Category: Insights

  • In Every Single Step, the Pelvis Leads the Way

    When you’re young and your body is agile, and you’re free from daily aches and pains, a belief exists that “it’ll never happen to me”. You might notice the stiffness or contracted posture in older people, but it’s so foreign and far away; because your youthful body has never let you down.

    Physical wear and tear has a way of slowly sneaking up on you, though, until one sunny afternoon in a 3PE Obstacles training session, you’re invincibility is shattered by the realisation that you’ve got limitations you weren’t even aware of… at least, that’s how it happened for me!

    I’ve always had one shoulder that sits lower than the other, it kind of rolls forward and down. I don’t remember how or when it started. It hasn’t been caused by an injury or incident, it’s just always been like that. I remember noticing uneven wear patterns on my school shoes when I was ten years old, so I’ve been crocked at least as long as then.

    Mostly it doesn’t bother me, and it’s never stopped me from doing anything that I wanted (or needed) to do, but it does impact my riding symmetry. For that reason, I’ve been searching for a solution.

    I won’t bore you with the full history of the last decade of working to improve my posture and get closer to symmetrical in my movement and self-carriage. The important part to note, is that progress was incremental; it took time, and improvements were gradual.

    Meanwhile, I’ve recently been working with a lovely Warmblood gelding that has some pelvic dysfunction. He drags his hind toes on the ground in the trot (one side more than the other), he doesn’t have much capacity for impulsion and was incredibly one-sided when he first arrived. Bending to the right was extremely challenging.

    For the last few months we’ve been working in-hand and on the ground only, no riding. We’ve been focusing on developing stability in the hind end, as well as encouraging more activation of the thoracic sling. It’s slow, repetitive work, improvements are gradual and if I ask for too much then compensatory patterns or defense mechanisms kick in. I’ve had to be patient and remind myself that the body can only change at the rate of cell replenishment/muscle growth/neural pathway adaptations. It’s not my schedule and there are no short cuts.

    We’d reached a point where left bend on the circle has become stable and consistent enough that the horse can maintain it with very little support from me, so I started asking for the inside hind to step under more, a little like shoulder-fore. Results were good 🙂

    However; the same exercise in right bend was a mish-mash of can’t-do-it, can-do-it, cracking-it-when-being-asked, evasive-manoeuvres, oh-here-we-go, no-lost-it-again. My human mind wanted results, and both the horse and I were getting frustrated. At one point it even looked like he was trying to cross the inside hind leg BEHIND the other one (which is completely impossible while walking forward… why is he even trying that, it’s such a dumb move, have you forgotten how to walk, seriously).

    Fast forward to my obstacles training day and the instructor has us going around the double slalom poles. She wants us to really bring our inside shoulder back and turn through the body because the turns are so tight. Yep, got it.

    She wants more, she wants more, she wants more. I’m trying my hardest. I feel like my outside shoulder has almost come around so far it’s above the horse’s wither, it’s too far from alignment with my horse and it’s disturbing her balance. She wants more. We’re both getting frustrated. Then I realise, she’s not looking at how far my torso has turned, she’s looking at my curly-forward shoulder and waiting to see that change.

    I explain to her that it always sit forward, even when I’m off the horse. That I can move it into the “right” spot but I have to really concentrate. I have to adjust my pelvis, and then my rib cage, and then activate muscles in my shoulder that I don’t normally use, and then the shoulder will come into place. However; it requires most of my attention and proprioception (feel) to be tuned to my body awareness and I can’t maintain that while mentally negotiating this new exercise, and physically riding my horse, and trying to maintain her bend and balance while she’s learning do it it as well. Simply too much data to process at once, sorry, not enough brain processing power. Have to wait until I’ve done enough of it that muscle memory will kick in and take some of the workload into the subconscious mind.

    She listens, and she’s curious. She tells me to put down my reins and “make an aeroplane” with my arms. Turn all the way to the left, then turn all the way to the right. It’s not a movement I’ve done for years, and I was horrified at how different each side was! Going one way, my body simply stopped. No pain, no tightness, just no further movement available in that direction. I adjusted my pelvis and voila; unlocked. Wow. Massive learning moment for me.

    Pondering over this experience as I drove home from the club ground, I realised it was the complete mirror of the Warmblood gelding and my recent rehab sessions…!

    The pelvis leads the way in all movement and posture-in-movement, and sometimes in rehab, re-organising the pelvis, and therefore adjusting the entire body, into a different-to-typical posture is hard. Especially while moving and while mentally learning a new exercise at the same time. It takes more brain processing power than may be available, until muscle memory kicks in to help.

    In the rehabilitation scenarios, all of this is assuming there’s no pain. That there’s no physical limitations such as torn ligaments etc, no genuine reason that the healthy movement cannot comfortably take place. If there is, that’s a whole other kettle of fish.

    Each single step should be treasured and rewarded. When things get hard, rest after one step. Allow that to integrate into the nervous system. Remember that it won’t happen when it can’t happen. There’s no sense in getting frustrated. An even deeper level of patience may be needed.

    Remembering that in every single step taken, the pelvis leads the way.

  • Bi-focal Vision and Environmental Familiarisation

    Did you know the horse’s eye operates kind of like bi-focal gasses? Unlike our human eyes, which have muscles that pull our lenses into different shapes to adjust our focus from near to far, in order for the horse to adjust his focus he has to raise or lower his head.

    By raising his head and looking through the bottom of his eye, the horse uses his long distance focus (think about that “periscope up” impression they do when there’s something way over there that’s caught their attention).

    By lowering his head and looking through the top of his eye, the horse focuses on what’s closest to him. (Think about how they put their heads down and snort when there’s something of concern nearby.)

    What does this mean for your horse when you take him somewhere new? The horse’s first concern is always for his own safety, and as flight-animals safety comes from being able to run away. From being able to spot danger at a distance, so that you can either get a head start on the running away, or avoid it completely by running away before it gets here.

    One of the things we always do at my Young Horse Social Days is allow time for arena familiarisation. For some of the horses who come along, this is their first outing away from home, and we want to make sure they’ve had ample time to explore and become comfortable with the arena/work space, before we try to do any groundwork or riding.

    What we often see is that the horses are first very interested in looking out of the arena. Many stop to look out the open side of the indoor, or are looking around at the other horses to see what they’re doing.

    It’s counter-productive to try to ask anything of our horse while he’s in “giraffe mode” because he’s far to consumed with being on watch for danger to be able to focus on anything else. What he needs in this stage is just time. Time to take it all in, time to process the new environment and time to reassure himself that he is safe.

    How much time, you might wondering? It can really differ from horse to horse, depending on all the obvious things, like how used to going new places he is, how many times he’s been to this venue, or how the other horses are behaving around him. It also depends on what baggage he’s carrying, his personal history so to speak, and the relationship he has with the handler. (Like children, horses will often behave differently with someone they don’t know, than someone they know well.)

    (It goes without saying that we always need to maintain our own safety, and measures can be taken to keep the out-ward looking horse under control and handler safe, that is a given.)

    After a while, we begin to see during the arena familiarisation time, is that the horses start to bring their attention and focus closer to themselves. Investigating the arena itself, sniffing the dressage letters on the wall, stopping to check out the mounting block, or pawing and sniffing at the sand.

    At this stage, when the horses have satisfied themselves that the larger environment is free from danger, and they’re feeling safe enough to lower their heads to adjust their focus to their immediate surroundings and things that are close by; that’s when we can successfully begin to ask the horse to bring his attention to the handler’s requests.

    We can now start to ask the horse for some simple tasks to see if he’s ready to move into a frame of mind that’s open to receiving learning/training.

    The value of arriving early enough to give your horse plenty of time for environmental familiarisation cannot be underestimated. It also includes workspace familiarisation time if the arena and yards/stables/float aren’t close to one another.

    For horses that are well-travelled and seasoned competitors, the process of going from high alert to a calm and ready to work state may only take a few minutes. For the young/green or nervous horse, allowing him enough time to go through the process at his own rate, before expecting any kind of work from him, can make the world of difference to his (and your) experience having an outing away from home.

    Understanding the horse’s bi-focal style of vision helps us be more patient and compassionate when our four-legged friend is going through his process. It develops the bond and trust between us and shows the horse that we see him, hear him and are willing to work with him.

  • How bush bashing on a Standardbred accelerated my dressage riding!

    You’re probably already thinking “whaaaaat?” but hear me out, and it will all make sense by the end!

    Over winter I started doing some bush riding (aka trail riding) with a friend on her spare horse and loved it! I loved the early morning, yes it was cold! The crisp air, the birdsong, the smell of the bush and the notion that I was doing this purely for my own enjoyment!

    As an Equestrian Rider with some pretty big ambitions, riding has always been purposeful for me. I’m training this horse (my own or a client’s) I’m working towards that, striving for something… it kinda has a “work” feel about it.

    Riding in the bush is a stark contrast to “working my horse” in the arena… because it’s just for fun.

    As dressage riders we’re quite “busy” and by that I mean, we’re micro-managing the horse. Constantly monitoring his bend and straightness, influencing his way of going, correcting any deviations from the ideal that we’re aiming for.

    As a leisure rider, on a horse that’s never set hoof in an arena, it’s a completely different picture. In fact, it’s the total opposite. As a rider completely inexperienced with bush riding, on a horse that’s being doing it for practically his whole life I had to learn to be the follower in the partnership rather than the leader!

    We “sand dancers” are so finely tuned to feel what the horse is doing under us so we can maintain perfection, that any alterations to equilibrium instantly raise red flags in our nervous systems.

    There is no uphill and downhill in our manicured arenas, we don’t have to think about the next best place for our horse to put his feet as the surface is all the same.

    A good bush horse on the other hand, is constantly “on the job”. He’s watching the terrain, he’s thinking about where he wants to put his feet and choosing the best path. A good bush rider simply has to get out of the way and let the horse do his job.

    During our rides together my friend explained a few things to me, like how to choose the high side of the track where it’s wet as the low side will be more slippery, and how to push off the trees with a soft elbow to protect your knees.

    The most profound things I learned though, I learned from the horse.

    From getting out there and experiencing it.

    Letting the horse pick his own path was completely foreign to me, letting go of the responsibility of steering took a whole lot of getting used to! Trust in the horse, I told myself, he won’t put himself at risk, and in looking after himself he will look after you.

    Let him use his judgement and trust in his judgement.

    It’s so much bigger than just handing over the rights to the reins though, it’s about what I now think of as “rider self-carriage” or “riding like a feather”. Being free enough in your body that when the horse needs to take an extra large step, to avoid standing on a wobbly rock for example, that this unexpected bigger movement is permitted by your nervous system and your body just goes with it.

    Instead of getting left behind, or the sudden movement causing your hips to tighten up or your legs to grab on, you just go with it. You let the horse move you; unconditionally.

    You are then no longer a burden to the horse because you’re taking care of your own posture, your own self-carriage, and you’re not getting in his way. You’re sitting and riding in such a way that allows you to sign your pelvis over to the horse and let him move how he needs to move without putting the hand-break on him.

    It’s not dissimilar to what we are of our horses, to be honest. We expect them to hand over their free will to us and to let us dictate their every movement. Moreover, we expect them to do it calmly, consistently and without objection. Can we offer the same in return?

    I see many riders with holding hips in the canter. They aren’t able to relax their hips and allow the full movement of the horse to travel through their bodies. Instead they grip on with their legs, often losing their stable lower leg position and even then stirrups; knees creeping up and drawing the heels up with them.

    It disturbs the horse; it interferes with his balance and he has to try to compensate. It creates worry for both parties. Many riders have fears around the canter, particularly the transition, and many horses are “naughty” through canter transitions too.

    Next time you’re sitting on your horse, I extend the challenge to you, to think about to riding “like a feather”. Think about letting go of all the tension in your legs, hips, lower back. Think about breathing and releasing all the tension in your pelvis and legs while maintaining your posture and self-carriage through your torso. This rider self-carriage is critically important; it’s what provides the stability that allows you to hand control of the pelvis over the horse.

    It’s what gives great riders that impression of effortlessness on the horse’s back, and it’s what allows our weight aids to become so meaningful that they’re all we need.

  • Disappointment

    a horse rider’s silent stalker

    Yesterday I rode my horse for the first time in the New Year… and it was a real letdown.

    I’d been really looking forward to the ride. I’d barely had time to do anything with him lately. We’ve just come through the longest spring I can remember and I’ve been thoroughly exhausted from the strict regime of laminitis prevention management enforced upon pretty much all of my horses, due to the seemingly interminable grass growth we’ve had. (What a hay season though!)

    The beginning of a New Year is my favourite time of year. It’s a time of hope, planning and looking forward with renewed enthusiasm.

    Enthusiasm beware, because disappointment is silently stalking.

    It’s lurking just around the corner, watching and waiting to ambush you when you’re not looking. Sometimes you’re expecting it; as riders we all get those gut feelings. We’re taking a gamble with the unknown when something just could easily go one way as the other. We accept that the illusions of safety or success can be gone in the speed of a horse’s heartbeat.

    Yet, sometimes the veil of disappointment settles over us completely unannounced.

    The last time I rode was our best ride so far, and the time before that was too! I’d been pretty consistent for a few months with our Equine PT exercise program and the results were impressive.

    While I hadn’t been riding my horse I sure had been learning! I’ve been gobbling up a Classical Dressage book by one of the few trainers in the world making the highest levels of dressage training accessible, and I’d watched him giving lessons through online streaming of a clinic with his regular (and very accomplished) pupils.

    I was full ideas, things that I wanted to try and things that I’d read about and was keen to see if I could feel too. To complete the picture of understanding.

    I get on my horse and in rolls disappointment. It’s been a while since it last visited, but it’s still a familiar feeling.

    Once again we can’t bend to the right, and we’re so far down on the forehand that I feel like I have to hold the horse up myself. Goodbye lightness. Farewell balance; it was nice to have you but now you’re gone.

    All I can do is start the re-building process. All over again.

    Hello square one. Well, to be fair it’s probably square two, because at least this time we can still bend to the left!

    This is what happens when your horse is on grazing restrictions and has been living in small paddocks and yards for months on end… and you haven’t been walking him.

    I’m disappointed for my riding goals, but that’s the least of it, really. I’m disappointed in myself, because theoretically I knew this would happen but didn’t realise in time to do anything about it. I’m disappointed for my horse because his body has stiffened up again, and he has to live in that crooked and tight body every day.

    I can’t dwell on these feelings though, no sense indulging in self-pity. I’ve already booked my favourite equine therapist to come to see him and I’m hoping that with what I learned the last time we went through the process that the results will come quicker and easier this time.

    Obviously some of the goodness has stuck as we can still bend to the left, and I’ll take whatever small victory I can get right now! These feelings will pass and I’ve got the whole rest of the year ahead of me, including winter which is always my most productive season with my own horses.

    Time to do what we all do when the silent stalker strikes… pick myself up, dust myself off, and start again.