It is the day before Thanksgiving and I have a private lesson at two o’clock. It is a half-day at work so I had told my employees they could work from home if they wanted, needless to say only one other person besides me showed up at the office – Jim. Jim and I jammed and then I headed home as it was also a half-day at school, and I wanted to there for my kids. I had given the sitter the rest of the week off.
My trainer, Cormac Kennedy, sets up a series of poles and jumps during my private lesson.
Being a chilly, rainy day, we ride in the indoor. My trainer has me work on getting J in a good rhythm to extend her trot, i.e. lengthen her stride without going faster. I work on that and it goes pretty well. He also says to feel her soften in my hands (is it me or is this really another language, I mean seriously who else is going to know what soften in her hands means?!). I try to feel her soften, and she does.
I keep working on getting J to bend in the back left corner, but she keeps cutting it. I have been setting her up early, to no avail. I get her to bend in all of the other corners. So I point out this frustration to my trainer. He instructs me to “set her up early by using my left leg and lifting my left hand and to get her paying attention prior to hitting the corner.” Somehow, under my trainer’s eye and instruction, I’m able to do it perfectly. I seriously think she is showing off for him – they are, after all, both Irish…hmmm.
My trainer sets up a trot pole and small jump. I trot to it and jump it several times. I get her pretty dead on center nearly every time. He points out a series of events though: I have been lifting up my hands when going over the jump. This causes J to lift up her head, causing me to sit hard on her backside after the jump. This then makes her landing off kilter. He noted that my position was pretty good right up until the jump but one small change, such as lifting my hands, caused her to land rough (how would you feel with someone slamming down on your backside just as you were completing a jump?).
My German trainer’s niece jumps an Oxer
during the Young Riders Competition,
she placed third in the country
To correct the problem I was instructed to hold onto her mane and keep my hands there for at least two strides after the jump. This seemed to work out really well, and although my trainer is yelling me, it is in a good way (I had to ask as I was unsure). So all is well that ends well.
Next, my trainer sets up an Oxer (two jumps set up back-to-back with some space in between them), and instead of one jump where she took off at the trot pole and catapulted over it (where I proceeded to land on her neck but stayed on, I have good “stickiness,” he said) we did really well. It seems all the riding I did as a child paid off.
I really try to focus on my breathing. I take a deep breath several times prior to the jump, and then again right before it, and once more after. I breathe, sit up straight with my shoulders down, leg on and heels down. Once I get to the jump I lean forward slightly and carry this position over the jump with my hands on her neck. I still forget to look between her ears but will try hard to do so next time.
I glance at the jump a few strides prior to it to gauge the right take off spot. I keep a firm grip with my lower leg to frame her to keep her impulsion coming from behind.
At the end of the lesson my instructor says “when you come in with a good attitude, keep your mouth shut, listen and do what I say, then it all goes pretty well.” OK – not quite sure how to respond to that, I just nod my head. This seems to make him happy. I decide that if he’s happy, then I’m happy. Note to all readers: it has taken me a very, very long time to realize that it is good to make (and keep) your trainer happy, for if they are happy then you are happy.
Thought for the day: Stickiness is a good thing.
