Feel and Connection: The Missing Pieces

 

The lead up to yesterday’s ride was, perhaps, more interesting from a horsemanship perspective than the ride itself, which turned out gloriously, unexpectedly well. After seeing Katie ride Tweed, and consulting with her afterward, my mind was non-stop mulling about how to fix me and what needed fixing.

One of the biggest questions I had was about my own anxiety. I began wondering to what extent I may have changed due to life circumstances: the responsibility of helping raise a grandson, age, and just basic life changes that can make us feel a little gutted and unsure of ourselves.

I began to wonder if the present circumstances have knocked my confidence, especially since my dad died and my little world started fraying.

I was on a ride with a friend last month and when we got to that hill by the campground Tweed got flustered and messy and I asked her to stop so I could school him there. As she waited for us she offered a suggestion that I take a moment to breathe and relax. She insinuated that my own stress was causing the problem. 

I replied that of course when my horse is flying down a hill, totally ignoring me, I’m going to be a little stressed, but that isn’t the root of the problem. 

As I prepared for yesterday’s ride, I started to give her words new weight. Maybe I was more anxious than I understood or admitted to myself.

——

(Liquid courage)

Yesterday’s ride was supposed to be a schooling ride and a fact finding mission: what was I doing, or not doing, that Katie was doing or not doing?

The vision I had of what would occur on the ride was based upon our previous ones: we’d go down the trail all cool and normal and then I’d come to a big hill and Katie would insist I go down it, Tumbleweed would rush, I’d flounder, and then we’d stop and school it. I might give up and let Katie ride Tweed, switch horses with her, and —-fill in the blank. 

Not a positive vision, right?

The photo of the cup above is not coffee. It is wine. I decided to take a few sips before my ride to calm whatever nerves I had, even though, once again, I did not feel anxious. 

I arrived early to the park and Tumbleweed came out of the trailer completely relaxed. We were the only ones there, except the rental horses that are always in a turnout area nearby for guided trail rides. We tacked up and did some basic groundwork, then I bridled him and walked him to the mounting block. 

As usual, Tumbleweed came right around to my sweet spot, first ask, and allowed me to climb up. He really is the best at this, and I appreciate it at my age. Sidenote: Katie is one of those horsewomen who can grab mane and swing herself up. I have never figured out how to do that, but it is impressive. 

We went into the arena and rode circles at walk, trot and lope—using the information Katie had given me about gentle reminders for flexion and a loose rein to reward his effort. I got the best canter work Tweed had ever given me and that was a huge morale boost. 

Katie still hadn’t arrived, so I took Tweed out by myself, again, using the information Katie had given about being clear where I needed his headset, but not overly aggressive getting it. Gentle reminders. Gentle check ins. Once again, Tweed responded very well. 

After we rode alone for awhile, Katie pulled in and saddled up and we began our “fact finding ride.”

——

It had been raining a lot this last week and there are large puddles along the trail. Tweed is generally quite logical about these and prefers to take dry ground. Thus, our first opportunity presented itself quickly.

You might remember that Regina had us doing an exercise where you point him at an object, ask for vertical flexion well ahead (I have something I want you to do), ride to the object, ask him to acknowledge it, then push him onto it or through it.  Well, that is also Katie’s method. 

We did the steps, and Tweed put his front feet in, but stopped. Katie stood to the side and coached us through it. Reward him.  Put more outside leg. Release and reward. Ask him to go through, (he kept going to the side, so more outside leg to keep him straight).

It didn’t take long before he went through. (Big reward.)

But every puddle is a new puddle, and there were lots of puddles. Each puddle became easier until the last one, the deepest and longest of them all. Tumbleweed went through confidently on the first ask. BIG WIN.  

And that is about where the “schooling” part stopped. 

I had been thinking, “wow, I am spending a lot of time on standing water when I should be doing hills,” but in fact, I was doing hill work by doing water work. 

Katie asked me what I felt comfortable riding and I said anything. 

I have written about one hill, in particular, that is rocky and technically difficult because horses can slide a bit. I had avoided that hill thus far with Tweed, but I told her I wanted to try it and go to the river.

I wasn’t even slightly concerned because the connection was there, and when you feel that connection, you know it. In fact, I would say confidence comes from connection.

The rest of the ride was already written about on the last post. We pointed ourselves at all the previously avoided “scary” difficult descents and ascents. We even encountered a biker, which bothered Katie’s horse, but Tweed didn’t care a bit, except to be mildly curious about a man in blue garb on a two wheeler.

Tweed took every step of the ride with the same gentlemanly care he shows at the mounting block. 

——

Was my friend right about my own anxiety playing a part?

After yesterday, my answer is yes and no.

We didn’t have full connection before that, and when it’s missing, you know it. Yes, it sends off warning bells, but those bells are sounding the alarm that you are missing a big chunk of something. In our case, it was feel.

Katie had “fixed us” before we even started that ride. The information she gave me last Thursday about Tumbleweed on trails was all about proper feel and how to support him better with it. She was like a horse/human counselor connecting the last, vital dots. 

—-

In summary, yes, life has changed me. I am more cautious. I do have higher expectations than just “ride it out.” I know what connection feels like, and I won’t settle for less. 

But I think all those things make me a better horsewoman, not worse.