About Heather Richards

Just your average former-jumper-now-dressage-rider-with-a-family-and-a-full-time-job.

Relief Pitching

A few years ago, Cardoon and I were really struggling with something.  I don’t remember what it was, but I’m fairly sure I ended up in tears after stringing together some really spectacular profanity while riding at home.  Kevin may have come out to the arena to investigate.  I called Lauren, and she told me to bring him to her farm the next day.  She’d get on him and see what she could do.

I felt like a failure, running off to my trainer to have her fix the problem.  I’d been working at it for a while, and things were just spiraling down, down, down.  Lauren told me not to worry about it – I just needed a fresh arm and an inning of relief pitching.  It was good advice then and it is still good advice today.

This year, for the third or fourth year in a row, my current riding horse (formerly Cardoon, and now Halle) has spent a little time at Sprieser Sporthorse over the winter.  It has been a nice reprieve to have one less horse at home in the coldest months, and has the benefit of giving us a head start on the show season.  With work putting me on the road for a good bit in February, I sent Halle there at the beginning of the month.

Not only was this a nice reprieve that kept her in work, but I was in need of a little relief pitching.  January was rocky, with inconsistent opportunities to ride because of the lousy, frigid weather and the addition of some five-year-old antics.  Halle never did anything completely nutty, but the canter transitions were…a little too exuberant, to say the least.

Enter the magic of Lisa Hellmer and Lauren Fisher.  In a week, they had Halle walking, trotting and cantering pleasantly and with slightly less exuberance.  With some consistency, I probably would have made it there too, but a little relief pitching made all of us happier.


I’m happy to say I picked her up and brought her home tonight after a great lesson with Lisa, on one of the magic cavaletti days.  Halle and I still have miles to go before we can do something really exciting – like put together a test, any level test, from start to finish – but we’re over a small hump and I’m ready to take the reins back full time.  And its really great to have her snuggly nose back in my barn.



Starting Over

One of Stephen Covey’s 7 habits of highly effective people is to “Begin with the End in Mind.”  This is great advice in life, but also in horses.  Knowing where you’re trying to go is so important in training, so you put the right basics on your youngster to get you to your end goal.  Obviously, you don’t want to teach a horse to be a pro at neck reining if your goal is producing a show hunter. A finer point, however, is that knowing what kind of feel you want at the upper levels of a sport can help you train for that even when you’re years away from it.  This is a lesson I’ve always understood intellectually with horses, but in the past few months, it has become integral to my daily riding and training, thanks to a new horse and a wholly new and different view on training than I’ve had in the past.

In many ways, it feels like 2017 as a bit of a lost year when it comes to the horses, but in reality, it was a year long march towards an exciting new beginning.  Last year was the year that I retired Cardoon from dressage and sold Healey.  It was the year I was able to, just once, ride a confirmed Grand Prix horse. It was also the year that Halle came into my life.

When I decided to sell Healey, it was a tough decision in some ways, but easy in others.  There is a lot to be said for having a horse in your barn who you trust and has a great brain, but I know that I still have FEI dreams and I don’t want to struggle against nature the way I did with Cardoon.  The only reason he and I got as far as we did was because he was willing to try, but there was nothing that was easy with him (well, except the flying changes).  Healey will be a little easier than Cardoon when it comes to lateral work, but at the end of the day, he just wasn’t made for the sitting you need at PSG and above.  Knowing what I know now, beginning with Healey wouldn’t get me to the end I had in mind.

Fortunately, Healey sold relatively quickly and I was able to think about the next horse.  It was an intimidating prospect to realize that while I had the biggest budget I’ve ever had for buying a new horse, I still was going to need to buy something young or less trained in order to get something with the FEI potential I wanted.  To be fair, I’m a pretty decent rider.  I’m also, based on what I saw when I sold Healey, pretty brave for an amateur.  But for those of you not familiar with young warmbloods, even the kindest, best-brained of them can give you a pretty wild ride, and they often stay that way until they’re 7 or 8 or even 9.


Enter Halle.  The one and only horse I tried.  She was perfect.  She was fancy.  She had life experience and was easy to handle on the ground. She was a GIRL, and I’ve never had a girl.  And most important, she was in my budget.  We got along well, and the purchase went incredibly quickly.  Within two weeks of Healey leaving for his new home, Halle arrived in my barn.

Halle first dayOf course, she is a five year old Dutch mare (Sir Sinclair x Consul), so that means she has opinions and she’s sensitive.  And so I’m starting over, beginning with the end in mind.


Halle has good basics thanks to the two trainers who started her, but she’s now having to actually go to work every day, a sometimes challenging concept for a young horse.  Some days are good and some days are like riding a lit stick of dynamite (especially those days when its 25 degrees, with winds blowing 15mph).  Some days she can do most of the trot work from first and even second level, and on that same day, she might be utterly incapable of picking up a left lead canter.

Having had the experience of Cardoon, and working methodically through each level, trying to achieve mastery of Training, First, Second and then Third levels, I have a better understanding of where I’m headed this time.  I also don’t feel like we need to master each level in sequence on the way up.  I’m content to live in the young horse space this time, somewhere between training and third level until she is confident and confirmed in the bridle, connected over her back, and responsive without being explosive.

While I’m standing back at the same starting line I was at more than 5 years ago with Cardoon, I feel more prepared for the journey ahead and have a better idea of what the finish line looks like.  This journey will be a different one, filled with different challenges than last time, but at least for now, it feels like a journey with the potential to go a heck of a lot further than the last one.

For now though, instead of gazing at that distant horizon where we can pirouette and piaffe and passage, I’ll go back to trying to focusing on the here and now – one where we can pick up a left lead canter and understand that my right leg is not some sort of rare instrument of equine torture.




Knowing when…

Horses can’t talk.  This is probably one of the most obvious statements I’ve ever written, but it is true and presents me almost weekly with a deep psychological challenge and existential question.  If only my horses could talk, they could tell me if I am doing right by them. If I am being entirely fair. Or if they just can’t do that right half pass because their hocks hurt, or if they are having a hard time bending left because they hit their head on the stall wall while trying to jaw wrestle with their neighbor an hour before I came to ride.

I’m an amateur, and while I see my horses as partners in a sporting effort, they’re also still my pets, family members, and good friends.  I know how much it sucks to ride hard when my back hurts or I’m just stiff from sitting too long in the car, and I want the best for them. I try to be at least reasonably understanding when they have a hard time performing for some reason.   At the same time, the percentage of their lives that they have to spend actually working is pretty small – maybe 4 hours or 2% of their week – so I expect them to try, even if the going is a little tough.

Even more, dressage is hard.  It is hard for me, and it is hard for the horses.  We take an animal whose natural tendency is to carry 60% of their weight on their front legs, and through training, teach it to carry that 60% of its weight on its hind legs.  There will be aches and pains for horse and rider along the way to the FEI levels.  That is normal, and it is normal to expect the horse to keep trying through a little bit of discomfort.

That said, knowing when to push through the training trouble, give a horse a few days off or call the chiropractor or acupuncturist, or even the vet, is one of the most difficult decisions I think I make as a horse person.  These are the decisions that keep me up at night, and that I talk about incessantly – to myself, to Kevin, to my trainer, or to anyone who might be able to help.  I try to keep my level of crazy to a minimum so I don’t drive away my friends, but these thoughts keep me up at night.

I’ve had some horses who were relatively easy to figure out.  Ian, my grand old man of a Thoroughbred, was great at saying, “Hey mom!  Something’s wrong!” by going off his feed dramatically or being 5 out of 5 lame with an abscess.  Even when it was his time, at nearly 27 years old, he told me in no uncertain terms that he was ready to go.

Cardoon…not so much.  Admittedly, I have Cardoon at a different point in his development as a show horse, but he doesn’t have nearly the same reaction to difficulty as Ian did.  Cardoon internalizes, and then he shuts down, which makes finding a cause, and possible solution, rather hard.

After my show season was over last year, I gave Cardoon a few weeks of easy, fluffy work, but then started back in the more serious training in mid-November.  Unfortunately, he started throwing in periodic bouts of shutting down while I was riding him.  I was hurt, upset, perplexed and utterly obsessed with what was wrong and what to do.  I tried working him though it, and I tried taking him to the vet.  Both things made something of a difference, but he still, as of January was just quitting at the beginning of rides and telling me where I could take my “hard work” and shove it.

Knowing when to try different things is hard, and it can be demoralizing when something doesn’t work, especially when you’re spending hundreds of dollars to try something that might help.  Vet visits are expensive, and when there’s no obvious glaring problem, diagnostics can really run up a bill and even then not point to anything specific.  Seeing the saddle fitter, trying new tack, having the chiro come out to work on the horses – all of these things have a price tag and still may not produce results.

After four months of trying different things – training, testing, injections, treatment for ulcers – I had another talk with my vet and more talks with my trainer.  Despite our best efforts, we can’t come up with a pinpoint reason for his behavior, so I’m saying enough is enough…for now.

It is absolutely heartbreaking for me to just stop training at this point in in our journey together, but the right decision for everyone’s sanity (and my wallet) is to give us both a big, long break and see where we are come summer.  Maybe he’s just telling me that after almost 5 years of working hard for me and taking me places I never expected, he needs a sabbatical.  So, I’ll focus on Healey, maybe teach Cardoon a few tricks, and hope that Dr. Green can cure whatever is ailing him – whether that’s between his ears or somewhere in his body.


Cardoon is going to get some time to hang out with the ladies next door.


I trained it (and other challenges from 2016)

A few months ago, Natasha (one of Lauren’s wonderful assistant trainers, and a killer trainer of young horses) was kind enough to come to my farm to give me some lessons on Healey.  I haven’t invested a whole lot of time or money in trailering him to Lauren’s this year because, in general, I don’t need the same kind of regular eyes on the ground to put Training Level basics on a horse that I do to teach Cardoon the pirouettes, tempi changes, or perfect the half pass.

That said, a check-in is always helpful and this was the first time since I bought Healey back in February that I’d had a lesson on him.  When he came to me, he had good life basics.  He could stand to be tacked, and groomed and knew how to walk, trot and canter under saddle.  That was pretty much it.  He was good guy, but he had no muscle and anything he’d learned about going on the bit in some form of balance had been lost over the winter while he sat in the field, fat and happy, with his previous owner.  His reaction when you took some contact with the bit was to duck behind the bit and fling his head around in confusion.

So, at this lesson with Natasha, I was excited to show her that I’d managed to train Healey to take the bit like a champ, rather than just duck behind it.  Just the day before my lesson, he had trotted around in a solid contact, and even occasionally managed to hold himself up in some semblance of balance.  Sadly, as usually happens with horses, this success was just a harbinger of bad things to come, because when I got on him for Natasha, eager to show her our progress, it all went to hell.

My charming young warmblood who a day earlier had been steady, light and delightful in the bridle, was now careening wildly around the arena, trying to drag me out of the saddle.  So strong was he in the bridle, that my half halts were more like “three-quarter halts”, as I tried to slow him down and regain some balance.  Natasha just laughed, and said, “Heather, the good news is that you trained it!”  Yeah. We went from no contact to oh-my-god-my-bleeding-hands contact.

Natasha and I had a good laugh, and went back to half halts, transitions, and trying to get Healey to stand up on his own four legs, rather than sustain a controlled fall on a circle.

This is so typical of horse training – you try and try and try to teach them something, failing for what feels like forever, and then one day you get it.

And then you can’t stop it.

Teaching Cardoon flying changes was like this.  We learned changes and suddenly couldn’t stop doing them.  Everywhere.  All the time.  Sometimes he falls sideways, and I can’t stop it, despite the fact that sideways is not one of Cardoon’s talents.  Lauren’s response : “You trained it!”

The past year has had its ups and downs, but in general, I think we ended with more training successes than failures.  I managed to train Cardoon to Prix St. George (I trained it!), but he’s a little burnt out now (maybe I trained him too much?), and is enjoying a well deserved vacation for a few weeks.  I also managed to take Healey from a very green five year old, to a Training-level-green coming-six year old who at least sometimes understands the concept of a half halt.  Maybe that last one isn’t amazing, but it feels like it is sometimes.

I learned perseverance, practiced patience and became a stronger, more confident rider and trainer in 2016, all from working through the challenges of learning and training pirouettes, tempi changes, and teaching a five year old how to trot and canter on the bit.

I don’t know yet what challenges 2017 will hold, but it will start with helping Cardoon to find his joy and work ethic again, and continuing to solidify basics on Healey.  I hope to earn my Silver Medal (just one more PSG score to go!) and get Healey to some shows and see how he handles it.  Thinking on a grander scale, I’d love to ride a full pirouette and learn the two tempis this year, and it would be swell if Healey showed some capacity for collection.

More than anything, though, I just want my horses to continue to be happy and healthy and keep trying for me.  For both of them, even Cardoon who has an absolute tendency to shut down when he just doesn’t want to play anymore, they have shown a terrific propensity to try hard to understand what I want and make some effort to make that happen.  And you can’t train that.

Recipe for an Amateur Prix St. George

Well, the first PSG is in the bag and behind us.  I’m so relieved, but also pretty deliriously
happy.  My goals for that first FEI test were pretty small – don’t throw up on my gorgeous new shadbelly and do most of the things.  There was no vomit, and pretty much all of the things happened in some form or another.  For those who would like to cook up their own amateur PSG, I offer the following recipe:

1 cup of Vision – I’m pretty sure wcardoon-psg-debuthen I started this trip, this was a great deal more delusion and far less vision.  I remember watching the 2012 Olympic freestyles on television, and thinking to myself, “I have to get there, to the FEI levels.  I need to do what it takes, whatever that is.”  I told Kevin about my delusion, and he, like the good husband he is, didn’t flinch and told me he was on board.  Never mind that I didn’t have a horse at the time, he was all in.
Fortunately, the actual vision came over time.  That fall, Lauren found Cardoon for me, on Eventing Nation of all places, and after trying him out on a whim, called me and said she thought she’d found the one.  Whether either of us thought he’d make PSG at the time will remain a mystery, but he had a good character and a pretty freaky extended trot.

Over the past few years, I’ve had glimpses into what the future might hold for us and it was those flashes of vision that kept me going.  The trot extensions, the first huge flying changes, the instant where I could feel his shoulders lift in the canter – all of these kept me going during the tough times.  I could feel the PSG in there, if only for fleeting moments.

10 gallons Hard Work (and ibuprofen to taste) –  Seriously, this is the hardest physical riding I’ve ever done, and its not like I was a pleasure rider before.  I rode the Big Eq as a teenager, retrained green horses, and showed the 4′ jumpers, but the sheer physical strength needed for the upper levels of dressage is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  As we’ve ventured along this journey, I’ve had to up my game to strengthen my core, keep my bad back in shape (thanks to my excellent chiro!), stay flexible and limber (hello yoga), and keep up the cardiovascular fitness needed to get through five minutes of sustained tough riding.  All of this hard work has to continue, day in and day out, to keep both me and Cardoon in the physical shape to be able to just do the movements, much less take them to a show and compete.  Plenty of those days one or the other of us was tired, cranky, or plain didn’t want to show up to work, but we went out and did it anyway.  This was a big part of getting from First Level to PSG in four years, although not really the fun part!

2 teaspoons of Sacrifice – All the hard work leads to at least some sacrifice.  I missed plenty of after-work happy hours, gave up dinner at a reasonable hour, and often got up at completely unreasonable times to make sure we got our rides in.  Plus, when I think of what we could have done with just the money I’ve spent on training – both my trailer-in lessons with Lauren and the times where I left Cardoon at Sprieser Sporthorse for a few days or weeks – well, lets just say I don’t dwell on that.  Sure, we could have had several luxurious trips to Europe, but what’s that when compared to a
centerline salute wearing a tailcoat?

A dash of Bravery – One important lesson I learned in the year is that you need to be brave and take a chance, knowing that you might fail.  It means taking the chance that he’ll just quit halfway around the pirouette, but still sitting him down and trying anyway. Without taking those chances that you’ll fail, you never find out that you can push the limit, and then exceed it.

1 cup of Humility – Never, ever, think “I got this,” because the thing that happens immediately after that thought is that it will all go to hell.  This applies to learning new things, as much as riding your actual test.  Let me give you two examples.  Two weeks before the show, I had an epiphany about the tempi changes.  I finally learned how to really move my legs and make the change obvious to Cardoon.  I felt awesome.  I was so excited.  I HAD THIS!  Well, yeah…not so much.  A week later, we were lucky if we could string together three clean changes.

Then, at the show itself, I was all jitters for the first half of my test. During my first pirouette, I remember having this total moment of peaceful calm come over me, and then proceeded to blow both my counter canters – usually something we do quite well.

Remember – never let your guard down and don’t think you “have this” until you’re out of the damn ring!

1 Large Cheering Section – After my final salute, my cheering squad erupted in applause and cheers.  I mostly remember just being relieved that it was over, but after I thanked the judge, she remarked that I had “quite the cheering section”.  I replied, “Yes, yes I do!” No one ever gets to this point without a lot of help.  Every Olympian has a coach and people who care about them.  Last weekend, my cheering section was comprised of not just Kevin and Lauren (to whom I owe everything) but also Meg and Judy with whom I’ve been showing for years.  All of these people, as well as several other dear friends, have been with me through thick and thin, up and down during this journey, and it was so amazing to have them ringside with me.  It takes a village, both to train a horse, but also to make this whole endeavor truly fun.

Mix all of these ingredients together, and you too could make your very own first amateur PSG!  If you don’t succeed at first, try adding another gallon or two of Hard Work, and make sure you added enough Vision!

I Found a Unicorn

Dressage at Lexington has come and gone, and Cardoon and I are still plugging away at the last bits of the PSG. It might happen this year, or it might not, but at the very least, we’ve figured out just what a pirouette IS, even if we still can’t do it well enough or small enough to take it to a show.

Kevin and I took a long planned vacation (and I actually drafted this in a campground in Theodore Roosevelt National Park in western North Dakota) and Cardoon and Healey are both at Sprieser Sporthorse for a midsummer refresher and tune-up. No rest for the wicked…that’s my motto.

At any rate, I have been thinking about how rare it is to find a unicorn. And in this case, I’m not actually talking about Cardoon, although he is, in his own way, a rare and special unicorn. What I mean is the Perfect Horse Husband, aka a Unicorn.

If I had dollar for every time someone – at a show, at the barn, at the vet, at the tack shop – asked me where I found Kevin and whether he had a brother, I’d be able to take that extravagant shopping trip to Europe for my next Grand Prix partner. Of course with my best friends, I can roll my eyes and tell them that everything isn’t all sunshine and puppy dogs in our marriage all the time, but in reality, I know I have it pretty damn good.

When Kevin and I met, I wasn’t riding and had no horses in my life. I’ve done a little bit of a bait and switch in the past 19 years, but he’s come along for the ride not just willingly, but eagerly. In fact, it was Kevin who got me back into riding through a friend at work, Kevin who urged me to find a job at a barn so I could ride when I was in graduate school (when I really should have been working to help pay the bills), and Kevin who swore we’d find a way to make it work when I was just finishing grad school and was offered a “free” horse to take to Virginia with me. Even then, he knew there was no such thing as a free horse!

I read a blog recently on the Chronicle of the Horse about an amateur who had a somewhat similar story, but it focused (humorously) on the fact that her new husband never seemed to complain when she “needed” new breeches, a new saddle, etc., etc., etc. Kevin’s support goes deeper than that, although he’s always there to tell me to buy the saddle, get the injections or other supportive vet care, or go ahead and spend those 4 days in Wellington. He’s never once, in all our years together, complained openly (to me at least!) about the cost of the horses. All of this is wonderful, but it does not, in and of itself, convey true Unicorn status.

The real sign of the Unicorn is that they willingly play in the horsewoman’s native habitat – the barn, tack shop and horse show.

We were lucky enough to buy a small farm about six years ago and have the horses at home now. Kevin was a big part of the reason for this and it was his dream, even more than mine at the time, to wake up every morning to see the ponies in our front yard. Now that we have the responsibility of all these animals at home, Kevin of course is familiar with our daily routine and how to handle the horses. Since we have to deal with these animals on a more than daily basis, I’ve tried to be sure we don’t have any really hard to handle animals on the farm, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t had our share of challenges.

Horses on stall rest, for example, suck. Kevin has dealt with those stall-resters like a pro, and frankly, with fewer complaint than I’ve voiced. He learned about sedation, and can manage the stall resting, hand grazing horse like a pro.

Beyond that, he’s an avid learner about horse care, and actually likes being around when the vet comes so he can learn more about horse care, anatomy, and the cool vet technology. (OK, maybe he’s a little geeked out about the technology.) He’s also become pretty darn good at tending wounds, changing pressure bandages (thanks Healey!) and giving medications. Having a paramedic on the property is pretty handy when it comes to shots.


You see that guy in the blue shirt?  That’s Kevin, diligently videotaping my ride, wearing a Team Sprieser t-shirt.

Where he really shines though is his dedication to coming with me to horse shows and being a critical emotional support as I navigate this new world of upper level dressage. This year is the first time in four years that he’s missed a Dressage at Lexington, and I know it actually made him sad. I’m really pretty certain that he wasn’t sitting at home thinking, “Woohoo! No spending 4 days with my wife and her 15 crazy horse lady friends!” Kevin gets into the spirit of showing with Team Sprieser Sporthorse and at the big shows, like DAL, even cooks dinner for the whole team on the nights we’re there. He knows how to get me ready like a pro groom, and always brings exactly the right equipment to the ring – towel, water, video camera, brush – and never lets me go down centerline without shiny boots and a polished bit.

More than anything though, he’s the most supportive husband a woman could ask for. At the end of the day, this is a crazy expensive sport that eats away at time you could be using to do other things – like vacations, house cleaning, cooking, even sleeping. “Whatever you need” is Kevin’s mantra when it comes to the horses, and that goes far deeper than just paying for it. When I told him four years ago that I wanted to someday make a real run at riding the FEI levels, he was all in with both feet, even before I was.

Its been a long, tough road since Kevin helped get me back into riding before we were married, and I do ponder at times if he’s ever wondered what he got himself into with the vet bills, the heartache, the seemingly constant need for emotional support, and the occasional vicious swearing that comes from my arena when the riding gets tough.

Then I remember – I found a Unicorn, and even if he shakes his head at the fact that me and all other horse people are crazy, he’ll still be there to support this wild sport of mine and he’ll love the horses, just like they’re our kids (because they are).


On Faith

Our Fourth Level debut is in the books.  I wish I could say that it was stellar, amazing and that I earned both my Fourth level Silver Medal scores, but I can’t.  Now I’m also not going to tell you that it was an unmitigated disaster, either.  Mostly, we had some rust from not showing since last October, and I forgot that as charming, delightful, and fun as Cardoon is at horse shows, he’s not exactly the same as he is at home, either.

In a nutshell, he’s itchy at shows.  Itchy to move off my leg (which is great!), but also itchy to move his hindquarters all around, and super itchy to do changes.  Dearest Cardoon, one-tempis are STILL not required at this level, although I know you’ve been throwing them into tests at First, Second, Third and now Fourth level.  Once I settle into show season a little more, I’ll be less likely to be held hostage by his itchiness and more able to push out the fancier gaits, while containing the exuberant changes.  Cardoon 4-1 VSD 2016

At the end of the day, we did get one of our Silver Medal scores, and there were a lot of high points about our rides.  On Saturday especially, our half passes were snappy, and at least two changes were really clean and straight.  Sadly, the third was a one-tempi, so that score was a little shot!  On Sunday, we lacked any sparkle, but I thought I rode better but we lost points with a few mistakes, netting a 59.33, just off the needed score of a 60%.

Despite the fact that my weekend was far from a disaster, and had more than a few high points, I came home on Sunday afternoon feeling deflated, defeated, and questioning whether Cardoon and I really can make it to the Prix St. Georges with any level of confidence.  At home, we’re so capable of doing so many of the movements.  The trot tour is solid – shoulder in, volte, half pass, medium and extended gaits, we got that!  But the canter tour falls apart, even at home.  We can pretty reliably execute our four tempis, but the threes are a little shaky, and the canter pirouettes have still been a struggle.  My trainer has told me that pirouettes might be his Waterloo.

I get it.  Cardoon is a tremendous horse who has given more than we ever expected.  His medium and extended trot are a highlight, and he’s a savant when it comes to the changes.  But bending and sitting aren’t his strong suit.  We get just enough bend in the half passes to be taken seriously, but the articulation of his hocks and stifles in sitting for pirouettes is just conformationally challenging for him.  I have for months despaired of ever getting even close to a pirouette that could earn me a 5 or 6 in the show ring, and this sense of hopelessness wasn’t helped by our performance over the weekend.

This got me thinking about the role that faith plays in training the dressage horse.  A few years ago, when I was struggling with walk-canter transitions, I would throw my upper body, hands and head at the transition, which created a pretty ugly picture and didn’t produce a solid transition.  Lauren’s advice was to sit up, put my leg on nicely, and have faith that the transition would be there.  Sure enough, believing made it happen.  I needed to take a deep breath, and really think about what I was asking for and how I was asking.  I needed to whisper and have faith that he would hear me.

Faith is also what makes me go out to the barn every day and try again.  When I plug away at movements day in, and day out for what seems like months on end, sometimes it feels futile.  We started working on pirouette canter late last year, and have been picking at it for months now.  Most days, I don’t feel like we’ve made any progress.  Maybe this will be our waterloo, and this is as far as we’ll make it.  The subversive negative thoughts eat at me, and were very present in my mind on Sunday night after the show.

But faith is a funny thing.  If you just believe, it keeps you coming back.

While I’ve never ridden a real pirouette on a trained horse before, I have some inkling of what I think it should feel like.  The rhythm of the canter slows, the horse rocks back on its hocks as the shoulders come up, and the front legs turn in that moment of uphill carriage, setting themselves down a foot or two to the side of where they’d been a moment before.  The funny thing is that for all his physical challenges, I believe that Cardoon can do it.  I’ve felt the small, nascent glimmer of hope in that moment where the shoulders come up and the possibility is there.  Its just been a spark for the past year, but its been enough to keep faith alive and keep me coming back.

This is why I got out there tonight, and went back to work.  Lo and behold, in that moment of possibility, Cardoon’s shoulders came up, he actually sat down, and we were able to turn two steps of pirouette.  Proof positive that faith has a role in training the dressage horse.