Who requests a gymnastics torture lesson on their birthday? My dumb ass. And when Trainer nonchalantly says “you should come up the night before for a dressage lesson and just stay over”, who answers “hell yeah, birthday weekend Horse Camp!”? Yep, you guessed it. Newsflash, I’m not any smarter at 34 than I was at 33.
I have literally zero media from Friday. Nary a picture, not even a shot of Henry in the crossties. But FINALLY Henry decided to show up for a lesson as pretty much the same horse I have at home, which made this lesson much more productive than last weekend’s. Plus I didn’t almost die of heat stroke, so… there’s that.
Mostly we worked on lengthenings and our counter canter loops again, and got several “YES YES YES!!!” and “THERE!”s from Trainer’s general direction, which I’ll happily take. They’re rare. At one point we apparently even got some toe flick. Who knew Henny was capable? We got good feedback (will I ever stop sitting to the outside at canter? probably not.) and homework, so it was FINALLY a productive dressage lesson. Thanks for deciding to show up, Henny.
Even with a 7pm lesson I sweated so much that it looked like I’d jumped in a pool, and by the time I’d showered and scarfed down some food, I promptly passed the hell out. I don’t even think I made it to 10pm. Wild parties these days.
As soon as I got to the barn the next morning I went to check on Henry in his turnout and found this:
Pacing, sweating Henry staring at the mare next door like a total creeper. I pulled him out to hose him off and he immediately started screaming and spinning. Oh good… those two precarious brain cells totally fell out in the paddock overnight when he apparently professed his undying devotion to the mare. Super.
Trainer pulled up to find him in the crossties screaming and pawing, and me standing there giving him whatfor. When I explained what was going on she smiled evilly and said “Grab a rope halter and tie him to The Tree of Knowledge for a while!”. And that’s how Henry legit ended up spending an hour and a half tied to a tree like a rogue 2yo while I jump crewed for the first lesson.
He screamed, he pawed, he kicked out at the air, he bit the rope, and he tried to dig a hole to China, but by the time I went to get him to tack him up, he had gotten most of the temper tantrum out of his system. The Tree of Knowledge wins again.
The lesson itself was just what we needed, working on getting Henry powering to and jumping from the base, and trying to get me to stop chucking my body at him. That will probably forever be a work in progress, chucking my body is my fave.
Mostly though he was just extremely offended at having to TROT into the gymnastic. He warmed up like he thought he was HH Azur strutting into the Olympic stadium… he was so excited to finally be jumping after 3 dressage lessons in a row and very little jumping all summer period. Then he was horrified at having to trot into the line via poles and a crossrail, like he was some kind of green baby. DON’T WE KNOW WHO HE IS???
You never have to guess how Henry feels about something, his emotions are quite clear. We got a couple good efforts by the end though, and again took home some things to work on, so mission accomplished for the weekend.
Plus on the way home I stopped at a new gas station on my route and discovered that not only does it have a Which Wich in it, it also has FROYO with a ton of topping options. Happy effin’ birthday to ME!!! That’s my new official refueling spot from now on.