Playing the Numbers

I am not from an affluent background. Without an academic scholarship I would not have been able to go to college. The scholarship covered tuition, but not books and living expenses. I had to keep my grades up in order to renew my scholarship, but I also needed groceries. In addition to school, I worked 30+ hours a week for my rent.  I needed to be efficient with my time.

On the first day of class, when the professors handed out the syllabus, I paid very close attention to the total points needed to get the grade I needed. I carefully tracked my points on each test, and when I got the points I needed in each class, I’d focus more attention on the next class. Using this plan, I kept my gpa high enough to continue to the next semester. I joking called it “playing the numbers.”

After college, when my hobby started to look a lot more like profession than an interlude between undergrad and grad school, I realized that, in order to have a profitable career, needed to once again play the numbers.   

Dressage competition is all about the numbers – he who gets the most wins. So I studied the test to see where I could earn the most points. I quickly realized that the people who knew the most about the tests were the judges, so I would volunteer to scribe as often as I could.  As soon as I met the requirements, I enrolled in the L program. My L earned me access to judge’s clinics and round tables, which are a wealth of information for tallying up the most points I can in my 7 minutes in the sandbox.

I freely share that information with my students. And here, I’ll share some of that information with you.

1) The answers to the question are written on the top of the test and in the directive box. Read the whole thing. You’d be surprised how much information is there.If you have any questions about the test, check out the USEF rule book. It even has a search function. The judges have packed a ridiculous amount of training advice in that rule book.

2) Judges want to see a horse trained to the level they are being presented at, not training at that level. So when I present a horse at training level, he needs to know his leads and be able to steer consistently. Same for first level, leg yield needs to be a sideways/forward movement with hind legs crossing, not a drunken shoulder-crash into the rail.  Shoulder-crashing is a training stage most almost-first-level-horses go through, but should be over it when they are presented to the judge as a fully trained to first level.

3) Judges are hard on riders because they assume the horse is trained to the level, therefore problems in the ring fall to the rider’s aids and presentation. Besides, the rider chose to be evaluated, not the horse.

4) The walk matters. Practice it. Free walk, medium walk, free walk, over and over again, until your horse doesn’t think that every time you shorten the reins they are supposed to trot. Every single test makes the free walk or extended walk a double coefficient. So if your horse knows that when you give the reins, they walk on, and when you shorten the reins, they keep walking, you get rewarded twice. If your horse doesn’t understand this, you get penalized twice.

5) Learn to ride straight centerlines. They show up every test, and the judge is looking right at you. Even if you are not 100% on the bit, be straight. That’s what they can see from C. The judge at E will ding you for not being round enough, but if it’s pretty close, the judge at C will give you the benefit of the doubt.  Although centerlines and walk work aren’t particularly sexy, if you can ride a straight centerline and make a med walk – free walk – medium walk, you can OWN Intro A.  That’s 5 out of 9 movements in Intro A. 

6) The tests have tricky parts in them on purpose. That way the judge can tell if your basics are correct. Usually those movements are the coefficients. If you nail the coefficients and the centerline-halts, you’ll rarely get below a 6 on submission or rider.

7) Corners matter. If you ride one well, flex-bend-straighten in every corner, your horse will pretty much stay on the bit until almost E/B, giving you time to worry about other things (like setting up your next depart or lateral work). Revving a horse on the short side, making a good corner and a hard turn to the diagonal will make the horse want to GO, so your transition to the lengthen trot will be clear. Plus judges will reward good corners in the rider score.

8) Know where the letters are. The distance between the letters doesn’t change, so when you ride a 20m circle at E tracking right, you should always cross the center line looking at the rail 6 1/2 feet from R. If you are lined up with R when you cross the center line, you are making a 24m oval. That isn’t a circle, and it will show up in your scores.  In fifteen meter circles, your outside stirrup should pass over the quarter line. Ten meter circles should not cross the center line.

9) Know your dressage test. You can’t control the weather, or the footing, or the judge’s mood, or if your horse is having a prey-animal day, but you sure can control if you know where you are going and how you are going to get there. And I don’t mean “centerline, circle at B, canter in the corner.” Know how where in the ring you need to flex before each corner. Know how many strides you need to prepare before your canter departs.  Pay attention to that when you practice – flex the same before every corner, sit 3 strides out and grab your core muscles before every canter depart. Those clear patterns inspire confidence in both you and your horse.

10) Smile when you salute. It won’t save a horrible ride, but it won’t hurt either.  This is supposed to be fun.

Bu practicing these things daily, until they become habit, I am able to help my mount earn the most possible points. And that is my goal, not to stomp competition or hit a specific number. My goal is to show my horse well, which means not leaving any points lying around in the ring. By chasing those points, I earn the highest number I can earn. And hopefully a pretty ribbon too. 

Ten things dressage riders who winter in FL don’t truly appreciate

1) Frost on the eyelashes is kinda pretty.

2) Tactful riding – not pissing off a fit, athletic, pent-up, playful horse. Oh, yea, and trying to get some productive training done.

3) The delicate balance of enough clothes to be warm, but not so many as to get sweaty. If that bottom layer gets wet, you’re doomed.

4) The incredible importance of getting each layer really, really smooth.  Friction is NOT your friend.

5)Allowing enough time to get the layers smooth again after a potty break.

6) Having a sock collection about different weights depending on the temps, how much training vs. teaching that day, and which boots I’ll be wearing. Making the right sock decision is paramount to my mood for the rest of the day. (I know, you Fl folks don’t even WEAR socks unless you are riding.)

7) The huge debate -- toilet paper in the porta potty or a warmer bum from peeing in a stall.

8) Added padding is advantageous in the event of a fall.

9) The horses are so itchy under their hoods, that every time you stick your hand in to make sure they are warm enough, they start grooming your shoulder. I admit it, I love that.

10) How on those brief, warm days, the horses feel so happy and good, it makes it worth putting a foot in the stirrup on all of the cold days.

You are What you Teach

When I was a working student in Ga, my favorite boarders was a wonderful older lady, Mary*, who taught chemistry at the local college. In Ga, one of the important things I learned was my dressage seat. Often, when the morning chores and riding were done, Mary would do me the invaluable favor of getting me off the farm to grab lunch. Our lunch conversations are some of my best GA memories.

Mary would patiently let me verbally process the volumes of information I was learning, and in return she’d give me the most wonderful life lessons. One of my favorite was about her leading a chemistry lecture, and doing a double-take at the chemical formula she had written on the board. She said she was struck with the thought, “Oh, so THAT’s how that really works.” Her point was sometimes you don’t really know something until you teach it.

My boss in GA understood this as well. When I got to GA, my seat needed a lot of work. I was so crooked I would wear holes in the left side of saddle pads. Before leaving to be a working student, as a money-hungry college kid, I had ridden pretty much any horse that was offered me, in pretty much any tack available, from western to saddle seat. My big talent was not my tact or sensitivity, it was my Velcro bottom.  It wasn’t pretty, or terribly effective, but I stayed on.

I, of course, spent time on the lunge line.  Additionally, she assigned me to teach seat lessons. Garland Farms had a strong vacation business – people would come for 2-10 days and ride twice a day, usually a combination of a morning seat/lunge lesson with me and an afternoon session on one of the schoolmasters with my boss. I spent many, many mornings helping vacationers learn to be balanced and independent with their aids. Then I’d go to lunch with Mary and talk about it.

Needless to say, this was pretty good formula for me.

Mary’s words come back to me regularly, especially this winter. This year has been unusually cold for us here in eastern PA, and trying to make dressage progress in these temps is tough. A few of our horses thrive in the cold, but most just get tight. I can’t blame them for what Mother Nature has done to their bodies, so my lesson plans have focused primarily on seat and correct reactions to the aids.

I spend a huge chunk of time sitting ringside, huddled in my electric blanket, or in the middle of the ring, holding the end of the lunge, analyzing how to help a student find the correct position, highlight how that feels in their bodies and in their mounts, then capture that feel to recreate it at will. Then, when everyone is warmer, we can use that feel to change their horse’s balance.

My ride list includes four horses at the dreaded 2^nd/3^rd level gap, where dressage horses have to take the step from being good, obedient horses, to changing their balance to create more uphill, engaged, expressive, collected paces. It’s a hard stage for both horse and rider—I have to sit as if they are already going like FEI horses, even though they aren’t really supporting my seat that way yet. The best analogy I have for this stage is a teeter-totter – the horse’s head is at one end, their tail is at the other, and I’m trying to stand in the middle, keeping both ends under control to prevent random crashing of one end down or the other. The fulcrum of this balancing act is, of course, my seat.

As I watch my students become more and more balanced and effective as the winter wears on, I plug what I see into my own rides. Sling, one of the horses at the 2^nd/3^rd gap, who (thankfully) doesn’t tighten in the winter, proves Mary’s principle every day.

*Mary is not her real name, but as is one of the horrible downsides of our mobile, fast-paced society, I have lost touch with her. Since I don’t have her permission to use her name, I borrowed the name of one of my favorite childhood Disney characters.

Variations on a Half Pass

As I write this, I see snow outside my window. I don’t like this time of year, and not just because of the cold. I refer to winter as ‘purgatory,’ because most of my usual training help has headed south.  I spend 3 months wondering if I’m developing my horses correctly, or if I’m off on a garden path.  Because let’s face it, the worst place to see what a horse looks like is from his back. And ‘feel’ is a tricky thing – often, what I think things should feel like is pretty far removed from what they actually feel like, but that’s a topic for another blog.

This year, purgatory has been delayed a bit. In the last 2 weeks, I’ve been in front of 2 trainers that I highly respect, and I went down to the FEI Trainer’s Conference to watch for 2 days. The problem, of course, is I been exposed to a snapshot of 3 different trainer’s systems. I now have the job of analyzing that info, and seeing where and how it integrates into my system.   I have pages of notes to read, a bunch of video to watch, and a bunch of ideas to percolate in my mind.

A quick aside – yes, correct training is correct training. But just as different versions of Christianity are all built on the same fundamental beliefs that center on Jesus and afterlife, and all read the same book, each denomination has a slightly different flavor. I’m not here to start a holy war. In my opinion, as long as all paths lead to heaven (or, in our case, a relaxed, happy, balanced, obedient horse), who am I to criticize.

As I started to look at the info by topic, I realized I had a nice progression of half pass work. Venus and Secret’s winter training goals both include improving their half passes, so timing was perfect. Half pass training lends itself easily to a large variety of exercises, and the following three conveniently showed up at just the right time to address the ideas that were bubbling up.

So, the exercises, and what they improve in a horse-

Leg yield to the wall, half pass in a little, leg yield to the wall, half pass in, with no change in the neck position.

Catherine Haddad gave me this exercise for Venus, who tends to like to power along so much she loses suppleness in her back.

I played with this for a few days, and found it did improve Venus’ back. Additionally, focusing on keeping Venus’ neck in the same position, she started to stretch her outside shoulder out towards the wall more, which helped improve her shoulder freedom. Then I tried it on Secret, and instead of loosening her shoulders, it provided her with a wonderful escape route – if she pushed her shoulder a bit too much, aka popped her shoulder, she could get to the destination without lowering her hip.

That Saturday, Secret was scheduled to go in front of Gigi Nutter, who gave us the following pattern:

Same pattern as above, but straighten the neck in the leg yield, and re-position it for the half pass.

The purpose of this variation is to improve the acceptance of the outside rein in the half pass, and therefore helping the shoulders “stand up.”

I played with this exercise for both mares, and liked the control I had, but feel like, even though neither mare loses tempo significantly in the half pass, they could both use more “bounce” when they go sideways.  I know this is very common, but the best horses don’t lose energy or cadence when going sideways. As I was pondering which of the many half pass variations would help, I went down to FL to audit Stephen Clark at the FEI Trainer’s Conference. He had a rider demonstrate the following exercise:  

On a diagonal, looking at destination letter between the horse’s ears, ride forward, then ride half pass, then forward. Always keep the neck and shoulders on the diagonal line.

Stephen Clark used this exercise in the FEI Conference to improve expression and keep the same quality of trot in the half pass. The super-fancy-genetically-gifted-for-dressage horse went from quite nice to really impressive, so I was curious what it would do for my mounts.

I plugged it into the mare’s half pass plans, and for Secret, it made a really smooth, fluid, this-sideways-stuff-is-easy-peazy half pass.  For Venus, her natural tendency of make-big-steps got channeled into make-big-sideways-steps.

Just like a musician’s variations-on-a-theme exercise, I have variations-on-a-half pass to fill my days in wintery purgatory.

The Short and Long Story of Dressage at Devon

Devon is over, and I can see my desk again, so it’s time for a recap, while I’m still basking in show afterglow, or is that the cold medicine? I’m not sure.

For those results-oriented folk, here’s the short version:

• Wednesday I rode Capitano, Shelley’s super 5-year-old German riding pony, to an 8^th in Suitability and a score of 71.4% for 6^th place in Materiale.
• Also Wednesday Aneesa competed Ming, her 5-year-old mare, and brought home 5^th in Amateur Handler.
• Thursday Secret earned a 62.071% in 4^-1 on wet footing (NOT her thing, by the way) for 8^th out of 12.
• Friday Secret earned a 65.357% in 4^-1 again for 8^th, this time out of 17.  Both classes were won with a 68.xxx%.
• I needed to do a last-minute horse switch for quadrille, and managed to stay in line and stay on top in the Dixon both Friday night and Saturday mid day.
• Sunday Paige and Slingshot brought home red in Jr Dressage Seat Equitation with a 70.0% 

Now, of course, there’s always more to the story, and in this case, it involves lots and lots of snot. I felt a little funky on Monday, and I chalked it up to allergies. Tuesday the same. Wednesday I woke up with my throat on fire, my sinuses filled with battery acid, a serious case of vertigo and a runny nose. I employed chemical warfare – pretty much every cold medicine we had in the house. In this slightly-drug-induced state, I put a foot in the stirrup of a 5-year-old in what is, let’s face it, a pretty lousy show environment.

Devon show grounds is in the middle of a neighborhood. It is small, and cramped, with very limited warm up. That warm up is crammed with youngsters in hand, FEI horses, and 8-20 other horses that will be in the Materiale and Suitability classes. Most of those horses are young, and September in PA can offer some crisp nights. I’ve had some rather exciting rides in the Dixon and seen some downright dramatic ones. I’ve only been riding Capi since May, and although he has always proven to be trustworthy, it is Devon, so who knows.

Then, as we are tacking up, I couldn’t find Capi’s girth. I borrowed Secret’s girth, but Capi has a young-horse chest, and Secret is built like a tank, so her contour girth was right up against his elbows, with the buckles almost over the saddle pad.  He held his back tighter than normal in his first ride and didn’t do his normal nose-blowing, but if that’s my only complaint on a 5-year-old at Devon, we are doing very, very well. 

As I said, Capi was perfect. When he got cut off in warm up, he came right back to me. When the bigger horses were thundering around him in the ring, he was cool. I’d feel him get a bit tight, so I’d hug him with my legs a bit more, and he’d take a breath and go forward like the good boy that he is.  He was so obedient and steady that I had two people ask if he was for sale before we even got back to the barn. Nope, not this boy—he and his human, Shelley, have a long, exciting career ahead. 

In the afternoon we had some tough time crunches. Capi and I were in the gold ring just before Aneesa and Ming were due in the Dixon. Immediately after Aneesa’s mounted class she was scheduled in Amateur Handler. So the whirlwind went like this – hop off Capi, go cheer Aneesa on, then while Aneesa changed clothes, Sue, Ashley, and I toweled off Ming’s sweat marks and shined her socks. Then Aneesa grabbed the reins for a sprint to the ring and a sprint around the triangle.  It was worth the hustle, as Aneesa left the ring with a big pink ribbon.

Aneesa took the 5-year-olds home, and I stuck around to school Secret and Sling, who was my mount for the DVCTA Quad Squad, under the lights. Secret handled the lights like a pro. I gave her a full workout, as being an Arab with only one class per day on Thursday and Friday, I wasn’t worried about her bottoming out. 

Sling, on the other hand, didn’t seem like himself. He was tender across his back, and he was really, really needy–not his normal Dennis-the-Menace personality. I wasn’t sure if it was just the small stalls and the stress of Devon or something else, so I decided to climb on and see. He started out fine under saddle, blowing his nose and relaxing. But when I asked for the canter, he wanted to hop in place. When I asked for more forward, he started swapping leads behind.  Once back in the stall, he parked out quite elaborately and peed a very small amount of cloudy, dark urine. I called the vet, took him home, and started him on SMZ for a suspected bladder infection.

This, of course, did not bode well for the Quad Sqad performance, scheduled for Friday night and Saturday mid-day. On my way home I called a student who has a smallish, red, Arab-Warmblood PSG/Intermediare 1 horse named Fox, and asked her if I could borrow him. I can’t thank her enough, and I am really quite humbled that she trusted me enough that she didn’t bat and eye.  She said “sure, when do you need him?” Then I broke the news to the Quad Squad Director, Anne Miller, that I was going to be riding a different horse—one that had never met the other horses in the group, or been to Devon, or ridden to music, or even done quadrille. I assured her Fox would be fine (as I crossed my fingers behind my back).

Thursday I woke up feeling decidedly not well. I took a handful of cold medicine to control the symptoms. Linda, who lives close to the show grounds, did the morning feeding, so rode a couple of horses before heading to Devon and watched the drizzle and wait for our 7:03 ride time.  Secret hates wet footing, so Linda and I alternated wandering through the shops and hoping the weather would break and the footing would miraculously dry out. 

While Linda and I were killing time, Secret, who didn’t care for only one evening class a day, was trying to tunnel her way to the show ring. So we tacked her up in the afternoon and did 20 minutes of light work to prevent further barn destruction.   

By 6 p.m. the rain had ended, and Secret warmed up like the seasoned show horse that she is. Then we went in.

My internal dialog went something like this:

Holy crap, I’m headed down the centerline in the Dixon Oval at Dressage at Devon!! HOLY CRAP!! Ok, get it together, what is our plan – canter, ok, canter. I’m cantering in the Dixon!!!  – organized, brain, organized…BUT I’M IN THE DIXON!!!...work your plan Ange….work it IN THE DIXON!!

Then we passed the judge’s box at E and the decorative corn stalks rustled. Secret spooked and shot forward. That was just enough to get my brain back into riding mode. I half halted, laughing at the silly little Arab mare, and headed around as the whistle blew.

The trot work went as I had planned it, nicely up in the shoulders and correct in the shoulder ins. Overall the footing was pretty good, except for the corners. I could feel Secret getting tighter and tighter every time we went into a corner.  In the canter, where she pushes off more with her hind legs, it got worse. I’d give my reins forward a little but she’d hold herself. She did everything I asked, just a bit tighter and more held than I would have liked to show the judges. But I could feel the tension building.

Then we hit the final extended canter, and she was, well, exuberant.  If I can hold the tempo in her exuberant moments, the judge’s comments are usually something like “bold” or “confident.”  If we don’t stay together, the comments aren’t so positive.  This was not one of our together moments. She did come back to me in the corner, though, and ended with a polite halt at x.

Then the crowd applauded. Seriously, it surprised me a bit. (Who watches dressage??) The Quad Squad riders had came out to support me, as well as many of my friends and students. That was pretty dang cool.

The ride scored better than I expected, at a 62.071%, with the winning ride being a 68.071%. One of the judge’s commented on Secret’s connection in the trot, which made me feel quite good.  I have focused a lot of training time teaching the spunky Frie-Rab to take an honest connection and not pose in her neck, particularly in the trot work.

Then it was Fox’s turn for the Quad rehearsal under the lights in the Dixon. He warmed up outside of the ring like a pro. Then we headed into the Dixon. He was like – Whoa, that’s a big ring, big lights, big music, gotta stop and take a look at that….then he’d gallop forward to catch the others, then he’d back off again. Once we hit C and headed into the dressage ring, though, I could almost feel him go “oh, dressage arena, letters, got it.”  He locked into my seat and handled all of the scary moves in the pattern, including cantering head-on towards another horse, as if he’d done it for weeks in rehearsal.

By Friday the cold medicine was controlling the plague symptoms better, but I still knew exactly when the meds wore off.  Linda again fed for me so I could sleep in a little. I taught a couple of lessons, then headed over. 

Linda and I decided against an afternoon ride on Saturday, in case Secret was tired, and instead opted for a longer warm up.  Which had a potential time crunch, since Quadrille was scheduled at 7:05 and Secret was due in the Gold ring at 8:45. Linda and Fox’s owner were both available to play groom for me, and I’ve had crazier schedules at shows, so I wasn’t super worried. Keyed up maybe, but not worried.

The quadrille performance went better than Thursday’s rehearsal. Fox only backed off a couple of times, and with Emily’s 23-year-old horse showing off his levade at regular intervals, I doubt anyone noticed Fox much.

Once we got back to the barn, with so many awesome people there to help me, I had plenty of time. Enough time to fidget and fuss, which is my normal pre-warm-up routine.

Once I got my foot in the stirrup, I was fine. I went into warm-up with two plans – ride the rhythm more clearly in the canter, particularly in the changes, and not hang with my right hand, which is my “OMG this is IMPORTANT to me” default behavior, which had showed up in Thursday’s ride.

Right away in warm up Secret told me that she didn’t appreciate my right rein from night before. I spent my first couple of warm up sets (I generally warm Secret up with short work sets and lots of walk breaks, to get the buttons I need working while preserving relaxation and gas tank for the show ring) asking for better right side suppleness.  At one break, I walked over to Cara, who was my eyes on the ground (thank you again, Cara), and said I felt the stiffness on the right, but worried if I addressed it too much in warm up I’d lose the relaxation and thoroughness. It seemed to me that I could eat some points for the right bend in a few places, but I didn’t want to sacrifice Secret’s highlight, which is the fluidness of her overall pattern.

So I spent the remaining warm up sets focusing on uphill balance and forward-and-back adjustability.  Cara announced “that’s your show trot” moments before the ring steward flagged me over.

This time I kept my head in the game, kept my right arm from clamping, and kept my seat moving. Secret was right with me, every step of the way.  It was fun. I smiled like a fool, not because I was at Dressage at Devon, but because my girl was so on my seat it was like she was reading my mind.  Everything went pretty much as I’d planned it, except the right-to-left change, where I need to change at C then immediately begin a 20-M circle. When I cued the change, I turned my shoulders toward the circle point, but my hips didn’t swing as much, so Secret had an unbalanced moment. Otherwise, it was the ride I wanted to show the judges.

After the final halt, I leaned forward and scratched Secret, and the crowd applauded again.  The crowd was a group of my students, my fellow quad squad members, and friends from the Arab circuit. Earlier that day, I’d watched other riders graciously wave to their support teams, or point at their horses, you know, nice, classy responses. Did I do that? No, I blushed the bright-red color that us red-heads are uniquely capable of, and then buried my head in Secret’s neck.  So much for class. 

 

Did Secret and I pin? Seriously, folks, this isn’t Disney. She was a good girl, and showed herself well, but those horses were really, really fancy. She showed the judges what she is, an obedient, well-balanced, good girl. That is all I can ask.  Since I didn’t expect her to ribbon, we weren’t disappointed. That she showed herself so well, that was my goal, and I am thrilled at how well she scored.  Plus one judge gave us an 8 on harmony. In my way of thinking, I can’t do better than that.

Saturday the quad performed again, and by then Fox had it all sorted out. He was the super boy. Only a horse with a really wonderful mind would let me throw him into this totally nutty situation and trust me to get him through it. What a special horse.

Saturday afternoon I took Secret and Fox home, and by then Sling’s antibiotics were working. His back was much less tender. Paige rode him at home, and he was confidently cantering around in his normal way. So she gave him a bath and we decided to take him to Devon on Sunday.

Sunday Paige and Sling warmed up well, then went into the Dressage Seat Equitation class. She had a bit of bad luck in the class – she didn’t hear the judge call for the left lead canter, then when she saw the other riders cantering, she (in her words) “kicked and hoped.”  Sling took the right lead, then they corrected it. She had a good ride, but that mistake took her to the red ribbon. Regardless, I was crazy proud, watching a rider I had started on the lunge line at 8, and a horse I had backed, go in and show such quality work in such a stressful environment.

So, the long story turned out really long. This year’s Dressage at Devon will definitely go down as my favorite year yet.

Videos of Devon

Yes, it was a blast. I have a full report ALMOST ready, but in the mean time, here's video of Secret and my Friday ride: Secret, 4-1 at Dressage at Devon Friday, 9/26/14



Also, Fox and I were in the quadrille, it's on this page, Scroll down to Friday, then scroll right to Special Exhibition.


I will get the full report up this weekend. I have time to put the finishing touches on it Saturday. 

Secret and I at Dressage at Devon

This is Tuesday of Dressage at Devon week, and this year I am riding in the Performance Division. I get to make this journey on Secret, who I totally love showing, and I am stupid excited. 

I’m not a stranger to Dressage at Devon, but for those who are not familiar with this show, it is actually 3 shows in one- a Dressage Sport Horse Breed Show, a USEF/USDF Dressage show at 4^th level, and a CDI.

Tuesday through Thursday is a Dressage Sport Horse Breed Show, my normal stomping ground at DAD.  Tuesday through Thursday is full of babies, youngsters, broodmares, and stallions shown in hand on the triangle.  There are also some mounted group classes. In addition to Mares under Saddle and Stallions under Saddle, the youngsters get a spin around in groups divided by age or gender, depending, in Matriale and Suitability to be a Dressage horse. Suitability is ranked by gaits, where Materiale conformation is also considered.

In order to get into the Breed Show, all you have to do is send in your money and have the guts to canter in a group on a young horse. I’ve done this on many, many horses. I have had horses and students in the Breed show for the last 10 years, and had the opportunity to play coach to students in the CDI a couple of times. But I haven’t had a trip down the DAD centerline.

Going down the centerline, well, that takes a little bit more. First you have to send your money along with a score you earned at the level. Then, once the closing date has passed, the show management ranks all of the scores and decides how much time they want to allow for each class--PSG, GP, Young Riders, 4^th level, etc. Then they start from the top of each class rank list and when they run out of ride slots, everyone below that line gets their entry money refunded.

As a trainer and coach, I try very hard to keep goals appropriate to the horse and rider pair. This helps keep excitement up and disappointment low.  For example, when a student asked about moving from the schooling shows to the USDF/USEF shows on her 23-year-old Mr. Reliable, I advised her to go for a Schooling Show year-end award, as at his age, his gaits won’t compete with the fancy, young Hilltop horses out there.

With this in mind, let’s be clear, taking Secret, a half-Arabian half-Friesian, to the most competitive show in our area, wasn’t what I would consider “appropriate competition.” This is no slight on Secret. She is, hands down, the best competition horse I have ever had. She may not be the fanciest mover I have taken down the centerline, but she is the most rideable by far.  She gives 100% every minute in the show ring.  Because of this, I can show the judges a really balanced, accurate interpretation of the tests. Yes, they can ding her on elasticity, particularly in the medium and extended gaits, but the non-brilliance moves, the ones that show submission and trainability, she’s a pretty consistent 7 or higher.  But as she is not a warmblood, what most people will be riding this week, she is a bit of an apple in a pile of oranges.

Sport Horse Nationals is all Arabians and Half-Arabians, so that is appropriate competition for Secret, i.e. a whole bushel of apples. She did extremely well there last year.  Sport Horse Nationals rotates coasts, so this year the original plan was for Linda to take up the reins at recognized shows and start earning scores to her bronze medal.  But then she and her husband decided to sell their house and build a new one.  To me, as trainer and friend, watching the stress this was putting on Linda, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to make her hobby into additional stress. So, to prevent that, I asked if I could try for DAD on Secret. Mind you, we hadn’t even been down the centerline recognized at 4^th level.

So then we did our first 4^th level ride, and it scored surprisingly well. We had a submit-able score for Dressage at Devon. Then Secret continued to earn good marks at 4^th level in the next 4 shows. I began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this little powerhouse of try-to-hard could actually get into the big show.

So I sent in the entry.  Once the closing date passed, I started furiously checking my e-mail box. This year it was 10 excruciating days between the closing date and when the welcome e-mail came out. I almost wore out the e-mail button on my phone.

Then it came.

Holy cow, I’m headed down the centerline.

People keep asking me if I’m nervous. The answer is no, I’m really not. I’m really, really excited. I didn’t really expect Secret to get in, so I do not expect this wonderful, all-heart Half-Arab to pull a ribbon against the fancy horses. To me, getting in was winning. My goal is to help Secret stay calm under the lights and excitement, since, let’s face it, Dressage at Devon is a zoo of a horse show. I was much more nervous last year at Sport Horse Nationals, as apples-to-apples, I knew I was riding one of the best in the country, and it would all come down to how well the test was presented.  But at Dressage at Devon, against the oranges, I want to show them the apple of my eye, and I get to do that regardless of the placings.