Schooling

Meet Lola and Pam

Dear reader:

I am using my blog to document my experiences as I embark upon the new journey in my life:  horseback riding and eventual horse ownership.  The first part of my journey involves my reintroduction to horseback riding lessons, something I have not done since I was twelve years old. 

Disclaimer:   I am not an expert on horses, nor am I a horseback riding instructor.  This is simply a documentation of my experiences, from my perspective.  The blogs serve as both a personal reflection and a written review of what I am learning.  It is also the answer to family and friends who ask, “How are the lessons going?” 

First lesson:  Part 1 Tacking Up

My first riding lesson began with learning how to tack up my horse.  Essentially this involves dressing your horse for riding.  Much like people, the horse must be groomed, and properly clothed in order to be worked or ridden.  

But first, the human must be dressed and ready.   An hour before my ride I dressed myself in two layers of long underwear, due to the new England weather, which on this day featured temperatures low 30’s with blustery winds.  The pants were a challenge, since jeans are not acceptable mainly because they can chafe and rub the rider raw.  Ideally, winter riding breeches would be great, but I could not find any at the local equestrian shop in what I consider a reasonable price range. So until the ones I order on line arrive, I will make do from my inadequate wardrobe.   I must own about twenty pairs of jeans, but only one pair of stretchy khaki pants, which I reserve for golfing.  Since we are way past golfing season, and I am the most unorganized person on the planet, you can imagine how easy it was to find this one pair of pants.  After much digging around in the closet in between bags and bags of yarn, (my other addiction is knitting) and semi-folded piles of clothing, I found them, of course, in the bottom of the clothes hamper located on the other side of the bedroom, scrunched into a tan colored, wrinkly ball.  Do not tell my husband about this, please, because he does not need another reason to point out my shortcomings against the backdrop of his OCD-like organizational skills.  I am just really glad he did not walk in on me while I was cursing like a madwoman dressed in nothing but two pairs of long underwear and a bra, surrounded by skeins of yarn. Back to the pants.  I smoothed them out as best I could (the horse doesn’t care if my pants are wrinkled!) and pulled them on over the two pairs of hot chilis thermal underpants. Fortunately, the khakis have Spandex in them, which allowed room for the additional layers and the extra junk in my trunk that accumulated over Thanksgiving.   After pulling wool socks on over my cotton socks, I was almost half-dressed.  Next, I layered a thermal undershirt, cotton turtleneck and fleece jacket, topped off by a Patagonia jacket and fleece neck warmer.  Lastly, I attached toe warmers to the tops of my socks before slipping my feet into a pair of black, knee-length thermal riding boots.  

An aside about toe-warmers:   These things are awesome.  They are shaped like the top of your foot, with a peel-back adhesive strip and they stick right onto the top of your sock, over your toes (or underneath your toes if you prefer) and they immediately radiate a toasty warmth that fills your boot and makes your toes wish to curl up and take a little nap.  Ahhhh.   Huh?  Wha?  Sorry I drifted off for a moment, just reminiscing about it.  I grabbed my insulated riding gloves, my fuchsia riding helmet and my consent forms.  I was ready to go!  I felt a lot like Ralphie’s little brother Randy, from the movie The Christmas Story.  He’s the kid whose mom bundled him up in so many layers underneath his snowsuit for the walk to school that he couldn’t put his arms down.  He fell over and could not get back up!  I desperately hoped that I would escape that fate over the next hour.

I arrived at Renaissance Farm where an equally bundled Pam the Instructor awaited me.  She began by teaching me how to tack up my horse, Lola.  Let me tell you about Lola.  If heaven were a horse, its name would be Lola.  She is a Cheval Canadian horse. Her thick winter coat is a rich, chestnut-brown color, and her bright brown eyes sparkle despite her 23 years.  She has a finely sculpted head, as if she were carved from dark chocolate.  By contrast, she also has a white star on her forehead.  Her coat is plushy and thick for the winter, and surprisingly soft.   Her first career was in Canada as a carriage horse.  I can picture her stepping lively in leather traces, eyes shining, in front of a shiny black carriage.  When she came to live on Renaissance Farm, Pam had to train her for riding.  In essence, she is a fellow adult learner, like me, but probably a lot smarter.  Cheval Canadian horses are known for their hardiness in cold weather, and are considered“easy keepers”.  Cheval Canadian mares are known to produce offspring up to 20 years of age.  I could go on and on, but you get the picture.  She’s a doll.

To prepare Lola for tack up, I first had the privilege to brush that beautiful coat.  I learned to use first a hard rubber brush, or curry comb,  moving in a circular motion over the neck, withers, back, belly and legs, followed immediately by the stiff Dandy brush which sweeps off the dirt and smoothes the coat so it is nice and clean prior to putting on the saddle pad and saddle.  Lola was very patient and forgiving as I fumbled to master this two-handed technique while wearing thermal gloves and standing in the cold New England wind.  I greatly appreciated the fact that she did not kick or step on me when I dropped the brush more than once onto the ground underneath her.  She just looked at me with those big brown eyes.  She was probably thinking, “This moron who can’t even hold a brush is going to be riding me for the next hour? Sigh. Just keep the sugar cubes coming, Pam!”  

A little about Pam.  First I must confess and share I was a little nervous about choosing a riding instructor, number one, because I know next to nothing about the whole thing, so how would I know if someone’s good or not, and two, I wasn’t sure I could get along  with a “horse person.”  You know what I mean.  In this world, there are cat people, dog people, bird people, and yes, horse people.  They eat, breathe and sleep the animals they love and raise.  They speak an entirely different language than you or I.  Their knowledge of their particular area of expertise is bottomless, and they have very strong opinions on the subject!  Some of them have a lot of disdain for those of us who are ignorant of their area of expertise.  Sometimes this disdain can border on snobbery.  I may get a LOT of flak for saying all this, but I can’t help it, I have experienced it.  I was afraid of meeting someone who not only would intimidate me but would also hold my ignorance against me.  This is why I arranged to meet Pam and her horses prior to making a decision on taking lessons.  My fears were groundless.  The day I met Pam, she was holding her horse Avalon while the farrier worked on him.  Avalon is rather large – 17 hands, which in English means VERY TALL, or as Yahoo answers says:

A 17.0 Hands horse would be:
68 inches tall or
5 foot 6 inches or
172.72 centimeters or
1.7272 meters

And this is at the withers, or the horse’s shoulder height!  Perhaps Avalon should be renamed Amazon!  But, I digress.  Pam has short no-nonsense blonde hair, an open, friendly smile and sparkling blue eyes.  She’s not quite my height (5’5”) and actually used to work at a bank.  She is very down to earth and talked horse in a way I understood without being condescending.  What clinched it for me was when she handed the lead rope to me halfway through my visit and asked me to hold the horse while she went inside for some paperwork.  What that says to me is – “I trust you and your abilities enough to take charge of my horse for me.”  So what if the farrier was also there – he literally had his hands full with that giant hoof he was trimming, which in my view made the responsibility of the horse-holding that much more important!  

Throughout lesson one, Pam was patient, and imparted a constant wealth of information of all things horse. During the tacking up process, she didn’t just demonstrate what to do, she had me to just about everything myself, and the hands-on experience although a little unnerving, what with all the buckles, straps and such, was invaluable.  As impressed as I was with Pam’s knowledge of all things horse-related, it was her innate knowledge of the principles of adult education that really rocked me.  I am in the business of training and educating adults, so I really appreciated that she used clear, adult language, genuine technical terms and repetition, all in a respectful manner.  One of the key concepts of adult learning is to treat people with respect and to take into consideration their own knowledge and life experience when delivering training to them.  I felt that throughout the lesson.  My nervousness dissipated, and as I relaxed, I began to feel good about the skills from my childhood lessons that came back to me, and I marveled at the new concepts Pam was imparting, and how one built upon the other.  

Pam said tacking up ordinarily takes 10 -15 minutes.  I can’t tell you how long it took me to learn it, because I was completely immersed in the experience.  I learned that each horse reacts differently to tack up.  Most love the brushing part – can’t blame them there.  Lola, in particular, loves to have her belly scratched.  Most do not like having the girth tightened.  This is the belt that holds the saddle in place.  Tightening the girth is a two-part process; once when you first put the saddle on, and a second tightening may be necessary after you mount up (get on) the horse.  It’s good to tighten the buckle slowly.  Some horses will try to bite if you pull too hard.  Lola does not bite, but she does snap her teeth in an expression of her disapproval for the whole thing.  Some horses will hold their breath during the girth tightening, to avoid discomfort.  The whole point is to make the process as gradual as you can, to prevent as much discomfort to the horse as possible.  And, before everything, always check for any kind of sore on the horse’s body, or foreign matter that may get between the horse and the tack and cause pain.  Not only for humane purposes, but also for the rider’s safety.  You may have heard of the term “burr under the saddle”.  You do not want to be riding a horse when something about the saddle causes him or her pain.  Like any living creature, the horse will do whatever it takes to get away from that pain.  This usually means dumping the unsuspecting, innocent rider, and leaving him or her far, far behind.  Always remember, a horse is an animal of flight.

Once we had the saddle on, it was time to put on the bridle.  This part, Pam did herself, while I carefully studied.  The bridle fits over the horse’s head and face, has a series of straps to adjust.  The bridle features a metal bit, which fits in the horse’s mouth between the teeth and on top of the tongue, and is directly connected to the reins, which in concert, control the horse’s  movements and allow a means of communication between the rider and the horse.  

Once tack up was complete, Pam handed over the reins and we walked to the outdoor riding ring.  Part one of lesson one was complete.  As we walked and Pam talked more horse, I nodded enthusiastically and practically tingled in anticipation for the next part.  Our only audience was the wind in the trees, and a small knot of horses who gathered at the fence, munching their hay, like moviegoers eating popcorn and waiting of the show to start.  

Stay tuned for Part II!

Gunz on horseback

Last week, I was so excited to meet Pam, my new riding instructor.   I was on an almost alarming high afterwards, it felt almost manic like a Starbucks coffee overdose.  What was this unfamiliar giddiness, these butterflies in my stomach?  As I explained my plans for horseback riding and eventual horse ownership to a friend it dawned on me that horseback riding, actually, horses are a true passion for me.  Now I get it, what people mean by having a passion for something.  I have tapped into that child who used to ride, the one who dreamed of horse ownership, who felt wildly exhilarated when astride a horse, on top of the world, in control of a massive beautiful animal.  The saddle was the one place during my childhood when I felt BIG, bigger than the adults, or anyone else, and in control of my life, for that one precious hour a week.  So, I thought, THIS is what passion feels like.  I like working out, I like gardening, I like chicken farming, I really like knitting, but this, this thing I feel for horseback riding and these animals, this is PASSION.  

Today is my first refresh riding lesson.  It is in the 30’s outside, the wind is blowing, and I am planning to ride a horse OUTSIDE for an hour at 1:30 this afternoon.  I am wearing two pairs of long johns under khaki pants.  I have thermal riding boots, a fuchsia helmet and thinsulate riding gloves.  I have my money, my consent forms.  Suddenly, I am NERVOUS.  What if I can’t do this anymore?  What if I really don’t like it as much as I thought I did?  What if I SUCK?  Maybe I am too old for this.  I waited too long.  I am a year shy of 50 years old.  I know some people think I am crazy.  It’s not as if I have talked about my love for horses for the past 40 years since I actively rode.  To most, it may seem as if this dream of mine came completely out of the blue, like some insane mid-life crisis.  A horse instead of a red convertible.   

But… so what?  So now, instead of the crazy chicken lady I will be known as the crazy horse lady.  Guess what!  I really don’t care!  In a little over one hour, I AM GOING TO BE ON TOP OF THE WORLD, TOTALLY IN CONTROL OF MY OWN LIFE AND MY OWN DREAMS!