Training "The Breakfast Club"

My mind loves patterns. As I go about my job of training dressage horses, I noticed that the patterns of a few of my mount’s personalities seems pretty similar to high school, which got me thinking of the movie, “The Breakfast Club.” 

Before I dive into this slightly-stretched metaphor, I need to comment a bit about all the factors that go into  developing a training plan for a specific dressage horse:  

• ·         steps of the technical knowledge they are trying to impart in their horse
• ·         horse’s natural physical  natural strengths and weaknesses,
• ·         horse’s mental and physical sensitivity level
• ·         horse’s age and training history
• ·         horse’s ability to accept pressure
• ·         horse’s attention span
• ·         horse’s intensity of their innate fight or flight and herd instinct. 

But for this blog, I’m just going to babble about the horse’s personality, because frankly, figuring out how to get a horse to try is one of the things I love about training hoses. And figuring out a horse’s personality is key to figuring out what makes them want to try.  

 The only way to develop that stand-out-in-a-crowd expression, along with the obedience to perform a tidy test, is to train with the horse’s personality in mind.  Every horse is different, and three horses I’m preparing  for the showring for their owners this season so clearly fall into separate categories that I thought I’d share a bit of it with you.  All three are wonderful horses, and are each “A” students, but three very different kinds of A’s.  In order to bring out their best, I need to figure out the best way to motivate them.  In describing their personalities, I find that, much like the characters from “The Breakfast Club,” high school stereotypes seem to work best.

Slingshot - The Millennial

Sling's big ego shows clearly in this shot of him as a 5-year-old.

Slingshot is a millennial by nature.  Typical millennial-types are nicely-put-together, talented horses, who try to get by on good looks. If he were a high-school kid, he’d spend afternoons in mom’s basement, enjoying his video games, or goofing off on the basketball court.  Academically, he’d be the 90% A—the one who put in just enough effort to make the grade, and not a bit more. This is not the horse that digs deep and tries 100%, it’s the one who figures out how much you want, and that’s what you get.  If he were in the cast of “The Breakfast Club,” he’d be the jock.

For this horse, training has to be a game, and he has to feel like he’s winning the game. If I pick at him too much, he’ll get sulky. If I praise try, even sloppy try, he’ll try harder.

I’ve trained many, many millennials.  Most of my re-train sales horses have fallen into this category, as millennials often come with tempers (especially as youngsters), and angry horses are not fun to ride.  So I’m able to get them inexpensive, help them get over their anger, figure out how to get them to try, then find them an owner who understands their minds.

A millennial re-train horse (which thankfully Sling is not) often has a defensive side, so I have to be careful not react to that.  My mental self talk has to be motivational.  I often think “play with me,” instead of focusing on my technique. I am over-the-top gushy with the praise with these guys, and they love it.

Every horse has their “issue,” that thing that keeps creeping up time and time again in the training. For the millennials, often that issue is keeping them in front of the leg.  This, if the horse has a temper, can make him tricky to train.  In order to get a millennial in front of the leg, he has to be pain free, uphill, and straight, and then held to a consistent standard of obedience.  If I change my standard for a day, because I’m not feeling 100%, or I think he’s feeling tired, or whatever, I’ll pay for it the next day.  If there’s an escape route, either in the balance or the standard, the millennial will take it. But when the balance, straightness, and obedience are there, they often give a clear, wonderful feeling of “locking in.”

As I said, millennials like to play games, and happily do things that are easy for them, so fitness is very important.  But repetition does not work with these guys. To help them get strong enough to climb to the next level, I figure out an exercise that they like, and pair it with an exercise that they view as work, and go between the two.  If the game is fun and easy for my millennial, he’ll get tons of gushy praise, which will bring out his playful, expressive side. Once he’s in playful mode, his ego kicks in, and the sky’s the limit.

Capitano -The Overachiever

Capi looks a bit surprised that I'm thrilled with is performance, doesn't he?

Capi, a typical overachiever-type, has a very intense, slightly insecure, very obedient nature.  He’s the high-school student who lived in the library or the lab, was on the chess team, and not only got the A, he did all of the extra credit, and ended the year with a 110%.  He’s the kind of horse that will give you a movement for a “10,” and apologizing because it’s not an “11.”  If this were “The Breakfast Club,” he’d be the brain.

For this type, he has to feel like he’s pleasing me. He’ll work hard, and do things exactly the way he thinks I want them done.  So I support “try,” and reward when he gets it 100% correct.  When I praise my accountants, it’s more of a humming under my breath for “try”, and a halt and stroke when he understands something. If I did the elaborate, gushy millennial -volume praise on one of my accountants, it would scare him.

Because the overachiever types never think they are good enough, they often feel tense at the start of a ride.  Riding around with not much structure, waiting for them to relax, will make them more tense, not less. These guys crave routine.  They don’t like strong, quick aids, they like supportive, encouraging aids. 

These guys are fun to show because they will let me focus on my technique and truly influence every step in the arena.  If things fall apart in the ring, he’ll be focused enough on me to put it back together. 

Unlike the millennial, the overachievers thrive on repetition. They will happily let you go over each detail of the set up of each movement.  They will memorize your pattern to set up each movement, then, if you are consistent, offer that movement at just the right time.  When I’ve done freestyle with my accountants, they always learn the music cues.

The problem with this personality type is, because they try too hard, the tension often affects the swing in their back.  This creates all kinds of funky gait abnormalities, like tempo variations, unlevel knees, etc, that may look lame, but the lameness is not coming from their bodies at all. The funky footwork is coming from their mind.

Because the overachiever is so locked into doing what the rider wants, he often won’t “lock in” to his ideal balance point like the millennial will.  I use my video camera more with this type than any others.  Because the accountants are more committed to doing what I want than what is easy or correct, it’s up to me to learn which feel brings out his best gaits.  

BR Danny’s Secret -The Student Council President

Secret's confidence was right at home at Dressage at Devon

Secret completely fits this description.  She has an intense personality, but little insecurity.  True to her type, she always knows what’s best.  She would be the high school student who, in addition to being student council president, sings in the choir, runs track, makes honor roll with a mid-range A, and always has her things in order.  In addition, she not only knows what is best for her, she knows what is best for everyone else.  If this were “The Breakfast Club,” she would absolutely be the princess.

For this type, they need to feel right. These guys have the work ethic of the overachiever, but have the ego, and sometimes a touch of the temper, of the millennial.  Fair is the name of the game when developing Madam President.  When I praise her, the emotion coming from her is more of “yes, that was lovely, wasn’t it?”  This type I can give a quick scratch on the withers in the corner and keep going, and she will be very happy to continue to be perfect.

As schoolmasters, Madam  President is wonderful. She’s patient enough to let her student sort it out, and confident enough in her skills to lock into the movement when the rider gets it right. 

When learning new skills, though, Madam President can be tricky.  Because of her confidence, she will often take over in the ring if allowed. She knows best, so I have to make sure my direction is clear, logical and fair. Because if she thinks I’m wrong, she’s going to do it her way.

I show Madam President very differently than I do my accountants.  I set up movements for her, then throw in a helpful half halt every now and then, and accept what she offers.  I never show a president at a level they aren’t 100% comfortable with, as helping her out when there’s show pressure doesn’t always work out well.  I always teach the presidents their tests, as when they know best, they show best.

Just as described in the synopsis of “The Breakfast Club,” all horses tend to have a bit of each personality in them, and sometimes change shift a bit as they become more mature and confident in their training.  But for now, we’ll see what the judges think of the performances of these three very different personalities.

How Attending the L Program Changed How I Show

I enrolled in the L program because, the way I saw it, no matter how much money I spent on lessons, the judge ultimately determined my score.  The more I saw things from their perspective, the higher my potential score.  During the program, I learned that the judges are much more objective than most riders think. 

After going through the L program, I realized if I’m going to earn the scores I want, I needed to become as objective as my evaluators.  As a rider and trainer, changes in my horses’ balance and gaits are exciting, and feeling a horse begin to offer a movement is goose-bump worthy. But as a competitor, I had to be objective about what that offering looked like.  Let’s face it, the worst place to see what a horse looks like is on top of the horse.  So I had to pull out my video camera.

I videoed my tests, and once I got over picking apart my faults (which took a while), a funny thing started to happen. Previously, as soon as I left the arena, I was surrounded by either the euphoria of performance high, or crushing negativity because something didn’t work.  I was sure I had either hit it out of the park, or hadn’t broke 50.  Then I’d get my results back and be confused, because usually I was somewhere in the middle. I’d grumble and complain about the score, sure certain movements were better or worse than the judge’s scores. 

After I started taping my rides, I’d sit down with my score sheet while I watched the video.  Watching my performance with the evaluation in front of me showed me three things. First, the look and the feel of a dressage movement are not always the same.  Second, the judge is trying to tell me some specific things about my performance.  Third, sometimes I disagree with the judge’s evaluation.

First, “feel” versus look.

Feel is such a tricky thing, because what we feel is not necessarily correct or incorrect—what we usually feel is a change. Sometimes that change is for the better, sometimes it is not.  Sometimes the horse gives us a bigger change in the feel than can be seen from the ground. 

For example, say I’ve been working hard to improve the shoulder in.   My work may have created a better angled, steadier, more cadenced shoulder in than last week, but is it fairly good?  In the judge’s number-based vocabulary, “fairly good” earns a 7.   If that shoulder in isn’t a 7 at home, or is a 7 sometimes at home, I can’t get angry when the judge doesn’t give it a 7 at a show. The catch, of course, is if I haven’t taken a look at the shoulder in, I’ll only know that it has changed, but not necessarily how much it has changed.

Which brings me to another point -- judges are evaluating what is “trained” to a level, not what is “training” at a level.  From a rider’s perspective, a horse is “trained” in a movement when he can successfully complete that movement 75% of the time in a relaxed, confident manner – hence he’s capable of a fairly good score, or a 7.  So in my shoulder in example above, my horse is “training” the shoulder in at home, not “trained” to shoulder in, so expecting 7 from every show performance isn’t really fair. Expecting a “trained” score from a movement that is still being developed will set up unnecessary frustration.

Once I started thinking of things this way, it changed how I read my test sheets. My reaction to the judge’s comments became much less emotional.  If I did a shoulder in that started well, then half way through the steps got short and my horse’s neck got tight, then he started falling over his outside shoulder, and the judge gave me a 5.5 and commented on those things, my thoughts became “good eye, judge.” 

Which neatly segues into my second topic—what judges are trying to tell us with the comments.

The judge has two jobs – first, evaluate each movement as it looks that day, using a number-based vocabulary. That vocabulary is the 1-10 scale, which is defined in the USEF Rulebook.  Second, in a few words, explain what I need to show them in order to earn a higher number.  Judges are required to give a comment if they thought the movement was sufficiently, marginally, or badly meeting the standard, or, in judge’s number-vocabulary, a 6 or below.  They aren’t obligated to comment on 7, 8, or 9s, but if I got a 7 with a comment, I knew the judge thought I was capable of an 8, 9, or 10 on that movement. 

A movement that earns a 7 is, by definition, fairly good.  Often, the difference between a 7 and 8 comes down to one of two things. Sometimes the difference can be the elasticity of the horse’s topline during the movement.  Sometimes the difference is the clarity of the movement, particularly the beginning and end of the movement. 

Elastic, swinging toplines are a product of suppleness, impulsion, and engagement.  Some horses begin with a more soft, swinging topline than others. Some horses come with more power.  Some come with a more naturally obedient personality.  Through training, all of these areas can be improved.  But if my horse starts with a 6 in natural topline swing and a 10 in try, the horse who starts with a 7 in topline swing and an 8 in try will probably pin ahead of me.

This can be disheartening, but it is part of the objectivity of judging.   A judge can’t be harder or easier on one horse than another, even if they recognize how much effort the horse is putting in.  Often the final comments will reflect that the horse is “trying her heart out,” but the numbers still need to objectively compare my horse to the idealistic “10.” 

But remember the clarity of the movement can bump the score up a number.  A judge can only evaluate what they see, and the more clearly they see it, the better they can evaluate it.  Elastic, swinging horses that present sloppy, wavering shoulder ins will score behind less-swingy horses with tidy performances. On the less-swingy horse, the rider needs to present a well- prepared test. Which to me is encouraging, because of all of the variables that horse shows create, test preparation is the one thing I can control.  

When I started watching my videos, I quickly saw ways I could improve my performance, and therefore pick up more points.  I started holding my accuracy to a much higher standard in my every-day riding, as well as my test riding.

Watching the videos revealed that, most of the time, I agreed with the judge.  But sometimes I disagreed, which is my third point.  

When I started to attend judge’s forums, I found out that not only do I sometimes disagree with the judge, judges sometimes disagree with each other.  In the L program, the examiners aren’t overly concerned as long as candidates are within 1 point of the evaluator on a given movement.  Their bigger concern is that the best, most well-presented horse wins the class and the weakest performance places last. 

But as a rider, the difference between a 5 and 6 on a specific movement feels large--much larger than its impact on the final score.  Often, when in forums where judges disagree, it’ll be resolved with “we are only talking about one point here.”  In terms of the overall score for the ride, 1 point is only about .01 or .02 percent, rarely enough to effect the order of placings.

That being said, it’s okay to disagree with a judge. Expecting a judge to sit there and give up to 36 evaluations plus a synopsis every 7 minutes, for 8 hours a day, and get every single evaluation correct, is optimistic. That judges get it right as often as they do amazes me.  But if I find myself disagreeing with every judge every time I head down the center line, it may be time to re-evaluate my standard.  The judges may be holding me to a higher standard than I am setting for myself.  

My time in the L program clearly clarified to me what I am trying to present to the judges, resulting in much less confusion about my marks, better prepared performances, and higher marks. 

Thank you to the DVCTA Marilyn O.  Heath Scholarship fund for helping support my trip to the judge’s box.

 

 

The Voices in my Head

When training, my thoughts tend to be rather free-form and musical, but sometimes words creep in.  Usually, those words came from the amazing instructors who have shaped my skills.  I never seem to ride as well alone as I do when I’m under their careful eye, but I do carry their words with me.

From Maryal Barnett, whose monthly trips to Illinois started my dressage education, to my working student years with Claudia Garner, Gina Krueger and Lorinda Lende, to all of the clinics I’ve taken with Gerhard Politz, Debbie McDonald, Catherine Haddad, and Lendon Gray, and to Jeanne McDonald and Scott Hassler who supervise my education these days, I am shaped as a trainer by their quality guidance. I cannot say thank you enough to these people who shared, and continue to share, their craft with me. Below is a list of just a bit of their wisdom.

“You can view dressage as an art or a craft. If you view it as an art, then you are relying on some elusive thing called talent.  If you view it as a craft, then you are relying on technique, and technique can be learned and taught. I choose to view it as technique.”  Claudia Garner.

“Wow. That was ugly. Want to do it again?” Maryal Barnett’s cheerfully-spoken words have kept me from overreacting to mistakes since my early dressage days.

“What was the purpose of that?” Scott Hassler, whenever I’m not being organized with my training workout.

“What have you tried, and what did and didn’t work?” Jeanne McDonald, whenever I’ve brought her a horse that I’m struggling with.  Her brainstorming questions help me break down my thinking process and get to the bottom of the training issue.

“Roll the wrist, straighten the wrist, roll the wrist, straighten the wrist, and repeat.” Gerhard Politz. His technique has helped unlock many horse who isn’t feeling particularly very obedient to the flexion.

“A circle should be round, like a soccer ball, not flat, like a football.” Gerhard again, whenever I’m teaching accuracy on circles, or struggling with it myself.

“In walk or canter pirouette, the inside hind should always step straight forward to support the bend.”  Catherine Haddad. The lesson was about Eclipse’s canter pirouettes, but that one statement changed the way I approach bending all the way down to the youngsters I ride.

“Entertain with your hands, train with your seat and leg.” This simple statement from Scott Hassler cured my bad habit of using my hands to do what my leg and seat should do. 

“Every horse as their ‘thing’ and will show up over and over throughout their training.” Again Scott, and this is so true.  I applied these words recently to a tough training horse.  Instead of thinking, “What, that again?” to “Oh, yea, this again.  Guess I’m pushing your comfort zone. We must be making progress.” 

“Trot is still trot, even in lateral work. You can’t have a shoulder-in trot, a half-pass trot, a straight side trot. It is all one trot.” Debbie McDonald. Boy, this is hard.

“Left, right, left, right.”  Jeanne McDonald’s voice rolls through my mind whenever I’m struggling with timing of the aids.

“A horse must first yield to the unilateral aids before coming onto the diagonal aids.” Maryal Barnett. This concept clarified putting my little Arab on the bit for me years ago, and every young horse and retrain I’ve worked with since.

“The horse’s topline is like a glass hose. Line it up, then turn on the water to keep it full.”  Lorinda Lende. I love this mental picture for straightness. I use it often in my teaching.

“Horses go as they are ridden.”  Lendon Gray. Keep the standard the same. Every Day.

"It is only trained if it is repeatable" Not sure, probably Maryal Barnett, and completely true.

“The teacher is responsible for the student’s learning.” Claudia Garner’s words lead to many, many lesson plans and conversations about learning style.   

“All seat corrections begin in the middle of the rider. The ends won’t stay put until the seat is straight.” Gina Krueger, whose words have shaped my approach to a rider’s seat.

“When shortening or lengthening a horse’s stride, you can only influence one stride at a time.”  Lendon Gray. This statement really changed my concept of timing of the aids, and quickness of my half halt.

I identify with the sentiment  Dan Fogelberg sings about in "Leader of The Band."  

            My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man,

I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band.

I hope to one day, for a brief, shining moment, ride worthy of all of quality instruction I have received.

January Blues

I am writing this on the last day of January, and am fighting the January blues.

January blues seems to be an annual event. Every year,

Note the air conditioner in the tack room window.  In January.

To help inspire my winter training, I went to the FEI Conference in Wellington. The conference goes a long way towards keeping my training fresh. But it also creates another problem -- I'm not Florida. Seeing how the other half lives is fun, but coming home to look at my snow covered pastures, cold arena, and ice covered roof is decidedly underwhelming. Somehow, every year, I need to keep my chin up.

This year, the January blues hit fast. We had beautiful weather, and then we have 30 inches of snow. My ride list currently includes many inexperienced horses. And the snow is falling off the roof.

That small red dot in the distance is the
stop sign at the end of our road.

About the time I started to get comfortable on what my mom refers to as “the pity pot,” I wrapped myself in my electric blanket, turned on my little space heater, and huddled l in the corner of the arena to teach lessons.

Snow on the roof is, well, terrifying. 

As I sat there, talking about the different components of dressage, I watched my students ride.  I watched one student, after struggling with canter confidence for years, learn to put her horse on the bit in all three gaits. Then I watched another student have a lightbulb moment over the feel of correct flexion, and bring her young horse from first level to a solidly uphill balance. Then I watched another student begin to understand how frequent, small half halts translate to riding the hind leg on her schoolmaster.

After I finished teaching, I wandered out to the field to check on the young horses. As the young men are fighting for my attention, I am finding it very, very hard to be blue.

Plus, we added this to our lives. That should dispel the January blues.

The 'as yet unnamed' puppy

Good Fit

When I started keeping this blog years ago, my goal to tell the stories behind the blurbs that show up on SFD’s Facebook Page.  I still think this is a great platform to do that, but I find a lot of my writing these days has more of a musing manner.  Sometimes these musings are related to the day-to-day events, and sometimes they are related to more general events in the dressage world. As I’ve been unsure if these musings apply to the original goal, I’ve been a bit reluctant to share them. But heck, it’s my blog, so I think it’s going to evolve a bit.

One of my recent musings has been about how different dressage professionals gear their business, and how that affects the type of clients they attract.  Some horse professionals build their business around their personal competition goals.  Others, me included, built their business around client support.  Neither plan is inherently wrong, and both business models need to incorperate elements of both in order to be sustainable.  I have been extremely fortunate that my client-support business model has, thanks to some amazing clients, allowed me to continue to achieve my personal competition goals.  But not all client-support-based trainers have been so lucky.

What I find interesting is the dressage community’s assumptions.  For some reason, many dressage students believe a business built around the trainer’s competition goals to be superior to a business built around client support.  Which I find ironic, as students are coming in as clients. 

From where I sit, it seems most goal-based businesses started with a springboard –  a nice horse or two, a family farm, an investor.  Often, that is the main difference. Because I promise you, every one of us who have dediated our careers to developing dressage horses, deep in their hearts, wants to be in that CDI victory gallop and in the latest issue of Dressage Today.  Every one of us works hard to hone our craft, improve our seats, and polish our skills.

Which comes to the topic of which model is better for clients.  I know many pros with goal-based businesses that do a great job supporting clients, equal to or even better than some client-based business models. I also know many client-centered-business pros that are overlooked because they are so dedicated to supporting their students that their own show goals go by the wayside. 

So which model is better for the AA student?  I think, at the end of the day, it comes down to good fit.

The hard part is figuring out what comprises a "good fit."  Sometimes the right fit is about instruction, or showing, or training. Sometimes the right fit is more about the barn itself – location, society in the barn, accessibility to hacking – than the trainer.  When looking for a barn, determining what is "good fit" takes a bit of honest evaluation.  A rider who knows not only their goals, but also their limitations will have the best chances of finding "good fit."  

A big part of determining "good fit" is the goals. If your goal is to earn your bronze or silver medal, boarding at a barn with a relaxed atmosphere, full of AAs who enjoy a paper chase one weekend, a dressage schooling show the next, and a hunter show the third, may be a great barn, but will, in the end, leave you dissatisfied with your goals.  Often, an all-around rider, who would thrive in the more relaxed barn, will feel pressured in a more competitive program, even if that program is right around the corner from their house. 

The hard part is when in your heart, you want those medals, but your comfort zone is with the more recreational program. That’s when some serious soul-searching needs to happen. Are you willing to push your comfort zone for your goals, or sacrifice your goals for your comfort zone? That is a personal decision each rider makes at some point in their riding, and neither decision is inherently wrong, and therefore shouldn’t be criticized.

 The second part of determining “good fit” is limitations.  If a rider has a goal of competing GP, but has a 20-year-old 2^nd level horse they won’t part with and budget for just one horse, the horse becomes a limitation on their goals, not their trainer. Switching to a trainer who has developed several GP horses won’t change that.  If a limitation is 2 kids and a full-time job, the limitation becomes time, so a trainer willing to school your horse a couple times a week becomes a key component to “fit.” 

Regardless of what creates fit, I think all students should not settle until they find a fit that fulfills them as riders, trainers, and people. Regardless of if the head trainer dons a magazine cover.  

Recharged

I am currently on a plane headed from sunny FL, returning home from a couple days watching Johann Hinnemann teach at the FEI Trainer’s Conference.  I debated attending this year, but in the end I decided to buy my ticket. 

My debate was a bit based on the nature of my business. SFD’s business model is helping adult amatures achieve their dressage goals. This means a majority of the horses I train are “shared rides,” meaning I ride a few times a week, and I help the horse’s owner from the ground a few times a week. Which means my training goals are about consistency over brilliance.  I want the horses I develop to have such a clear understanding of what I want that they are able to help their owners out a bit.  How do you make a horse consistent, you ask? Well, consistency in the training. 

Normally, I have a few horses that are not “shared rides,” temporarily or permanently. These horses I don’t have to be as careful with. Yes, I want them consistent, but I also have more freedom to develop the expressison in their gaits.  In order to do that, I often need to push the boundary of what they are currently willing and able to offer, which means I risk tension.  I think it’s most fair to the horses to help them get to the other side of that tension before I ask the horse to teach that new skill to their rider.

The FEI Conference is generally all about creating the best balance and gaits that a horse is capable of, so I debated whether it was worth the time and money for information that, in theory, only applies to some of my horses, some of the time. Plus right now, for various reasons, I have fewer non-shared rides than normal, so I wondered how much of what I saw I would be able to use every day. 

But even as SFD is about helping riders develop their horses, Ange-the-trainer, wants to see the best my mounts can offer. As I watched the horses and riders in the conference, I realized that routine has been winning over expression lately.  Which is not bad for business, but it isn’t everything. 

I took Johann Hinnemann's words to heart -- "That’s really our job as trainers, to always think about something, every day how to make something better, better ideas to school the horses and teach our students.”

So I am now recharged, refueled, and ready to see how many of the techniques that develop the best gaits in horses can be applied to my “shared rides,” and how I can help coach my students to when tension is acceptable and when consistency is better.   

Let the winter training begin.

If you are interested in details about the FEI Conference itself, here are a few blogs about the rides themselves:

http://www.chronofhorse.com/article/transitioning-top-adequanusdf-trainers-conference

http://www.chronofhorse.com/photos_videos?page=0&nid=64330

http://www.chronofhorse.com/article/exercises-dressage-horserider-adequanusdf-trainers-conference

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Pas de Deux

I was planning to write about the Pas de Deux, but Chronicle of the Horse beat me to it.  My 15 seconds of fame, and they picked the photo where I look like my head is falling off. Oh well