Seeing improvement...

Since my last post, I passed an exam and officially became an Instructor in Training. I still believe that I can make something of combining my passion for good horsemanship with therapeutic riding; yet I still worry about the hows, whens, and wheres...

My lesson with J.D. this week gave me a glimpse of why. He's the one who gave me a C last week. While I was lowering the lift to get him out of his wheelchair, I learned that he's gone skydiving, twice. We got to share stories about that since I went once upon a time. I was more cautious this week so as to avoid hitting him in the helmet with the lift. He needs to ride around the arena a while before we begin the lesson. His atrophied legs are too spastic to reach for the stirrups when he first gets on. The rhythm of the horse's movement slowly relaxes tightened muscles. When I approached him to help get his feet into the stirrups, I asked him to talk me through it. He said, "You can't hurt me. I can tell you're worried about it." This kid lives in a wheelchair and he's helping me understand how much he wants to be here and how much he can do. So I set up a lesson that allowed him to affect a measurable change with his horse. He became infectiously engaged in the activity. He seemed to really enjoy seeing the changes he could make in his horse using just his body.

After the lesson, I told him I wanted to start writing lesson plans that take into account what he wants to get out of his lessons. I told him to dream as big as he wanted to. His goal: to be able to trot all the way around the arena. Once.

That's a lofty goal for him. Puts things into perspective, doesn't it. I am talking to me. And you.

Travis and I FaceTime regularly and they are bittersweet moments. The other morning, he answered my call with his face still buried in the pillow. I think he was on my side of the bed. He has put the animals on the screen for me from time to time. Drifter's body language tells me that he misses me as much as I miss him. Travis says he acts like Eeyore. No matter. What's good about it?

When I can start to look at what's good about it...every day, every ride, every time, everything...then I will be making some real improvement within myself.

What's good about your life today? What are your goals? Dream big...

C is for balance

Last year, I had a strange dream. I don't normally remember my dreams but this one was quite visual. I was standing on a cliff looking across a ravine to another cliff, with a rope bridge connecting the two sides. On the other side of the ravine, looking back at me was me. For many reasons, I was afraid to cross the bridge. I stood frozen still until I woke.

***

Sunday afternoon, I wanted out of Old Lyme, but had committed to volunteering a few hours at a hunter pace, where I saw, wait for it, a few western saddles.

This wasn't one of them.

As a "western" rider rode past, it was hard to ignore seasawing hands direct-reining a shanked mouthpiece in an attempt to obtain the almighty headset from her horse.

Sigh.

"Someday I want to learn to ride western." Someone commented, admiring the horse's overo markings.

I bit my cheek. People's riding reveals where they're at in life. I've been there. It's hard to watch, but I've been there and no one judged me. They just showed me a different path.

***

By the time we were done with our duties, we only had the afternoon to explore, so we decided on the nearby town of Mystic, CT, the home of Mystic Pizza...

Movie tourist Pizza Heaven

and a drawbridge (bascule bridge) that spans the Mystic River.

Marveled by "simple" engineering. 

Enormous concrete filled counterweights intimidate the roadbed of the southwest side of U.S. Route 1 (Main Street). Nearly 600 tons of road is counterbalanced when the bridge is raised.

***

I had my first lesson on Monday, and was evaluated while teaching. Oh boy, was it hard to walk into the arena and look past the obstacles (staff, clipboards, riders, horses, handlers, sidewalkers) in order to focus on teaching a measurable skill to riders who might rather be taught by their regular instructor.

It wasn't a complete disaster, but it wasn't a cake walk either. The mounts were all full-assist, including one—we'll call him JD—who needed to use a lift. Three instructors and a sidewalker all had input on whether or not JD was aligned properly above the saddle, as he hung suspended over his horse's back. I had the controls of the lift and, with input coming from all directions, I lost concentration of the location of the lift as I lowered JD onto the horse, knocking him in the helmet with the top of the rigging. Ooops. Thankfully, he was forgiving about it. My lesson in the arena had varying results (owning one moment, sinking the next) before we headed out on the sensory trail to make turn after turn through the trees. I fumbled a few times, but tried to roll with the punches.

At the end of the lesson, as I was lifting JD from the saddle, his mother asked him how I did for my first lesson.

"Ehhh." He commented.

"Oh, great." I said.

"I give you a C."

That's about what I'd give me, I thought.

"If I gave you an A, you wouldn't have anything to shoot for."

Touché.

***

There was something about the Mystic River Bascule Bridge that reminds me to balance and quit trying to be perfect on the first try. It's one of those things I do but don't realize I'm doing it. When it's brought to my attention, I get defensive.

But just because you are offended doesn't mean you are right.

My fear vs. my ability ended up perfectly balanced in the lesson and—according to JD—was measurable in the middle of the grading scale at C.

I've been seeking more balance. Tonight, a C feels just right.