Just. Keep. Going.

Allie and I started to learn the flying changes when she was about eight, in 2012, with Janet Foy. Allie was the first horse that I rode a flying change on and also the first horse I tried to teach a flying change to. We have worked on them over the years, with various degrees of success and various trainers - some of whom have been really helpful and some of whom set us back, which is a story for another day.

Do you know when Allie finally got clean flying changes in a consistent fashion? In fall 2020. Will she ever have squeaky clean auto changes? Doubtful. But today, she is working on one-tempis.

I like to talk about Allie because she’s just a fabulous, super fun horse with the sweetest personality and so much try, and also because I think the challenges we work on show the value of persistence. I remember riding her first canter under saddle at age four; we rocketed around a 100x200 indoor and I thought I was going to die. As we learned about collection together, it was interspersed with a good number of one-rein stops, a lot of groundwork, and many tears. And while today, there are plenty of things that are plenty hard for us, she is schooling all the Grand Prix dressage movements and can jump around a 3’3” course in good balance. Even a couple of years ago, I would not have thought that was possible, and yet today it is.

I am a really imperfect rider. My right leg tends to be weird and ineffective, my thinking and response times tend to be slow, my aids can be too strong without my realizing it, and so on. Allie, in the hands of a better rider, would likely have progressed much faster and without the challenges we’ve had. The same is probably true for most horses in most places, so I’m not sure how much it matters.

What does matter is that over the last twelve years that I’ve been riding Allie, I’ve continued to learn and grow in my riding while persisting in pursuing our goals, doing a little bit better month by month and year by year. I can look back at the rider I was ten years ago and say “Wow! She sure has a long ways to go!” and I’m sure that ten years from now, I will say the same about who I am today. The growth is the point. The compassion for oneself along the way is also the point. It would have been very easy, during these twelve years of learning and riding, to say “This is too hard! I’m not good enough! She’s not good enough! We can’t do it” and call it quits.

But progress is made when we keep showing up and keep trying, day after day, challenge after challenge. Progress is made when we try to keep learning and improving. Progress is made when we’re observant about what works and what doesn’t, when we try to teach our bodies about feel and timing in intentional ways, and when we keep asking the horse for a little bit more. Progress is made when we approach ourselves, our horses, and our riding with love, respect, and kindness. This creates the expansiveness we need to make mistakes and learn from them, rather than make mistakes and let them swallow us. And just as we can celebrate new understandings and progress, it’s just as important to talk about the things we struggle with and the things that are hard. Talking about those things normalizes them. Too often when we struggle, we think we’re the only ones, and the temptation to quit trying can feel overwhelming. If I had quit with Allie, I never would have known what we can do together, and I would have missed out on some progress, but more importantly, I would have missed out on so much fun!

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