Progress and the Mental Game

Do you know what separates me from Charlotte Dujardan (aside from iron self-discipline and a shit ton of talent)?

Courage knows

Hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours

OF PRACTICE.

Let's back up. I talked a barnmate into videoing part of my ride yesterday. Then I watched the video and proceeded to berate myself for not riding like a world champion Grand Prix dressuer. Here, I'll even be brave and share the video:


All I could think while I watched the video was how I didn't look like the rider I'm totally not (Charlotte). I look like a jumper learning to dressage on a distracted and sensitive horse, which is exactly what we are.

I can be mad about that. I can tear myself apart and get all up inside my head about how terrible I am. I can rip my mental game to shreds, eliminate any traces of confidence, and hate myself for not being what I can't possibly be.

OR

I can celebrate the fact that after a week stuck in the indoor, I rode my horse outside without lunging him. We had changes of bend and direction at the trot without flailing. We worked through him being distracted by outside influences and we even cantered without theatrics. I had to ride a little defensively, but we got through it, and next time will be better.

Let's be real: there are always going to be things I can do better. That's the essence of being human. I'm not perfect and I'm not going to be. I can be mad about that or I can embrace it.

If you're an adult ammy with a horse, I know you're a highly motivated, goal-oriented individual. I know that because no one pays your bills for you, no one drives you to the barn, and no one is making you do this. What the hell. It might as well be fun, right? There's no advantage to self-loathing and we all need a little more positive brain space.

The person who suffers most from a negative mental attitude is you and the person who benefits most from a positive mental attitude is you. At the end of the day, we get to ride ponies and pet velvety noses and live the dream we all had as little kids, one way or another.

We can celebrate the progress we make without ignoring the progress that we need to make still. I'm definitely still going to hack away at my position and my ride, but I'm not going to be ashamed of how I rode on this day.

I challenge you guys to the same thing I challenged Lindsey and Alyssa: any time you say something negative about your ride, find something positive to pair with it and find someone to keep you accountable to that. Let's give up on useless self-doubt and remember to enjoy the good things about this crazy hobby of ours.

Help Me Choose!!

Our show season is wrapped up and indoor riding with corresponding crappy dark pics/video is starting any moment now. I'm going back through the highlights of the year in pictures and trying to pick a few of my absolute favorite shots that really summarize what we did this year so I can print them out and frame them.

I'm lucky enough to have a lot of talented friends with cameras, so instead of choosing best of the worst, I'm narrowing down "all the awesome" to "what I can actually afford to frame/have space for". I've narrowed them down to "jumping", "dressage". and "candids". I'm trying to pick one from each.

So. Enjoy the pretty pictures and let me know what you'd choose and why.

First off, I already have prints of these two:

pretending we xc

because we're just cute

Now to pick one from each category:

Jumping

i love this picture

also this one

and this

Dressage: 

so fancy

looking cool

his beck looks big!

our first test this year!

field dressage

home dressage

And Candids:

unforgettable, unfortunately(?)

he's special

idealistic

realistic

 How do I even choose? Help!

PS if you can't live without a sweet cartoon of your horse by Alyssa, she's finally ready to produce them. Check it out!!

Managing My Marbles

Someone is growing a topline

  Mr. Princess Horse is recovering nicely and enjoying his new routine a little more than I'm comfortable with. I pow wowed with my barn working counterparts and now have an official plan to make sure he has his flysheet on by 8.30am every day, so he's really quite happy. He likes jumping, he likes trail riding, he likes that I keep the dressage sessions short and to the point, and he probably likes that I bought him brand new polos just so they're match his bonnet.

I'm busily trying to think of anything and everything except this weekend. We're scheduled to go out of town, ride in a clinic two days (SJ and XC) and then compete in a derby with dressage and xc on Sunday. We're riding in a BN group, which means he and I can totally sneeze at the show jumping, at least theoretically. Part of me really wanted to stay with the intro group (2'3") just because I knew the cross country would be easier, but I also knew we'd be bored stiff in the show jumping and I have high hopes of coming out even better than last time for XC.

It all sounded like a great idea when I discussed it with the organizer yesterday. I'm feeling less firmly committed today. I guess I sort of feel like this is a make or break point for us--we've had two good experiences to build on. We're going to have more jumping going in to the show, so I should be mentally prepped. I know it's way to much pressure to put on myself and it really won't help, but at some point, we can either do this or we can't. It's either fun or it isn't. Either way is fine with me, but I don't want to be afraid to ride anymore.

I have made huge, leaping strides of progress in that area as far as anything not related to cross country goes. I'm hoping that rebuilding my confidence in this area will be less emotionally intense and gut wrenchingly difficult than the rest of the internal/brain work I've had to do this year.

Thoughts? Tips? Who else is overcoming fear or has done so successfully? Tell me it's flowers and rainbows.

Or the truth, I guess.

We Go XC, Take II

We are not thinking about it.

Kind of last minute on Monday I found out that Cuna and I were going XC schooling at a local facility on Tuesday evening.

From then on out, I didn't think about it. Intentionally. My thought process was this:

1) Your subconscious completely wigs out about this whole shebang.
2) What your subconscious doesn't know most likely won't hurt it.

As such, I didn't mentally prepare, didn't watch XC videos, didn't visualize anything, and didn't talk about it much. Even on the drive over, I chatted about absolutely everything except riding horses. My sole concession to my subconscious was to switch Cuna's bit from his full cheek happy mouth mullen to an eggbutt Dr Bristol.

We tacked up. The other ladies were taking forever, since apparently their job has never entailed riding 4 horses in three hours while feeding, doing turnout, and cleaning tack. I took Cuna away from the group, hopped on, and started hacking around. I hadn't ridden at this facility since the accident with Izzy. I have gorgeous photos of us there and vivid memories of how it felt. Every time we came around a turn, I could just picture Izzy and I.

And I put it out of my head. I read an article by a prominent female showjumper (Beezie maybe?) who said that's how she deals with coming back from accidents. It sounds kooky, but I had to do something. I focused on warming Cuna up. Not Izzy. Not me. We walked all around, trotted and worked on moving off my legs, and cantered, focusing on going forward and back and doing lots of transitions. I wanted him balanced and adjustable.

Stephanie asked if there was anything out in the field I wanted to jump.

"YES. That teeny, tiny little log way over by the fence. It looks ok."

Us on course. 

I'm not sure how she kept a straight face, but we were sent off to jump it. I knew I had to give Cuna a better first ride than I did last time, so I kept my eyes up, put my leg more or less on, and grabbed mane with one hand and breastcollar with the other. The reins may have been a little wonky, but at least I wasn't pulling on him.

Cuna trotted over the jump and cantered away without so much as a peek. Excellent. I didn't go back to Steph for instruction, but just kept trotting back and forth over the tiny log. "I can do this," I thought. "I can do this all night and be happy."

Then she called us back. New pattern: trot over tiny log. Turn right, CANTER OVER GINORMOUS LOG PILE. Make a right hand turn, canter up the hill over pretty intimidating coop.

Ok, the log pile was 2' tall. In my defense, it was also the jump Izzy and I wrecked at last year about this time. I was thankful for the coop--it gave me something else to completely stress about.

Off we went. The first jump was pretty easy. I kept my eyes up and we trotted the tiny log. Then we came around for the GLP. I thought I would die, but I kept my eyes up and legs steady while grabbing everything I could hold on to that was not Cuna's face, and he hopped over it like nothing. We came around for the coop and I finally started to settle a bit. Cuna was in a nice, forward rhythm. I could see a comfortable close spot. I counted the last few strides and he popped right over it.

Phew.

Ginormous log pile #2 as demoed by Rinsie

We weren't done yet. After repeating that pattern a couple of time, Steph added in an EVEN BIGGER GINORMOUS LOG PILE!!!!!!!!! Omg. It might even have been 2'7". We did the first couple of jumps, then headed for it. As we got within about 10 strides, I heard Steph yelling at us to stop. We pulled up in a couple of strides and did a nice balanced halt. Apparently, we were supposed to be demonstrating a pulley rein. Oops. She told us to just jump the jump from where we were, maybe five or six strides out.

"Cuna can do that," I told her. "I can't do that." We circled around and came again. The closer we got, the bigger that jump looked. I swear it was rolex sized by the time we got to the base. Again, I had mane in one hand, breastcollar in the other, and kept my legs steady. Cuna hauled my butt over the fence. Good boy!

Scary barrels as demoed by Rinsie

The last jumping exercise was to jump the (now non-threatening) log pile (the first one) and then come around and jump this horrifyingly huge barrel jump. It may even have been 2'6". I figured we would just power through it (shut up), but Steph wanted me to drop to the trot to do the barrels. I made her explain that insanity in great detail, and it actually made sense. Cuna was comfortable with everything we were doing and taking me to the jumps very nicely. Since eventually we will jump a fence that might make him want to back off a bit, I need to feel like I can kick him at a jump. We were manufacturing a situation in which I could do that.

Breathe. Ok.

We came towards the barrels. I got him down to a collected canter before Steph yelled, "Kick him." I did, and over we went. Nicely. Safely. Happily.

Then it was off to the track to do pacework. (Thank you Katie for setting the flags. They were great.) My lesson buddy went first. I watched them slowly canter around and come in just 10 seconds over and realized that 350 mpm was going to be painfully boring. As predicted, Cuna and I came in at 55 and 57 seconds (goal of 60 seconds) and we were barely moving. Cuna actually had two of the biggest spooks I've ever seen from him--one because a giant cow was hiding behind a bush, the other because who knows why but we got a perfect lead change out of it.

My buddy went too slow both times, so she was sent back to go a lot faster. I whined a little, and got to take a turn going more hastily.

Cuna and I walked onto the track. I put him into the canter, and just let him roll forward. We hit the nice novice pace and sped up in about a stride. His stride got longer. As he and I found our balance together. I stayed poised above him, steady without resisting. Each quarter of the track, he picked up just a little more steam. As we flew around our final corner, I realized that I hadn't really tested the brakes and he had no particular plan to stop. I tried a half halt and got nothing. Right. We are galloping. I need to change his balance...

Ready to head for home

I slipped the reins through my fingers and let go of the hold I had of him. We cruised down to a trot, then walked a lap around the track before returning to our group. It was a great group, composed of nice people on solid horses, and I knew that I was sitting on the best horse in the whole group, bar none. <3 Cuna.

Voice Inside My Head

After some pretty serious searching and re-evaluating of priorities on my part, I think I have finally found the right bridle for Cuna. 

You can call him "Mr. Edgewood"

It's refined enough to suit his face, but classy enough to indulge my taste. I'm oiling and scrubbing like a mad thing to get it to an appropriate level of dark and conditioned, but I like it so far. Rest assured, fellow tack snobs: I have also put keepers on that full cheek. This was just the 'trying things on' cellphone shoot. 

Best view ever

After getting things adjusted, we went out and trotted up a hill. Cuna isn't super fit yet, but he has that thoroughbred heart and lungs, and we chugged right up the hill. We even saw a SUPER SCARY hiker with his dog, and Cuna did nothing more than give them a hairy eyeball. 

So freaking cute

Old man resting this morning. He was chipper enough after a couple of peppermints. I took him out to the arena and saw jumps set up. 

Like this

I decided I couldn't make the poor guy do hill work two days in a row and I've done enough flatwork lately to choke a very large quadruped. I trotted around the arena a few times, deciding whether or not to jump. It went kind of like this:

Scary voice: "No one is here to tell you what to do. You're going to screw up and get hurt. Besides, there are only so many jumps in a horse. Don't waste Cuna's jumps doing something stupid."

Happy voice: "You like bounces. It looks kind of fun."

Scary voice: "There are so many poles. You will freak out and loose your marbles and mess him up. Besides, that second crossrail is probably almost 2' in the middle. Cuna isn't warmed up enough. You don't even own him yet and you're going to hurt him."

Happy voice: "Cuna can jump bounces with one leg tied behind his back. At this point in his career, it is practically impossible for you to screw him up." 

I tried to tune out both voices and trotted a pole on the ground a couple of times. 

Scary voice: "He hesitated and sucked behind your leg. You can't trust him. He's going to spook and something and dump you on your head."

Happy voice: "Well, next time keep your leg on."

I tried to drown out both voices, and took a tight trotting turn to the bounce. We puked over the first jump, landed way too close to it, and Cuna made a long, low jump over the second. I awkwardly bounced on his back and slipped the reins. He gave a mighty head fling and a little buck to put me in my place. 

Ok, more impulsion, try again. We definitely can't quit after a bad run through. The distance still didn't work. Hm. Canter in this time. We made a tight turn, then bounced right through with me staying off Cuna's back and out of his face. 

Happy voice: "I knew you could do it. That was pretty fun." 

The level of drama I can produce over two tiny jumps is ridiculous. It's a good thing Cuna completely ignores my crazy and just does his job. What a guy. 

Inner Game

I had a fabulous ride yesterday. We flatted (har har) in the big arena. I kept Izzy forward and flexible, and then we headed out and hacked part way up the little hill by ourselves. Away from the barn and friends and food. Izzy was really, really good. I turned her around earlier than I wanted to, but at the same time, I wanted to keep it pleasant and happy for everyone. This can be fun. I felt great and couldn't wait to jump again.

And then I stressed out all morning because I was so nervous for my jumping lesson (which went great, btw).

It's so frustrating to deal with mental/confidence issues. I'm fine one moment, gone the next. I'm a very self-contained and self-controlled person normally, so it's driving me absolutely batty to not be able to deal with this effectively.

Blogosphere to the rescue!! I read a post by Cherie at Golightly Sport Horses dealing with sports psychology and the mental game that all athletes face, particularly in relation to their confidence. Then Ellie at Cedes of Change (yes, the amazing photographer) wrote another post about dealing with mental issues in her chosen sport, dog agility (which is wicked cool). Her post talked about making a list of five things you love about your chosen sport. Not goals, not plans, but the things that you actually enjoy, the reasons you got started in the first place. The idea is to help you refocus and figure out why you do what you do.

I gave it a shot. Here's my list of the five reasons I train for eventing:

1) I love the puzzle. Feed, farrier, vet, chiro, barn management. I like the challenge of finding the problem and fixing it.

2) I love the partnership. Finding what makes me horse tick and how to get the most out of her and myself.

3) I love the people. I'm constantly surrounded by people who share my same driving passion and interests.

4) I love the purpose. Each phase helps us develop as a well-rounded team, the strongest and most effective we can be.

5) I love the pride of working toward perfection and being judged by an objective standard. Because we can fail, we can also succeed.

The nerdier among you are appreciating my alliteration right now.

I feel like I'm starting to get my bearings. Writing out why we're working with an eventing trainer when jumping still scares the sh*t out of me helps clarify my position with myself. I always see eventing as the end goal of any training schema--you need the power and poise of dressage, the forward adrenaline of cross country, and the exacting discipline of show jumping. Maybe you don't--I do. It makes for well-rounded riders and horses and keeps riding interesting.

I am moving forward. I had an excellent (and non-terrifying) jumping lesson this morning. I do not understand where this fear came from, but I am attacking it from every angle possible. The more I ride well and get comfortable, the less fear I will have from the actual experience. I am trying to spend some time each day visualizing jumping well and safely so that I can start seeing myself being successful. I am also interested in reading up a bit on the mental game. Any sports psychology book recommendations, helpful blogs, or websites out there for me to look at?

Progress of an Unchartable Nature

Earlier this week, I went into full-on meltdown mode. I decided I couldn't ride my horse, couldn't do anything right, would never make any progress, and might as well sell her and get it over with. (Irrational and unprompted. Hormones?)

I then proceeded to get on her and actually have a fabulous ride.

The other working student rode her yesterday since I had to go to work. She texted and told me that Izzy was "a dragon lady, but still fun".

Hm. At least I'm not the only one who occasionally has issues with her, right?


Pony mare today.

After riding two others, getting on Izzy was just so easy. I felt comfortable and in control. I didn't have to nag her too much. I got her nicely forward and maintained it. Despite there being three other horses in the arena with us, we had a really, really good ride.

The difference? I'm riding better certainly, which makes me more comfortable. Specifically, I think I'm starting to ride well enough and Izzy is throwing enough at me that I can say, "Alright. Let's fix that." She spooks, I stay on. She runs forward, I make her halt and back. She gets behind my leg, I go for a gallop.

Our ride today was in a bit she's never gone in on a saddle not specifically fitted for her with something other than her special pad. And guess what? It was marvelous. I've honestly never felt this optimistic about our future together (hormones again? Maybe).

Here's how confident I felt: when Steph and another client were talking about hauling out for an XC school in the next couple months, I wanted to go along*. I think we can do it.



*Then I spent two seconds thinking about the sad state of my bank account and the ridiculous expense of hauling out of state and giggled at the idea that I could afford it.