Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The ART of failing, falling, and picking yourself back up

Happy New Year!!!

I hope everyone had a happy and safe bash on New Years Eve.

My New Years Eve Plans involved me heading to Perfect North Slopes to ski with some of my close friends from here in Lexington and my brother, sister in-law and her nephew.   We had a mixed bag of skill levels in our group of 10 from beginners to pros.  My skill level falls somewhere in the middle of that bag.

I grew up in Northern Massachusetts and was lucky to be close to some decent skiing in New Hampshire.  Most of my skiing was self taught.  Then also tried to teach several of my friends in grade school through when we moved to Indiana into high school.  My Kamikaze style of "point your skis to the bottom and go as fast as you can" accompanied by apparent superior balance and fearlessness served me well down slopes of high difficultly (that I'm sure I had no business attempting!).  I'm sure I fell, and I'm sure I fell hard several times.  Though somehow, with my Kamikaze style I got better and never thought about of remembered the falls, or failing to complete a run well.  I was fearless, invincible, and.... young.

Fast forward ohhhh 12 or 15yrs.  In 2008 Irish Alice and I made our infamous trip to Vail, CO to ski.  I had plenty of experience.... she had skied the bump at Perfect North ONCE.  Smart.  (love you Alice!).  Alice fell a lot.  I stayed upright the whole week (minus one silly fall while standing still trying to avoid snowboarders).  I never ventured off the Green Slopes (easy level) except for one Blue one (intermediate level).  Now granted the runs are forever long there and it is tiring.
And even the "easy" slopes are not that easy!  The pic to the left IS an easy run at Vail!  But seriously, I was so proud that I didn't fall that week.  But I also didn't take any risks.  I skied under my level and on runs where I had COMPLETE control.  I will also guarantee that I didn't improve my skills.

My New Years eve trip the other week proved that my skills had not improved.  My brother and I had skied together as kids.  I had the advantage as I lived more of my life in a land of snow and hills and he lived more of his life in a land of corn and soybean fields (Indiana).  He and I skied together for most of New Years Eve.  I hadn't skied with him much in the past several years but I expected to still be better than him (or at least at the same skill level).  Wouldn't you know that little punk could have skied circles around me!  (Ok he is not little nor is he a punk at the age of 27).  He also went down the "black diamond" runs that were all ice that I would not attempt... especially after I wiped out on a blue one!  I never used to back down from a challenge like that.  Where was the Kamikaze skier with the fearlessness and invincibility?  Long gone.  I have never been hurt seriously doing anything (touch wood) but I decided I wasn't going to push my luck on New Years.

YES there is a point to my very long drawn out ski story that relates to horses, eventing, riding and improving.

I realized that I will sometimes (probably too often) ride under my skill level to stay safe (and not safe necessarily in the way of getting hurt but in the way of not making a mistake)... to not push the envelope.  It isn't something I do intentionally but I know I do it.  Last winter when I was down in Ocala having a lesson with Kyle he told me "just go out and jump 5 logs in the middle of the field to warm up".  So I cantered out and jumped five logs... trotted back over to him wondering why he was rubbing his forehead (typical Kyle frustration move).  "What the h*ll was that?!"  He asked me.  my confused answer was "I jumped 5 logs... did I do something wrong?"
"Go back out there and jump the same 5 logs like someone who is moving up to Advanced instead of someone barely going Novice.  You have the ability to ride so well, I just don't understand why you choose to ride so badly so often!"
Ouch.  But he was right.  No reason to do the bare minimum when we have the ability to do so much more.  And its not that I wouldn't have been safe if I had balanced more or ridden for a deep distance at the small logs for warm up.  It wasn't that I was trying to avoid being daring... I was just doing the minimum to get over them... which was pointing my horse at them and jumping with no skill.


I also avoid working on things I am not good at.  On the flat Lewis and I struggle with turn on the haunch.  So... I avoid it.  I avoid riding dressage tests where that is a required movement.  Silly... well guess what I got dinged for not having that mastered when I was in Florida in Dec.  Guess what we have been practicing everyday... turn on the haunch... and low and behold.  Its better :)

I avoid corners, or angling fences.  I'm not talking "easy" intermediate angels.  But those serious get the horse almost parallel with the jump angles.  I am terrible at finding a line to things like that.  I worry about making a mistake, so I just turn him a little square it up just a tad bit more.  Who do you think that is hurting in the end? Lewis and I.  At home... "this is training"...I need to allow myself (and my students) to be challenged to the point of making a mistake.  Then you fix it.  Work toward increasing your skills by pushing the envelope a little bit more.  How in the world will you ever get better if you never make a mistake.  You will never know where the holes are unless you find them.  Then you work your butt off to fill them in.  And trust me you WANT to find those holes at home not at a $500 event 500 miles away.

This past season I almost throw in my upper level towel.  I had such heart break with Lewis for silly things at event after event.  Neither of us had gotten hurt but something was just not falling into place.  I was ok with telling myself "I'll just run Prelim with him for the rest of his life and win a bunch of them.  He's so easy at Prelim".  Well I'm glad I have dusted myself off, and picked myself up, and now remember the drive that got me this far. There is an ART to failing, and falling... it is not a science.  Riding is not a science.  There are some many things on the back of a horse that you have to learn to feel.  Every horse is different.  You have to let yourself fail a time or two to GET IT.  To get it right and to understand why you were wrong...  AND  to understand why what you are now doing is right!

   I am not going to just snow plow Lewis down those green slopes.  I know we have the ability to do the double black diamond runs!  He is my horse of a lifetime... and I'm going to push that envelope.

Push yourself,
Jenn

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