Remember how I wrote last time about Swagger, and how he was perfect, and I was having to restrain myself from pressing on too hard? Well, I came home from three days of teaching a clinic in Florida to a horse that was about 2 inches taller behind, with absolutely no ability to lift his back and reach for the bit at the trot, and who is only capable of cantering at about 100 miles an hour while ripping my arms out.

So … life with young horses comes atcha fast, Ferris Bueller.

There was no real show plan for Swagger this year anyway, but were I trying for something, much less something of significance like a Young Horse Championship, it would be like threading a very fine needle over and over again, trying to keep him fit enough to do the work, happy enough in the work, and consistent within the work at multiple qualifying shows over a multiple-week, if not multiple-month, period of time. It feels like hitting a moving target.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

My experience with young horses has been almost exclusively with two kinds. The first are ones with very good characters who weren’t international quality. As they’ve been owned and ridden by amateurs, that’s been by design. They were bought so that their owners could ride them as they developed up the levels, so the trade-off—less power, better rideability—was absolutely what they needed.

The second kind has been wildly talented, pig-headed doofuses, ranging from the pleasant enough, but tight and bananas, to angry, hostile little turkeys who spent most of their young energy telling me to stuff it. The Midges, Fenders and Pucks of the world go through their younger years being unrideable jerks, and eventually, through diligence, basic work and a boatload of patience, they emerge on the other side of their adolescence ready to take pressure and learn the big work. They’re armed with a ton of coping skills at that point and are a hell of a lot of fun to ride.

I knew that there were creatures out there who were both talented and uncomplicated, but I’d never met one. Until I met Swagger. And I’m coming to appreciate the dirtbag teenagers. Having one with crazy gaits and an eagerness to please at 5 years old is freaking me out because I’m really feeling the weight of the responsibility to not push too hard, too fast.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse! And if you love reading my thoughts on young horses and the development of the equine athlete, join the Red White and Blue (Ribbon) Club! You’ll get exclusive content, and the behind-the-scenes peek, at the bringing up of an American-bred filly in my program!

And just like that, I’m home from Florida. The last month was a blur, with a flotilla of clients showing, and all at big levels. Liza and Hannah earned their Intermediaire scores for their gold medals, and they are right on the brink of Grand Prix. Julia, who six months ago went to her first recognized dressage show ever, did her first FEI tests, earning a very presentable mark in her first Young Riders qualifier. And my awesome mom did her first Prix St. Georges tests too!

Elvis has been fantastic and worked really hard. I never quite had the test I wanted, but I managed to bungle it a little differently every time, which has to count for something. Through my floundering around, including my first time going off course in a decade, Elvis himself remained totally steadfast, a confident and energetic dance partner who is easy to show both in and out of the tack, because he’s exactly the same as he is at home. I’ve never had a horse so uncomplicated that was also as talented as he is; my previous mega-talents have all been rank at this age, so Elvis is a refreshing break in that trend!

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I entered Elvis in our first show together. He’s been training terrific, feeling really good in his body, and, as always, fantastic in his brain.

Of course, three days before the show it occurred to me that I’d never attempted a canter-halt transition. I’d done maybe two extended trots in my entire time with Elvis, zero extended canters and zero rein-backs.

So I was super well prepared.

Fortunately, Elvis is super at extended canter, very obedient in the rein-back, and good enough in the canter-halt transition, so off to the show we went. My goal on the first day was to put together an obedient and organized test—and other than the moment where I forgot that the half-pass zig-zag started at the centerline until I was nearly at the quarterline, which made for some creative steering, I did. But he won the Developing Prix St. Georges on a 69 percent, with the comment that for higher scores, I needed more expression and finesse.

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I love coming to the Wellington area every winter, but there are some things about living here, and living in Florida in general, that are … unique. We’ve made a little game of some of the wackier things we’ve seen. First one to 1,000 points wins!

One point for each sighting of the following creatures: alligator, river otter, iguana. Five bonus points if they’re crossing a road. Ten points if they’re making sweet, sweet Florida critter love. (Best place for iguana sightings: Southern Boulevard.)

One point for every Olympian seen shopping at Publix. Ten for every Olympian seen dining at Agliolio, Kontiki or Oli’s. Twenty for every one seen dining at JoJo’s, Brooklyn Bagel or La Fogata. And 50 for every one seen at Boonies.

If you see an Olympian at any restaurant, 10 points if you get to sit in their chair when they leave.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

As someone who both rides in and teaches clinics, I know there are two kinds: the kind where it’s riding lessons, sessions between a coach and a student to benefit the rider; and the kind where it’s theater, a riding lesson for the rider as well as a demonstration for a crowd.

And I’ve got no problem with either. But I’ve participated in a few symposia over the years, and sometimes it’s helpful, and sometimes it’s a session where you ride around doing your job, and the crowd goes ooh, and the clinician talks, and that’s it. So if I’m going to do a public clinic, it’s going to be on a horse who would, if all else failed, make me look smart.

Elvis makes me look smart. And when it was announced that Isabell Werth, the best rider in the world, the most accomplished rider in the history of the world, the QUEEN of dressage, was coming to the Adequan Global Dressage Festival (Florida), I thought to myself, “Golly, wouldn’t it be neat to debut this horse to the public in front of Isabell Freaking Werth?” And with hubris in my heart, I applied, got selected, threw my back out, panicked for a few days about what to wear (10 days of not being able to move enough to reach for my painkillers perhaps was not the best thing for my waistline), got back to work, and off we went.

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To make a long story as short as possible, I’ve been experiencing some pain in my low back, at an increasing interval and increasing severity, since April. I’m pretty sure I know the root cause, and I’m finally getting that taken care of, but I didn’t do it in time, because over the weekend the pain became as bad as it’s been, forcing me to face the problem and actually deal with it.

My journey into dealing with it begins with the average horse person’s approach to any health problem. Is it keeping me out of the saddle? No? Then it’s fine. Yes, but there’s a workaround, like not wearing a boot on your left leg because your toe got stepped on so badly that it’s turning colors so unusual you’re thinking of calling Pantone? Then it’s one-boot-wonder time. But when it actually is keeping you out of the saddle, it’s time to consult a physician.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!

I thoroughly enjoyed Sarah Lorenz’s recent piece for COTH, “We Are All Individuals.” As someone who brings a lot of young horses up the levels of dressage I agree wholeheartedly that there’s no timetable, that they come along at whatever rate they come along, and that, as trainers and as stewards of their lives, we have to treat each one as an individual and evaluate what they’re capable of by using our own best judgement combined with advice from exceptional veterinarians, farriers and trainers.

As a 5’10” dressage trainer, my own personal horses are exclusively warmbloods, and most are north of 17 hands. Swagger is the youngest of the current group, bought in July of his 3-year-old year, a stallion, and already at least 16.3. Gelding him made him pop another inch, and between that and being put on a plane he arrived in the States looking like Skeletor. He needed time to eat and get healthy from the trip, and so he had about two months of vacation time where we fed him and turned him out. Once he looked healthy enough, he went to an event rider student of mine to work three days a week for a month or two, and then he came home where we worked him three days a week.

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We have arrived safely in Florida, and even more importantly, we have arrived in 2019, and I can’t even begin to tell you all how glad I am of both. While January 1 may be just another date on the calendar, with no magical properties of any kind, I’ve decided that 2018 was where all the yuck lived, and now my horses, my team and I can all leave the yuck in our collective rear view mirrors and move on.

The trip down was uneventful, and assistant trainer Lisa and I are all set up at two different barns in Deer Run with 13 horses. If that sounds like a lot for two people, you’d be correct. We’ve got stall cleaning help in the morning and help from a lovely young lady named Ali in the afternoons for a few hours, and then we spend the rest of the day running around like crazy people. It’s mayhem, but it’s our mayhem. Lisa is amazing; I’m so happy she’s here with me!

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I hate December. It’s cold; it’s dark, and it’s time spent twiddling my thumbs waiting to get to Florida. When I’ve had serious upper-level competition horses, December is a bit of let-down time. I take the last two weeks of November and the first few weeks of December to just fluff around, and then the last two or so weeks to build back up to hit Florida in good form. But with the young horses, there are really no peaks and valleys, just slow and steady work.

So we tread water. Fortunately, my horses are all being terribly good and smart, so trundling along isn’t a travesty. Puck wins the award for Most Improved. I’ve been at home for most of the last two weeks and on a normal schedule, so I got to just work him like a normal horse for two weeks, the first time my wild travel schedule has allowed. It was delightful.

I’ve settled into a weekly routine that seems to be working: Tuesday and Friday leaning on the canter work; Wednesday and Saturday focusing on the trot, and Thursday and Sunday hacking and stretching as the weather (and his exuberance level) permits. Puck has found this amazing gear at the trot, with super power and expression, but I don’t want to go bananas with it and have him end up hurt.

Read the rest at The Chronicle of the Horse!