My husband and I generally exchange gushy texts first thing in the morning that morph into need-to-do/will-you-do/can-you-remind-me and then morph back to gush.  So, in yesterday's, I said that if he went to the gym, I'd go ride.  And if he went straight home, I'd go straight home.

I was really hoping that he went home.  Because I didn't want to ride.

And then I felt like a putz because there will be a time that I can't ride and I'll be kicking myself for taking glorious sunny days for granted.  But that little nagging feeling was there:  I didn't want to drive all the way to the barn, I didn't want to tack up Archie, I didn't want to trot in circles around the shitty pasture.  I just didn't.

When I got his happy-go-lucky text telling me to have some fun barn time, I put on my big-girl britches and went.

And I'm so glad I did.

We spent a long time warming up, just walking on a loose rein for about ten minutes.  I don't think that I've been giving him sufficient time to warm up.  After that, it was some trotting, an immediate change of direction, more trotting and then some walking to cool out a bit.  My focus was bend and rhythm for the trot work, as he's gotten in the habit of speeding up on some parts and falling to pieces at others.  After we'd walked out, we worked on figure eights and getting really deep on turning into the center line.  I tossed in a few halts on the centerline and tried to encourage a halt-trot transition, but it never happened.  (It made me think of Duke and Teddy Bear, both of whom I could easily get to do a halt-canter transition.)  And some crossrails.

I'd read this earlier and tried to focus on pushing deep, which required a bit of collection (per this book).  This is from Beginning English Exercises by Cherry Hill.

Mr. Blue Horns checks for danger.