​How much impact can one being have on a life? 27 years. That's 67.5% of my own 40 years. When Beezer and I first met, I was a weird, awkward 13 year old; I had no idea where life would take me, but I loved horses and I was excited at a future that included having one of my own. On paper, Beezer shouldn't have worked out - we were daft for even considering purchasing him for a kid who had just a few years of lessons under her belt and was green at best.  Into a family that had no idea what horse ownership was really about. He had just turned 4, had only been a gelding for maybe 8 months or so. He tossed the guy who was hired to get him going, in what I can only assume was a legendary way (he was sent back to the owner and basically told he was dangerous). Somehow, Beezer was unphased by this time of his life, but he did carry the slightest chip on his shoulder for men for many years to come. 

​But something clicked between us. I had no more walked into the opulent Arabian Show barn where he lived (after only looking at one other prospect), and proclaimed that this was my horse. I don't know what it was, I just knew that this was it. We test rode - he was sweet and easy to work with - and when I got off, he followed me. That was it. 

June 14, 1993, you arrived, and that summer consisted of 4 hour-plus days at the barn. Those first weeks, you broke a lead rope and bucked me off, but those were surprisingly small moments peppered into days that were otherwise so mundane they're just blended into all the other memories I have of you. You were always ready for whatever I asked of you - maybe sometimes begrudgingly (like the time I dressed you as a milk cow for fair, rediculously large udders and cowbell) - but you were still willing; you suffered my silly penchant for "party tricks," laying down or giving kisses for treats -I think you always liked the attention. Dad and I spent a good chunk of one summer vacation building a paddock in our backyard, so I could bring you home while off from school; we didn't own a trailer, but we could ride from the boarding stable down roads and through connecting neighborhoods to our house. Adventures were vast and varied: long days and moonlit nights on the trail, running fast, walking slow, grazing, and splashing in the creek nearby. 

My strange, out-of-place years started early and lasted what seemed like it's own lifetime - I was a tornadoes' aftermath of acne, piss-poor grades and social awkwardness; I always felt most myself in your company. My closest friends growing up were those who understood this brand of oddball and you were there to experience much of our fun. Somehow you were connected to all the things that nudged my growth, and brought me to the life I live today. I discovered confidence, grace, resilience, the power of exploration; you helped me learn how to be a horseman and a leader; alongside you, I learned the beauty of making mistakes, the importance of responsibility; that practice is important, but having fun is paramount. 

You always gave benefit of the doubt and took care of whoever was on your back - you always had a soft spot for kids - you were the best teacher. And in our later years together, your fan club grew exponentially. You gave confidence to my first students, and you were willing and able mount for my drill mates who were in need. You were the horse everyone rode, and the horse everyone wanted to ride. Every job and every rider you took on you seemed to do with care and enthusiasm. You never put a foot wrong, not for anyone or anything. And for that, you are truly irreplaceable. The definition of heart horse. 

When I got the news, I have to admit some amount of relief - it's always been important for me to set my ego (and sorrow) aside in hopes I can help my animals go forth with as little suffering as possible. I didn't have to agonize over how another winter would affect him, and I was given a blessing of time that so many friends don't get. We had a celebration a few days ago - one of my former students (and now a close friend) bathed and braided him, and folks arrived that afternoon from so many corners of my life; we laughed and cried, and we each thanked Beezer for the memories in our own personal way. At first I thought that night was for me - to feel comforted by my tribe and supported for my decision and my impending loss - but in fact that night was truly for them.  Each friend who stopped by had a beautiful story to tell about how special this horse was in their life, and for every one of them, I know there are at least 10 others with more love and more beautiful tales to share. Because, as it turned out, Beezer wasn't just my horse - he was our horse. He belonged to every soul he touched in his 31 years, and I was honored to have been able to share that night and those stories with just a few of them. 

And so today, as I ask my old friend to lay down one last time and thank him for everything he meant to me, I'm flooded with memories and I'm soaking in every moment the past 27 years has blessed us with: the friends, the lessons, every one of the adventures we shared. Through laughter and tears, every heart that carries your hoofprint on it, including mine, will miss you dearly. Run free, my friend. 

Has this ever happened to you? You're out riding with friends, it's a beautiful sunny day. You're on a horse that maybe you don't know so well, or a youngster that maybe hasn't got that many miles on.... At some point, a few of the folks in your group are itching to pick up the pace, or head down a trail that look a little sketchy. You're hesitant, but maybe your group isn't paying attention to your protest, or you don't speak up because you don't want to bring the group down. No one wants to be the party pooper, right? 
Unfortunately, these scenarios and unspoken conversations can - and often do - lead to disastrous outcomes. 
A while back, I signed up for a series of talks on the subject of hiking and mountaineering in the backcountry, specifically related to safety in avalanche terrain. I love to hike and I'm always interested in learning something new. Plus the class was free and they served snacks and beer.
One of the talks was titled "A Voice and a Veto," and took a deep dive into how the right communication within a group can mean the difference between life or death in mountaineering situations. I was surprised that it also gave me a deeper feeling of what we are lacking in our human partners when we ride (trail buddies, trainers, etc), and that this missing link can really mean a better, safer ride for everyone.
In mountaineering, the risks are so extremely high, that communication is usually at the forefront -  climbers are constantly making requests, observations, and asking questions of each other, because one assumption or misstep can have catastrophic consequences in the blink of an eye; horseback riding definitely has a more dialed-down risk, but as horse people, we all know that navigating a prey animal pretty much anywhere still carries a level of unpredictability and danger; because of that, we're used to staying fairly observant of our horse and our surroundings, and how to manage our own horse safely. But add into that a few chatty friends - and maybe a different vision of how we see the ride going - and not only does the excitement level rise, but also our inattention - to our mount, and our friends who are along with us. This is where we need to communicate more and clearly, but all too often we don't. 

​Often, I find myself working alone, and I'll tell you - you get to thinking when you're all by your lonesome. I had an epiphany many years ago: here I am, putting some conditioning time on a horse I've been working with for a few years, and I'm in a state of mind that - to be frank - is just present enough to keep my horse honest and using his body well. So my thoughts wander to all kinds of things, such as, "why do hot dogs come in packages of 8, and hot dog buns come in packages of 10?"
But I digress.
This particular day, my thoughts drifted to the lovely posting trot my horse and I were doing - at times on the correct diagonal; at times, not. Cue all the hushed chatter about being on the wrong diagonal on purpose... "why in the world would I want to ride on the wrong diagonal??" And maybe, just maybe a small few of you might follow with, "why do I need to be on a diagonal to begin with? Why does that matter?" 
Many of you - if you've ever ridden english or learned how to post the trot - learned the following (or similar) rhyme: "rise and fall with the leg on the wall." For those unfamiliar, there are two phases to posting the trot - the rise phase, where we use the moment of suspension, or bounce in the trot, to propel our bodies upward; and the sit phase, when we return to the saddle, only to rise again immediately. All this is done in rhythm with the horses' movement, so that we're in sync, and always - we're taught - with the diagonal pair of the inside hind and outside front legs. But WHY?? 

​I've heard many an insightful horseman talk about how riding is much like learning a language -- first, you learn the alphabet, some basic words and short phrases; soon, you're forming short sentences and maybe you're able to carry on some brief - albeit awkward - conversations; as you practice more and more, you find conversations flowing better, and your fluency improving. eventually, you gain enough proficiency that conversation flows smoothly, and you are a comfortable and relaxed communicator. 
This really mirrors our flow of communication with a new or green horse. We start with basic commands - walk, trot, canter, halt, yield right and left; soon, we'll add more complicated movements with foundation in those basics, asking for lightness and responsiveness along the way. If your end of the conversation is deliberate and consistent, and you're working at truly 'dancing' with your horse... well, that's where the magic happens. 
How can you be a great conversationalist with your horse?
You may have also heard that a great ride is like having a conversation with a close friend over a cup of coffee - it's relaxed, flowing, easy. You and your friend both listen carefully to each other, responding with questions and insights, and more listening... a great ride with your horse should have a similar give-and-take.
Since we're the ones guiding the conversation with our horses, it's important we're setting the stage for balanced communication. What might that look like? 
For any given request/movement you ask of your horse, I like to use this format - think of it as an 'order of operations'. Remember math class? For the most part, you should follow this order for any given movement or change in movement, as you flow from one thing to the next in your ride:

1. Prepare

This begins with YOU. Check: are you prepared to ask your horse for this movement? Do you have a sense of what the ask FEELS like, and how the horse should move when he responds correctly? Are your aids placed in a good spot to deliver a clear ask?

1. Ask

NOW you can apply your "go" aids -- here, you'll acknowledge applying aids lightly, fairly, with maybe any additional aids to help the horse in that first ask. 

1. Listen

This, I think, is the most important, and often the most overlooked step in this process. It's so easy to talk AT your horse, throwing out commands right and left... maybe he gets it. Or not. Whatever. NO -- this is not how you would share time with a cherished friend, so this is not how you should interact with your horse. You've asked your horse a question - now, what was his response? Did he try? Was there some evasion, or he went a bit off course? Maybe there was an attempt at the right answer, but there was hesitation, like he wasn't sure, or he needed more time to hear your cue? If we are attentive to how our horse responds to the cue, then we are better prepared to give a complimentary response. Which brings me to...

1. Respond

Based on the information we received in the 'ask' phase, we can now offer a follow-up response. Praise? Maybe offering praise in a lightening of the aids and keep going in that movement? Maybe a correction, increase of pressure and/or an adjustment to our aids? 

1. Repeat #'s 3 and 4

...until you've finished that movement; the process starts over from the beginning when you're ready to make another ask. 

Work this slowly at first, acknowledging each step as you go. This will feel tedious at first, but I encourage you to stay with it, you'll notice some great changes - you might see your aids lighten up, and other notable changes in your ask; you'll be more aware of changes in your horse, and you'll be better prepared to make great follow-up responses. 
I would love to hear how this idea helps you! Please leave a comment :) 

Cheers to good horses,
Erin

​I started to write this article about my "85%" rule that's so prevalent in my teaching, but then I started to notice I use numbers quite a bit in my teaching. You see, I work with a lot of left-brain thinking folks - people who find they would be so much more successful at this whole riding thing if there was just one simple equation to handle any given problem. Sadly, as we all know, that just can't be the case, and I often find myself gently consoling these types with some phrases like, "horses are much more art than science," and, "I know you'd really like a solid, definite answer here, but the fact of the matter is, it depends." My bedside manner might need a little work... heh heh. 
So I figured I'd roll a few different phrases in here, all dealing with numbers, and explain their meaning. 

The 2% rule: This is absolutely universal, and it always makes me giggle. A friend of mine, way, WAY back shed this little bit of wisdom on me, and I've found it to be all-encompassing - true for anything one might encounter. The 2% rule states that, for any given problem, you must be at least 2% smarter than whatever it is you're dealing with, in order to find a solution to said problem. 
Funny, and yet, true. Am I right? 
The deeper meaning to this where horsemanship is concerned, is that for any given problem we're having (with horses, often our problem lies in communication), the answer is more simple than we might think, and it's usually right in front of us -- if we're able to take a step back from ourselves and observe for a moment. The biggest mistake I see the average rider making is one of timing - they didn't step in early enough to correct whatever is leading to their problem, or their thoughts are running at such an erratic pace that they don't notice when the horse had a different thought until it's too late. 
This is where I tell my students, "slow your thoughts down; you can't make things right by moving faster here."

10% More/Less: 
and often doesn't require a drastic change on our part.  Rather, all we need to do to get closer to the things we're looking for is to make small changes or additions. An example might be, you're working on turning your horse a certain way, and he keeps washing out, so the turn isn't as clean as you'd like it to be. Well, that doesn't mean you need awhile different approach, just just a slight change. This is where I might take a pause, see what I notice and what part I want to fix, and when I start again, I'll make one or two small adjustments to my aids (add a little, or maybe turn down a little), then reassess and see if I'm closer to the picture I'm trying to create. 
Look for places where you want to improve, and make small adjustments to reach your goal. 

The 85% Rule: 
This is my progress rule, and it holds true for both horses and riders. How do you know when you (or your horse) are ready to move on to something more difficult, or maybe for adding speed to a movement you've been practicing? When you're doing it well 85% of the time that day. Think about it - 75% isn't consistent enough to ask either of you for increased difficulty, and getting it right 100% of the time is completely unrealistic (and will leave both of you frustrated and stuck).
But at about 85%, you and your horse not only understand the movement, how to get it and make adjustments, but now you're doing it well enough that adding a little more difficulty will actually help you improve! Can you see what that might look like, maybe in regards to something you and your equine partner are working on? 
For example, when we begin learning our routines for drill team, much of our early practice is at the trot; once the riders learn the maneuvers and the pattern well enough to be safe and reasonably accurate (maybe, 85% accurate?), we'll begin to ride the routine at the canter - at which point the drill we were riding beautifully at the trot goes completely to hell in a handbasket. So we learn what parts of the routine need more finesse, we'll do more trotting, and continue to add canter work along the way. But the point is, we were ready to take it to the next level! And over time our canter practice gets better because we challenge ourselves when we're ready.  And when we're ready (85% ready), then the challenge might be formidable, but it is NOT impossible. 

In my post last week, we began the discussion of body awareness - having a sense of where you are and what you're doing in your interactions with your horse in your immediate environment. 
I've listed these four quadrants below, and have placed them in the order that I believe they are best learned -- meaning that you're going to have a really hard time finding quiet hands if your butt is bouncing all over the place... and as such, you will be most successful to focus on these areas individually (as much as one is able) in this order, at least to start. 
1) Seat (pelvis) and Thigh
2) Spine
3) Lower Leg and Feet
4) Shoulders, Elbows and Hands

We covered the first two - Seat and Spine last week, now we'll move on to your elements of communication: Lower Legs and Arms.

Lower Leg/ Feet: It may be a surprise to some, but the main (and sometimes only) function of this part of your body is for communication. We must use the stirrups (and our alignment over them) for balance only when riding in half seat or two-point, when our seat is not making contact with the saddle; the rest of the time, our seat and thigh are dedicated to balance us, SUCH THAT our lower legs can move and communicate with the horse. Your lower leg should be "anchored" -- the ball of your foot weighted, but not pushed or forced onto the stirrup, and the heel should be allowed to 'sink' lower than the toe (depending on the length of your stirrup/ the type of riding you're doing). you should feel that your calves rest gently on the horses' sides, in a neutral state. If you aren't able to lower your heels without pulling your legs off the horse, then your stirrups are likely too long, and your leg will be nearly ineffective for communication AND support together. 

How to develop awareness:  In the same exercise we used in developing the seat, close your knees on the horse - what happens to your ability to adjust your leg position to, say, yield the hindquarter? Similarly, pick up a trot or lope and practice a half-seat/standing in your stirrups (some of you may need to shorten your stirrups a hole or two for this exercise). From this position, If you're properly aligned, you should be able to steer with 'some' accuracy, AND ride without holding on -- notice certain qualities in how your lower leg must operate for that to happen: your knee must be mobile, opening and closing to absorb the horses' movement, AND your lower leg must be anchored and aligned under your hip, resting close to the horse without gripping. If you adjust any of these details, standing and riding at the same time are nearly impossible. 

Shoulders, Arms and Hands: And finally, we've arrived at the last piece to this "feel" puzzle. There are many things to pay attention to here; first off, notice I didn't just title this "hands?" Well, contrary to what we interpret from most trainers, soft hands are not what the horse needs -- soft ARMS are. The horse can feel every little bit of tension and vibration from your shoulder blades down to the tips of your fingers; you could have the softest hands in the world, but if your shoulders are tight and restrictive, your horse will tell you -- try it: ask your horse to be on the bit (in as much as you might be working on that - a short-ish connected rein is sufficient), and feel your shoulders and upper arms tense. what does your horse do? Does he stop? Toss his head? Chances are, he just did something different to say, "hey, what gives?" 

How to develop awareness: For this exercise, work a simple circle, figure 8 or serpentine - anything where you are using your rein aids to change shape/direction with the horse in fluid motion. This is where I wax poetically about "show hands" versus "training hands" - my students know this one well, and it's probably best saved for another article. Suffice to say, your elbows and shoulders NEED TO MOVE! if only subtly, they must have mobility for you to cue your horse effectively.  So - utilizing this information, work your pattern WITHOUT changing the length of your reins. Notice the feel of your arms moving, the opening of one elbow, and the closing of another as you arc into the turn; notice what you feel at the end of your reins - is your horse in contact with you? Is his mouth quiet, and steady with a soft jaw? Does it feel as though your arms move in the exact timing of your horses' head and neck? Then you're well on your way, my friend!  ​

I hope these posts are helping you understand what the heck you're doing up there. I'd love to answer questions if you have any -- comment here, or send me an email. I can't wait to hear from you!
Happy rides,
​Erin

A major component to riding well, comfortably, and with a useful seat begins with FEEL. But to gain feel, you must first have body awareness - a sense of your body's activity, and orientation (if you will) to the the world around it and the situation at hand. This is the subject matter when your trainer says, "why did you do that?", or, "did you feel that?"


If you did not "feel that," then you probably need to work on your body awareness. 

While you use your whole body to ride effectively (and just stay on the horse, for goodness' sake), I've decided to break out this concept of awareness to 4 key areas; while each of these areas have multiple functions (ie, communication, balance, etc), each area has a primary 'job' that, when working well, makes the whole of riding more effective and with less effort. And we all like not having to work so hard, right? Right. 

So the four quadrants are as follows. I have placed them in the order that I believe they are best learned -- meaning that you're going to have a really hard time finding quiet hands if your butt is bouncing all over the place... and as such, you will be most successful to focus on these areas individually (as much as one is able) in this order, at least to start. 
1) Seat (pelvis) and Thigh
2) Spine
3) Lower Leg and Feet
4) Shoulders, Elbows and Hands

You may not find all of these details right off the bat, but the point is to take the time to practice, and notice what you notice. I think you'll really be surprised at the things you find when you open up your awareness. 
​We'll start this with what I believe are the two major components to developing good feel and balanced equitation.

Seat and Thigh: This is your base, your engine room, if you will. This is where the horses movement impacts your body first, and most; it is where rhythm and movement with the horse begins; it is also your primary source of balance on the horse. Your seat and thigh absorb the bulk of the horses energy created by movement - imagine we throw a large rock into a body of water - the water has the biggest ripples at the point of impact, then they dissipate as they get farther away. In just the same way, if you're working this part of your body well, you will sense that the energy created by the horse is greatest in your seat, then dissipates -- up your spine and out through your head, and also down and out through your heels. if you think of this while riding, you might actually have a sense of being more elongated!

How to develop awareness: A particular exercise I often use with my students on the lunge is to simply close your eyes. If you're able, drop your stirrups and allow your attention to go to your pelvis and your legs - notice how your body has a natural swing with the horse, and that it's very similar (at least at walk and trot) to the same way you would walk or jog yourself if you were on the ground (a little bit up and down, a little bit right and left). If you change the motion of your seat to something different that what the horses' movement is offering, what do you notice? Try hyper-tightening your knees and thighs for several strides, then doing the opposite - go totally loose. What changes do you notice in your ability to balance easily, and to move with the horse in each state? What would a "happy medium" look like?

Spine: The spine is the connector -- sounds obvious, but how we allow our spine to carry us can really make or break our ability to be mobile - especially in sudden situations such as a spook. I say 'spine,' to give you the visual of the entire area we're looking at - the neck and head, back/torso, down to the tail. The spine's main function as we're discussing it here, is to keep the upper body aligned (ears over shoulders over hips), and to distribute (and dissipate as discussed above) the horses' energy coming through from the seat. The spine should always be relatively straight - neither hollow (arched), nor too round (slouched).

How to develop awareness: First off, I'm a huge fan of stretching while on the horse - again, on a lunge line or if you are on a steady Eddie, at the walk, drop your reins and stretch both hands straight up, as far as you can reach; hold for several seconds, then take this stretch into a side bend. 
Another great tool for finding the feel of your spine is to (while at the halt or walking) drop your stirrups and bring your legs up to rest over the front of the saddle, putting you in a true chair position. Notice how and where your seat makes contact with the saddle, and how easy it is to stretch your spine tall. Bring your legs back to normal position and attempt to keep your back position. 
Play with changing the position of your back - too arched and too slouched. What do you notice about your movement and your ability to guide the horse? What happens when you hyper-tense your abs? Again, notice changes specific to your ability to balance, move with the horse in rhythm, and maybe even your ability to use your cues effectively. 

That's it for today! I'll post part two next week, working on the more detailed pieces of this puzzle. Thanks for reading and stay tuned! 
Happy rides, 
​Erin

Hitting peak drill season! The team I ride for this year, Firestorm, just took 2nd place Overall at our PNWDTA Regional Competition in Spanaway! Penny has been doing a fabulous job in her 2nd full year riding competitive drill. We're hoping to hit up some compeititve (and other organized) trail rides once the drill season is over; in fact, I'll be joining at least one client at the Horses and Hops event on July 8th at Bridle Trails State Park! 
And look for me in August and October judging a couple of ETS (Equine Trail Sports) events with Farrier Ian Jones. 
​
I currently have openings for new clients, which is a rarity for me! Give me a call, I'd love to work with you!