Survivors

So it's 10pm and I'm blogging with a bowl of popcorn. I usually have a rule against eating things past 8pm. It's amazing how much weight just drops off on its own when I cut out the nighttime snacking habit. But tonight my willpower is down and it was either popcorn, ice cream, or cookie dough. I chose the lesser of the three evils and went with Healthy Pop, which tastes like cardboard but is giving me something to munch on.

Moving on.

This last summer I kept my horses pasture-boarded while I finished up my clinical rotation for school. While we were there, I had many life-altering "moments." First of all, this place had NO arena. None. Anywhere. There was a small round pen. That was all.

I happen to be an arena baby. I looooooove the arena. You know, with good footing, and corners, and straight walls. Virtually all of the training I do involve either the corners, the walls, or center/quarter lines. I have no idea what to do out in a field other than goof around for a nice easy hack. Kind of like a trail ride, where the only thing I want to accomplish is completing the ride with minimal drama.

So I solved that problem by not riding much all summer. Sure, I tried to ride in the round pen. It was fun for about 3 minutes and I quickly got bored.

Then one day out of the blue I decided to take the pony out for a "real" ride in the 40-acre hay field. Why I suddenly felt that she was ready to take on the big, open world at that moment still to this day mystifies me. I'm also not entirely sure why I felt that was the day to ignore my hatred of riding the tiny little 13.2 hand dainty pony. I always feel like I'm going to a.) squish her or b.) fall off the second she takes a misstep because there is nothing substantial about this pony to hold me up.

But I'm an impulsive person, so I went for it. Besides, I had ridden her in the round pen a few days earlier and she was only a *little* herd-bound, and we both survived.

I got her tacked up, led her to the gate, and she stood still like a good girl while I mounted and fidgeted with my stirrups. I was feeling a sense of confidence that my pony had, indeed, woken up one day and decided that she was going to become magically dead broke.

Off we went at a nice, calm walk. I was inwardly congratulating myself for my mad skillz at training the psycho pony. Then, approximately 20 feet from the gate, the Drama Pony must have realized that her friends were in a different field. On the other side of the barn. And that we had NEVER been in this field. She planted the brakes. I managed to boot her on until we were continuing in a tense, prancy jig, but at least it was the direction I wanted.

Another 20 feet later I got a spin-and-bolt attempt. Supposedly the bushes we were passing by were of the pony-eating variety. Thank God that in all my years of riding I have perfected the "You Can't Bolt If I Yank Your Head Around To My Kneecap and Spin You In Small Circles" maneuver. At this point I was livid. How DARE she try to run back to her friends! I decided there was no way in h*ll I was letting her move her feet back in that direction until she was being obedient. I don't need calm per se. I do need her to listen to me and not try to take matters into her own hands- er, hooves.

More prancy-jiggy crap. A few more spin-and-bolt attempts. A few times she planted her feet and refused to go forward at all (note: it is absolutely imperative to me that this pony ALWAYS go forward when told. When we first got her, she liked to rear as an evasion. I have seen her on multiple times rear so violently she flipped herself over. The rearing has gone away, but I've seen her do it, and I know she is capable. Therefore forward is a BIG DEAL- they can't rear if their feet are moving forward). Eventually I got her trotting in roughly 15m circles. It was hot out, she was out of shape, and got tired quickly. When she would trot politely in a full circle without trying to sidepass towards the barn, I would let her walk. As soon as she started being nutty again, back to the trot.

It was a long, hard ride, but she finally gave in and we walked back to the barn on a loose rein. As we were walking, several things hit me at once:

1.) I rode out the worst this pony has ever thrown at me and stayed on. I am not going to fall off the damn pony in a strong breeze. I *do* have good balance. I *am* a skilled rider. Several really bad falls off of a couple of previous horses has made me a timid/cautious rider. I don't need to be. I just need to get over myself.

2.) Pony was genuinely scared being out by herself, but even in her spin-and-bolt fits, not once did her front end leave the ground. I don't even think rearing crossed her little pony brain. It's amazing how far she's come since Katie and I first picked her up.

3.) I have ridden horses who have literally lost their minds when scared and there was no getting it back (refer to revelation #1, above). Horses are flight animals. It's what they do. The fact that the pony wanted to flee but eventually came back to me speaks volumes about her. She's a sensitive, nervous type anyway. The fact that we could still communicate with each other is huge for her.

This incident was several months ago. We have since moved back up to the barn in Estacada (I really missed the arena). In retrospect, while attempting to take the pony out on our little jaunt was somewhat impulsive and foolish at the time, I think it is one of the best things I could have done for both Drama and myself. I am no longer scared to ride her. Getting over my mental hangup about riding her has been great. I find that I actually enjoy riding her now, and her training has been progressing in leaps and bounds.

I think she, too, also came out better on the other end of our adventure. It seems like we bonded. She's much more in-tune to me, and she tries her heart out for me every day. It was like, in her little pony mind, the joint traumatic experience of having to ride in a field made us soul sisters. Everything that we used to struggle with before (trailer loading, clipping, taking her blanket off over her head) is suddenly a non-issue. I can almost hear her saying, "I'm not a fan of the blanket going over my head, but you and I went to Hell and back together, therefore I trust you."

Silly pony. I am still trying to sell her, but not as enthusiastically as I once was. I secretly wish she wont sell. If I had the money, I would keep her in a heartbeat. Maybe take some dressage lessons together. No, she doesn't have the "sparkle" for competitive FEI levels, but right now she has the heart and the willingness to likely make it to 4th and do pretty well.

Did I mention that we started schooling lateral movements just last week and she is now leg-yielding off of only my seat bones?