Setting aside the grid idea for the day, I decided to set up a small vertical on the short side to circle over while essentially doing a dressage school in jump tack. It was like Saturday's lesson kids had psychic powers because it was already there when I went up to the arena. If that's not a sign from the "Get it together, ye who spazzes over nothing" gods than I don't know what is.
I dropped my stirrups a hole for a little more leg leverage and went to work on a quick w/t warm up before moving on to the canter in direct order. With my butt planted in the saddle and my hands starting off up by my boobs, I was able to rock Bobby back onto his booty and lure the front end away from wanting to pull an ostrich.
|can we just drool over how amazing he looks for a moment?|
Keeping both of us in a dressage state of mind, I cut our circle inside the track and calmly pointed him for the 2'3" vertical. He popped over it NBD and carried on like a proper gentleman. There may have been maniacal laughter on my part at this point. "Fuck you, jumping brain fart!! You're nothing but a blip in my horse's legit dressage fanciness!"
Did my mental rambling make sense to anyone else? No, but when has it ever?
The rest of the ride started to roll along in the same fashion. I didn't even trick myself into freaking out. On the contrary, I only had one very brief thought of, "I think I should be nervous right now" before telling myself to shut up and just focus on the canter, the canter, the canter (Who's clinic-ed with Eric Horgan before and now has his voice stuck in their head?).
I was like, "Wow, am I actually going to be able to write a blog post about how I wasn't a complete chicken shit? That's what's up." Then I proceeded to write parts of said post in my head, laughing about how clever I am (clearly those parts did not make it into this post), and the next thing I knew we were turning into a jump and my second of worrying was well behind me.
|it's farming season which means i don't even know what hubby looks like anymore.|
so here's a jumping pic from the ssj clinic back in march that was never shared.
Bobby did, however, start to come a bit unglued towards the end. I think his "I'm a good, listening dressage horse" brain began to get taken over by his "I'm a mother fucking jumping horse, bitchesssss!" brain. He started to get quite rude to the oxer (3', still set on the diagonal from the other day), so we had a little Come to Jesus about listening to half halts. By his final jump over that fence, he was a total dreamboat.
We also had some obedience issues with the two stride line. The lessoners had taken away the trot poles I had set up and I didn't put them back. That left us with a long approach to the first jump. Bobby's first few strides were lovely and listening, and then he just couldn't help himself and took over like a freight train. That also got sorted out by the end, and I finished feeling like we'd accomplished a lot.
|bobby loves bath time! look how pumped he is!|
I still need to work really hard on folding my upper body more over jumps. I'm releasing with my reins, but because I'm still so tall in the saddle, it's more like I'm just chucking my hands forward. It doesn't make for a pretty picture, nor is it as effective as, you know, riding like a real person.
But shit yeah for getting a kick ass jump sesh under our belts! We had a very hard dressage school today where I worked Bobby relentlessly on being straight to the right. We were both huffing and puffing by the end of it...at the walk. Being straight is so hard.
LOLZ. But being gay is not?
I kill myself. Seriously, I do.