Some riding adventures have transpired this winter, baby and all, mostly thanks to hubby and my mom who watch Chippy for me while I ride. (In fact, general shout-out to the village, DH in particular. To absolutely no one's surprise, he is an absolutely glorious dad.)
I rode Wynnie with great success for a couple of months before Chippy got old enough to have separation anxiety, which does add a layer of complexity. Mostly, though, I rode Lancey. He's just... easy, and in the realm of new motherhood, mental load is ridiculous. Riding Lancey takes about 2% of your brain. You push buttons, he does the thing. He's just a very good boy and also doesn't do the upper level dressage stuff, so I could essentially just ride him in my sleep, doing easy things.
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| when did Wynnie become a big mare? |
Getting my fitness back on Lancey seemed like a good idea, too. My C-section never hurt me but I wanted to be a little careful about bringing my core back to work gently and avoid long-term troubles. I rode him for weeks before I started slowly adding in a little sitting trot and work without stirrups. Honestly, nothing ever hurt, but people had scared me off saying all kinds of things about the dire consequences of exercising post C-section, so I was maybe more careful and nervous than I realized.
The thing that bothered me the most immediately after the C-section, which was way worse than the pain, was the awful Bambi-on-ice feeling of having no control over my body. Hated it. So much. It got better rapidly with more movement, but I hadn't realized that it lingered subconsciously in the firm belief that I could no longer ride well.
When Erin suggested a ride on the horse simulator to help get my position back, I thought this was an absolutely capital idea. Since we downgraded the broken-down SUV to a smaller family car and hubs got into a wreck that mercifully didn't hurt him at all, praise God, but wrote off the truck (all during my pregnancy---can you tell it was a fun time?), the opportunity to box out for shows or lessons is limited. Finding someone to travel to my yard is a quest, too. Riding the simulator seemed like a good opportunity for education that would focus on my apparently failing body and didn't necessitate towing horses.
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| simulator doggo |
I was fully prepared to embarrass myself up there. Though the simulator is great for learning all sorts of upper-level movements, all I wanted was some feedback on my position, which I was certain had gone hopelessly down the drain after weeks of inactivity (if you can call toting a nine-pound baby around inactivity). I was also positive I'd have some serious balance and symmetry issues, considering that coaches have told me that I'm uneven and sit too heavily to my right for my entire riding career.
The simulator is a pretty freaking cool piece of equipment. This one's name is Theodore. He moves just like a real horse and has sensors in his mouth, back, and sides. On the dressage setting, screens give you feedback on how you apply pressure to those sensors via the reins, legs, and your seat. He's programmed to respond to certain aids. There's a big bullseye in the middle of the screen and a little red ball that represents your centre of balance. The goal is to keep that little red ball on the central line, though it does oscillate as the "horse" moves (and should do so evenly on both sides of the central line).
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I sat my butt down in that saddle and the little red ball parked itself contentedly on the central line and remained near-perfectly centred for the entire ride. I have 99 problems, but sitting to one side is not one of them.
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| all hail the centred red ball |
Things got even better when I picked up the reins. The rein pressure goes from 0 to 100, and according to the Olympic-level riders who helped develop Theodore, the ideal light contact should be 4. You raise it to about 6 for an aid. I thought this sounded absolutely impossible, then picked up the reins. My right hand easily remained between 3 and 5. My left hand initially wanted to hover around 6-8, but I corrected it almost instantly and after that maintained a steady 3-4-5 during the gaits (flopping around during changes and transitions notwithstanding).
This revelation shocked me out of the weird stupor I'd been in for months. It's like I'd convinced myself that I actually do not know how to ride a horse, and Theodore promptly said, "Well yes, actually, you have spent your whole life practicing this, and it hasn't disappeared overnight."
Of course, it wasn't perfect. We swiftly discovered that though my balance is gorgeous, my right leg is essentially useless. I've always felt that my horses are less responsive to my right leg and figured that it was because my uneven balance was affecting them somehow. Instead, it turns out that my right leg kind of just... doesn't do anything. I could easily get Theodore to do lateral work off my left leg, but my right was uncoordinated and struggled to hit the right sensors. We also found that I can easily hit 100 on the sensors with my left leg, without even trying, but using my full strength on the right, I could achieve about 60.
The coach, who was fabulous, swiftly discovered that this is because my right hip really struggles to be mobile and move downwards without tilting my shoulders. She also showed me to bring my lower leg back to the behind-the-girth position by opening my hip and bringing my entire leg backward, not activating my hamstring and curling my knee. I also forever and always need to turn my heels out and thumbs on top.
We soon moved on to doing some movements. The beauty of the simulator is that he doesn't get annoyed with you when you do the thing wrong for the millionth time. The pity is that he doesn't make up for your mistakes, lol, which I realize my horses do all the time. He can't learn to move off your right leg even though it's useless the way Arwen does.
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| you can sort of see the three sensors on his side |
Finally, she asked if there were any specific movements I wanted to do. Having completely forgotten about the intervening year since the last time I rode tempis, I asked to do tempis, because I really struggle with their timing and Arwen gets annoyed and bucks through them or makes leg salad if you do them badly too often. This was a GREAT thing to practice on the simulator. By the end I had much better fours, with pretty solid timing, but it's something I would like to practice a lot more on Theodore if I get the opportunity.
Erin kept laughing at me because every time Theodore did a thing I would pat his neck and tell him he was a good boy out of habit. "He's literally a robot."
"I know, I know."
Then suddenly the lesson was over, with no need to cool him off, and I realized with a start that I'd just done thirty minutes solid on the horse simulator, almost exclusively without stirrups, with lots of sitting trot and adjustment to my position, and I actually hadn't missed a beat. I wasn't sore during and I wasn't sore afterward, either. I was a bit tired, sure, but I felt like I could've done another thirty if needed.
My body might look different these days, but somehow, through the inconsistent riding and the chaos, I've regained virtually all my fitness and the majority of my functional core strength.
This was a huge boost to my confidence. My mental blocks dissolved, which is always nice. Getting the time to ride might be an obstacle these days, but even after carrying a nine-pound baby for forty-one weeks and then having it forcibly evicted, my body can still do this. That revelation meant so much and gave me the motivation to keep on trying.
God is good.
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