Riding By Torchlight
To show or not to show…that is the question.
Please Note: This article first appeared in Horses For Life in Oct 2009, Volume 46
There was a time when I ate, slept, breathed and trained to compete. I was in my late teens and after years of riding school nags, I finally had a competitive horse of my own, to show on a small scene where I got to be a big kahuna. Around that
time I remember hearing about an apparently excellent rider and trainer who refused to show, and I wondered why she bothered to train at all? It almost seemed like a weakness to me then. That thought form is so very foreign to me now, it seems like
surely it belonged to someone else.
Times and people do change. Today I do relate to this trainer I never met, and today I consider it more of a strength than a weakness to prioritize training for the reward it gives in itself and not(nearly) solely for the possibilities of having the
winning ride on the next show day. Less devotion to showing has balanced my idea of training requirements and my agenda, though I guess that could also leave one trying less hard. As always, finding balance is perhaps the biggest challenge of all.
Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy competing. It's just that now I have many different reasons for getting up every morning and working my horses, and the prospect of taking them to a show is only one of them.
I have no problem with people who train to show, I can still relate to them also, to needing that goal, to needing that edge, to satisfying that competitive spirit. It's what drives anyone to excellence, and for some it is the backbone of self discipline, just knowing that date with a few gallons of Quickbraid and a judge is looming up ahead.
As always, my problem with riders that train primarily to show is what it drives them to do, what compromises in training and their horses well being become as natural as breathing to them. I touched on that state of mind once upon a time, and it very nearly did not have a happy ending for my horse, Tempo, and thus, for me. Along the way, he was always on my conscience like a little gentle burr, just
scratchy enough to cause me second thoughts, not scratchy enough to make me change course before it was nearly too late.
After a successful season of training and campaigning on less than ideal surfaces, Tempo seemed slightly off in one front leg. A thorough examination showed he was in fact sore on all four legs, and the fact that he had showed as well as he did, with barely a lessening of his gaits until after the show season, was all thanks to his stoic personality, his inherently large heart and the kindness within both. The fact that my vet was also my archenemy in the show ring did not help lessen my chagrin. She left no stone unturned in spreading the word that I had beat her in our championship rides on a horse that was basically unsound, but too kind to show it. Or
maybe the judges were biased? My victory seemed much tarnished, and I lost a perfectly good vet to a sore loser.
Despite her efforts to embarrass me, what I remember best was my shame at what I had done to a horse I claimed to love and adore, and what I had not seen happen to him. Photos show that he carried signs of stress around the time of our last competition - he had lost weight and muscle tone, his face looks oddly tired, his eyes have a far away look. Had I just ignored the signs in my determination to be the best, or really not seen the change that came over him? I'm still not sure. But clearly, being the best came at a price, paid in full by my sweet horse.
In retrospect, pretty much all I had done was train hard without the benefit of good arenas. I trained mostly in a grass field that could be rock hard, but since he never braced or tensed up, I thought nothing of it. I lost my temper at times and was too hard on him, and would go home cringing at myself, berating myself for hours, swearing I would never pull on my horses' mouth again. That is, until the
next time my teenage temper took a spill…
The mistakes I made with Tempo haunt me still, and his memory has helped keep me honest over the years, even though my treatment of him left him with no scars, physical or otherwise. My temper tantrums were blessedly few and far between, though they probably escalated in direct proportion to the approaching show date. Tempo was a forgiving fellow and easily recovered from his soreness with a few months off and was back to showing impeccably that fall with his new owner, his sale necessitated by my move to another country.
But can I really blame competition for my mistakes and lack of judgement? Nah. Human nature would be the basic culprit. I've seen trail riders with no agenda other than lurching down the trail savagely beat their horse in the throes of extreme frustration with whatever it is their horse did or did not do. I've known natural horsemanship enthusiasts to drill a horse to exhaustion as insistently as any competition rider. Human nature is quite simply laced with a need to control and a competitive drive that is at times more prevalent than others, and which is applied according to that individuals' personal history, mental makeup and passions.
For some it is about showing dressage, the ultimate cocktail for control freaks with a competitive drive. Jumping and eventing if they have a need for control, finesse, speed and reckless driving. Then there's something like oh, western pleasure. Hm,
maybe we shouldn't even go there, but let's just say this calls for a special blend of control issues, the need to show, and a penchant and pocket book for bling.
So had you asked me some (rather too many) years ago, I would have told you I wanted to ride in the Olympics. Ask me now and I will mutter unintelligibly and offer a non committal shrug. It may just be that I am lazier now. I think 'show' and I think 'Bathing, braiding, cleaning tack, polishing boots, early morning calls, trailering, memorizing tests….do I really need to spend money to do that?'
Or could it be that I wonder if the price might not be too high for someone with my particular set of possibly impossible values (and pocketbook or lack thereof), unless an extraordinary set of circumstances were to occur to allow to me to reach for that pinnacle or even the surrounding peaks while remaining true to myself and my horses. So it's official - I am looking for a sponsor as devoted to the horse and the classical ideals of dressage as I am…Oh my. I think I might be only half kidding. Hmmm. There are after all, a few out there who appear to be pulling it off. Eh? What's that? Oh - never mind I am not yet a Grand Prix rider, small obstacle that. I did say 'not yet.'
But really it may just be that my competitive drive has been much tempered by passion, rather an odd thing that. Doesn't that usually flow the other way? However, when I consider that the competitive arena today appears to be as much if not more, a
political battlefield as a theatre of the arts, I must admit I'd likely be out there putting flowers in their bayonets and singing "Imagine" - with a little luck only slightly out of tune and inserting 'horses' for 'people'. Altogether now: " Imagine all the horsessss…"
That said, I am happy to think that I will be spending more time in the show ring in the future, because I have a few horses I simply have to take out there. They are just too pretty to keep from the public, you know? But my sights are set somewhat
lower for now, like …schooling shows. Yes, a far cry from the international scene, but Rome was not built in one day either, was it? Besides, they are a hell of a
lot cheaper than the recognized kind, especially when you are not sure if your horse will blow up or show up.
It's been a long time since I really gave it a go out there in the show world. I have dabbled in it, a little here, a little there. It's always been good for a
laugh and now and then even a ribbon. But only now do I really have the horsepower to go at it again, and also have the new and added pleasure of taking students who have the urge. But, yeah, it's been awhile.
After selling Tempo, my life took on a transitory nature, always on the move to somewhere else. It left little room for horses never mind the consistent training necessary for showing. Initially, I pursued the golden dream, and put in some 8 months at a sales barn that very nearly killed my love of riding and showing for good. I walked away thinking "If this it what it takes to make it in this world, I am not cut out for it."
It seemed as much as this place actually tried to give the horses a decent life, the hardcore training dimmed all joy and beat the life out of them, not to mention the staff. At eight months, I had still lasted longer than any other groom they had had, barring the headgroom, who largely contributed to the constantly revolving line of grooms. But worst were the young horses already injured, and already losing the battle with a life that left them devoid of spirit. I just couldn't carry on down that road. I felt lost, my dream dispersed like so much confetti from a burst balloon.
For some years I drifted, at a loss without horses, but unwilling and unsure of how to mend a broken dream. When life finally brought me full circle and back to my true love of training, with or without show, I was almost afraid to get back in touch with
the competitive edge. It actually hindered a full effort the first few times out, as if I thought that if I tried a little less hard to get it right, if I laughed off mistakes and didn't correct them, I was keeping a safe distance from the honed sliver of steel that was my competitive nerve.
Now that I had found a purity of passion in training for the sake of the horse and not ribbons, it seemed a return to competition might tarnish my resolve. In other words, I didn't trust myself to not blow it again and lose sight of the Holy Grail for all the smoke of pride and glory. And along came Torchlight.
In a way Torchlight helped put the last nail in the grander than life dreams, and I am grateful for it. Because hiding behind my fear of the ambitious self was still the core of those dreams, and they were based on pride and glory, fame and exaltedness. The source of those dreams was the raging ego looking for recognition and signs that worthiness was secured. Well, there was no way Torchlight was here
to help me pave THAT road. No matter how many pity parties I threw myself, that would not change.
Instead he forced me to look for alternate routes,along which many lessons, some ad nauseum, have been learnt. Ultimately, by giving up on dreams of his fabulous dressage career, I gave up on my larger than life dreams and got real. And when I got real, I found I could still dream, and the dreams could be as big and tall and grand as I ordered them to be, but at the base was and is always my love for the real thing.
My dreams are now grounded in my love of the horse himself, and in dressage. What real dressage offers and consolidates and creates - a partnership wherein you stumble and you toil and you sweat and hopefully, more times than not you get to dance and even laugh a lot. And climb a great many mountains that may only matter to you, or may play out in bigger arenas under the gaze of many judges, but still, at the end of the day, the only look that matters is still that of your horse as you approach him.
Because a show ride is still just another training ride - with a little more edge and a few nerves thrown in for good measure. But still, the focus is on what do we learn today. Yeah, you got up indecently early, you used spit and polish and your fingers are sore from braiding, you spent money about which you wonder if it couldn't have been better spent, like, say, on a haircut, but hey - it was nice to get out and test your relationship and ride in another ring and wear that expensive show coat for a change, and that's what hair nets are for.
But there is still the big scene out there, to cause me to ask questions as to how big I really want to dream. Now we are all agog at the latest dressage wonder, the fabulous Moorland Totilas and Edward Gal in the saddle. No wonder, what a gorgeous pair. Have we ever and will we ever see a horse like this again? Was there ever a more elegant and technically superior rider? Admittedly, I have been an admirer of
Edward Gals' riding since I first saw him ride Lingh.
But like the grey mare Matinee, I wonder at some signs indicative of gaping holes in Totilas' training, the disjointed and bizarre extended trot for example. It's as if the horse performing up till then is one horse, to be replaced by two for that particular movement. To me, it seems like two different horses come strutting across the arena with only the rider in the middle to keep them still arriving at the corner
simultaneously. I wonder at the always slightly left behind left hindleg, the shortened neck with a clenched throatlatch that rarely sees daylight, the low poll and the curb that never seems to ease up. And I wonder how long this incredible horse will last. And this is all before I consider that last I heard, Edward
Gal was training with Anky van Grunsven. Rollkur, anyone?
I have no doubt whatsoever that Totilas receives the best of everything and no, I couldn't do what Edward Gal does. The point is, would I want to even if I could? That extended trot reeks of Rollkur, with it's disproportionate and overdeveloped foreleg action while the hindleg takes an extended vacation, pun intended.
Somehow, like Anky and others of that ilk, and assuming if one rides with Anky, one rides with Rollkur, Mr.Gal manages to marry the despicable Rollkur with technical brilliance and astounding performances that belie the gaps.
But I have eyes in my head. And they tell me I wouldn't want to have done what it took to get that horse there today, 9's and 10's notwithstanding. They tell me more than sound dressage training is at play here. More than ever, Totilas demonstrates how hard it can be to separate breeding from training, panache from true form. And truly - I'd still really like to be able to look that good on a horse. Any horse.
Yet I wonder, is that really all dressage is about today? Record scores and go for the gold? And could I fall under its' spell again? Nah, even as I write that, I know those days are gone. With Tempo and Torchlights' help I kicked them to the curb and
kicked them good. They were swept up and thrown out with yesterdays' trash.
Now I know 'they' say classical doesn't show and it doesn't win. But there are enough classical riders out there, at the top of their game and making their way to the tops of the ranks to give me hope. And what is classical but a correctly trained horse who stands the test of time? As I was once told, I am painfully patient, and I have time.
A friend of mine told me about her trainer who is also a judge back in Denmark. She is a staunch believer in what would basically be the German classical ideals and a superb technician with a to die for position. Yet she despises being called classical - it's practically an insult to her.
Because to her it signifies a difference between competition dressage and her dressage that should not exist. When a spectator watching her warm up at a
show asked if she was a classical rider, she about spat in her face. 'I am a dressage rider.' she responded through clenched teeth. Did I mention she is
apparently not a very popular judge in her homeland? Because she holds no punches no matter who you are and what you ride, and she does not hold with any political correctness either. A spade is a spade and the horse is trained correctly or it's not, and she will tell you either way. We need more judges like her.
But whoever the judge, I know we need to get out there and demonstrate that yes, classical shows and it succeeds. How else will anyone new to the sport or looking for an alternative know we're here? Classical can't just hide in our back yards anymore. We owe it to horses everywhere to swallow our fears or pride or whatever is holding us back and get out in front, even if it's just a schooling show. And I know
now how I will make it work for me.
When I go to show now, I go to have a day out with my horse, a day to test our partnership and our work to date, a day where I hope and intend to excel but will face the judge with my horse and take it as it comes. I will ride down centerline with my competitive edge firmly in hand (if perhaps, not my horse), side by side with my passion for the purpose of our training, and always with my horses' well being first and foremost in my heart.
Now that's a dream worth dreaming, and one that can take you just about - anywhere…
