So, I've mentioned our beginner rider a couple times.  She is now our dressage rider.  She told Ox's owner and me that there would be a dressage clinic about 45 minutes away and arranged ride times for us.  I had very little information to go on about this and googled the snot out of the trainer, only to find that she specialized in Arabians, which my lovely draft cross is not.

I really wish I could have taken Archie.  ..who is also not an Arabian, but dammit.  The heart.

Saturday, we got to the facility - which was in a lady's back yard, literally - way too fucking early.  The first ride time was at 8:30 and we were there at 7:15.  My old fox hunter snorted at a lattice box and promptly started grazing.

To make a long story short, when it was my turn (9:15), we devoted forty-five minutes to Ox's left shoulder.  I was am a little bitter about this.  She told me what to do, I did it, it resolved the issue, I could feel the difference and knew when to apply it, and then we continued to do nothing else but drill it into the goddamn horse.



I understand that "straight" is pretty fundamental in dressage, but I had all these lofty aspirations of working on our shoulder-in, developing the shoulder-out, and polishing the haunches-in/out that I've recently taught him.  Like, the fun stuff.  I wanted to skip to the fun stuff.

I could also tell that the lady didn't appreciate my sense of humor.  Here's an example:

Her:  When do you ask for the canter?
Me:  When the outside hind is about to strike, but I can't feel that.
Her:  Okay, so when do you ask for the canter.
Me:  Whenever the fuck I want.  (cue friends laughing)
Her: ....well, that's one way to do it. 

 (apparently, the correct way when you can't feel the butt is when the inside front is about to strike)

I also asked a lot of questions and questioned a lot of what she said.  I feel like I'm paying a trainer for knowledge, so I'm going to make sure I understand everything.  I think this led her to believe that I was a little dull, because she started asking, "Does that make sense?" after almost everything she said.



This all inspired me to do a little more googling and I came up with this amazing website, Center Line Scores.  Anything that allows me to compare data just sets my little heart afire.

Saturday's Trainer.  Dated, but still a lot of accomplishments.

Koby Robson, from 2014.

Trainer who I rode with before I moved barns, a million years ago.

The vet squeezed her in later that day.  When I showed the spot to the tech, she was immediately alarmed more than a hot spot warranted.  Had I actually touched the spot?  Nope.  Under the blood was a hard mass.  She has a fatty lipoma on her right hip, which is soft and rather malleable.  I racked my brain quickly with the possibility of a fatty lump exploding, of an abscess being that firm, and finally, you know, all the horrible things it could be if it weren't a run-of-the-mill lipoma.

Sniffing the Thumper.

Why'd you stop?

Our new bestie, the Thumper Massager. //sniffs// //in action// //slow motion// //post massage back//

A post shared by bekaburke (@bekaburke) on Mar 8, 2017 at 10:09am PST