HotToTrot
Well-Known Member
Vito had had a week off whilst we went skiing and when I got back on on Monday, he was bursting out of his skin. As I spooked, leaped and jogged my way round the arena at home, a plan formed in my mind. Surely the answer to all this was to take him show jumping the following day?
The story was the same at Norton Heath. As I turned to my practice fence, he shied violently at something in the fence line and we flew to the other side of the warm up arena. I came again. Again we bounded into the air and landed several metres to our left. How, I thought in despair, was I ever supposed to warm up when I couldn't even get to the practice fence? Collecting rings are sometimes a source of tension for Vito, perhaps it's something to do with his SJ past, and the show jumpers on here will be able to tell me why! He likes to come to his fences sideways occasionally, straightening up only once he's taken off.
We skittered around a bit more, managed to jump some fences and then I thought I'd best check on the baby, who was last seen screaming at the secretary. I handed Vito to an unsuspecting stranger and walked into the secretary's office, where I was greeted by a cacophony of wails. "She doesn't want to settle" shouted the secretary, struggling to make herself heard. "I'll get you a bottle" I yelled in reply. I raced back through the car park, past the bemused stranger who was holding Vito, and dug out a carton of milk from the depths of my car. The milk sprayed everywhere on opening, drenching my jacket. I decanted it into a bottle and, as I ran back past my hapless horse-holding stranger, I reflected on my position. I'd palmed the baby off on one poor soul, the horse off on someone else, and here I was, racing through a lorry park, brandishing a baby bottle and dripping with milk. Was there, I wondered, anything in my life over which I could claim to exert any control at all?
The baby refused the bottle. Screamed loudly. "Sorry!" I shouted, turning my back on her and running back out to retrieve my horse. At least it was soon my turn to jump. We cantered to the first and I relaxed. This felt great. Bouncy, controlled canter, what was I worrying about? As soon as we landed, I knew full well what I'd been worrying about. Vito zoomed off. I grabbed hold of him, got him to two. Round we bounced over the next few. As we turned to six, we had to go past ten, and I knew he'd lock onto it by mistake. I kept as much outside bend as I dared, stopping him from falling out and carting me over number ten. He locked on. Instantly, I flexed him to the inside, turned to number six. It worked. We bounded on. Down came the stile at eight, as he didn't pick up and then down came the last as I pushed for a longer stride. Two down. Oops.
I tied him to the trailer and returned to the secretary. "Could I go again HC?" I yelled, above the screams. "Yes" she mouthed. In I went. I buried him to the first, hoped it might slow him down a bit. It came down, but he didn't seem to notice. Round we went, still faster than I'd have liked, and came to eleven. He fell wildly through his outside shoulder, scuttled sideways down the school, almost past the fence. Grim determination kicked in and I held him tightly between my hand and leg. Booted him as straight as I could. He saw the fence just in time, bounced gaily over it and we finished with just the first down.
Here's a pic.http://s1362.photobucket.com/user/VivianePendleton/media/NHeath_zps9cd113ee.jpg.html?sort=3&o=0
So, I'm a little underwhelmed with the whole experience. We finished last season on such a great note, and now we're struggling to maintain anything approaching rhythm, balance, or indeed control, round a 1.05m. On the plus side, I guess we both have plenty of confidence, and it was a good marker of where we are, after the winter break. I'll put it down to experience and go do some homework ..
The story was the same at Norton Heath. As I turned to my practice fence, he shied violently at something in the fence line and we flew to the other side of the warm up arena. I came again. Again we bounded into the air and landed several metres to our left. How, I thought in despair, was I ever supposed to warm up when I couldn't even get to the practice fence? Collecting rings are sometimes a source of tension for Vito, perhaps it's something to do with his SJ past, and the show jumpers on here will be able to tell me why! He likes to come to his fences sideways occasionally, straightening up only once he's taken off.
We skittered around a bit more, managed to jump some fences and then I thought I'd best check on the baby, who was last seen screaming at the secretary. I handed Vito to an unsuspecting stranger and walked into the secretary's office, where I was greeted by a cacophony of wails. "She doesn't want to settle" shouted the secretary, struggling to make herself heard. "I'll get you a bottle" I yelled in reply. I raced back through the car park, past the bemused stranger who was holding Vito, and dug out a carton of milk from the depths of my car. The milk sprayed everywhere on opening, drenching my jacket. I decanted it into a bottle and, as I ran back past my hapless horse-holding stranger, I reflected on my position. I'd palmed the baby off on one poor soul, the horse off on someone else, and here I was, racing through a lorry park, brandishing a baby bottle and dripping with milk. Was there, I wondered, anything in my life over which I could claim to exert any control at all?
The baby refused the bottle. Screamed loudly. "Sorry!" I shouted, turning my back on her and running back out to retrieve my horse. At least it was soon my turn to jump. We cantered to the first and I relaxed. This felt great. Bouncy, controlled canter, what was I worrying about? As soon as we landed, I knew full well what I'd been worrying about. Vito zoomed off. I grabbed hold of him, got him to two. Round we bounced over the next few. As we turned to six, we had to go past ten, and I knew he'd lock onto it by mistake. I kept as much outside bend as I dared, stopping him from falling out and carting me over number ten. He locked on. Instantly, I flexed him to the inside, turned to number six. It worked. We bounded on. Down came the stile at eight, as he didn't pick up and then down came the last as I pushed for a longer stride. Two down. Oops.
I tied him to the trailer and returned to the secretary. "Could I go again HC?" I yelled, above the screams. "Yes" she mouthed. In I went. I buried him to the first, hoped it might slow him down a bit. It came down, but he didn't seem to notice. Round we went, still faster than I'd have liked, and came to eleven. He fell wildly through his outside shoulder, scuttled sideways down the school, almost past the fence. Grim determination kicked in and I held him tightly between my hand and leg. Booted him as straight as I could. He saw the fence just in time, bounced gaily over it and we finished with just the first down.
Here's a pic.http://s1362.photobucket.com/user/VivianePendleton/media/NHeath_zps9cd113ee.jpg.html?sort=3&o=0
So, I'm a little underwhelmed with the whole experience. We finished last season on such a great note, and now we're struggling to maintain anything approaching rhythm, balance, or indeed control, round a 1.05m. On the plus side, I guess we both have plenty of confidence, and it was a good marker of where we are, after the winter break. I'll put it down to experience and go do some homework ..
we need to book our arena hire in soon and get practising, we have scarily similar horses don't we!
