April 2015 - Sprieser Sporthorse LLC

I’m Too Good For You, And Other Lies

I’m Too Good For You, And Other Lies

By Lauren Allen|2017-02-14T09:24:22-05:00April 19th, 2015|COTH Posts|

It happens all the time.The conversation goes something like this:

Cute Amateur Lady, upon seeing me in an article of clothing with my logo on it: “Oh, do you know/ride with/work for Lauren?”
Me: “Well…”
CAL: “I would love to ride with her, but she’s too advanced for me/she wouldn’t want to teach a beginner/she’s too important to teach a beginner/I’m not ready for that level of instruction.”

As a beginner at a sport myself—triathlon, where I am the equivalent of the Schooling Show Reserve Champion of the Intro Division For Ladies With Blonde Hair—I can understand the intimidation. I am always nervous going into my bike shop, even though my local shop is owned by THE NICEST GUYS in the history of the universe, who never give me a lick of crap for my beginner-dom, who never tell me my questions are stupid, and are always too happy to help me learn basic concepts or give me little tips. Why? Because I think that, with all their knowledge and experience, as successful time trial-ers and Ironmen and what-have-you, that they’re too good/busy/important to be bothered by little old me, that I’m not ready for that quality of instruction.

This is nonsense.

I’m quite good at my job. I make FEI horses that are not only successful but also nice to ride. I have amateurs, professionals and youth students alike riding at the upper levels with great success. And I’m often the busiest girl at the ball; many times I’m at the shows with north of 10 horses achat cialis ordonnance.

But people are afraid of little old me? People think they’re not WORTHY of little old me?! Puh-LEAZE. I love teaching beginners. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Here’s a few reasons why:

1. They are clean slates. When I get a beginner rider, be it a kid or an adult, I get no baggage. No one’s told them something screwy, or wrong, or complicated. They don’t get hung up in stuff; they don’t know enough to get hung up in stuff.

By getting students (and this is true of horses too!) at the beginning of their careers, I know I can start them the right way, and help guide them through the quagmire of misinformation that so many beginners get wrapped up in at the start.

2. The learning curve is steep. Addressing the finer nuances of the canter pirouette, or the one-tempis, or the piaffe-passage transition, is one helluva thrill. But it’s tedious and difficult work. It’s exhausting. And it takes time.

Teaching someone to put their horse on the bit for the first time? Teaching someone how to get the correct canter lead? Showing someone bend on a circle? This takes but a second. And when it’s done, that person thinks I AM A GOD AMONGST MEN. Who doesn’t want to be thought a genius? If helping a student achieve her goals is a drug, then helping the beginner student is a quick and cheap fix. And like any good junkie, I’m always eager for more! (This metaphor has gone off the rails a bit. Work with me, people.)

3. They want it so bad. This is particularly true of my beginners who start as adults. Maybe they saw Black Beauty. Maybe they begged and pleaded for riding lessons as a kid and their parents didn’t cave and so now, as adults, they’re finally on their own and ready to pull the trigger. This passion is amazing, and while it’s not like my advanced students aren’t wicked passionate, this is different. This is like the first three months of a new relationship with a hot boyfriend, and everything is all fun and stars.

(Then we introduce the sitting trot, and it’s like the third time the hot boyfriend stays over and he snores and leaves the toilet seat up and belches without shame and the shine starts to wear off, but it all works out in the end. Also, I don’t belch.)

4. They’re brave. This one’s especially true of my beginner kids. When you’ve never had a bad experience on a horse, you have no baggage about expecting one. Drop my stirrups? No problem! Do a lunge lesson with no reins while singing, to work on breathing? Fabulous! Close my eyes in a canter transition, or stare up at the ceiling during sitting trot because I’m supposed to be imaging George Clooney shirtless in the arena rafters? Why not!

5. It’s a challenge. Sure, I love teaching the upper-level guys, and it’s all kinds of challenging. But teaching the beginners of the world requires a whole ‘nother set of skills, and it is so, so much blissfully harder. How do you establish good basics in someone with no foundation? When you teach an experienced rider, there’s so much you get to take for granted, particularly if her experiences have all been good (probably because she started out with a good instructor from the beginning!)

6. The journey is incredible. I have a student who, while not a beginner rider, was certainly not an experienced dressage rider when she started with me. She’ll do her first Prix St. Georges soon, on a horse she trained herself. Another who had a lifetime of work in the hunter/jumper world will make her Third Level debut. And we have two who came to us as rank beginners as adults, a HUGE challenge, who are looking to First Level and beyond. Watching them make that move, watching them hit that centerline, watching them put on their tailcoat for the first time? That thrill is amazing for anyone, but especially when you remember the lessons on proper sitting trot position, or the right way to balance the whip and the reins simultaneously, or their first dressage show EVER.

So if you don’t think you’re worthy of a proper trainer, think again. And even more importantly, if a trainer tells you that they’re too good for you, keep walking. We all are worthy of the best instruction we can find, no matter the level. No one should ever settle for less—it’s not worth it!

Lauren

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Partnership

By Lauren Allen|2015-05-12T12:36:53-04:00April 16th, 2015|COTH Posts|

I am sitting on an airplane to Las Vegas. The couple next to me are in their 80s, and have been married for 57 years. He holds her hand while they snooze. A love like theirs is something we all should be so lucky to know.

The timing of this trip sucks. The expense is daunting. But six months ago, when one of my best friends announced that, as she’d be celebrating a Birthday of Significance in April of 2015, she wanted our other bestie and I to join her in Las Vegas for the World Cup Final, we couldn’t not go. Life is short. World Cups in Vegas are few (I know they’ll be back in 2017, but… Omaha or Vegas? Sorry, Nebraska.)

So even though I’ve barely been back in Virginia long enough to do a load of laundry, even though I’m missing an important NAJYRC and Developing Horse qualifier, even though I’m showing Grand Prix in a few weeks and can’t seem to ride the passage to piaffe transition the same way twice, even though—to top it all off—I’m moving out of my rented house and back to the farm, I am on a plane to Las Vegas, because I love my friends and, in spite of my consistently consistent lack of availability to grab a bite or meet up for an activity, and in spite of my constant and neurotic prattling on about the highs and lows of life in a plucky little high performance horse sport, they love me, too.

I am doing this for all the fun professional reasons as well, of course. How often are we so lucky as to see these European greats on US soil? Watching Isabell Werth ride anything is a Master Class. Edward Gal’s incredible simultaneous control and stillness is an inspiration all its own.

But the partnerships. No one gets to the World Cup by chance, but the top group. Charlotte and Valegro. Laura and Verdades. Two of the most incredible love stories of the modern dressage era. Two very young women of humble origins, on the right baby horse at the right time, growing together into the greatness that we see today, but also all we know about them behind the scenes, how Valegro loves his hacking and turnout, and how Verdades takes his confidence from Laura-not-just-as-rider-but-as-groom, at his side. A love like theirs is something we all should be so lucky to know.

My two friends and I are all very different, different backgrounds, different stories, though we have a few key commonalities. We’re all riders, obviously. We’re all strong and driven women, none of us shy about attacking what we want with gusto. We’re all also accomplished in our respective fields, and we all got that way because we’re equally bright (a good thing) and neurotic (a sometimes-not-so-good thing, though the itinerary for this trip was rather meticulously planned, and we’ve got sufficient sunscreen and breakfast bars to feed a small army, so that’s something).

We all also really need this trip, even me, in spite of it’s less-than-ideal timing, or maybe even because of it. We’ve all, independently, had a case of the oh-my-gods before this trip. The expense. The timing. Various personal and professional calamities that are just part of life and living.

And here we are, on this plane, tickets scrimped and scrounged for, savings tapped into, partially because this is the World Cup Final, and they don’t come around often. But also because we are people who love and care about each other, have each other’s backs (even when it ain’t going so good), and who will cherish the good times and make the most of everything. A love like this is something I am so honored, so privileged, so blessed to know.

Lauren

The Best Winter Yet

By Lauren Allen|2015-05-12T12:34:29-04:00April 9th, 2015|COTH Posts|

My last week in Florida finished in typical whirlwind fashion. I made the brilliantly boneheaded decision to show Fender one last time on Thursday and Friday, with the plan of then packing Saturday and leaving Sunday, because there’s nothing like trying to pack up your entire life to help you focus on a horse show.

Fortunately Fender is impervious to nonsense, and had his best show yet. The amount he has matured, not just over our five years together, but particularly in the last six months, has been just unreal. I’ve always said there is something magical about 9 years old, where even the looniest of loonies gets his ducks in a row, and Fender is no exception.

We did an open Prix St. Georges class the first day, which is not the best test for Fender. I find the pattern of the walk to the first couple movements of canter doesn’t let him stay in front of my leg as easily as some of the other tests we’ve ridden together over the years. So that has been my focus over the winter, and it paid off with a 68 percent from a serious international judge, not far away from one of my year-end goals of 70 percent from such a judge. The icing on the cake for me was her telling me that sometimes his neck is too high and that he’s not round enough.

Being excited about this may sound insane, but since I have been diligently working from age 4 on keeping his neck from being too low and too round, this is a major victory!

The second day we rode the Developing test, and damn if I wish it hadn’t been a qualifier, because he was just outstanding. That test flows beautifully, but to top it all off, there was a colossal five-minute rainstorm, followed by an absolutely explosive musical freestyle, all while we were in the warm-up, with horses losing their cool everywhere around him, and Fender never blinked. He then went on to be the best he’s ever been in the ring for 73 percent, a blue ribbon and a very big class, and big smiles all around. Mission accomplished!

The show was the cherry on top of the best Florida season I’ve ever had. Client-owned Fiero and Bo made huge progress for their owners, both doing their first FEI tests with great success. The baby horses—Danny, Dorian and Johnny—all return home so much more rideable, through and useful, than when we left. They all are in varying degrees of solid in their flying changes, and the older two are quite solid in there half steps. Most importantly, they confirm for me every day what I’ve always believed—that they are the best I’ve ever had, and will all be very successful international horses.

And there’s one more horse to complete the story—Ella. To make a long story short, I never wanted to sell her, and it was about necessity and making what was, at the time, the best choice, which over time became about needing to make a sacrifice in order to keep my pipeline of horses going. It doesn’t make any sense to put all of my eggs in one basket, and since no one is buying international horses for me, I have to make them myself.

For reasons surpassing understanding, Ella has been difficult to sell. She’s not terribly big, she’s a mare, she’s red, and she’s in the United States, at a time when people are all too happy to schlep to Europe and spend twice as much. And it seems stupid for me to be sacrificing and slaving with the hopes of riding CDI Grand Prix one day, when the possibility to do so was very much within my grasp.

I ended up making the difficult decision to sell one of my good young horses, though I had the great fortune to do so to a client, who will keep him with me and, even more unbelievably, let me finish the year as his competition rider. I am so blessed and honored, and so excited that I’m bringing Ella home!

So home we went, and an extremely and mercifully uneventful trip, only to have my car blowup 24 hours after my return. (Go figure.)

I’ve hit the ground running, riding and teaching my little heart out, and got the best welcome home present I could possibly have received in the form of great success at our first Virginia show of the year, the highlight being the successes of my junior rider phenom, Kristin, who rocked both the junior and pony divisions at their first qualifier for the National Championships. It’s great to be back! Let’s get to work!

Lauren