Dressage is an art and as dressage lovers we often see and hear about the harmony, the accuracy, the great scores and even greater successes! What we rarely hear about is the rain-soaked boots, the 6 am wake-ups, the trying to do the girth up in freezing temperatures when you can barely feel your fingers, the up all night with colics, the back pain, the financial drain, the moments when we ask "what the hell am I doing this all for?"
With anything beautiful in life, there are tough times and the art of dressage is the product of many hours of hard work. However, my focus here is not on the physical or environmental hurdles, but on the war of dressage.Now breathe everyone, I am of course not talking about any sort of battle you should have on top of the horse, as every decent rider knows that taking any aggression or angst into dressage training will do far more harm than good. I'm talking about the war that is waged within a rider when faced with particular challenges.
Having never taken my 7-year old stallion out from his nice little home in Beloura, Portugal, I knew that the trek to the UK Dressage Convention would be a big step for both of us! He arrived after the 2500 Km journey looking like he'd just taken a hot bath and some strong coffee, and I have to admit I was a little anxious to get on him, particularly as Bury Farm was that day hosting a Show Jumping competition, and there is only one thing Batialo hates more than show jumping, that's ponies. And those little monsters were lurking about as well!!
After a rather thorough lunge session from my very experienced groom Valdeni, I climbed on board and felt Batialo definitely "had his hackles up" as mum would say, meaning the way dogs raise their backs up when they are feeling prickly. We trotted off, not really a good time for a walk relax to start, and about ten minutes in, a horse truck arrived and unloaded some mares, and up we went, him on two legs, me in the air, and after a few good rears and some flat out spins we finally came to rest, me dizzy and Batialo still fresh and rather pleased with his extravagant enthusiasm!
Mum was not so thrilled and she was made very aware of what a 7-year old stallion when he is playing looks like. I know my horse and I knew he was just excited and fresh. My groom knew too that he knows where to place his feet and somehow always manages to stay underneath me, almost as if he is in control of his out of control behaviour.
After some R.I.C.E. treatment and a strong coffee, I knew I had to put this out of my mind for the following day, as I was to take the big arena, with a big screen and full crowd. I could not let this happen in front of an audience.
The war I faced that Friday night, was not a physical war and I would never get upset or angry with my horse. The war was to put aside all the doubts that I had about my ability, all the worry that I had that my horse may get even more excited in the big atmosphere, and convince myself that I would do a great job, that Batialo would listen to me, and that we would show the audience the partnership we have formed together over the last few years.
This is what we never hear about, but which I'm sure every top rider must face and deal with at some point during their career. The moment when they need to block out all their nagging distractions and just focus on themselves and their horse.
Somehow, I managed to arrive on the Saturday morning, having forgotten my airborne incident from the day before and luckily the minute I got on my horse, I said to mum "He's got game face on!". I knew that he had switched into "go mode" and from the minute we entered, although he did look a little at the fifty foot big screen, he stayed with me and I loved every minute of it!
I guess that is what makes it all worth while, all the heartache and vet bills and mud soaked weekends; that moment when you know you have created a partnership and that when push comes to shove, your horse will ask for your guidance and work with you to show himself off.
By the final applause, my horse had not only got used to the sound of clapping, but had actually started to grow a few centimetres in response, and I am quite sure he knew that they were celebrating him and he loved it! In Australia they say "that only a surfer knows the feeling," but I reckon a surfer will never know what it is like to have a board that tests us, challenges us both mentally and physically and then trusts us enough to put his own fears aside for the sake of the partnership!
by Sarah Warne for Eurodressage
Related Links
Classical Training: Good Days and Bad Days
Classical Training: Time Will Tell