The Long and Short of it

Another thing that separates a professional from an amateurish show ring performance is the way the lines in the course are ridden. We've all observed the consequences when a rider jumps in to a line from a tight distance or a long distance, with lack of impulsion, or with "too much horse". But a less-than-ideal "in" doesn't mean you can't have a nice "out." They key is to know what to do inside the line.

You can't right a wrong until you know what "right" is. A good first step is to learn what a 12-foot stride feels like on your horse. You can practice this by riding ground rails. Have your trainer help you correctly space ground rails to create a five-stride "line" that you can canter through. If your horse's natural stride is longer than 12 feet, you may be required to sit up and steady him. If it's shorter than 12 feet, you may have to send him forward. You want to find the "lick" that lets you flow through in five easy, even strides. (Ultimately, that's the pace you'll want to carry from the moment you pick up the canter to begin any course - so knowing exactly how to create it is critical.)

Knowing how to adjust when you don't jump in to the line exactly out of stride is your next assignment. If you get a tight distance going in, or if your horse jumps in too boldly, it's going to affect how your horse covers the distance to the "out."

Continue practicing with your five-stride ground rail line. Pick up the canter, allowing plenty of time to establish that 12-foot "lick" (don't make the all-too-common mistake of starting the exercise before you've created the balance, engagement and length of stride you need). If you hit the first rail right out of stride, good for you. You can flow through the line maintaining your pace. But if you don't hit the first rail precisely...it's time to initiate Plan B.

The most common mistake riders make when they get in to a line wrong is to not make the appropriate adjustment soon enough. They jump in too big, wait a few strides and then realize "oops, I need to wait." They're still hauling on the horse at the next fence. Or, they jump in weak and do nothing for a few strides. They realize they need more step and panic and gun the horse forward, most likely resulting in one of those fences that makes people gasp and cover their eyes.

Whatever adjustment you need to make, you need to make it within the first few strides upon landing. Or sooner! Look early, think ahead and ride proactively. Be aware of the step you're on and how it looks like you're going to meet the "in" of the line. You see a long one coming, sit up and prepare to do a shorter release. Stay a little taller, land already collecting the stride. For a tight distance in, balance up, keep that leg on all the way over the fence and land in your two-point, pedaling the bicycle! Your goal is to make the correction promptly enough so that you can re-group and ride the "out" with a steady stride and a soft, balanced horse.

Lines aren't always set precisely to the 12-foot stride standard, so you'll need to practice all of the above on lines of varying length. When you can reliably ride the lines and make adjustments on the 12-foot stride, set the line a little long, and then a little short, and practice, practice, practice. If you have a long line and jump in weak, the amount of leg you need to move up and cover the distance may surprise you. Likewise, collecting the stride after jumping too strongly into a short line will require extra effort!

Practicing at home is only part of the equation. The savvy competitor plans his ride long before he gets on his horse at the show. He has read the course diagram and knows if the lines are set long or short. But he understands that just knowing the length of the lines isn't enough - a long line going away from the gate at the beginning of one course is going to ride differently than the same line if it's coming toward the gate at the end of a course. He's watched horses in classes before him go to see where to turn for the best approach out of every corner. If possible, he's walked all the way around the arena on foot to see just how shallow or deeply a diagonal line is set (you don't get the whole picture from a single point of reference at the in-gate). He's aware of whether there is an uphill / downhill aspect to the arena, and how that will affect his plan to ride to any given line. And during his warm-up he assesses the energy level of his mount - which may vary markedly between day one and day four of the horse show. All these variables play in to his strategy.

There's a lot more to it than merely memorizing the order of the fences before you go into the ring for your round. Even the simplest of hunter courses involve strategy. Of course, if all you want to do is show up at the in-gate and hop on your expensive, professionally schooled-and-tuned mount and have your trainer recite the course to you - that's your choice. Just don't be surprised when a rider with a less-fancy horse, who has put the effort into upping his or her game, snatches that blue ribbon right out from under your $350-breeches-clad backside.

I'm just sayin'.

Sweet Spot

In sports jargon, the word "sweet spot" refers to the point or area on a bat, club or racket that makes most effective contact with the ball. One could also apply the phrase "sweet spot" to that elusive, perfect takeoff point in front of a fence, that Holy Grail of distances that comes up exactly out of stride and results in perfect execution of the jump. Finding that sweet spot is the bane of many riders' existences. The quest to "see the distance" becomes the end-all, be-all. And if we don't see "it,"...we're screwed.

You've probably stood outside the hunter ring at the horse shows and watched in awe as the professionals put in seemingly flawless rounds. But are they really flawless? Look closely, and you'll see their horses jumping from a variety of distances. So how come all of them still look good??

I've observed two major things that separate a professional ride from an amateur ride. First, I don't think a professional has any greater ability than the amateur to see the "perfect" distance. What they do have is the ability to properly ride their horse to whatever distance they see.

I don't know about you, but it would be way too much pressure for me if I believed that there was one and only one "perfect spot" in front of any fence, and I had to worry about finding "the" distance eight times every time I stepped into the ring. The good news is there are a variety of distances from which your horse can make a perfectly beautiful jumping effort. Because the quality of the fence is less about the distance, and more about how you ride to it.

When an amateur sees a less - than - ideal distance, most respond by doing one of the following:
a) go brain dead and stop riding,
b) panic and make some boneheaded move three strides in front of the fence to try to alter fate.

But it's too late; the same way it's too late when you realize your car keys are still in the ignition after you've already started to swing the door shut.

You can help your horse jump in good form from a less than perfect spot. It's about maintaining the quality of the canter- the balance, the impulsion and the straightness. Whatever distance you see, a little long, a little short, or right on, you must learn to ride your horse all the way to it confidently and correctly, whether than involves collecting a bit and balancing to a short distance, adding leg and pressing to the "move-up", or staying steady to meet the fence out of stride. In every case, you are actively participating in the ride to the distance. Do this and you'll be surprised how many options you've got for a lovely fence.

By starting with poles on the ground, you can experiment with riding to all kinds of distances without fear of 'missing' and without using up your horse. Riding to poles can be more challenging than riding to a fence due to the fact that the pole won't back your horse off; you'll have to actually RIDE him every step to put him where you want him.

It's pretty easy to feel when you do it right. If your horse stumbles over the pole on your 'short' distance approach or hauls you forward at the long one, he wasn't balanced or back on his hocks or engaged enough. If he jumps deftly and lightly and lands in the same rhythm, you've done your job. No matter what distance you find to the pole, the quality of the canter and the rhythm shouldn't change. Eventually you'll be leaving short, long and in between and noticing 'wow, that wasn't an ideal takeoff point, but that felt really good.'

Once you and your trainer have honed your ride to the poles, you can start applying the skill to actual fences. As you learn to confidently ride to whatever you see, more distances will start feeling 'right.' You'll start riding every step up to the fence instead of prematurely throwing the reins away, or taking your leg off. You'll stop panicking if you don't see "the" perfect takeoff point every time. Instead of 'oh, crap, I'm gonna miss,' your body language will scream out 'I see a short distance. Watch how well I ride to it!' And if, heaven forbid, you don't see ANY distance? You'll have the presence of mind to keep riding and know how to maintain a quality canter that will greatly improve the chances of a good jumping effort when your horse does leave the ground.

Learning to ride well to a variety of distances is, in my opinion, one of THE most critical skills you should develop to gain a competitive edge. It's one of the two big things that I believe separate the wheat from the chaff in the show ring.

I'll discuss the other thing in the next blog.

Handicapped Riding Lessons

Teaching riding lessons is fun and rewarding.

Most of the time.

But when I'm ill, it can be a challenge. I'm more than a little bit off my game. Therefore I've written this primer as a guide to help you get the most of out taking riding lessons from me when I'm not feeling well.

I'll be sleeping in my car until it's time to start the lesson. It's your responsibility to wake me up. I'll need at least ten minutes to remember where I am and what I'm doing and another five minutes to visit the porta-potty and load up on cold meds.

Instead of walking around the riding arena during the lesson, I'll be planting myself in a chair in the nearest patch of shade. Do not expect me to get up for any reason.

Instruction may consist of things like 'drop your stirrups and wake me up in ten minutes' and 'ride single file down to the drug store and bring back cough syrup while remaining in two point position.'

I will try to remember your names.

If my voice gives out, hand signals will be used. Three fingers means canter. Two means trot. One means walk. A circular motion with the hand means reverse. A wide sweeping motion with one arm means speed up. A short quick motion means slow down. Flailing my arms wildly probably means I have a bee in my hair, but could also mean you're about to do something that will result in bodily harm to yourself or others. Interpret as you see fit.

Both hands clutching my chest means I need CPR.

If I point at fence, it means I want you to jump it.

You'll know by the expression on my face afterwards if it was any good or not.

A look of relief means it was good.

No change in expression means it was OK.

A raised eyebrow means it could have been worse.

Rolling my eyes means it WAS worse.

Burying my face in my hands is a good indication that it's time for you to give up and go home.

I'll have my cell phone with me. If you fall off, I'll call your cell phone. If you answer it I'll tell you what you did wrong. If you don't answer I'll know to dial 911.

Finally, I will expect someone to bring a car down to the ring and drive me back to the barn when the lesson is over. If you forget, and I have to walk back, you'd better be gone by the time I get there.

Happy riding.