Noodles

I took a riding lesson after work today. I suppose technically it could be called a dressage lesson because: 1. I rode in a dressage arena; 2. there were 20m circles involved; 3. three turns on the forehand; and 4. the word "flexion" was used. This means it counts as a dressage lesson. Why do I wibble and call it a riding lesson? Because it was painfully obvious that all I've been doing the last twenty years is trail riding and fox hunting. I had to reacquaint myself with relaxing my forearms, keeping my shoulders back, and breathing. And that wasn't one thing at a time, but no, all at once. Yikes! Calling the horse I rode forward moving is an understatement. He is a 12 year old appendix Quarter Horse and he bounded forward with every stride. Boingity, boingity, BOING! I felt as though I was being thrown to the heavens and all the time Corrie the (very good) instructor is telling me to relax my legs, let them hang and just roll forward at the hip.

Now rolling forward at the hip is all well and good in concept, but I felt as though my mount was going to toss me onto his neck with every stride, so instinctively I wanted to grip with my legs cause you know, that usually is a good way to stay astride on a boingity horse, especially one in the hunt field. Letting go of all contact? Counter intuitive to the extreme. However, the one thing I've learned the older I get is that I know nothing. I'm paying Corrie $40 to tell me what to do, so to get my money's worth I consciously thought to myself "let go! let go and roll" and damned, but if it didn't work. I didn't fall off and the boingity part let up a bit. Unfortunately, I had been practicing my walks, leg yields, half halts, trot transitions, and ultimately canter transitions (the whole reason I signed up for this) for close to an hour so that by the time I let go and rolled forward with the horse, I was pooped. Noodles for legs. They're still tired and it's been two and a half hours since I gratefully dismounted.

I'm going back next week to practice what I've learned today. Corrie said that there might be another horse she puts me on, one with less boing, but I told her that no, I needed the boing challenge. It's not enough to practice half halts and yielding on a smooth beastie. I want the BOING.

Boingity, boingity, boingity bong.