What if Your Biggest Challenge is Overcoming Yourself?

In sports we train our bodies to react in a certain way.  In soccer we spend hours practicing footwork and ball handling skills – repeating the patterns over until they become second nature to us.  Baseball player’s meticulously practice their swing.  We spend hours in the gym bettering our bodies to accomplish the movements necessary to excel in our sport.  Sometimes our biggest challenge isn’t learning the movements, or becoming better, faster, and stronger.  Sometimes the biggest challenge we run into is overcoming our own mentality.

For years I couldn’t afford a horse, let alone one talented enough to be competitive at the upper levels.  Rugby changed this.  At 2 years old, completely un-started in his training, he showed tremendous potential.  He and I connected immediately, and I knew my competitive future was with him. As exciting as that feeling was, it has also been one of my biggest challenges.  I know how much potential he has, and I worry about screwing up his training.  This hesitation and lack of confidence on my behalf, instills nervousness in him.  Being a young horse and learning everything for the first time, he looks to me to be secure and confident, helping to instill the same mentality in him.

The last few weeks I have decided to ride completely alone in the arena.  I turn our local pop music station up loud and dance with my horse across the arena.  Oddly enough, knowing that no one is there to see me screw up, or to help if something were to go wrong provides the right atmosphere for me to push myself, and thus my horse, through that nervousness.  The first time, my legs were literally shaking.  The next time, I think I remembered to breath.  Today, I had a friend come and sit and watch me ride, who jokingly told me to stop smiling.  We are taking baby steps, but that is progress.

So how to you overcome your mental blocks?

Dressage: The Passionate Pursuit of the Obsessively Imperfect

Today the tarnished silver of my left stirrup gleams as the toe of my tall black boot slides across the threshold.  My right leg pushes off a small wooden mounting block before sliding across his back and finding its own place tucked into my other stirrup.  Underneath me soft, well-loved leather of my saddle no longer holds its usual comfort.  My gut turns over.  Breathe.  The faint sounds of other horses and riders continue to fade as my focus narrows.  I check my breeches making sure they are as white as the untouched snow that kept us dormant all winter.  The high collar of my shirt is starched and creaseless.  For the last time my bare hand touches the outdated silver pin that adorns my collar.  I close my eyes and see her first freedom from the confines of her society; riding through Central Park.  Today will always be for her.

The pestilent ringing of an unseen bell snaps me back into focus.  I slip on the required classical white gloves.  My ornate wool coat comes next.  The rough navy wool contrasts elegantly with the black velvet collar.  Silver accents and a tailored fit make for an exquisite picture that many would imagine was taken decades ago.  I check that my stark white shirt is tucked perfectly into my breeches; the package held together by a thin leather belt with a simple silver buckle.  The final piece, a black top hat, looms like a distant dark cloud.  I slip the hat onto my head and adjust the velvet bow holding my golden hair in a perfect bun.  The musky scent of a horse barn is hidden under lavender shampoos and green tea coat shine sprays.  Everything is crisp and clean, a far cry from everything I’m feeling.

I take another deep breath.  I can feel his powerful grey body alive with anticipation.  For a trainer and her five year old Holsteiner gelding - this competition makes both our careers.  His breed is known for their phenomenal temperament and athleticism, but today that doesn’t keep my blood from feeling like boiling mercury.  The pressure to perform at the FEI Young Horse tests; to show that you are up and coming, to gain the clients and the sponsors, is extraordinary.

My fingers weave around the reins, thumbs coming down on top.  They ache from hours of tedious braiding.  Thirty perfect dark grey button braids highlight the curve of his neck as he stretches down to accept the new found contact with the bridle.  The supple black leather is accented by a row of beautiful blue Swarovski crystals across his brow.

Rugby rolls the metal bit over in his mouth.  Behind him, his long dark tail swishes softly.  He’s nervous too.  His soft grey coat looks slick, every hair in place.  His hooves shine like a car straight out of the wash.  I feel like a parent on prom night.  He no longer looks like the baby I purchased one year ago.  For now, my nerves keep my pride under wraps.

It’s time.  My lower leg squeezes his body, gently asking him to step forward towards fate.  His powerful shoulders stretch out in front of us as we take the first step towards the main arena.  The small white chain hangs luminously a foot off the ground.  Each movement is marked by the series of daunting black letters placed in traditional intervals around the arena’s edge.  The letters spin my mind into a recitation of all the movements we’re about to perform.  The barrier between here and judgment gets closer.

Once again the small brass clapper swings, and ringing signals our entrance onto the soft dirt track.  My lips already sting with the salty taste of the sweat dripping down my face.  This is our one opportunity to collect ourselves; the final moment of preparation before everything we've worked for is tested.  I can’t be nervous any longer.  Being nervous will make him act up, buck, rear, or jig.  My eyes target the empty space between his grey ears and the thought leaves my mind.  Defying my nervousness creates an odd sensation, a blank feeling of quintessential focus on the task at hand.  Anything less means failure.  My leg swings back, the silver spur wrapped tightly around the ankle of my boot brushes gently against his side making a small path in his otherwise uniform coat.  He trots off, tap, step, tap, step.  The pattern of our legs moving creates a steady, rhythmic gait.  His footsteps sound like thunder rolling underneath me.  Everything else is silent.

We approach the turn into A, the entrance to our test.  My outside seat bone drops and drives into the saddle.  I feel the strong push underneath me.  Rugby’s hind end creates the impulsion needed to lift him into the uphill frame so sought after by the judge.  Enter AXC working trot.  The new found suspension creates a soothing moment of pause in his gaits.  As we proceed down the center line I fixate on the gap between his ears so as to not see the judge.  The following movements come like a rainstorm.  CMBFA, AXC, HK, KA, A & F.  We dance across the arena in unison.  Rugby chews at the bit, slowly stretching as I give to him with the reins.  I hate the free walk.  I can’t hold my concentration.  I want to turn my head, to look at the judge, to look for a smile or a frown.  Some hint at where we stand, some hint at where we’ll go.  Breathe.  H comes and I regain my contact with reins, with the test.   Rugby relaxes back into the rhythm of a trot.

I sit back, my outside leg slides along his body and my lower back muscles tighten as I cue him to transition to the canter.  Rugby reaches out from his shoulder as his inside leg stretches before coming pounding down into the canter.  His weight feels light in my outside rein as his body bends around my inside leg for a perfect circle.  The rest of the test comes robotically, my body programed to move precisely through every step.  A down center line.  My hands shift, evenly placed on either side of his now sweaty neck, creating a channel between the two reins for his powerful body to follow.

The final move.  X Halt – Immobility – Salute.  My legs are active on his sides.  If we lose the impulsion now, we fizzle.  X hits.  My weight drops, reins apply slight pressure.  I sit up and back.  My seat tightens.  His body tenses as we come to a halt.  I can feel the symmetry in his hips and shoulders; he is standing with all four feet squarely underneath him.  My stained white glove reaches for the brim of my top hat.  I pull it across my body and down onto my right thigh as my head lowers in salute to the judge.  Walking out of the arena, she’s writing, we’re waiting.  Breathe.

This blog marks my quest, my passionate pursuit over the next two years to make this day happen.  From starting my young horse under saddle, to attempting my United States Dressage Federation (USDF) Medals - I am going to use this blog to cover my challenges, successes and failures along the way.