Helmet Cam Jumping Video

During spring break, I wanted to do something fun and exciting with Harley.  A change of pace required a change of tack and some arena prep-work.  I brought out the jumping saddle and set up four small jumps, making a cross in the center of the riding ring.  I had already done my homework.  I thought it might be more fun to try a pattern then to just casually hop over a couple jumps.

Enter the cloverleaf.

I am not promising amazing success or tremendous obstacles, but I think that you will still find the video entertaining.  Harley certainly was game, even if his pilot was feeling a little rusty in raised stirrups.

Enjoy!

Just in case there is any confusion, we are normally "dressagers" not jumpers (I am sure that was obvious!).  Except for a couple inviting cross-rails left in the ring this winter, this was the first time that we have jumped since last summer.  I like to jump once in a while to mix things up a bit.  Harley seems to like jumping and can get pretty excited.  You may have noticed the wind pick up as he approached the jumps a couple times.  That was all Harley and his exuberance.  He is really fun to point at a little fence, because, win or lose, you know he is going to go for it.  Unfortunately, rushing at the fence does not do very much for our form and this is when he tends to knock things down.  I do my best to keep him in a steady pace and stay with him.

The cloverleaf turned out to be a very challenging exercise for us.  I am not sure if it qualified as a "fun" alternative, because it required so much focus and concentration.  The turns come up really quickly.  There were a couple times where I got stuck circling the jumps just trying to figure out how to get into the exercise.  Where do I begin?

We sort of completed a cloverleaf going to the right.  We tried it going to the left after this video clip, but we were not very successful.  Harley also seemed to be getting a little stressed out.  I think that we were over-faced.  The cloverleaf looks simple (just loop around to the next jump and keep the direction the same the whole time), but in practice, simple it is not!

If you happen to be a rider who goes in jump tack on a regular basis, I have major respect for what you do.  I am used to long stirrups and relaxed leg muscles.  I rode with shorter stirrups in my jumping saddle, but, in hindsight, I realized they needed to be a hole or two shorter.  I felt like I had to keep pushing my foot forward and my seat back.  The cut of the saddle is completely opposite to a dressage saddle, so my body was totally confused!  In fact, I think that I had an easier time hopping over those cross-rails this winter, because I was in my dressage saddle.  How are you supposed to use your leg when riding in jumping position?  I kept wanting to move my legs around to steer or rebalance Harley, but this just unbalanced me!  To be honest, I felt handicapped.  Any tips from the jumping folks are welcome.

No worries, though.  We still had a blast!

A Question of Footing

Recently, a friend asked me if I am going to do the local dressage series of schooling shows this year.  I hesitated in answering, and then responded with "not in May".  The truth is that I am thinking about looking for a new place to show.  I am not determined to show, so there is no hurry.  I am having fun working with Harley without the thoughts of a show date looming over my head.  I know that many riders love showing and like to have a tangible goal to work towards, but that just isn't me.  In fact, every time that I do show, I feel like I am literally forcing myself to go.  Why do I do that?  I believe that it is good experience for my horse to travel once in a while and I like to put myself out there to be evaluated.  Well, maybe "like" is too strong a word, but it is good for me.  The downside of infrequent showing is that we never really get comfortable with it, so it is difficult to give our best ride, but that hasn't seemed to hold us back too severely.

Last year we when to two of the three horse shows in the dressage series, rode the First Level tests 1 and 3, scored 60/61% in all four tests, and received a Reserve Champion First Level year-end award for our little local series.  I was given a pretty, fancy ribbon, a monogrammed collapsible red chair for the trailer, and a 2011 show series T-shirt.  Not bad considering that we did not show at all in 2010 and previously went out for Training Level only.  If I took regular dressage lessons, and by regular I mean more than six times a year, I am sure that we could have beefed up our scores, but I was happy to have received the respectable 60% on my own, so to speak, and with my beloved, Harley. 

Why do I want to find a different place to show?  The venue is comfortable and friendly.  The staff is competent and the shows are well run.  The problem is the footing.  When I ride, my test times are usually at the end of the day.  Last year, we were the last ride at both shows.  This means that 50 to 60 people had been in the show ring before us.  The ring was probably watered and groomed before the first ride, but by the time it came for us to enter at A, the footing was very uneven.  The corners were especially deep, the worst parts being at the C end in front of the judge.

Now I know that a craftsman should not blame his tools, but...

...I was really frustrated by the footing.  Dressage depends upon rhythm, straightness, and impulsion.  From these elements the contact and connection between horse and rider is developed with relaxation at the helm.  I found it very difficult to maintain these things in the deep corners of the ring.  And those corners come up very often!  I do not ride with spurs and Harley is very peppy and willing, but when we entered at A, his legs seemed to be stuck in molasses.  This presented itself as "resistance" and also caused me to work too hard with my legs to keep him going, which by the way, does not happen at home!  This compromised my position and definitely impacted the quality of our ride.  I watched the tests on video later, which confirmed what I was feeling in the ring.  I overheard at least one competitor and her training discussing the footing.  They were also not happy.

A couple segments of the 2011 Bloopers Video depict our dilemma.

At home, Harley and I are not used to anything fancy.  We ride in sand with lots of round pebbles.  The rings are dragged about once a week, which is good and bad.  The sand gets leveled and more even in depth, but more rocks get dragged up.  We have a lot of rocks here and the riding rings are really just glorified paddocks.  They have never been graded or set with footing, unless you count dumping more sand.  If they were graded or leveled it was probably ten years ago.  Maybe more.  The footing at the show location is a sand mix of some sort.  I was told that a large quantity of arena footing was donated from a traveling rodeo after they left the area.  This is the footing that I was frustrated about.  The warm up is grass, which is fine.  Harley warmed up great and then lost steam as soon as we entered the show ring.  He even power trotted his lap around the letters before entering to be judged.  I felt really good about that trot, only to find that we lost it as soon as it counted!

I could just go again and deal with it, but I feel like I already did that when I went back for the October show.  Harley was very fit after a summer full of riding.  We had no issues maintaining gait at home and I felt that our connection was very good and reliable.  Certain parts of the test were a challenge for us (the counter canter loops in test 3), but maintaining energy should not have been one of them!

So what do you think?
How much does arena footing matter to you?

Memoirs: A Girl's Horse Spooks

I used to ride a big mare who spooked every ride.  Every single one.  She always spooked in the beginning of the warm up and always to the side.  She was an "ambidextrous spooker", so left and right were equally likely.  Lucky for her, I cared not when she leapt sideways (i.e. I loved her.).  Years of riding as a kid had left me with some sort of instinct.  My body just went with the horse and this worked the best if I did not think.  Once she got the spook out of her system, she was good for the rest of the ride and, interestingly, was not a fearful horse.  Far from it.  My trainer thought she needed to stretch or loosen some part of her back and a quick sideways jerk was just the trick.

Clever girl.

Harley is not a spooky horse.  All horses can spook and there is usually something that will surprise the calmest horse, even if it has to be elephants marching head-to-tail from the traveling circus.  When Harley does think something is strange, he usually starts snaking his neck, and making the googly-eye face, so there is lots of warning that he is cautious of whatever lurks ahead.  A spook is not inevitable.  Usually moving closer to the offending object is enough to convince him that it is harmless.  A good sniff seals the deal.

So you can imagine my surprise, when I was walking Harley past the paddocks heading for the trails and I suddenly found myself whirling around in 360-fashion.  Half of my brain was looking out for solid objects like fence posts and tree trunks and the other half of my brain was trying in vain to work backwards and discover what had sent my usually reliable boy into a frenzy.  His reaction was so strong and so unusual that the horses in the neighboring paddock must also have thought that there was something worth fleeing, because they spun and took off at a gallop.  So did the rider's horse in the closest riding ring.  I expected to find a bear walking out of the woods when I turned around.

We do have black bear in New Jersey, but there was no such animal in sight once I turned my horse around to face the direction of his fear.  He was still tight as a drum and ready to flee.  Harley was going to save us both, even if his rider didn't seem to understand what the problem was.

I looked into the neighbor's yard and realized that there were men working on the roof.  Two men were walking around the roof and then they began nailing shingles down with an airgun.  You would think that the mystery was solved, but Harley did not react at the sight of them.  Despite the loud hiss and clunk of the nail gun, he started to relax and dropped his neck.  The men on the roof were not the problem.

Or were they?

I waited for several minutes, watching the men work and patting my horse's neck.  We could have kept going and left the problem behind us, but the trainer in me just will not do that.  I needed to know what scared him for future reference and for our own safety.  I hadn't ridden a spook like that in years.  What on Earth sent Harley for the hills?

And then I saw it start to happen.  One of the men rose from his work and picked up a large package.  I do not know what was in the package, but I assume it was discarded wrapping from the shingles that were now fastened to the roof.  He started walking toward the edge of the roof and my horse began to quiver.  A silent vibration moved up his legs, gaining intensity as the man walked closer to the edge of the building.  When I realized what he was about to do, I almost called out to stop him.  The only thing that harnessed my words was my now trembling horse.  I took a deep breath and tried to make my center of gravity as low as possible...

BOOM! 

The wrapping hit the ground with a thud and the hush of plastic hitting air.  Harley's trembling erupted into a full-body shudder, which shook us like a driver slamming on the brakes. 

But he did not spin. 

He kept facing the building and the source of his fear.  I stroked his neck, consoling him.  I felt a little giddy as the wasted adrenaline surged threw my muscles with no where to go.  I imagine that Harley felt the same thing.  After a couple deep breaths and more pats, we left the building and continued down the trail.  I have never been so relieved to leave civilization behind.