The Masochist was Too Nice, So The Sadist Tried Dressage Instead.

"What do you want to work on?" I eyed her as I walked into the arena. She was sitting up but not supporting herself one lick, and her reins were a mile long. Her mare had a neck stretcher on.

"Jumping." She said absentmindedly. "Or maybe something else. I don't really know. I should probably work on Dressage." She walked a circle, and I watched with the same expression one finds in a horror film. Basic geometry massacred. Oh Lord. "Maybe something I don't usually do."

"Just ride for a few minutes and let me watch." Well, she did, and I did. Finally, I stopped her.

"What are your goals?" She wanted to show, to do a baby event, other reasonable things. As she talked, I unrigged the neck stretcher. "You realize what has to go if you want to show?" She pointed to the neck stretcher as I tossed it out of the ring. "Precisely."

Then off came the stirrups. And on came the lunge line. I could tell she was a bit off-put. Here she was, a worldly pre-teen undoubtly talented in the saddle, on the same line that the seven year old was on early. "Today, we are going to work on balance and using your seat to influence your horse."

Stare.

Forty minutes of no-stirrup Dressage work is good for the cocky pre-teen soul, and after hours of teaching my littles, I was frothing at the bit to get into some Dressage theory. We discussed being counterbent, balance, and sitting trot. The dynamics of the Dressage seat and how it applies to jumping. The elusive outside rein.

I was having a blast. Being a bit of a sadist (a must for working with young horses and children), I recognized her grimace as a sign of a lesson well taught. Of course, there were other signs too - improved balance, posture, movement - but let's face it. No pain, no gain. Somewhere between discussing stepping into the outside rein and core strength, I realized..

Oh, God.. Not possible.. I could not have..

But it's true, friends. I have become a Dressage nazi.

The sight of a counterbent horse makes my insides twist, and I fantasize about putting pins on the backs of saddles because cantles were not put there to sit on(my littles will tell you, giggling, "We don't sit back there because we pretend we'll get poked in the bottom and that's no fun.").

Circles are the essences of life, and dear God, make them round or I might have a coronary. The littles will also tell you the inside leg and outside rein say where to go and the inside rein says where to look. You know you've got a problem when you catch yourself teaching that to seven year olds.

At the end, she walked her mare out, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maybe I need to start working more than just riding around if I want to show."

Epiphany. Shocking. "Maybe." I hesitated. "So did you have fun?"

"I'm sore." Not surprising, I'm sore always. I do not consider this a bad thing. "But I feel like I learned something new."

And that's the name of the game.

-- Girl
(note, obviously not written about my working student job.. jumping out of chronological order for post.)