taking a few minutes to contact your local and state representatives. I have included information to help you, help ARCH.
Time is of the essence!
Here is a link to find your legislators by district:
http://www.njleg.state.nj.us/
You can select Electronic Correspondence and get a form to submit your correspondence directly to the representatives simultaneously.
I submitted the letter included below using this link and it was very easy (fill out personal info and copy and paste letter) and it took less than five minutes of my time.
For your convenience and fast transmission, a letter voicing the concerns of the community is also included below. You may copy and paste this letter into an email or submission form, print and fax a copy, or print and mail a copy to your representatives regarding this urgent matter. Of course, you may also write your own letter requesting that our representatives help us save ARCH. Please help us in whatever way that you can.
And remember, time is critical for this matter!
Dear Representative:
We, as concerned citizens, wish to bring to your attention,
an urgent and pressing matter regarding the proposed closing of the Atlantic Riding
Center for Health, formerly known as
the Atlantic Riding
Center for the Handicapped (ARCH) in Egg Harbor Township, New
Jersey. ARCH
is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization founded in 1988 to serve the physically,
mentally, and emotionally challenged community via therapeutic horseback riding
and activities, and successfully adhering to its mission for over twenty years,
with upwards of 100 clients per week. Despite
two decades of success, the current Board of Directors proposes to terminate
the existence of ARCH and has posted the facility and property for sale without
full disclosure, of financial, practical, or philosophical nature, to the
public.
The ARCH Board of Directors has been appealed to in writing
by capable citizens requesting that the Board members resign and surrender the
organization to those who have the means, desire, and will to keep ARCH open
and offering therapeutic services. The
current ARCH board has ignored this request.
As a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, ARCH may be operated by a Board
of Directors, but belongs to the public and the challenged community which it
was founded to benefit. There is a
continued community need for the services and programs offered by ARCH. All we ask is for the chance to repair a
highly valued organization before it is dissolved forever.
Please help us save ARCH.
Sincerely,
Concerned Citizens
Name: ______________________________
Address: ______________________________
Phone: ______________________________
Email: ______________________________
Thank you for your time and your help.
Please relay this message to other members of our community. Together we can make a difference!
Sincerely,
Val
Valerie K. Flesch
PATH International Certified Therapeutic Riding Instructor
Egg Harbor Township Teacher and Resident
Related links:
ARCH in the media, The Press of Atlantic City:
Contact information for our
political representatives:
NJ Senator Jim Whelan
511 Tilton Road
Northfield, NJ 08225
609-383-1388
609-383-1497 FAX
511 Tilton Road
Northfield, NJ 08225
609-383-1388
609-383-1497 FAX
Atlantic County Freeholder Frank Formica
201 South Shore Road
Northfield, NJ 08225
609-645-5900
609-645-5922 FAX
formica_frank@aclink.org
Egg Harbor Township Mayor James J. “Sonny” McCullough
3515 Bargaintown Road
Egg Harbor Township, NJ 08234
609-926-4088
609-926-4002 FAX
sonny@sonnymccullough.com
Atlantic County Executive Dennis Levinson
1333 Atlantic Avenue
Atlantic City, NJ 08401
609-345-6700
609-343-2194 FAX
US Congressman Frank LoBiondo
5914 Main Street, Suite 103
Mays Landing, NJ 08330
609-625-5008
609-625-5071 FAX
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
News Flash: Val on Video
The local newspaper stopped by our farm to speak to us about our new therapeutic riding center, HeartsTRC, LLC. The news is no longer just print on paper. In the time of the internet and multimedia, the reporter wanted a video clip to post on the news website. Although many people are reluctant to speak on camera, I have to speak in front of a room full of students on a daily basis and giving an impromptu speech happens to be one of my specialties (or so I am told), so I volunteered to take the plunge. After a few minutes preparing what I wanted to say, I was ready to accept the challenge. My students would probably tell you that the real challenge is getting me to stop talking! I am not one for chitchat or idle conversation, but if it is about science or horses, I have a lot to say. Enjoy!
So how long does 15 minutes of fame last in the era of the internet?
Is it sped up to 15 seconds or extended to infinity?
Let's hope for positive feedback and comments and a limited number of observations that mention that I look or sound like I am twelve. Wouldn't be the first time!
Related links:
http://www.shorenewstoday.com/snt/news/index.php/egg-harbor-twp.html
So how long does 15 minutes of fame last in the era of the internet?
Is it sped up to 15 seconds or extended to infinity?
Let's hope for positive feedback and comments and a limited number of observations that mention that I look or sound like I am twelve. Wouldn't be the first time!
Related links:
http://www.shorenewstoday.com/snt/news/index.php/egg-harbor-twp.html
Monday, July 9, 2012
Memoirs: A Horse Girl Goes To College
It is really easy to look back on one's life experiences and think, "I wish that I had had this opportunity" or "I wish that I had learned that when I had the chance" or "I wish that my parents had won the lottery and bought me a horse farm and schoolmasters and enlightened trainers" (okay, that last one sounds pretty good), but the truth is, when I look back, I was pretty lucky. Actually, maybe luck isn't the right word. I was reasonably opportunistic. I grew up very close to Centenary College, home of one of the few colleges in the country to offer several majors in equine studies. Founded in 1867 as a preparatory school, Centenary College was well-known (at least locally in New Jersey) as a four-year college offering a Bachelor's degree in horses. Of course, I professed to go there for college one day, but my parents thought better of it. They were not about to fund a trip to college to earn a degree in horses even if it was their daughter's passion. My parents knew that passion rarely pays the bills, so, although I was disappointed at the time, I am glad that they steered me elsewhere for my undergraduate studies. However, that does not mean that I missed the opportunity to learn at Centenary College.
I started taking lessons at Centenary in middle school with one of my best friends. It was actually her Mom who got us the "in", because she was an adjunct professor at the college. We started taking lessons with one of the college students, Barbie, who was very unlike the famous doll. Barbie was tall with a strong frame and a down-to-Earth smile, long, dark, wavy hair, and glasses. She preemptively joked that her fiance was not named "Ken" whenever she met people, as that was usually one of their first questions. Barbie was a hard-working college student. She worked in the barn to help pay for her horse's board and she gave lessons to a few community riders, yours truly included. She was prepared for the long-hours required by the horse business and had already been assigned numerous responsibilities at the stables as well as landed a few exercise gigs at local professional facilites. She was kind and personable and exceedingly competent. I was one lucky young rider to find myself under her watchful eye.
Barbie taught us how to safely wrap a horse's legs, give a proper shower to a hot horse, and how to clean stalls to conserve bedding. She let us ride extra horses during the summer in exchange for helping her clean stalls. My friend and I would ride three horses a day, cleaning their stalls before we rode. This was mutually beneficial, as Barbie had tons on her plate, the lesson horses needed to remain fit over the summer, and we were horse-crazy kids who needed to ride.
Occasionally, Barbie saved enough money to have a lesson herself. She bathed and primped her horse before the trainer arrived, explaining to us that you must never enter a lesson with anything but a spotless horse to show respect for your trainer. I watched her ride her huge Cleveland Bay in a lesson one time. Her horse's name was Pirate. He had a black tail with waves just like Barbie's hair. His tail was so long that it brushed the ground when he was standing still. He is the only Cleveland Bay that I have ever seen in person. He was stunning.
Pirate was a project horse, if my memory serves me. He was big, strong and talented, but nervous for reasons that I did not know. Barbie told us that some one experienced had told her that she would have her hands full retraining him with the insinuation that she should consider passing him up. However, that was not Barbie's style. I remember watching her canter Pirate around the indoor arena. His hooves sounded like thunder and the wake of his movement through the air made me gasp in genuine awe. They were so gorgeous together. Despite whatever haunted him, Pirate had learned to trust Barbie to ride him, just as I had learned to trust her in my horse education. That was my first glimpse of a horse and rider team that was so much more than a rider on a lesson horse. I knew that I wanted that some day.
Barbie contributed to my early horse education in many positive ways. She allowed me and my friend time to practice outside of a lesson by working for riding time. This also taught us the importance of work ethic and that horses are not just about time in the saddle. She chose horses for us to ride that were safe, but also challenged our abilities. I remember riding a mare named Lena in one of my first lessons. She was a tough ride for me, but a year later I was allowed to hack her on my own. That was measurable progress to me.
Barbie arranged an opportunity for my friend and me to audit a Centered Riding clinic with a woman named Sandra, a high level Centered Riding Instructor. I vividly remember some of the ground exercises that we did. I also remember watching a women sit the trot as she had never done before and Sandra commenting that a very nice "shoulder-in" could be accomplished by rotating the torso. I did not know what a shoulder-in was at the time, but the image of Sandra demonstrating it on her own two feet has stayed with me. I also borrowed Barbie's copy of Centered Riding by Sally Swift and read it cover to cover. I have since purchased my own copy, which rests on my coffee table.
Of all these things and the countless wonderful lessons that Barbie gave to me, the absolute best was the series of lunge lessons. This was her equine studies research project. Barbie assessed our riding positions and balance before lunge work and then again after several weeks of only lunge line lessons. I remember learning to post and sit the trot without stirrups and with my hands doing all sorts of exercises as we trotted in a circle around Barbie. I was nervous at first, but Barbie had good control of the lesson horse and she knew when to push and when to encourage. I loved her so much that I tried even though I was afraid. I learned to initiate transitions from my seat and achieve balance in the canter. The culminating exercise was cantering without stirrups, my arms stretched out like wings, and my eyes closed. That was a remarkable improvement, as I used to fall off during every stirrup-less lesson at the hunter/jumper barn where I initially learned to ride. The instructor just told me to hold on tighter with my legs. Was she ever wrong! Thank goodness Barbie showed me the light and took the time to teach me true balance and independence in the saddle. She told us that she got an A from her professor for the research project. To me, the experience was priceless.
By the time I reached high school, Barbie had graduated and (I believe) moved to Florida to become a big-time horse professional. My friend and I were transferred to another willing college student for lessons, but it was never the same without Barbie. She was one of those special teachers whose lessons stay with you forever. I moved on to a private dressage barn by the beginning of ninth grade and in true dressage-instruction form, I had to relearn everything and discovered that I was doing almost everything wrong. This included more lunge lessons, but I was very good at those!
Barbie's lessons of balance and confidence have endured keeping me firmly glued in the saddle over the years. I have borrowed some of her exercises with my own students, sharing the story and how much lunge lessons helped my balance and confidence. Thank you for taking the time with me, Barbie! I am forever grateful.
Related links:
"Centenary College's Equestrian Program Teaches More Than Good Riding", The Chronicle of the Horse (2010)
 |
| The entrance to the main indoor arena and classrooms. This huge arena and the building did not exist while I was taking lessons at Centenary College. |
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| In 2009, I revisited Centenary College for a NARHA (now PATH International) Regional Conference for therapeutic horseback riding instructors. The buckskin pictured is not Harley, but looks like it could be his cousin! |
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| Blurry, but at least you get a feel for the Olympic-sized indoor arena. Centenary hosts Intercollegiate Horse Shows in dressage and the hunter/jumper disciplines as well as the annual AA-rated Garden State Horse Show. |
I started taking lessons at Centenary in middle school with one of my best friends. It was actually her Mom who got us the "in", because she was an adjunct professor at the college. We started taking lessons with one of the college students, Barbie, who was very unlike the famous doll. Barbie was tall with a strong frame and a down-to-Earth smile, long, dark, wavy hair, and glasses. She preemptively joked that her fiance was not named "Ken" whenever she met people, as that was usually one of their first questions. Barbie was a hard-working college student. She worked in the barn to help pay for her horse's board and she gave lessons to a few community riders, yours truly included. She was prepared for the long-hours required by the horse business and had already been assigned numerous responsibilities at the stables as well as landed a few exercise gigs at local professional facilites. She was kind and personable and exceedingly competent. I was one lucky young rider to find myself under her watchful eye.
 |
| The outdoor arena where I had many, many fun lessons and rides. |
Barbie taught us how to safely wrap a horse's legs, give a proper shower to a hot horse, and how to clean stalls to conserve bedding. She let us ride extra horses during the summer in exchange for helping her clean stalls. My friend and I would ride three horses a day, cleaning their stalls before we rode. This was mutually beneficial, as Barbie had tons on her plate, the lesson horses needed to remain fit over the summer, and we were horse-crazy kids who needed to ride.
 |
| Even on a cloudy day, the cross-country fields are beautiful. I remember being in awe of a daunting jump called "The Bear Trap". |
 |
| I used to hack around this field and enjoyed cantering along the treeline. I had a few jumping lessons out here, but they were over standards. I was not experienced enough for the large jumps shown here. |
Occasionally, Barbie saved enough money to have a lesson herself. She bathed and primped her horse before the trainer arrived, explaining to us that you must never enter a lesson with anything but a spotless horse to show respect for your trainer. I watched her ride her huge Cleveland Bay in a lesson one time. Her horse's name was Pirate. He had a black tail with waves just like Barbie's hair. His tail was so long that it brushed the ground when he was standing still. He is the only Cleveland Bay that I have ever seen in person. He was stunning.
Pirate was a project horse, if my memory serves me. He was big, strong and talented, but nervous for reasons that I did not know. Barbie told us that some one experienced had told her that she would have her hands full retraining him with the insinuation that she should consider passing him up. However, that was not Barbie's style. I remember watching her canter Pirate around the indoor arena. His hooves sounded like thunder and the wake of his movement through the air made me gasp in genuine awe. They were so gorgeous together. Despite whatever haunted him, Pirate had learned to trust Barbie to ride him, just as I had learned to trust her in my horse education. That was my first glimpse of a horse and rider team that was so much more than a rider on a lesson horse. I knew that I wanted that some day.
Barbie contributed to my early horse education in many positive ways. She allowed me and my friend time to practice outside of a lesson by working for riding time. This also taught us the importance of work ethic and that horses are not just about time in the saddle. She chose horses for us to ride that were safe, but also challenged our abilities. I remember riding a mare named Lena in one of my first lessons. She was a tough ride for me, but a year later I was allowed to hack her on my own. That was measurable progress to me.
Barbie arranged an opportunity for my friend and me to audit a Centered Riding clinic with a woman named Sandra, a high level Centered Riding Instructor. I vividly remember some of the ground exercises that we did. I also remember watching a women sit the trot as she had never done before and Sandra commenting that a very nice "shoulder-in" could be accomplished by rotating the torso. I did not know what a shoulder-in was at the time, but the image of Sandra demonstrating it on her own two feet has stayed with me. I also borrowed Barbie's copy of Centered Riding by Sally Swift and read it cover to cover. I have since purchased my own copy, which rests on my coffee table.
 |
| The "small" indoor was the only indoor when I was riding there. This is where I had my lunge lessons and watched Barbie ride Pirate. What a beautiful facility and a true luxury. I would not have an indoor at my next barn of ten years. |
Of all these things and the countless wonderful lessons that Barbie gave to me, the absolute best was the series of lunge lessons. This was her equine studies research project. Barbie assessed our riding positions and balance before lunge work and then again after several weeks of only lunge line lessons. I remember learning to post and sit the trot without stirrups and with my hands doing all sorts of exercises as we trotted in a circle around Barbie. I was nervous at first, but Barbie had good control of the lesson horse and she knew when to push and when to encourage. I loved her so much that I tried even though I was afraid. I learned to initiate transitions from my seat and achieve balance in the canter. The culminating exercise was cantering without stirrups, my arms stretched out like wings, and my eyes closed. That was a remarkable improvement, as I used to fall off during every stirrup-less lesson at the hunter/jumper barn where I initially learned to ride. The instructor just told me to hold on tighter with my legs. Was she ever wrong! Thank goodness Barbie showed me the light and took the time to teach me true balance and independence in the saddle. She told us that she got an A from her professor for the research project. To me, the experience was priceless.
By the time I reached high school, Barbie had graduated and (I believe) moved to Florida to become a big-time horse professional. My friend and I were transferred to another willing college student for lessons, but it was never the same without Barbie. She was one of those special teachers whose lessons stay with you forever. I moved on to a private dressage barn by the beginning of ninth grade and in true dressage-instruction form, I had to relearn everything and discovered that I was doing almost everything wrong. This included more lunge lessons, but I was very good at those!
Barbie's lessons of balance and confidence have endured keeping me firmly glued in the saddle over the years. I have borrowed some of her exercises with my own students, sharing the story and how much lunge lessons helped my balance and confidence. Thank you for taking the time with me, Barbie! I am forever grateful.
Related links:
"Centenary College's Equestrian Program Teaches More Than Good Riding", The Chronicle of the Horse (2010)
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Hearts TRC Open House and Yoga
On Saturday, our farm had an Open House. I am one of the partners in an LLC. Our company, Hearts TRC, LLC, offers therapeutic horseback riding and certified instructors, yours truly included. Although our combined experience in therapeutic horsemanship amounts to decades, our program is in its first year. We decided to have an Open House to showcase what we offer and bring some prospective clients to the farm. This required lots and lots of prep work and, corny as it may sound, teamwork. I also spent several hours the night before baking chocolate chip and blueberry muffins. My husband wondered what I had done with his not-very-domestic wife, but he liked the baked goods just the same.
At the Open House we offered light refreshments and lesson demonstrations. Some of the instructors gave short, 15-minute riding lessons, there was a groundwork demonstration, and yoga on horseback! We are very fortunate, because one of our therapeutic riding instructors is also a certified yoga instructor. She has adapted some yoga poses to be practiced on the moving horse. This is where Harley and I got to participate.
Thank you, Husband, for taking all of these lovely photos!
Harley and I and our awesome leader participated in a second demonstration later in the day. We did a few more complicated poses, like a modified downward-facing-dog, cat and cow stretches, and a back bend. It was fun and really challenging. I am tempted to sign up for the classes myself. I think Harley is ready, too.
At the end of the yoga demonstration, I decided to try some of the controlled breathing with canter-trot-canter transitions. I tried inhaling on the upward transition and exhaling on the downward transition. After a couple repetitions, all I had to do was breathe a certain way and picture what I wanted and Harley would make the transition. It was really interesting. Harley was happy to be moving out, so we did a mini-dressage demonstration complete with his big trot, leg-yields, shoulder-in, and half-pass. He was foot perfect and strutted his stuff like a true showman. He even jumped a pole on the ground, demonstrated his big, exciting canter and then came back to a delicate, collected canter when I asked him to. If only we could have a dressage show at home. He was electric and happy to perform all of my requests, but with none of the nerves or tension that comes with showing, even though there were people hanging on the fence watching him go. He basked in the praise and attention that he received afterward. I was very proud of my pony.
Hearts TRC, LLC has a website thanks to our very talented and attentive webmaster. You might see Harley here and there. We also have a Facebook, but since I do not use Facebook, I am not very helpful in that respect. I think I am supposed to say something to the effect of "please like us on Facebook". I drew the sketch for the logo and the yoga instructor, who is also a graphic artist, digitized it. Enjoy!
At the Open House we offered light refreshments and lesson demonstrations. Some of the instructors gave short, 15-minute riding lessons, there was a groundwork demonstration, and yoga on horseback! We are very fortunate, because one of our therapeutic riding instructors is also a certified yoga instructor. She has adapted some yoga poses to be practiced on the moving horse. This is where Harley and I got to participate.
Thank you, Husband, for taking all of these lovely photos!
 |
| I always use the therapeutic ramp to get on Harley. Since I do not have to put my foot in the stirrup, there is no bracing in his back or ribcage as I swing my leg over. This saves his back and my saddle. He is very used to the ramp, but not so accustomed to having a leader in front of him. He was a little perplexed at first. |
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| I overheard a little kid say, "Mommy, I want to ride that one," as we walked by. Me, too, kid. Me, too! |
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| Harley inspected the people watching at the fence every single time that we walked by them. He liked all the activity and visitors. He is such a social guy. |
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| Prayer position. I had to follow the instructor's directions to breathe into each pose. |
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| Here I am lifting my shoulders to my ears... |
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| ...and then dropping my shoulder blades down my back. This was a really good exercise for me to practice. |
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| We had a gorgeous day for our event. A thunderstorm the night before broke the heat wave and watered the ring for us! |
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| After a little while, Harley got the idea and kept a nice pace behind his leader, who happens to be one of my favorite people in the whole world! |
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| He never got tired of looking at the crowd though. I cannot imagine how many cell phones snapped his picture. He is such a ham. |
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| My shoulders were feeling the burn here. Keeping your arms raised is hard work! |
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| The cat stretch felt nice afterward. |
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| My riding teacher would like this one, because it puts space between my shoulder blades. |
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| The triangle pose is my favorite. Harley is concerned that I am going to slide off his back. |
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| But then he just accepts the fact that I am a silly human. |
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| This one was fun, too. A modified warrior pose, maybe? |
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| This pose really showed me the difference between my left and right shoulders. My left shoulder was nice and loose, which made this pose easy. My right shoulder (pictured above this photo) was so tight that the motion in Harley's hindquarters actually made it ache, but it felt much better afterward. The horse's motion has a massaging effect. |
Harley and I and our awesome leader participated in a second demonstration later in the day. We did a few more complicated poses, like a modified downward-facing-dog, cat and cow stretches, and a back bend. It was fun and really challenging. I am tempted to sign up for the classes myself. I think Harley is ready, too.
At the end of the yoga demonstration, I decided to try some of the controlled breathing with canter-trot-canter transitions. I tried inhaling on the upward transition and exhaling on the downward transition. After a couple repetitions, all I had to do was breathe a certain way and picture what I wanted and Harley would make the transition. It was really interesting. Harley was happy to be moving out, so we did a mini-dressage demonstration complete with his big trot, leg-yields, shoulder-in, and half-pass. He was foot perfect and strutted his stuff like a true showman. He even jumped a pole on the ground, demonstrated his big, exciting canter and then came back to a delicate, collected canter when I asked him to. If only we could have a dressage show at home. He was electric and happy to perform all of my requests, but with none of the nerves or tension that comes with showing, even though there were people hanging on the fence watching him go. He basked in the praise and attention that he received afterward. I was very proud of my pony.
Hearts TRC, LLC has a website thanks to our very talented and attentive webmaster. You might see Harley here and there. We also have a Facebook, but since I do not use Facebook, I am not very helpful in that respect. I think I am supposed to say something to the effect of "please like us on Facebook". I drew the sketch for the logo and the yoga instructor, who is also a graphic artist, digitized it. Enjoy!
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