I Suck At Riding, Please Shut Up So I Can Ride Decently

I had a riding set back.

It was ugly.  I was not in a lesson.  I was letting Hudson gallop off some steam.  My trainer walked up to the gate.  Sometimes she gives me pointers here and there, which I love.   I’m curious, I wonder what I’m doing wrong need to improve?

Katherine, who has never gushed in her life, went on and on about how wonderfully I was riding, giving me concrete examples for inspiration.

This sent me over the moon.  I am so happy!  I can ride?  I can ride!  Really?  I. Can. Ride!

Whahoooooooo!!!!!!

Katherine sees my internal response building, and says “you needed to hear it, and it’s true.” I never doubted it’s true.  I’ve never heard her give a compliment that wasn’t earned.

I couldn’t wait to start riding again, so I could do it well again.  Katherine left, drove off, and no one else was in the immediate vicinity.  Hudson politely shifted underneath me, translation: um, hey can we go now?

Can we go?  You bet!  We hit the gas.

What follows is the worst train wreck of a ride imaginable.  Hudson is most excellent. He’s completely ignoring the awful bouncing, jouncing, slithering and pounding that is happening on his back.  Hudson is focused: need. speed.

I’m stiff  and unyielding.  My joints are nearly unbendable.  I confess.  I bounced.  At the canter.  Who bounces at the canter?!  On a horse that willingly gives me his back and trusts me with it.  He gave me his back and ignored the trampoline effect.

It gets worse.  There was daylight.  DAYLIGHT between me and the saddle.  Not a little, proper, easy, hunt-seat daylight, but cartoon character daylight.

Apparently, you can yell at me forever and I’m fine, but compliment me, and I’m instant wreckage.