"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points (out) how the strong....stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the {woman) who is actually in the arena; ....who knows...great enthusiasm(s);.... who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if (she) fails, at least fails while daring (to try)......" Teddy Roosevelt
The second dressage show of the season is the make or break show. It's when one thinks seriously about one's talent (or lack there of) and one's pocket book.
Intending to do great things in January suddenly meets the actualities of May.
May is the cruel month that can, if you are wise, bring a full stop to your winter dreams.
May is also the month that brings job cutbacks, losing one's house, ongoing menopausal body pain and oppressive heat. What to do with my "very cute hose with a lot of ability...that must be motivated to move forward?" This must be balanced with the twists of fate (and the heart).
Dressage doesn't allow for an amateur's life. It is a pass time for the professional. The rider who rides umpteen horses a day, every day. Who has the time to refine everything -- from how you put your shoe polish on your boots; to the absolute balance of your body while a top a horse. The individual who has found a way to get paid to practice, practice, practice the movements for each test.
But I can't complain, I can be extremely happy with a ribbon and a decent score. Teddy and I were ready for this show. A show on home territory where your friends are your competitors. How bad can any loss be when you are surrounded by people you love and respect?
Again, Teddy and I are trying to stay forward at Training Level 3. This test is a challenge because the figures are so difficult. How can a double circle at "X" (the center of an oblong arena) be so difficult? Try it with a horse that seems to sink into the sand. His toes dragging deeper and deeper, all the while he is claiming he is so tired he needs Geritol to get out of bed.
At the same time, this is the horse who is too sensitive to trot past a nasty tree in one corner of the arena because it sports teradactyls ready to pounce. It's a stop-go situation and you don't want to think too much about either. You don't want to use your whip in an outrageous manner and you really can't hop off and give him the pick-me-up he says he so badly needs.
What to do? Put your hands together, smile and sub-vocalize that you will slit his throat if he doesn't behave, now! It's not legal. Not advised to vocalize out loud where the judge can hear. But I am a noisy rider that comments on every mistake made while riding. I yell, I scream, I plead, I beg -- the only way to keep me quiet is to tape my mouth shut!
Teddy and I slowly make our way through the test, all the while I am whispering threats in his ears. "If you do not canter now, you will never get another carrot in your life." He canters, but delays it to the last moment, the moment well past the letter "A." On and on, I whisper sweet nothings under my breath. We finish the test with a perfectly square halt. I was flushed with pride. There were no absolute zeros on this test. I suddenly felt effective. I had cantered and no one could stop me!
On to Training Level 4, one of the most boring tests in existence. I have done this test 12 billion times. I am tired of it and yet, I have not mastered it. We begin well. We halt square at "X." We then nail our shallow serpentine from "M" to "X" to "F." And although the canter depart is against my hand, we again get the canter. "Hurray," I whisper to Teddy. "You are actually paying attention." Then there is a string of 7s -- quality of canter, balance and smoothness during transition, quality of trot, quality of transition and walk, straightness, quality of walk, transitions to walk. A dream come true and then it all falls apart. Teddy has gone to sleep, it's been too quiet from my quarter. We are approaching the shallow serpentine from the opposite direction (who thinks these things up? A better movement, at least for Ted, would be flop down on the sofa at F and take a rest for 45 minutes!). And then the dreaded canter depart. We are moving so slowly there will be no canter depart. My heart chills when I hear myself yell, out loud, right in front of the judge -- "Go!" -- I did not swear. I could have, but I didn't.
Ted kept his cool, flicked his tail and gave me that, "I told you so" look. He was right. My mistake cost us two points.
Photo by Lake Web Design.