Oh, the canter. It is so hard for me. For a looooong time, the canter transition (getting the horse to canter) was near impossible. Since my new, fancy stirrups, I’ve had a much easier time. It is probably a coincidence of me finally figuring it out, but I still like to think of the fancy stirrups as some sort of Dumbo’s Feather, making them worth their crazy price. Though I’ve improved at getting the horse going, it is still really difficult for me to keep the horse going.
The other day, as I struggled and struggled, my riding teacher said: “You know, right before the horse breaks the canter, I can tell you feel that it is going to happen, and you just give up. You aren’t going to be able to do it unless you mentally commit, and then make her keep going.”
And guess what? The very next time, I could feel the horse was about to break and start trotting, and instead of just letting it happen, I dug in my heels (literally, and figuratively, too), and it worked! The horse kept on cantering!
Really, the change is a pretty minor one. I didn’t have to work that much harder physically, it really was just a matter of mentally committing to making the horse go. My teacher was totally right, I’d feel the horse start to slow, and think: “Oops. I lost it.” I was pretty convinced that once the horse started to slow, there was no coming back from that. Turns out, there IS a coming back from that! With a little bit of “Oh, no you don’t,” and some spur to the belly, the horse can and will pick that canter right back up. How about that?
I’ve mentioned that I love learning to ride as an adult because it is a cycle of being physically unable, then physically able but mentally unable, then finally doing it (yay!), and then spiraling around again and again in that pattern with each new thing. Oh, and occasionally kicking your own self in the jaw. I was talking about this with my teacher, and she said: “Yes, but you’re forgetting the third element, the horse!”
See, horses are crafty, and like middle schoolers, they want to figure out exactly how much they can get away with. “Oh, you let me stop near the gate? Hmmm. What if I stop there a second time? Ah, you didn’t do anything about it? Well, GUESS WHAT, LADY? I’m NEVER going to trot past that gate EVER AGAIN! MWAA HAA HAAA!”
In giving up too easily with the canter, I was teaching the horse: “Hey girl, you can stop cantering whenever you feel like it. I don’t mind!” Instead of the preferred: “GO, PUNK-ASS. Because I SAID so.”
One you’ve established that bossery over the horse, they are more inclined to do what you ask them to do, because they know you’re serious about making them actually do it.
Oh, the life lessons.
Riding is crazy expensive, but if you compare it to the cost of a gym membership plus therapy (yes, it counts as both), it is actually a pretty good deal.
I feel the same way about my singing lessons. I don’t think I’ve had a lesson that I didn’t leave thinking I’d learned something bigger about my life – for example, that working too hard to MAKE something happen isn’t anywhere near as effective as getting things set up right and then LETTING it happen. Plus all the abdominal support that’s needed is working my muscles! Singing lesson=therapy + core workout. There’s a nice equation!
Check out http://www.generationfarms.ca/psychotherapy/index.shtml. Have you heard about this? I have a teaching colleague who has brought different groups of students and teachers there for workshops and she says it’s amazing. The way she describes what happens sound a lot like your process in getting your horse to do what you want.