So, I rode all weekend. Saturday on the property, Sunday off of it. Both rides were substantially meaningful for me, because I accomplished what are, for me, major strides in riding. I'm sure to less green riders, these events are insignificant, but that's them, not me.
On the property:
Ranger and I walked around the track, first with Marcella. Marcella took her horse into the pasture to gallop around, and Ranger wanted to follow. What ensued was an epic (okay, okay, not so epic, but scary for ME) struggle for power. Marcella taught me how to win, then went off to jump leaving me to sort it all out for myself. (In her defense, I was whining about potential bucking, which Ranger only does with her, never with me.)
I got mad at myself after she left. I wanted desperately to not be afraid of my horse any more. He's a good horse, there's no reason for it. So I hid at the back of the property, and practiced turning my horse. Yep...turning. We got pretty good at it too. And only one argument, which I won by making him go a different direction. It was cool. I was so empowered by this, that I went around the shedrow simply because he didn't want to. We didn't make it out the driveway, he fought too hard for my comfort zone for that, but I won a different way, by asserting my authority and making him go forward a different direction, instead of continuously backing up. That's important. :)
Off the property:
Yesterday Marcella took me out on the trail. Ranger spent the first part of this being dragged along on a lead rope, because Marcella said she wanted me to have a good ride, and for Ranger to not get away with refusing to leave TLC. So off we went, Ranger and me in tow. Ride away, something significant happened. Marcella believes Ranger made a deliberate decision regarding a puddle. She says that he had tensed up to hop over it, and then at the last second, picked up his feet and daintily walked over it instead. She says he did this consciously knowing that the hop would scare me. The rest of the ride was uneventful, Ranger plodded along and was good as gold, even when Misty was not. Then, on the way home, Ranger did it again. There's a corner where the trail goes up a slight hill, with a slightly steep drop off on one side. It's a minor hill for any rider with any experience, but for me, it seems huge, and that drop worries me, because there are dogs in the yard at that corner, and the Whatifs tell me that if my horse spooks at the dogs barking, we might slide off that drop and end up with me laying in the street. Don't laugh...the Whatiffs are very persuasive. So, yesterday, Marcella says, you should go up that, and get over being scared of it. And I said, you're right, and steered Ranger towards it.
Ranger, put one foot on the curb...then very calmly put it back down, and ambled around the hill to the much flatter driveway a bit beyond. Ranger consciously decided to take the path that terrified his rider the least. And in that moment, I stopped being afraid of Ranger.
Ranger is a good horse. Tish would not have sold him to me if he wasn't. She'd never have let a green rider have a bad horse. Ranger loves me and trusts me, and I need to learn to trust him equally. I already love him. He's trying to take care of me in his own way, and I just need to work with him, and stop sending him conflicting signals. Like Parelli says: "If your horse says no, you either asked the wrong question, or asked the question wrong."
After our ride, Ranger stood stock still until I dismounted, a process that takes a great deal of planning and several minutes for me. He didn't budge ONCE, not even when I tugged the saddle slightly sideways sliding off. And then Ranger stood there and let me hug the stuffing out of his nose. Ranger is a good horse. I love my horse.
I had another epiphany last night, thinking about Ranger and riding, and how I can improve this. I was thinking about why I'm so scared, when I didn't used to be. And I realized what happened: I got more fearful, not of riding, but of falling after I fell down the stairs here at work. The aftermath of that event taught me just how much falling hurts me. And so my subconscious keeps reminding me of this every time I'm on Ranger, who's so very big, and a long way off the ground for me. I mean, he's 16 hands and some change, to my five feet four and a half inches. That would be an awfully long fall. Or so my brain keeps reminding me. So, now I have to figure out how to work past that. :)
Posted by Lysa at June 14, 2010 8:28 AM